Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
After the dragon-dung debacle, Abel pulls Olive and me aside and uses his water magic to remove the worst of it. Not enough for Instructor Scalor, though, who scrunches up her freckled nose and sends us off to shower before we rejoin the class. Olive’s quieter than usual. The attack shook her—more than she wants to admit. I shudder to imagine what might have happened if I hadn’t been there.
As much as I hate to admit, maybe Thorne has a point. Maybe suppressing my magic is the wrong choice. I’m afraid of what could happen if my fire burns out of control, but if I learned to tame my elemental ability, I could better defend myself and those I care about. Mother was always adamant that I take the remedy, but she’s not here, and I can’t let her dictate every decision in my life.
During lunch, a flyer I don’t recognize announces the arrival of a mail delivery. Prompted by Olive, I stuff the remaining bite of pork and mushroom gravy in my mouth and pick up my tray. She leads me outside and around to the far side of the mess hall, to a small room I’ve never noticed that houses dozens of niches in the wall, each with a room number written above.
Olive pulls out a small stack of envelopes sealed with wax stamps and thrusts two of them at me. “Here you go.”
She grips two envelopes to her own chest as well. Sparing a moment to hope that one is from the cousins she hasn’t heard from in a long time, I tell her I’ll see her in a bit and exit the mail room to wander the grounds in search of a quiet place to read. My aimless roaming leads me toward a shady tree near the alicorn stable. A husky, feminine laugh draws me up short.
I spot Instructor Thorne first. Hands in his pockets, leaning against the white fence with his head tilted low, he appears as relaxed as I’d ever seen him. I can’t help the spark that ignites within me at the sight of him, but the flame snuffs out when my gaze falls on the beautiful advanced battle maneuvers instructor standing beside him.
Tall, willowy, and blond, Celeste Dawson toys with a loose strand of hair as she again giggles at something Thorne says. Uncomfortable pressure squeezes my ribcage, and a strange urge to stalk over and yank her back by her shiny ponytail fills me. What the hells is so funny, anyway? I doubt anything coming from Thorne’s mouth could possibly be that amusing.
I bet she’s faking it.
I should turn around before they spot me, but for some reason, I’m rooted to the ground.
As if sensing my presence, Thorne lifts his head and locates me. The instant our eyes meet, a zap of energy courses through me. His nostrils flare, causing me to wonder if he feels the electricity, too, before Dawson plants an elegant hand on his arm, returning his attention to her.
Ugh. The sight of that pale hand on his arm bugs me far more than it should. Huffing an annoyed breath, I swirl around, stomp to the tree, and plop down, determined to block out their voices and grab a few minutes of solitude to read my letters. I remove my socks and boots, wiggling my toes through the sun-warmed grass until I feel myself start to relax.
Tossing one of the envelopes onto the grass beside me, I open the one featuring my mother’s elegant script.
My dearest Lark,
Since you’ve been gone, I’ve barely slept or eaten. I’m so worried about you, I’m certain I’ll face an early grave.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing for the thousandth time she’d quit with the dramatics. She acts like I’m as helpless as a newborn baby, completely incapable of caring for myself.
I pray to the gods daily that you haven’t been injured at Flighthaven. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.
Grimacing, I skim the remaining contents, my mother’s emotional tirade growing worse by the sentence. Of course she’s worried. That much, I get. But I don’t understand her lack of faith in my abilities to stand on my own two feet. Transient dizzy and weak spells don’t make me utterly incompetent to survive on my own.
At last, I reach the end.
I know you said you’d remain at Flighthaven for a month, but I’m terrified of what might happen in that amount of time. It’s due to my concern for your well-being that I’ve already written to the king about exempting you from the service commitment. I’ll write the second I get word back.
A torrent of emotion sweeps through me. I should be ecstatic about the possibility of going home. Thrilled to leave this place teeming with obnoxious fledglings, dangerous hazing, and mysterious dragon deaths. Overjoyed to never again worry about flying on the back of an alicorn or spending time with rude instructors who make my body yearn for unobtainable things.
But I’m not. And not just because I’m finally getting somewhere regarding Leesa’s whereabouts, although that’s a big part of it. I’m so close to overcoming my terror of flying. If I quit before I do, I will never get a chance like this again. When I leave Flighthaven, I want to march out of that gate knowing I conquered my fear of alicorns for good and put the demons of my past to rest.
I scowl at the page. “Why must you always treat me like an invalid?” I know she means well, but gods. Her constant fussing and smothering rips at my confidence with razored claws. For once, why can’t she simply believe in me the way she does Leesa?
Crumpling the letter, I shove her words back into the envelope and open the second message. It’s from Royce and short and to the point.
Lady Lark, his letter begins.
Cringe. I keep telling him to forego the title, but he never complies. Lady Lark sounds so pretentious. Like some snooty noblewoman who flits around in elaborate gowns, ordering servants to fetch her tea and plump her pillows while she lounges on gold-tasseled settees and commands a string quartet to serenade her.
I apologize for bothering you, but a fire destroyed our food stores for the pantry. We suffered no injuries, but we have families that rely on us. I hate to ask when you’re dealing with so much, but it’s an emergency. We are in desperate need of replacements for our stockpile. Can you spare coin to send as soon as possible?
