Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The moment Olive and I enter the mess hall for breakfast, we know something’s up. Instead of the usual voices and laughter greeting us, we walk into a subdued, quiet room brimming with tension.
I lean toward Olive. The abnormal hush makes this feel like a whisper type of situation. “What’s happening?”
She inclines her head toward a table by the back wall where Commander Bigley and Vice Commander Torno stand tall and dignified as they watch yawning fledglings and flyers trickle in. Instructor Dawson flanks them on one side, Thorne on the other. His wide stance and squared shoulders appear battle ready, as does the cold stare he directs straight ahead.
We hurry to fill our plates and claim our usual seats. I’m guessing they’re here to make an announcement about the dragon, but my anticipation climbs the longer they go without speaking.
I’m finishing my bowl of fruit when Bigly calls for our attention. Cutlery pings against plates and chair legs scrape the floor as every student swivels in his direction.
“As I’m sure everyone is aware by now, Flighthaven experienced a tragic incident late last night when one of our treasured dragons died. While Instructor Dawon was riding Raider, he quit responding to her commands. He fell from the sky and crashed to the Flighthaven grounds. Only quick thinking on Instructor Dawson’s part, and her affinity for air magic, spared her life. The impact crushed Raider’s legs and caused internal injuries, so Instructor Thorne made the difficult call to end his suffering.”
Inadvertently, my gaze skips to Thorne. For a fleeting moment, his eyes connect with mine before he redirects them so he’s peering straight ahead.
“Our staff is working as fast as possible to cultivate what we can so that Raider’s death isn’t completely in vain.”
I grimace. Cultivate, as in, strip his body for anything of value, like dragon scales or blood. Or fat…like the kind used to treat those fireproof cloaks for magic training purposes. My stomach roils, and I drop my half-eaten roll onto the plate.
“In the meantime, please avoid the area, and give our staff space to work. This should go without saying, but any student found attempting to steal from or deface Raider’s body will suffer severe consequences.” Bigley’s eagle-eyed gaze sweeps across the mess hall, as if he’s trying to browbeat potential rulebreakers into compliance. “Vice Commander Torno and myself, along with other staff, will be conducting interviews with students pertaining to the incident. Whether Raider’s death was the result of natural causes or a planned attack by an insider or external forces, we will get to the bottom of this.”
Whispers spread like wildfire, as do shocked expressions. Everyone in the room knows external forces is a diplomatic way of saying enemy kingdoms, and the idea of Tirene or Kamor agents sneaking onto campus to kill a dragon coats my skin with an invisible layer of dread.
“If any of you know of pertinent information involving the death, you have a duty to your kingdom to report it immediately. Now, Vice Commander Torno has a brief announcement, so give her your attention.”
Torno steps forward, her hands clasped behind her back. “Due to last night’s incident, along with other circumstances beyond our control, we will be moving up the date of the upcoming trial. It will now take place in two weeks’ time.”
Gasps and the rise of warring voices fill the mess hall. I glance at Olive in horror. I never concerned myself with the trial because I expected to be long gone by the time the event rolled around. Two weeks is cutting things close, though. Too close. How in the hells will I pass a flyer trial in such a short time period when I’ve yet to actually fly?
“Quiet, please! I know this comes as an unpleasant surprise, but I have every confidence in all of you. I know our students will rise to the occasion in the face of adversity. Between now and then, I recommend that you all dedicate yourselves to training. My office is open to you anytime. Stop by if you have questions or need a pep talk.” Is it my imagination, or do her eyes pause on me when she says that last bit? “Now, finish eating, and head to your regularly scheduled classes.”
Bigley and Torno file out, followed by Dawson and Thorne. Walking side by side, they make a gorgeous couple, with her fair skin and blond hair complimenting his darker complexion. For some reason, the observation bothers me, and I rub at the sudden burning sensation in my chest.
I try to catch Thorne’s eye as he passes our table, but he never glances in my direction. My heart sinks. Out of everyone on campus, he alone knows how well and truly screwed I am if I have to participate in that cursed trial. Maybe he’s ignoring me on purpose, worried that I’ll see his pity and panic.
Little does he know, I’m already panicking.
The second the door closes behind him, the mess hall devolves into pandemonium. Arguments break out among the fledglings about the dragon and trial. All the excitement and shouting assaults my eardrums, exacerbating my foul mood.
Olive receives more nasty glowers than usual, an observation that makes me even grumpier. “Why are so many people glaring at you today?”
Holding up a finger, Olive pops a piece of buttered brown bread into her mouth and swallows. “This happens anytime something goes wrong and they’re not sure of the cause. I’m the Kamor sympathizer, so I must be involved.”
