Page 18 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
“Um, nothing, sir.”
“Are you implying I’m hearing things? Because I’m sure you were saying something.”
Drifttown’s mouth opens and closes.
High Prime Stormsong’s glare comes with a raised eyebrow, accompanied by tightened lips, the perfect picture of impatience.
Drifttown realizes he won’t get away with a non-answer. “I was trying to… let Wyndward know that she needs to learn her place.”
“Learn her place? And what place would that be?”
I cross my arms and jut out a hip. This is getting interesting. Drifttown isn’t stupid. Stupid people would never make it to Aerie Academy, much less to the Rite of Flight. He realized he had to tell the truth, so with his answer, he decided to paint himself as some sort of leader—a characteristic rarely discouraged in an Academy graduate or a Skyrider.
But it seems the High Prime isn’t going to let him skim over the surface.
“Under me,” Drifttown replies, his mouth twitching as he tries to suppress a satisfied smile at his double meaning.
“That’s what I thought.” The High Prime stands still, not a twitch of an eyelash betraying the fact that he’s made of flesh and bones and not stone.
His fierce stare, I discover, has a lever that gives it an upgrade. My skin shivers with the chilling aura building up around him. This man is dangerous. I have no doubt about it in my mind.
“There is a clause in the Sky Order code that gives Primes the ability to dismiss any riders under their command. At the moment, I already find myself quite tempted to make use of it. There is, after all, a more than suitable replacement waiting in the wings.”
Gilbert’s smug expression melts and is replaced by pure terror. If he thought he had become untouchable, he just got stripped of that notion.
Oh, Heratrix, please make the High Prime get rid of Gilbert!
“I apologize, High Prime Stormsong,” Gilbert replies, at last coming down from whatever cloud he caught a ride on.
“I run a tightClutch, Drifttown. Tread carefully.”
His Skysinger Clutch is rumored to be the best at the moment, and I just became part of it. To say I’m delighted is an understatement.
“Sir.” Gilbert clicks his heels and leaves faster than I’ve ever seen him move.
I like to see him cower, but I’d like it more if it were undermyministrations.
“Don’t look at me like that, Skysinger Wyndward,” the High Prime says.
“Like what?” I ask, curious as to what he thinks my expression means.
“With that air that says you can take care of your own problems. I’m sure you can, but this is my Clutch, and I run it as I see fit.”
“If I’m not allowed to set him straight, he’ll keep it up when you’re not there.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance,” he assures me.
Interesting. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
“Thank you…” I’m supposed to addHigh PrimeorSirto the end of that phrase, but if I’m to seduce him, I have to find a way to ease the formality he demands. It may be a long row to hoe, but I have to chip away at it, and no better time to set the tone than now. So instead I add, “…Everett.”
His dark eyebrows go up in surprise. He certainly wasn’t expecting that.
Perhaps I should be asking him what happened during my last test, but I don’t want to remind him he thought something was wrong with me.So instead, I plow ahead with my lifetime plan to craft a better future for myself.
Taking advantage of his surprise, I pretend to scan the guests. “Whose name did you borrow?”
Straightening his back, he breathes deeply, regaining his composure and the coldness he wears like a cloak. “No one’s,” he says. “Everett is my middle name.”
