Page 122 of Black Wing and Shadows
Across the room, Akira yelped as Orix flicked his tail deliberately, knocking the chalk from her hands. “Gods, hold still!” she shouted, scrambling to retrieve it. Orix’s booming chortle rattled the stone walls—that was definitely a laugh.
A few cadets snickered until a sharp crack echoed—the sound of Korra, snapping her beak dangerously close to Micah’s sleeve when he drifted too close.
“Watch it!” Sadie barked, jerking Micah back.
Klythe ruffled his feathers, golden eyes flashing with predator pride. Daren gave a patient smile. “Griffins don’t like strangers in their space. Quick reminder—don’t test them. Their tempers are sharper than their beaks.”
Micah muttered something under his breath but gave Sera a quick pat, the phoenix’s feathers shifting in what looked suspiciously like smug agreement.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo’s dragon, Syth, sprawled across the floor with deliberate weight, forcing him to climb halfway up the beast’s forelimb to reach the neck cord. “You’re doing this on purpose,” Lorenzo grunted.
Syth rumbled, eyes gleaming.
Thora and Sylivia, by contrast, were immaculate. The dark blue griffin stood statue-still while Thora measured her wingspan, the chalk lines neat and perfectly aligned.
Sadie groaned when she saw it. “Of course they’re perfect.”
“Of course we are,” Thora said, not even looking up.
I rolled my eyes, then stretched across Esme’s spine to pull the cord tight. My arms trembled, but I got the mark down cleanly. She shifted just enough to jostle me, and I slid an inch sideways with a gasp.
Her laughter shook through me.“If you fall, I’ll let the griffins peck at you first.”
“You’re the worst,”I shot back, chalking her last mark with a shaky hand.
Professor Yan moved between us, her keen gaze sweeping over our work. She paused by me, fingers brushing the chalk line on Esme’s shoulder. “Not bad. Next time, tighten the cord higher across the ridge. Precision matters—half an inch off here, and you’ll feel it every second in the sky.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Yan straightened, her silver dragon shifting behind her, the ground trembling with each slight movement. “Remember, today is about patience. Your fliers are testing you, not failing you. The sooner you learn to read their moods and adapt, the sooner you’ll stop ending up on your ass.”
She looked around the room, sharp as a blade. “And tomorrow, we begin cutting leather. If you thought today was difficult, just wait.”
I shook my head, but my eyes kept drifting back to Araceli, her silver scales glinting with every slow breath. Rare. Beautiful. Powerful in a way that felt untouchable.
I wondered what secrets Esme’s bloodline might hold.
CHAPTER 41
By the time Professor Yan dismissed us, my arms ached from stretching cords across Esme’s back, and chalk dust clung to my leathers. Feather Wing trudged out together, trading jabs about who had the most uncooperative flier. The fliers themselves had already returned to the Vale, leaving us lighter but somehow lonelier as we crossed into the courtyard.
The laughter died at once.
Gasps rippled through our ranks. My chest squeezed tight as my eyes found what silenced us.
A cadet hung against the pale stone of Alpha Wing, suspended by shimmering cords of magic. Her arms stretched wide, her boots swung two feet above the ground, and blood dripped from her chin in a slow, sick rhythm.
Harlyn Cowens. Infantry.
Recognition struck like a blade to the gut. Months earlier, she challenged Sadie in the sparring rings and nearly killed her, stabbing only millimeters from her heart. She didn’t just humiliate Sadie—she relished it.
Now she hung lifeless, head tilted at an unnatural angle.
Beside me, Sadie went rigid, the color draining from her face. Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles white, but she said nothing.
Akira swore softly, her voice shaking. “Gods… they did this in broad daylight.”
Micah stopped dead, a tray of tools slipping from his grip, the clatter ringing too loud in the silence. Thora’s griffin wasn’t there, but I could almost imagine Sylivia’s feathers slicking tight in predator stillness.
