Page 118 of Black Wing and Shadows
Professor Hildegard’s whistling cut the laughter short. “Enough chatter! Feather Wing, you’ll be running paired launches. I want synchronization. Takeoffs, vertical climb, descent. If one of you hesitates, both of you will eat dirt.”
“Guess we’ll find out who’s dead weight,” Sadie said, swinging onto Korra’s back.
“Not me,” Micah sang, vaulting onto Sera in one graceful move. Flames licked harmlessly at his boots.
“Oh, this is going to be a disaster,” I whispered.
“Correction,”Esme said smugly,“this is going to be fun.”
Professor Hildegard whistled loudly again. “Riders, get ready. Your fliers don’t need my instruction—they were born knowing how to fly. You are the ones who need discipline. If you cannot stay in the saddle, you are useless to them. Understood?”
A ragged chorus of “Yes, Professor!” followed, though a few voices cracked.
“Sadie and Akira. You’re first.”
Korra preened her wings like she was about to walk a stage, then crouched low. Orix, Akira’s yellow-golden dragon, yawned wide enough to show every daggered tooth before launching without warning. Akira squealed, clutching the saddle as Orix twisted sideways mid-climb just to see if she’d fall. Korra followed in perfect, smug arcs, wings slicing the air like golden blades.
Sadie sat proudly and balanced, not budging an inch, while Akira flailed so hard she almost lost a stirrup. From above, Orix let out a roar that rippled through the sky so loud I felt it in my chest.
When they landed, Akira slid halfway off and glared up at him. “You’re an asshole.” He then blew a sulfur breath at her. Gross.
Korra shook her feathers, flicking dust onto Akira’s boots like punctuation. Sadie smirked, “Don’t blame him for testing your grip.”
Hildegard didn’t so much as twitch. “Lorenzo and Erik. Up.”
Syth launched straight up like a shot, wings tucked tightly before flaring open in a dizzying spiral. Lorenzo’s jaw clenched so tightly his teeth threatened to crack. Meanwhile, Sylari took Erik on a wild sideways climb, banking into sharp, aggressive turns that made him swear loudly enough for the entire wing to hear.
Both dragons landed smoothly, like the whole thing had been choreographed. Their Riders, however, looked green around the edges. Lorenzo slid down stiff-legged, knees shaking. Erik hung on to Sylari’s neck long after the landing, pale as death.
Micah snorted. “Pretty sure Hildegard said stay in the saddle, not claw your way off your flier like a drowning rat.”
“Eat flame,” Erik said, still clutching Sylari’s neck.
“Riggins and Blackcreek,” Hildegard said.
Micah vaulted onto Sera, bursting upward in a flare of fire. Esme’s stardust eyes gleamed as she crouched, her body thrumming with restrained power. Sera’s heat shimmered over the line, sweat breaking instantly on my brow.
“Ready, little Rider?”
“No,” I shot back, heart hammering.
“Perfect,”she purred, and launched.
The force slammed me back in the saddle, wind ripping through my hair. Esme climbed vertically, faster than I could blink. My stomach lurched, the ground a blur beneath us. Then she tipped sideways, rolling once, twice—deliberately throwing my balance. Sera danced through the sky like pure flame incarnate, Micah holding steady, his grin infuriatingly smug.
“Esme!” I shouted, clutching hard, the straps biting into my palms.
Her laughter flooded the bond, wild and wicked.“Prove you deserve me.”
I locked my thighs, gritted my teeth, and forced my body into her rhythm. My muscles screamed, but I held. By the time she leveled out and spiraled down to land, my entire body shook with adrenaline. I slid off, boots hitting the dirt hard. My legs wobbled but didn’t buckle.
Esme’s eyes glittered, her voice smug in my mind,“spectacular.”
When the last pair arrived, half of Feather Wing looked like they were about to vomit, while the others tried to hide it. Saddles squeaked as cadets dismounted, their boots dragging in the dirt, faces pale and sweaty. The fliers shook off the fatigue, looking confident and shiny, as if none of this had required any effort.
Professor Hildegard stalked the line, his boots crunching in the gravel. His gaze swept over each of us in turn—lingering on Akira’s frizzed braid, Erik’s trembling hands, the dirt still smeared across Lorenzo’s cheek.
Finally, he spoke. “Your fliers flew flawlessly today. Every stumble, every near-fall, every scream—” his eyes flicked to me, sharp enough to make my stomach twist, “—was on you. Do not forget it.”
