Page 78 of Black Wing and Shadows
The words lodged deep. I could feel my squadmates pushing themselves, struggling to keep their spheres through the final sequence. Mine never flickered. And that was the problem. I had power inside me, but I hadn’t been taught how to use it. It all came flooding in, and I was trying to take it one day at a time.
The day was filled with more lectures, and by the time I returned to my room for the night, I was completely exhausted. Zane wouldn’t be joining me because he had watch duty due to a cadet being injured on the field. My eyes closed as I drifted into a deep sleep.
Initially, the sound was so gentle I thought I had imagined it—a faint scrape resembling leather against stone. My heartbeat quickened as I slowly pushed up, muscles tense. The second sound was unmistakable now—the latch on my window clicked loudly.
I reached for the dagger under my pillow, but before my fingers grasped the hilt, the shutters swung inward and something dark and fast flooded into the room. A sharp, chemical-sweet scent hit me, causing my vision toswim. I swung blindly, steel meeting something solid, but a hand covered my mouth, another held my wrist to the mattress. My heart thundered in my ears.
“Quiet, little Blackcreek,” a voice rasped near my ear—low, male, carrying the faintest trace of an accent I didn’t recognize. I bucked hard, but another figure was already there, binding my legs with practiced speed. The scent in the air thickened—my eyes watered, head feeling heavy.
Through the blur, I caught a glimpse, a pale scar curling from the jawline of one of them down into his collar and the glint of a silver clasp shaped like a wolf’s head. Not cadets. Not instructors. The last thing I saw before the blackness dragged me under was the moonlight catching on a shard of glass where my window had been.
CHAPTER 29
The last thing I remembered was the taste of cloth pressed hard against my mouth and the pulse of wards thundering in my ears. Voices, muffled. Hands dragging. Then nothing.
I awoke to a darkness that felt heavy, almost physical. My head throbbed in slow, nauseous waves, and a bitter taste lingered on my tongue. Cold stone pressed against my cheek, damp enough to leech the warmth from my skin.
I tried to sit up. My arms jerked to a stop. Leather cut into my wrists. My ankles too—bound tight, metal weighing them down. I twisted harder. The rattle of chains cracked through the silence, loud and metallic, like a shout. My pulse thundered in response. Instinct drove me inward, searching for magic. Nothing. No flicker, no hum, not even a whisper. Panic clawed up my throat.
A faint lantern glow pulsed high on the wall, just enough to outline the cell: stone walls slick with damp, no windows, one iron door. The air smelled of wet earth and smoke—and something sharper, metallic, that prickled along my skin.
I braced my knees under me, testing the give of the bindings, but they didn’t move. My breath came faster, shallow, too loud in the silence. That was when I heard them—boots on stone, measured and steady, drawing closer.
The iron door scraped open.
Two figures entered, hoods shadowing their faces. One moved with an easy, lazy gait, but the taller one kept his shoulders squared, steps sharp, a man accustomed to command.
“Awake at last,” the tall one said, voice low but cutting. He stepped into the light, and my stomach sank. I didn’t know his name, but I knew the clasp at his throat—the wolf’s head I’d glimpsed before the world went black.
“You’ll be quiet,” he said, “or you’ll regret it.”
My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You drugged me, dragged me here, and think I’ll just sit pretty?”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “We didn’t take you to hurt you, little Rider. We took you because of what you are.”
My skin crawled. “And what exactly is that?”
His smile widened, patient, cruel. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
They left me chained for what felt like hours, long enough for stiffness to set into my limbs and the cold to crawl beneath my skin. I tested the bindings again—no give. Tried for magic—nothing. Hopeless. My bond with Zane felt gone.
The door groaned open again. Only the tall one entered this time. He drew his hood back, revealing sharp cheekbones, storm-gray eyes, and streaks of iron threaded through his hair. He crouched, close enough that I saw the thin scar running along his jaw.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
I kept my face blank. “Because you’re an idiot?”
The backhand snapped my head sideways, sharp enough to sting but not to knock me out. Pain radiated through my jaw. I forced myself to meet his gaze, unflinching.
“You’re here because your father took something from me. From all of us.” His tone didn’t rise, but the weight in it was worse than shouting. “We’ve been waiting a long time to make him bleed. And then—” his smile thinned, “—the gods handed us you.”
Ice spread through my chest. “General Blackcreek.”
His mouth curved again, not quite a smile. “So, you do know. Good. Then you understand how sweet this will be.”
“You think he’ll trade anything for me?” I forced the words through clenched teeth. “You don’t know him very well.”
“Oh, I know him.” His breath brushed my cheek, cold and steady. “I know what he’s done. And I know exactly how to make him watch while his precious daughter suffers for every drop of blood he spilled.”
