Page 80 of Black Wing and Shadows
I couldn’t tell how long I’d been here. A minute. An hour. Days.
The lantern high above blurred, its glow splitting in two, then four. Boots scraped nearby, voices low and steady. I caught fragments—laughter, a question, my father’s name—before they slid away again.
Cold fingers gripped my chin, jerking my face upward. A man’s features loomed close, sharp and storm-colored, but they swam in and out, like ripples across water. His mouth moved. I caught only a word here and there—blood—Blackcreek—scream.
I forced my eyes open wider. “Go… to hell.” The words slurred, half-broken, but they still left my mouth.
The strike came fast. My head cracked sideways into stone, a shock of white detonation bursting behind my eyes. The room spun. My stomach heaved. Time fractured again.
I was slumped forward. Then I was upright. Then light flashed, and someone was laughing. I couldn’t tell what order it happened in.
Another blow snapped my head back. Pain surged hot and sharp, then dulled into a roar that drowned everything else.
The silver thread inside me flickered faint, thin as smoke. I clung to it with what little strength I had left. Please. Don’t let it break.
The next impact drove the world sideways again. Darkness pooled in the corners of my vision. My body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t obey.
The last thing I knew was the weight of my own breath stuttering, then slowing… and the cold certainty that I might not wake again.
CHAPTER 30
ZANE
Current Events was a required course for all cadets, which meant Auri should be here—second row from the top, halfway toward the west aisle. Her spot was empty. I told myself she was only late. She’d stroll in, hair still damp from a too-long shower, muttering about oversleeping. Except… she didn’t.
The room filled in around me, the low rumble of voices bouncing off the circular tiers. Still no sign of her. My gut tightened. I reached for our mental bond but hit a solid wall. I closed my eyes, focusing on breaking it down. She never shut me out this hard. It was as if the wall were empty.
By the time Professor Melamora started droning about shifting trade routes in the Northern Range, I was leaning forward on my elbows, scanning the tiers. Auri’s squad was there—Sadie, Akira, Micah, Lorenzo, Jackson—all present. She wasn’t.
Something cold settled in my chest. I pushed up from my seat, ignoring Melamora’s startled pause. “I’ll be right back,” I said, not bothering to wait for permission. I tried to reach her again. Closed my eyes and really focused. Usually, I could feel her, sense her, but this time…nothing. My heart was beating double, now.
When I arrived at the Riders’ wing, my heart pounded. Her door was closed but unlocked. Inside, the bed was unmade, and a dagger lay on the blanket. There was no sign she had prepared for morning drill. Her boots still sat there. Her window was wide open—perhaps not unusual in summer, but it was fall and had been freezing overnight. Plus, she was on too many people’s hit lists, thanks to her father, to leave it open.
I didn’t need more proof. Something was wrong. Bad wrong.
Corson came out of Current Events with the other Riders’ Wing Commanders. “She’s gone,” I said.
That got his attention. They all froze mid-stride, eyes flicking between us.
Corson straightened slowly, his expression controlled in that commander’s way that always made my teeth grind. “Zane—”
“No, listen to me. Auriella Blackcreek is missing. She wasn’t in Current Events. Her bed was disturbed. Boots are still there. Dagger left. Shutters busted. She’s been gone since sometime after lights-out.”
He studied me for a beat too long. “And you’re certain she didn’t simply—”
“Don’t.” My voice dropped, low and lethal. “You know her. She wouldn’t wander off without her blade. Someone took her.”
His jaw clenched. “I’ll order a sweep—”
“A sweep?” I stepped in, inches away. “We should already be beyond the gates. Riders in the air, trackers on the ground. Every minute you wait—”
“Protocol, Braegon,” he snapped, steel in his tone now. “We lock the perimeter first. Then we search.”
“I don’t give a damn about protocol.” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “We’re burning daylight. If this is about who her father is—not to mention she IS the fucking general’s daughter—”
“This is about doing it right,” he said, though his gaze flickered, barely.
That told me enough.