She says this with a shrug, like the fact that people point their fingers at her whenever something bad happens doesn’t faze her. I don’t know how she stands it. I want to punch every one of those sneering mouths. Breakfast’s only saving grace comes when Theo plops down beside me and whispers in my ear.
“Tonight after dinner work for operation fuck with my roommate?”
“Sounds perfect.” I glance at the door Thorne and Dawson disappeared through and frown. ‘Do you think Instructor Dawson is pretty?”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up to meet his hairline. “Pretty? No, I wouldn’t say she’s pretty.” His follow-up statement squashes my relief like a beetle beneath a boot. “Dawson is flat-out hot.”
On second thought, I change my mind. Theo needs to go.
With a wink, he leans over and snatches the rest of Olive’s bread off her plate while she’s chatting with Abel. Whistling, he saunters away.
Olive nods in response to something Abel says. She reaches for her bread, her fingers groping the empty plate without success. “What the…again? Curse you, Theo! You’ll be sorry when I start booby-trapping my food with wormwort!”
His laughter drifts over his shoulder as he waltzes out the door.
I mock shudder. “Remind me to never mess with your food.”
Once, when I was ten, Cook prepared butterscotch bread pudding, Leesa’s favorite dessert. That day, my sister, feeling a little greedy, decided she didn’t want to share. So she came up with the brilliant idea of lacing my stew with wormwort. A tiny bit of the bitter plant causes minor nausea and stomach upset, but my sister was unfamiliar with the dosing. She added too much, and I ended up spending two entire days and nights on the bathing chamber floor with severe stomach cramps and the runs.
As soon as she realized how awful I felt, Leesa burst into tears and confessed. Mother yelled about how her rash actions put me in danger. She forced Leesa to take care of me while I remained ill. Cook was so horrified, she refused to serve Leesa dessert for two weeks, but I deemed Leesa chastened enough and snuck her bites of mine when no one was looking.
I’d give anything for Leesa to be sitting here with us.
My chest aches as I stand. Olive’s joking interaction with Theo drew unwanted attention, and heads swivel as we carry our trays toward the bins. One particular group whispers and tracks us with keen interest when we pass, and an alarm bell clangs in my head.
I tug on Olive’s sleeve. “Let’s hurry and get out of here.”
Too slow. On the next step, water blasts me in the face, squirting into my eyes and temporarily blinding me. Olive’s squeal tells me someone hit her too. A gust of wind slams into our backs, and we both stumble. Our plates fly off our trays and shatter on the floor. A second, stronger gust hits Olive, pushing her to her knees.
I crouch beside her and grab her hand. Blood drips from where a glass shard pierced her palm. “Are you okay?”
She yanks her hand away. “I’m fine.”
Her wobbling chin belies her words, and my hands curl into fists. Bastards.
I straighten and whirl. “Who did this?” Plenty of people snicker and elbow each other, but no one claims responsibility. “Pretty cowardly, attacking from behind.”
Mark Levine struts past, sneering. “Not me, but I wish I had. I’m not the only one who thinks we should start the search for what happened to the dragon by looking at the traitors in our midst.”
Dropping his tray into the bin, he deliberately grinds his boot into the glass next to Olive’s knee and kicks the shards at her before leaving. I make a move to follow, unsure of my plan other than I’m pissed on Olive’s behalf and want payback, but Olive grabs my tunic to stop me. “Seriously, just leave it. Chasing after him will only make things worse.”
Only when I notice the wet shimmer in her eyes do I relent. “Fine,” I huff, “but just so you know, chasing after him and introducing his nose to my fist would do wonders for my mood.”
The remark prompts a soggy giggle. “Mine too. Another day, maybe.”
“It’s a date.”
Abel and Nick arrive to help us clean up the mess. After we finish and leave the mess hall, Abel pats Olive on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to Levine. He’s such a dick that he’ll be lucky if his alicorn doesn’t gore him to death before the trials.”
I grin. “Thanks, Abel. That heartwarming visual is just what I needed to make it through the day.”
Olive manages a fragile, anemic smile. “Look at you, turning bloodthirsty already. Leesa would be proud.” Her face falls. “If it was just Levine, I wouldn’t care, but he’s not even the one who did it. A lot of people seemed mad at me this morning over the dragon dying, as if I had something to do with it. Gallora only knows why I’d want to hurt a dragon.”
Abel drags a hand down his face. “That’s ridiculous.”
Nick casts a dark glance at the ground. “Maybe, but that’s not going to stop the rumors from flying.”
Olive slumps. Abel glares in Nick’s direction and wraps his arm around Olive’s shoulders. “Rumors, schmumors. People will run their mouths for a day or two, and then everything will die down again like always.”
