Page 43 of Burning Heir

He kept his eyes on me, nodding. “Beautiful… or deadly.”

“A quell can be beautiful.”

“Listen, I’m going to teach you how to fight. I want you to be able to protect yourself in case something like that happens again.”

“Who—told you?”

He blinked. “Combat. Bridger broke your wrist, and he won’t hesitate to break your legs next time you’re pinned against him.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Is it stubbornness, or have you been alone with your mind too much that you don’t trust people?” He raised his voice loud enough, and three students turned to stare.

I suppressed a sigh in the back of my throat. “Fine. Teach me combat, but after the healer comes.”

We sat beside the fire for a few more hours. We talked about nearly everything. Well, almost everything about myself. He brushed off any of my questions about his life. I didn’t doubt what living in the shadow of his ruler brother did to him, but I imagined it wore the soul.

The healer arrived three days later.

He mended my wrist with his quell without touching the swollen joints, even smoothing over the cuts and welts. I had grown so used to the constant pain that walking without shudders felt strange.

The Winter trails were warded off, allowing me three days to rest. It seemed a fifth of the academy either broke or sprained something in their bodies during the first week. I didn’t feel bad when I saw Bridger in line, waiting to fix his nose.

I hoped they’d have to snap it again to reset it. That his screams would wake the sleeping griffins across the mountains.

Spring was warmer than expected, and thawing hardly felt like an event here. I saw a boat along the coast, and my nerves ignited, thinking it was the Malvoria ship, but it was just a cargo boat hauling supplies. Griffins flew overhead, strapped with heavy gear, their vicious glares making me avert my gaze quickly.

I missed warding that morning. Without my quell, Cain deemed me useless at projecting a shield or ward. Myla sparred with me during combat, and not being placed against anyone seemed worse—it meant I wasn’t worth a fight. I had nothing to give them. Myla, however, seemed stronger, her limbs filling out as the first week passed. A fluffy, flightless griffin cried from a pile of leaves, its black feathers and golden eyes gleaming with life.

“Her name is Haziel,” Myla exclaimed, glancing at the lump of feathers every other second. “I’m a full-time griffin mother now.”

Myla bore two daggers sheathed against her ribs, trophies from her triumphs in the last two battles. One, a copper-stainedblade from Autumn, was now mine. I also kept Damien’s dagger—not that it counted toward a win, but he’d earned enough last year to boast a small collection.

“She’s adorable. Hopefully, she grows big,” I said, flexing my fingers on my left hand. The healer mentioned I’d have full strength back within a day.

“I wonder when they’ll open the Winter trails again. It’s bullshit. We’re missing prime field training,” she said, jamming her knee into my chest and pinning my arms at my side. Her curls swayed as she hovered above my face.

That tightness returned—guilt. “I’m sure it’ll open in a few days,” I said as she dragged her body off me. Every muscle groaned as I sat up, resting my arms on my shaking knees. “On the plus side, you’re getting stronger. Three more wins, and you’ll earn a sword. I’m sure you’ll be considered for lead to claim when they choose.”

Bridger was a third-year. These were his last few months to prove himself. I’d rather Myla claim my father’s heir than Bridger.

“Yeah, I’ve been getting private lessons. Bridger says my quell is stronger than most first-years.”

I wiped my arched brow, sliding closer to her on the grass. “Did you want to eat dinner later? Perhaps I need your powerful snow to bring my quell out.”

A wrinkle formed between her eyes. “I’m—I’m actually busy. Bridger’s taking me griffin riding. I can’t ride Haziel for at least two more seasons.”

I smiled back, though I felt the distance growing between us. “Have fun,” I said through clenched teeth.

Antonia jammed the dull end of her dagger against Alaric’s throat. “We’re not getting back together,” she hissed.

Jace pulled her off him. “Toni, relax.”

I narrowed my eyes at Myla. “The Night students scare me.”

Myla leaned closer, kicking up a tuft of grass. “Rumor is Alaric and Antonia dated back at home. He broke up with her before they left for the academy. Seems like Alaric regrets his decision.”

“Lovers turn rivals,” I whispered. “It’s hopeless here.”

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