My heart sinks. Although I brought money from home and already received payment for my first two weeks here, I don’t know how I feel about using mail service to get the funds to Royce. We’ve had issues in my village with thieves opening any mail they believe might contain valuables. I’d hate to send coins only to have them stolen, especially when it sounds like those families can’t afford any delay.
There’s more to the letter, so I continue reading.
Also, I received a new book that I think might interest you. It’s from the library where Peaches was staying before she went on her extended vacation. You can pick it up when you next visit.
Baffled, I scan the line again. Royce and I never exchange books. And who in the three hells is Peaches?
A couple beats later, the name clicks. My hands tremble. Royce jokingly referred to Leesa as Peaches. Shortly before she left for duty, I took her with me to see him. Royce’s wife had baked peach pies, Leesa’s favorite type. She inspired the nickname after scarfing down an entire pie on her own.
Reading between the lines, I deduce that someone sent Royce a book from Flighthaven. Possibly the book. The one Leesa checked out and never returned to the library. I’m not sure why he felt the need to be so cryptic, but he clearly wants me to retrieve the book in person. Otherwise, he would have included it with the letter.
My brain whirls. I need to get him money—and see that book—as soon as possible. How, though? Time is critical, and Flighthaven students can’t just up and leave whenever they want. According to the rule book, new fledglings must remain on campus for four weeks before requesting permission to leave. The only exception is for a death in the immediate family. Short of faking my mother’s untimely demise, I’m officially stuck here for the moment. That leaves me with the unofficial route.
Sneaking my way out.
I’m still brainstorming how to accomplish this feat when the horn announcing the end of lunch blares. A steady stream of fledglings flows past my spot. I join the herd, arriving at the alicorn stable and stopping near the paddock as the others hurry inside to prepare their mounts. Biting my lip, I wonder how Thorne plans to get me out of class today without looking suspicious. I can almost taste how close I am to flying, but I’m not ready to join the other fledglings yet. I hope he realizes that too. Or at least doesn’t decide that I need a sink or swim scenario to leap over those last few hurdles. If he tries to force me to fly an alicorn right now, my lungs better be ready to suck down water because I’m pretty sure I’d drown.
Thorne strides out of the stable. Alone. Not that I was checking, because that would be foolish. He’s my instructor, and I’m his student. Even if I wanted more between us—which I don’t—it’s forbidden. So what if I’m attracted to him? That just means I fit in with all the other women at Flighthaven. Only someone without eyes could fail to see the man’s physical appeal.
I groan, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes. Why am I fixating on this? Moody or not, Thorne could pick just about anyone to hook up with. Am I truly arrogant enough to believe that someone as unsophisticated as me could hook his interest? Sure, the chemistry between us doesn’t feel one-sided, but what do I know? Confinement at Castle Axton limited my experiences with romantic entanglements and sexual attraction.
To my surprise, Thorne calls the class together to make an announcement. “I have to step away from training this afternoon, so Mortimer will be in charge. Mortimer, please run them through the drills we practiced last week.” When a visibly pleased Helene nods, Thorne shifts his attention to me. “Fledgling Axton. You’re to come with me.”
The whispers and conjecture bubble up the second we turn our backs. “What was that all about?” I whisper-yell as my shorter legs work to keep up with his long strides.
Ignoring my question, he tugs on my arm. “Come on.”
“But what about?—”
“Just this once, could you follow orders without arguing or pestering me with questions?”
Half running to avoid getting dragged while Thorne marches along, I last a mere ten seconds without speaking.
“Where’s the fire?” Nothing. “Where are we going?” Silence. “Could you at least slow down a little?” I swear, the bastard speeds up.
I open my mouth to verbally prod him yet again, snapping my lips shut when I catch a glimpse of his profile. A vein in his temple bulges, and for once, I have the good sense to bite my tongue and not piss him off more.
Finally, he stops outside an enormous stone building that reaches high into the sky. My jaw falls open. The dragon aerie. He led us to the dragon aerie.
When we first walked up, everything remained quiet. Now, the ground rumbles beneath my boots, and subdued roars and screeches clash together in an ungodsly chorus. Like, even through the thick stone walls, the dragons can sense our presence.
My mouth dries, and I wait for the onslaught of fear to envelop me. But it never comes.
I take a deep breath. “What are we doing here?”
Thorne regards me with an impenetrable expression. “You said you wanted to visit the dragons. We’re visiting the dragons.”
I blink at that unexpected reply. “Wow. Just like that, huh? So, if I said I wanted a bed made of gold and a handsome prince to whisk me away on a snowy white steed to a glittering palace, would you make that happen too?”
His eyes narrow. “What use is a bed that’s too hard to sleep on? And you’d annoy the handsome prince so much, he’d dump your ass off his horse long before you ever made it to any palace.”
“I’m guessing that’s a no.”
His low growl lets me know he’s nearing the end of his patience.
As a peace offering, I hold up my palms. “Sorry, sheesh. Thank you for agreeing to show me the aerie, even if it’s making you even testier than usual. Can we go inside now?”
“I’m not just showing you the aerie. You’re going to help me feed the dragons.”