Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
While I kick off the next morning with a mild headache, Olive’s pained moan when Helene draws the curtains open to let sunlight stream in suggests she’s suffering through a much worse hangover. She stumbles out of bed for the bathroom, still reeking of whiskey. I’m about to offer her some sympathy when realization dawns on me.
Both my roommates are up. Along with the sun.
I’ve overslept and missed my private flight training session.
Thorne’s going to strangle me.
I whip off the covers to hop out of bed but sag back into the mattress. Even if I hurry, there’s no time to train. Not if I want breakfast. And after last night, I don’t know if I’m up to facing him this morning, anyway.
The memory of him glaring and telling me to find someone else to hook up with because he’s not on the menu makes me want to crawl into my armoire and never come out. Since that’s not an option, I follow Olive into the showers and get dressed for class.
During weapons training, one of Mark and Elijah’s cronies accidentally stabs Olive’s hand with the business end of a dagger. When I lose my temper and yell that I’d like to accidentally separate his head from his neck, our instructor orders me to walk it off by escorting Olive to the infirmary. Funny. With all the anxiety I harbored about Flighthaven prior to my arrival, I never once worried about intentional attacks by classmates. At the moment, that seems to be the biggest threat.
Thanks to my decision that morning to reduce my usual amount of remedy, my performance in magic improves. My fireballs expand in size and power, and I even produce a mini fire tornado in the palm of my hand.
Resnick offers me an encouraging nod.
Torno, who’s observing today, frowns. “Are you sure you’re taking the correct dosage of eyril, Lark? Your power level is still pretty weak.”
I grit my teeth at the nearby snickers. Please, say it louder so the assholes in the back can hear.
“Yes.” Since eyril doesn’t work on me and also causes me nausea, is my answer really a lie? Either way, I avoid eye contact.
As if that’s not bad enough, a familiar figure enters the arena and stalks toward me. “Fledgling Axton!”
Oh, boy. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe Instructor Thorne’s expression right now.
He’s livid.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His mouth sets in a hard line. His dark hair, free of its usual leather cord, blows around his face in the light breeze. Something about his fierceness reminds me of the painting of Zeru, God of the Heavens, that hangs on the wall in the library of my mother’s castle.
Other fledglings take one glimpse of the storm cloud that is his face and scurry out of his path. From a safe distance, they shoot not-so-surreptitious glances our way, as if anticipating the wrath Thorne’s about to unleash.
Wise choice. If I could scurry away, I would. Alas, Mr. Stormy is headed right for me.
He stops a few paces away. Muscular legs planted shoulder-width apart. Thick arms crossed over his chest. “You missed our meeting this morning. Why?”
Irritation simmers in my blood. He could have caught me after class instead of calling me out in front of everyone. But of course, he has to make a point.
I bite back a disrespectful comment. “It wasn’t intentional.”
He studies me with cool appraisal. “Is that so?” One dark eyebrow lifts in challenge, leaving little doubt that he believes I bailed because of his rejection.
Ugh. So humiliating.
“Yes, sir , that’s so.” As much as I’d like to tell him to kiss my ass, I know better than to let my temper run wild in front of another instructor and dozens of peers. “I overslept.”
“Oh?” A ghost of a smirk plays at his lips. “And why is that?”
He knows very well why.
My ire kicks up a notch. I hope he reads the silent message in my eyes urging him to take a long, painful, one-way trip to one of the three hells.
“Because I’m exhausted from all the training I’m doing to catch up.” No way in this realm will I admit to being such a whiskey lightweight. “On top of that, I had to deal with an obnoxious asshole last night, which probably didn’t help.”
Beside me, Olive’s jaw falls open, and Abel launches into a coughing fit. I ignore them both.
Thorne’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s suppressing a smile. He covers his mouth with his palm, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the act. “You blew off this morning’s meeting because you were too tired? What are you going to do if you get tired during battle? Take a nap?”
Several fledglings cackle as Instructor Kinneck strides up. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine.” Thorne’s attention never strays from me. “Just dealing with an insubordinate student.”
Insubordinate? “I’d hardly call oversleeping insubordinate… sir .”
This time, when I emphasize sir in that mocking tone, Thorne’s nostrils flare. His eyes rake over my body before fixating on my face like a predator’s. “If you can’t manage to get your lazy ass out of bed on time, how do you expect to excel in your training?”
This would be a good time to exercise caution, but I’m far too pissed. Lazy ass? Lazy ass? He knows that’s bullshit. Since my first day at Flighthaven, I’ve done nothing but bust my butt.
With superhuman effort, I summon a sweet smile. “Why, I figured I’d just follow some good advice and find some other fledgling to help me.” After tossing his words from last night back in his face, I loop my arm through Olive’s. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Olive’s looking a little pale, so I’m taking her to the infirmary to get a tonic for the pain.”
I’m not lying. Olive really doesn’t look so hot, though I can’t deny I’m happy for any reason to escape Thorne. Several pairs of eyes follow us as we exit the arena.
Olive waits until we’re out of earshot before she presses. “What was that all about, with you and Thorne? Did something happen last night?” She holds up a palm. “No, wait. Tell me later, when I’m not feeling like I’m about to die.”
