Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The following morning, I sit in the saddle, one hand gripping the reins and the other clutching a chunk of Zephyr’s mane. Instructor Thorne’s at my side, fingering the lead rope rather than wrapping the extra length around his hand. If he drops the lead, Zephyr could take off. “I still think we should have started off with me mucking out the stable.”
I can’t believe I just whined about not getting to toss dung-coated straw around with a pitchfork, but here we are.
Instead of our usual routine, Thorne was waiting outside the stable with Zephyr when I arrived and all but flung me into the saddle before I could even greet him.
He shakes his head. “The expedited trial date means you need to progress faster. You’ll fail if you can’t even get off the ground. Worse, you’re a danger to yourself and your flight unit.”
I know he’s right. I had the same exact thought earlier. That doesn’t mean I enjoy him confirming my futile chances of success with his annoyingly perfect lips. “Great pep talk. I feel so much better now.”
“I’m not here to make you feel better. My job is to make you a competent flyer, and since I don’t like failing, I expect you to work your ass off until you reach that goal.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to quell both my fear and rising irritation.
“Why are your eyes closed, Duchess?”
I suck in a breath and open them. “Why not?”
He presses his lips together in a thin line. “Just keep them open.”
“Yes, sir!”
My faux-excited tone earns me a hard stare before he clicks his tongue at Zephyr. The lesson continues without any further bickering as Thorne tugs the alicorn into a trot and prompts him to unfurl and flutter his wings. By some miracle, I don’t freak out this time.
He gives me an approving nod. “Good. Now hold on tight.”
Using a sweet tone, Thorne issues a command to Zephyr. “Hover.” The alicorn flaps his wings and lifts into the air, floating several feet above the ground.
My stomach plunges to my toes, and only pure stubbornness keeps me from diving off the alicorn’s back. As much as Thorne’s tactless feedback rubs me the wrong way, I don’t want to let him down.
He takes note of my white-knuckled death grip on the reins. “So how is it that a noble-born woman doesn’t have much experience riding a horse? Are you scared of horses too?”
Cued by a signal from the flight instructor, Zephyr lands. I barely get a chance to catch my breath before Thorne prompts the alicorn to go airborne once more. Sweat drips from my forehead. “No, not scared of horses. But my mother was overprotective. She didn’t like the idea of me riding away from the castle. I think the attack messed with her head, and I was a sickly child. She worried something would happen to me if I ventured out into the big wide world, so she kept me close.”
“Even once you got older?”
I sigh. “Even then. I still struggle with dizzy and weak spells.” I don’t mention the part about my fire magic, and how even with the magic suppressant, she fretted that I might lose control again in a crowded public place and hurt people.
Though I look straight ahead, my cheek burns from the weight of his stare. “That sounds lonely.”
I fidget in the saddle, uncomfortable with the shift in conversation. “Sometimes, but I really don’t have anything to complain about. I had my mother and my sister, up until Leesa left for Flighthaven. I had the staff. My mother did the best she could.”
Did she, though? When I say the words out loud, I’m not sure.
Zephyr repeats two more cycles of hovering before Thorne replies, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “It’s okay, you know. To love someone and still hate their choices and how they treat you. Family is complicated.”
I hesitate. “Do…is there someone in your family like that?”
“My brother.”
His shuttered expression tells me the discussion has ended, but my mind whirls as Zephyr flaps his wings and repeats the exercise. I ponder what choices his brother made that he hates, and why the other man treated Thorne badly. And I wonder if complicated family dynamics could explain why my moody instructor left home for so long.
Then Zephyr surges into the air, and my focus returns to the alicorn. At the end of our session, exhilarated laughter escapes me. I reach down and stroke Zephyr’s neck. “That was both terrifying and amazing.”
Thorne’s gaze grows distant. “Wait until you fly.”
Nervous energy zips down my spine, but I force myself to keep breathing. One step at a time.
When the lesson is over, I dismount without my teacher’s assistance.
Despite the fact that he’s a royal pain in the ass, I can’t deny how Thorne’s helped me come a long way in overcoming my fear of alicorns.
“Instructor?” I tug on my braid, annoyed with myself for being anxious about thanking him. “Thank you for all your help. With training, I mean.”
He studies me with an unreadable expression, and after a bit, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. “That’s my job, Duchess. Don’t make more of it than that.”