Nick opens his mouth like he wants to argue but remains silent. During weapons training, he and Abel stick close to us. I hold my own with the throwing stars, hitting the target more often than I miss. When we switch to swords, I manage not to disgrace myself. I have a lot of work to do to catch up to the rest of the class. No surprise there. The big bombshell, though, is discovering how much I enjoy working with weapons to improve my skills. Even in my short time on campus, my progress has become noticeable. I relish the sweeping sense of fulfillment that rushes through every time I hit a target closer to the center or manage to block a sword parry that I couldn’t the day before.
I’m starting to understand the appeal Flighthaven held for Leesa. Not that I fool myself into believing I belong here.
I’m just not sure I belong back at Castle Axton either.
History passes in a blur, with my head too full of my upcoming caper to focus on the names of old kings and queens and the dates of skirmishes.
Lunch proves a repeat of breakfast. Lots of conjecture. More ugly glares cast in Olive’s direction. I try to take a page from her book and ignore them, but the comments I overhear about the Kamor sympathizer sabotaging and killing the dragon make the strategy damn hard. With the upcoming trial hanging like a sharpened axe over my head, I slip out early and head to the alicorn stable to groom Zephyr. If repeated exposure to alicorns will get me flying faster, then I’ll make as many trips to the stable as possible. Though I hope to be gone by the trial, I need to plan for the worst. And I want to give my all for however long I’m here.
In magic training, I avoid getting cornered by Elijah and Mark by buddying up with Theo. My fire display is no better than the previous class, but Theo distracts me from my abysmal performance by informing me of tonight’s plan. He’ll lure Elijah out with the promise of booze in another fledgling’s room on a different floor, leaving the door unlocked for me. Since the rooms are small and come with little to inspect, he estimates that should give me plenty of time to search.
The chance to potentially learn more about what happened to Leesa keeps me from taking Resnick’s disappointed expression as he supervises my subpar magic to heart. Partway through class, Torno shows up. She observes me, too, but if my performance underwhelms her, she does a better job of hiding her displeasure.
By dinnertime, Olive’s good spirits have returned. She insists on helping me sneak into Elijah’s room, so she, Theo, and I sit with our heads close together and maintain low voices. Partly to keep our plan a secret from outsiders and partly to prevent Nick from overhearing. His reaction when the idea arose made his disapproval clear, and not flaunting our rule-breaking in front of him seems like the respectful thing to do.
My stomach writhes with nerves on the walk back to the dorm. Olive parts ways with me on the first floor, hooking her arm through Theo’s and accompanying him to his room as planned. I climb the stairs to the second floor and head into my own room to wait, perching on the edge of the bed before hopping up and pacing back and forth. Anxiety wars with excitement. This could be it. I could find a clue in Elijah’s room that points to Leesa’s whereabouts.
Or a wrathful Elijah could catch me and use magic to blast me into the next kingdom…or report me to Bigley. Both of those options sound terrible.
When Helene walks in, I sit down on the bed. Within seconds, I’m up pacing again.
As she gathers her shower supplies, she studies my erratic behavior through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you doing that?” Suspicion thickens the air like fog.
“Nothing. Just thinking about something. I think better when I’m moving.”
Silence. On my next lap, I peek at her face. An unreadable visage clouds her eyes. “Leesa used to do that too. Not a lot at the beginning, but it seemed like she was pacing off and on all day that last week. She even woke me up at night a couple of times.”
I don’t get the sense that Leesa’s pacing angered Helene. If anything, her tone strikes me as a little wistful. Odd, given her initial animosity toward Leesa when I arrived.
Again, the thought that Helene knew Leesa better than she lets on runs through my head. “Do you have any idea what was weighing on her mind?”
Helene startles, like she forgot anyone else was in the room. “What? No, why would I?”
I frown. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
Scowling, she tugs the tie from her hair and starts unraveling her braid. “There’s nothing to tell.”
I’m not sure I believe her. Or maybe I’m so desperate for information on Leesa that I’m determined to find clues where none exist.
Boots pound in the hallway, and Olive bursts into the room. “Okay! It’s go time—” She spots Helene. “Uh, for the showers. Everybody ready?”
Helene gapes as Olive bounds over to her shower supplies. The skin above her nose creases. “You’re both acting weird. You’re up to something.”
Olive makes a big show of hunting for her soap. “What I’m up to is getting ready to shower. I don’t think personal hygiene is all that weird, but you do you.”
Helene’s gaze shifts to me.
“If thinking is weird, then…” I shrug.
Her mouth tightens. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know, anyway.”
She storms from the room. Olive waits until our roommate’s footsteps are no longer audible before heaving a relieved sigh. “Thank the gods. I thought she’d never leave. She just had to go and pick tonight of all nights to be chatty. You ready?”
No. “I will be. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck! If I don’t hear from you within an hour, I’m sending in a rescue crew.”
Squaring my shoulders, I head for the door.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”