Page 33 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
Rhea
Vaylen is here. Not only that. He’s walking in my direction.
As he approaches, it seems that every pair of female eyes in the tavern is glued to him. He moves gracefully, weaving around the tables, his attention homed in on me. My friends notice him and immediately seem to shrink. He’s a man whose presence intimidates. In fact, I have the same urge to make myself smaller, but I’m not a cadet anymore.
I’m a dragon rider. A Skysinger.
More than that. When I’m bonded, I’ll be his equal in power.
Lifting my chin, I stand taller. His blue eyes seem to twinkle with something like satisfaction as if he welcomes the challenge. Maybe he’s thinking of ways he can break me during training. He has a reputation for being strict with his Clutch.
Quickly, I scan the table he just vacated. A lonely tankard sits there. Is he here alone? No friends? No female companion?
When he stops in front of me, I click my heels and press my right hand to my left shoulder in salute. Behind me, my friends do the same.
“Good evening,” he says, nodding once. He looks down his nose at everyone. I guess he can’t help it since he’s so tall.
“Good evening, High Prime,” we reply.
Heratrix, we sound like a bunch of school children.
I clear my throat. “Everyone, this is High Prime Vaylen Stormsong.”
Murmurs of “a pleasure to meet you” sound all around.
“Skysinger Wyndward,” Vaylen says. “May I speak to you.” He flicks his eyes to the side to indicate a spot out of the way.
A thrill of pride hums in my chest at being calledSkysingerin front of my friends. I nearly pinch my arm to remind myself this isn’t a dream. I wonder when that urge will pass. Wondering what Vaylen could possibly want to talk about, I set my ale on the counter and step aside with him.
“While in uniform,” he says. “Your hair needs to be battle ready.”
I know I’m supposed to say,Yes, Sir,but is he serious? He’s going to be a jerk on the day I should be allowed to wear my hair down and scream from the rooftops about it if I want to.
In answer, I toss my head back, grab one lock, and twist it around my index finger. “It gave me a headache. Ihadto do something,” I say the last bit suggestively, as if what I would have liked to do to relieve my headache was, regretfully, not an alternative.
He flinches, which lets me know he got my meaning. His mouth works. I look down at his lips, then with some effort, school my gaze back up. The man is so tempting. Somebody should have warned me he wasthisgood looking, but all everyone talks about is his integrity and power. Why not write an ode to his cerulean eyes, and the intensity that burns in their depths? Why not sing praise for his masculine portent or the silky appearance of his gold-tinted brown locks? Or write a symphony that mimics the deep timbre of his voice and the way his strong words seem to resonate in my chest? And why not do all those things at once in an attempt to explain the commanding air of his presence, the way that when he walks into a room, the entire universe seems to hold its breath?
Heratrix, Rhea! You may be out of your league here.
He looks like he wants to say ordosomething. In the end, he surprises me by dismissing me with a cold hand gesture.
“That’s all I wanted to say, Skysinger Wyndward. You’d be wise not to ignore a directive from a superior.” With that, he walks around me and heads down the corridor that leads to the privy.
I stand there, pondering. The task of seducing him won’t be easy. I knew this might be a possibility, since his reputation for the rules and honor is widely spoken of. If he was a lecherous bastard, it might have been a breeze to accomplish my goal. Still, I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. I smile to myself, feeling exhilarated about the future that stretches in front of me, a future that seems in need of my immediate attention.
Without a backward look at my companions, I leave the tavern. This encounter with Vaylen is a golden opportunity, and I plan not to waste it. Once outside, I cross the street and stand in the shadows of a haberdasher’s awning. I wait for a few minutes, and I’m surprised to see Vaylen come out from the alley next to the tavern, which means he went to the privy and then used the back exit. Is he trying to avoid me? Interesting. Hopefully, it’s because I tempt him and not because I repel him. Our interaction last night on the balcony along with my intuition tells me it’s the former, but I need to be careful. It could be a fine line between the two with a man like this.
He lifts his jacket’s collar, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and walks toward the heart of Emberton. I wait for a few beats, then start following him. Staying under the buildings’ shadows, I walk as silently as I can. He glances back a few times in a casual way. I don’t stop walking. It would make it obvious I’m stalking him. Instead, I keep going, hoping he doesn’t recognize me. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but his demeanor doesn’t seem to change, so I think I’m safe.
In Brightscale, the affluent business district, he enters the Ember Crown Hotel. Is that where he’s staying?Goddess, he must be rich. The most I can afford is a hotel in Drake’s Row, and that’s only because I worked my fingers to the bone at the Academy’s stables, shoveling horse shit. Another smile graces my lips. As a Skysinger, money will never be a concern anymore. I will be paid handsomely, and soon, I’ll be able to stay in places like this.
A couple walks in my direction. She wears a high-waisted gown of dark, heavy silk, and he cuts a striking figure in a tailored coat of black velvet and a crimson cravat at his throat. When they notice me standing there, ogling the hotel, they cross the street, giving me a wide berth, which makes me realize my mistake. I need to keep walking.
I stroll away from the hotel and stop in front of a grand statue. I stare up at it, examining the dragon with its wings outstretched. They have many such monuments all over Emberton. This one is in honor of Kaminarix, a lightning elemental dragon that perished during the first Screechclaw attack on Cinderhold.
Fingering the coins in my pocket, I count them in my head. I may just have enough money to stay at the Ember Crown, but for what purpose? I might not see Vaylen again. The place is huge, so it could turn out to be nothing but a waste of money. Maybe it’s best to stick to my original plan: rent a room at the cheapest Drake’s Row inn. I can wait for another opportunity to get close to him and make my interest in him crystal clear.
No. I shake my head. That may be a bad idea. At Sky’s Edge, other Primes will be present, and he’ll be more guarded. Today is meant to be a day for letting loose. It’s a running joke at the Academy that soldiers on leave think with their groins, not their heads. Besides, running into him is an unexpected bounty I would be ill-advised to squander.