That’s what I get for trying to be polite.
A knot forms in my throat. “A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have worked.”
I’d hoped to ask Thorne if he’d show me the dragons, but now might not be the most opportune moment. I bite my cheek. Screw it. “Do you think you could give me a tour of the dragon aerie sometime soon?”
He stiffens, emotions flitting across his face too quickly for me to comprehend them. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Disappointment seeps into my bones. I don’t know why I bothered. “Whatever. I’ll ask Vice Commander Torno.” My conversation with her that first day leads me to believe she might be accommodating. “Have a nice day, sir .”
I turn on my heel and trip over my feet. Before I hit the ground, he pulls me up. There’s an unspoken apology in his eyes, and a flicker of something else. Longing? Desire? Or am I imagining things that aren’t there?
The air stills, and my stupid heart beats double-time.
He swallows. His gaze dips to my mouth before his jaw hardens. “Lark?—”
The sound of my given name on his tongue does funny things to my heart. Things I definitely should not be feeling. Embracing my inner coward, I turn and bolt.
It’s not until midway through breakfast that the weird ending to our training session fades enough for me to celebrate the positive aspects. I rode an alicorn whose hooves left the ground! That counts as a success regardless of how high I got—or didn’t get—into the air.
No one harasses Olive in the mess hall, and my hopes remain high as we leave breakfast. They plummet once we reach Kinneck’s class. Today’s torture session comes courtesy of an exercise he calls “walk the plank,” which I renamed the “pit of doom.”
As soon as we enter the training room, suspicion rears its ugly head. Kinneck’s grinning, entirely too pleased with himself for today’s scheduled activity to be anything other than a sadistic clusterfuck. Whistling, Kinneck leads us out of the classroom and along a trodden dirt path to the forest. The trees part and tower over us on both sides like silent sentinels, their leaves whispering in the breeze as we arrive at a spot where the ground splits apart and separates to form a wide crater in the earth. A row of the narrowest footbridges I’ve ever had the misfortune of viewing spans the gap. Short wooden planks attached horizontally form the platforms, which can’t be much wider than the length of my foot. No handrails either.
Without prompting, fledglings start lining up behind the bridges.
Kinneck’s high-pitched whistle assaults my ears. “You know the drill. The object is to get across the bridge without falling in.”
“What’s in the pit today?” someone asks.
Kinneck chuckles. “Try not to find out. On my count, and remember to keep going until I say stop. Go!”
The first group takes off. The bridges bounce and sway beneath their boots and emit alarming creaks and squeals. When the fastest fledgling gets to the halfway point, the next two students in line squat down, grab each side of the bridge, and start shaking the foundation.
“What in the hells are they doing?” I hiss.
Olive snorts. “Don’t worry, it’s part of the exercise. If you don’t do it, Kinneck throws you in the pit.”
That sounds ominous. “Do I even want to ask what’s in the pit?”
Abel drops an arm around my shoulder. “Probably not, and we don’t know yet anyway. It changes every time.”
I scoot closer and peer into the abyss. Darkness greets me. “How deep is it?”
He shrugs. “Dunno, but the good news is, no one’s died from this yet.” He scratches his chin. “As far as I know. Wanna know the bad news?”
I chew my lower lip before shaking my head. “Pass.”
Abel offers me a dark chuckle and a head pat. “You’re learning.” The fledgling on our bridge finishes. Before I can protest, Abel nudges me forward. “Here, you go next. Standing around will only make you more nervous.”
“No! Wait! I don’t want to?—”
Kinneck materializes out of nowhere. “Fledgling Axton! What seems to be the hold up here?”
“I…nothing, sir.”
He claps his hands three times in a row. “Then let’s get a-crack-a-lackin! Go, Axton. Go!”
The muffled chortle from behind me has to be Abel. The traitor. In my mind, I toss both him and Kinneck into the pit.
In reality, I place my right boot on the bridge with the upmost care. My body freezes when the surface shakes.
Where’s Elijah when you need him? I’d happily let him hit me again to get out of this exercise. I wonder if it’s too late to punch myself in the face instead.
“What are you waiting for, Axton? An invitation from King Xenon himself? You have until the count of three to start hustling, and then I’m shoving you in.”
Crap. I scramble to place my right foot in front of my left. Despite the sickening sway of the bridge, I keep moving, placing one foot in front of the other.