The medic gives her a pain tonic and then changes her bandage, which somehow got dirty over the course of the day. Before he finishes, Olive falls asleep on one of the cots. His promise to keep an eye on her leaves me with some time to kill. There’s no way I’m going back to magic class for round two with Thorne, so I wander outside. Before I know it, my feet lead me to the dragon aerie.
The same guard from the day before stands watch. I honestly don’t realize I have an agenda until the words pour out of my mouth. “Hi, remember me? I was here yesterday with Instructor Thorne and believe he dropped something. I was hoping I could run in super quick to search? I promise I won’t be very long.”
My attempt at a flirtatious smile must suck, because the guard shakes his head. “Not without an instructor.”
“What about instructor permission? Isn’t that good enough?”
“No.”
I let my shoulders droop and exhale an exaggerated sigh. “See, I told Thorne that, but you know how he is, and he’s in a real mood this afternoon. He gave me a look like he was envisioning my skull exploding like a ripe melon…you know the kind I’m talking about…and then told me in that icy tone of his that if I or the guard decide to waste his valuable time and make him come over himself, he’ll be happy to deal with us. Of course, he said deal like he meant kill …but I’m sure it’ll be fine if I go get him. Right?”
One second passes. Two. The guard opens the oversized door and moves to the side. “Make it quick.”
“You’re a lifesaver!”
Hurrying into the dim interior, some subconscious urge leads me past the cold storage area and toward the dragon pens. I’m not even sure what I’m doing in the aerie, but now that I’m here, I need to see the dragons.
As I draw closer, unease crawls down my spine. This strange sensation—almost like a brushing against my mind—comes and goes, growing stronger one moment and disappearing the next.
The feeling freaks me out a little, but I’m probably just paranoid and exhausted. Between my classes, early morning training sessions, and scaling back on my magic suppressing dosage, it’s a logical explanation.
Despite my jitters, curiosity drives me forward. I creep closer to the enclosure and stop between the first two cells. Like yesterday, my heart clenches over the visual proof of the dragons’ maltreatment. Just the sight of these cramped prisons for such large beasts stokes my desire to howl and slam the walls until they collapse. Anything to stop these dragons from being so trapped.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I wait for my inner turbulence to subside and peer between the iron bars.
Predatory golden eyes gaze back at me.
I retreat a step. The black dragon tracks my movement, and a loud snuffling noise escapes the iron muzzle imprisoning its mouth. I get the impression he’s taking in my scent.
My pulse stutters. Standing perfectly still, I lower my gaze, not wanting to set him off by staring him in the eye. Without warning, a riot of dark emotions slams into me, driving me to my knees. Terror, anguish, pain…so much pain. I try to rise, but I can’t move.
My vision dims, and frigid darkness threatens to envelop me. Fighting as hard as I can, I claw my way toward a clear head.
The darkness tugs harder.
As my vision continues to fade, fear morphs into panic. I’m not sure what’s happening, only that my emotions feel out of control, like a wildfire in a drought-deadened field. If I don’t rein them in, I’m scared they’ll consume me from the inside out.
I drag air into my lungs. Calm. I need to find my inner calm. If I want to banish the darkness trying to hijack my brain, I need to ground myself.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I recall everything that brings me joy. Sunshine filtering through the clouds. A soft breeze fluttering through my hair. My sister’s laughter as she stuffs a stolen cookie into her mouth. A pair of gold-flecked eyes turning molten before warm lips collide with mine.
Relief. Finally. The treacherous darkness surrounding me lightens, then retreats as fast as it came. With a trembling body, I rise to my feet.
The dragon slow blinks once before butting his head against the bars. He snorts, twin puffs of steam curling from his nostrils. My brain must still be a little woozy because his eyes have changed somehow. Become less tortured. More luminous.
Palm up, I ease my hand forward. The dragon lowers his head like he’s giving me permission to touch him. With measured movement, I stroke his scaly nose. He exhales again in a sound reminiscent of a sigh.
I continue petting his muzzle. I’m so sorry you’re here. You deserve to be free.
An odd tickling sensation prickles between my ears. The dragon blinks twice, shakes his dark head, and backs away from the bars.
All of a sudden, my muscles turn limp, like someone poked holes into my body and sucked the energy right out of them. I stagger before regaining my balance. As quickly as I can, I retreat. I burst outside and blow right by the guard, not slowing until I’m a good distance away, drained and fending off a worsening headache.
“Everything okay, Fledging Axton?”
I whirl around to face Vice Commander Torno. I was so wrapped up in getting back to the dorm that I didn’t even notice her. Let’s hope she didn’t spot me come out of the aerie alone. “I just have a headache. Gonna go lie down for a bit.”
She nods as I retreat. I’m grateful she didn’t pepper me with questions because I have no logical explanation for what I was doing near the dragon enclosure or what transpired there.
Back in my empty room, I collapse on the bed, willing the quiet to still my racing thoughts.
What just happened? Is all the stress messing with my sanity?
I know one thing for sure…I need to get out of this place, if only for a little while. A break from Flighthaven will help clear my head.
Reaching beneath the mattress, my fingers find the smooth surface of the tokens I liberated from Thorne’s room.
Tonight. I have to go tonight.
Voices echo in the hall. Class must be out. Sitting up, I scrub my palms over my face and mentally prepare myself to act normal and get through dinner.