Page 104 of Black Wing and Shadows
“One more word, and you’ll regret it.”
But the cadet only bared his teeth, grey shimmer pulsing brighter in the torchlight. For a heartbeat, it felt like the celebration would ignite into something else entirely. The cadet’s grey shimmer pulsed like storm light, jagged scales crawling higher up his neck. The courtyard was silent but for the crackle of bonfires, every Rider, every flier-tethered bond holding its breath.
I raised my hands slowly, my silver shimmer still tightly locked across my chest and arms even though I hadn’t intentionally willed it. My voice shook, but I forced it to steady.
“I’m not him,” I said, searching his eyes. “I’m not my father. Whatever he’s done—whatever you think I’ve done because of him—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not my dad.”
For a flicker, something crossed his face. Doubt. Pain. But it hardened in a heartbeat, drowned by rage and drink.
“Doesn’t matter,” he spat. “You carry his name. That’s enough.”
And then he lunged.
His fist slammed into my shoulder, the grey shimmer along his arm scraping sparks against my silver scales. Gasps erupted around us as the crowd surged back, the courtyard exploding into chaos.
Zane moved instantaneously, shoving him off me, his own snarl tearing loose. “Back the fuck off!”
But the cadet only came harder, grey shimmer flaring brighter, his fist cracking against Zane’s jaw. The sound of it rang like steel on stone.
I stumbled, heart pounding, with silver armor still fused to my skin. I hadn’t summoned it—but it was alive, glowing with every pulse of Esme’s fury in my chest. My hand shot out instinctively, hitting his ribs. He staggered, then drove his knee into my stomach, hard enough to rattle my teeth.
The crowd roared. Other Riders began shoving in, some trying to pull him back, others egging it on. Someone threw a cup. Somewhere else, shimmers began flashing in the firelight—gold feathers, red scales, black shimmers—all uncontrolled, answering the madness.
“Enough!” Zane’s bellow ripped through the yard, but it was already too late.
The courtyard was a battlefield.
The cadet swung again, grey shimmer striking mine, sparks dancing between us.
My chest felt like fire. Esme’s voice in my head like a drumbeat,“Harden. Survive.”And for the first time—I let it.
My silver shimmer surged outward, locking around me like a second skin. The cadet’s blow rebounded off me with a sharp crack, his hand twisting at an ugly angle. He screamed.
The chaos swallowed the sound.
Bonfires cast the courtyard into madness—shimmer on shimmer, Riders against Riders, old grudges exploding as ale and anger fueled the night.
And at the center of it all—I stood trembling, silver armor burning against my skin, knowing there was no putting this back in its box. The fight churned around us, Riders clashing, shimmers blazing in wild, uncontrolled bursts. Ale splashed across the stones, firelight glinting off steel and feathers and scales.
The cadet came at me again, his grey shimmer burning bright down his arms, teeth bared. I barely registered the pain in my gut before instinct had my dagger in hand, the steel glinting pale in the torchlight.
And then—Zane moved.
The mask dropped. For the first time in months, other than in our chambers, his wings exploded outward, massive and black, catching the firelight with a sheen that stole the breath from the courtyard. Gasps ripped through the crowd as space cleared instinctively around him, the sheer dominance of the display forcing bodies back.
The cadet faltered, just a step, and that was enough.
I dropped low, my silver shimmer hard against my skin, and slashed once, twice. The dagger bit clean through the tendon—both of his ankles, giving wet, awful pops. His scream tore the air as he collapsed, thrashing on the stones, his shimmer flickering uselessly.
Zane stepped behind me, wings flared wide, shadows draping across the courtyard. His stance was lethal, protective, a wall of fury and darkness standing guard at my back.
And the noise died.
All around us, the chaos froze. Shimmers dimmed, fists lowered, voices dropped into silence. The only sound left was the cadet’s ragged sobbing, cut through by the slow rasp of my own breath.
No one else dared move.
Because at that moment—dagger in my hand, silver shimmer glowing hard across my arms, and Zane’s wings stretched out like death itself—I wasn’t just the general’s daughter anymore.