A familiar yelp comes from my left. I risk a glance to confirm that Olive is on the next bridge over.
“There you go! And hold on tight, because here comes the balance challenge.”
Hold on tight? To what? Unless he wants me to grab a stray bird that flies past, there’s nothing here for me to grasp besides air.
I cringe, knowing what’s coming next, and continue my slow crawl across the wobbly planks. A high-pitched creak jolts me. I spin my arms to maintain my balance as the bridge bucks beneath my boots.
I last one second. Two. Another wave strikes. I stumble forward but manage to remain on the wood.
Near the halfway point, hope rises. I’m getting closer. One step at a time. A gentle breeze flutters a loose strand of hair, and I inhale the scent of pine-and-salt before easing forward.
The bridge bucks again. I wobble. My left foot slips off the edge, and though I start to recover, a strong blast of wind slams into my back. Air magic.
My shriek echoes all around as I tumble off the side into the darkness.
The fall is blessedly short. Bracing for the agony of impact, I’m overjoyed when a soft substance breaks my landing. Like a thick, fetid stew, the mush slurps me beneath the surface. As my head slips under, another scream rings out, but I’m too busy trying not to suffocate to worry about the source. My feet touch the bottom, and with a hard push, I surface, spitting and trying not to puke.
The smell. It’s ungodsly.
Gagging, I swipe at a piece of hair clinging to my lips, desperate to keep the foulness coating the strand out of my mouth. From my spot beneath the bridges, there’s enough light to make out a staircase built into the earth. I dog paddle in that direction, flinging noxious mud with each stroke.
Something splatters and spits behind me. “Lark? Is that you?”
At the sound of Olive’s voice, my initial tension dissipates. “Yup, it’s me. Any idea what this stuff is?”
A cough. “Don’t ask.”
“Right,” I mutter.
I paddle until the pit becomes shallow enough for me to walk, and then I wait for Olive to catch up. When she does, we head for the staircase, heaving identical sighs of relief once we reach salvation. As I grab for the bottom step to haul myself out, the sludge starts churning and yanking at my legs.
What fresh godsforsaken horror is this?
My fingernails scrabble with the hard-packed dirt to find purchase but fail. In desperation, I lunge for a tree root, managing to curl my hand around it before the pit drags me back in.
Behind me, Olive’s scream abruptly cuts off. Ice trickles down my spine.
“Olive?” Nothing. “Olive!” Still nothing.
Rotating my grip, I turn to confront the gurgling sludge. No Olive. A small whirlpool spins near the spot I saw her last, though, so I stretch my legs toward it.
Seconds pass with no sign of my friend. My fear explodes into full-blown panic. I’m about to release my grip and dive in to find her when a hand coils around my boot. Somehow, I recruit muscles I didn’t realize I had to drag her back to safety. Gasping, she pulls herself onto the first step, rolls her head to the side, and vomits. Afterward, she curls on her side and pants.
For at least a minute, my heart thrashes like a wild animal trapped in my chest. When I can finally speak, I hiss, “Kinneck has lost his godsforsaken mind. Is he trying to drown us?”
Olive coughs. “That part wasn’t Kinneck. That was one of our lovely peers using earth magic.”
That’s when I hear it. The muffled laughter coming from the top of the stairs. “So now they’re cool with murdering you too?”
She pushes herself to her knees, then her feet. “They wouldn’t have let it go that far. Probably.”
The tone of her voice echoes my doubt. “Can’t say I’m feeling especially reassured. And there’s nothing we can do about it?”
“Not really. Going to Torno or Bigley will only drive them to do worse…and get sneakier. We just need to hope they lose interest soon and move on to something else.”
“Or we could fight back.”
Olive releases a watery laugh. “We could, but that might just piss them off even more. Not to pick on you or anything, but your magic doesn’t seem strong enough to be a threat.”
Not now. But it could be.
When we emerge into the sunlight, the color of the substance coating us like a second skin becomes clear. Brown. It’s brown and smells like the wrong side of a cow. By the heavens, please tell me I’m not covered in?—
“Fertilized mud!” Kinneck hollers. “Now you all know what to avoid today in the pit.”
I scrunch up my nose. So shit, basically. We’re covered head to toe in shit. My best friend almost drowned in shit. What a perfect way to kick off the rest of the day.