Page 39 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
“You’re… awake,” he says.
“Your powers of perception astound me,” I reply, then quickly bite my tongue.
That is no way to talk to the High Prime, but hey, I just woke up and can’t be required to remember propriety. I expect him to remind me he’s my superior, and I need to show respect, but he seems rattled, embarrassed even. How odd. The urge to hide behind the door or at least pull the top of my shirt together assaults me, but I have enough presence of mind to fight against it. This is the perfect opportunity to get under this man’s skin. Best of all? He’s the one lurking at my door. I didn’t have to move a finger to give him a tempting glimpse of my barely covered body. Does he realize I’m wearing no undergarments? My mouth stretches in a lopsided smile.
Unfortunately, his mood changes in the span of a few seconds, going from rattled to utterly under control. I notice the change in the way his jawline tightens, and his spine goes ramrod straight. The change is so drastic, I nearly click my heels and give him a salute.
The man wears propriety like a second skin, a shield as formidable as his broad shoulders. To imagine him unbound by duty is to imagine the sky without its stars.
He holds the piece of paper up. “I was attempting to deliver a message.” His hand closes and the paper crumples between his strong fingers. “Since you’re awake, we can expedite things. Get dressed and meet me in the lobby in five minutes. We’re leaving.”
Moving like one of the cogwings at the Academy, he whirls on his heel and moves in long strides toward the lobby. I stare after him, dumbfounded. What was that all about? Would it have been too hard to explain why we have to leave in the middle of the night and where we’re going? Is this part of the training? Or some sort of hazing? No. That can’t be it. I’m not even supposed to be here. Something bad must have happened.
Worry mounting, I dress in record time, slicking my hair back in the bathroom and fashioning a top knot with practiced fingers. Boots in hand, I leave the room and slip them on as I make my way down the corridor, hopping from one foot to the other. In the lobby, I find Vaylen pacing in front of the counter, the attendant looking bleary eyed and bedraggled. He was likely taking a nap in some back room before the crazy Sky Order High Prime rang the little bell and roused him from a pleasant dream.
Vaylen pauses his pacing and glares at the attendant. “Did you tell them to hurry?”
“Yes, sir. It should only be a few more minutes.”
The crazy High Prime grunts in frustration and resumes his pacing. I approach, checking my jacket’s buttons and straightening my collar.
“Sir, at your command,” I say, hoping he will issue some order that will shed some light on what’s going on, but he barely acknowledges me.
I stand there, awkwardly rocking on my heels and picking lint off my black uniform. Everything sticks to this damn wool. Of course, it might have helped if I’d used a hanger and the wardrobe, not the floor.
A red-clad messenger boy, who should be in bed and not working at this ridiculous hour, runs in through the front door.
“Your carriage is ready, Sir.” He bows.
Vaylen takes out a coin from his pocket and hands it to the boy. “Thank you.”
The boy’s eyes get as big as saucers at the sight of a gold coin. He bows three times in a row, his mouth opening and closing. The creature is speechless, and with good reason. That coin can feed him and his family for two weeks or more.
I update my mental catalog. Generosity isn’t a trait I would have expected from such a stern, proud-looking man. He represents everything Embernia demands from its powerful soldiers: control, obedience, adherence to the rules. But in these small lapses, I glimpse a potential for so much more, a crack in his formidable armor.
Vaylen throws a glance in my direction. “Skysinger, follow me.” He heads for the exit.
I’m quick on his heels. As I pass in front of the boy, he gapes at me in awe. I’m used to similar looks from street urchins. The Aerie Academy uniform confers sizable prestige, but this is a whole different level.
This borders on reverence.
I ruffle the boy’s hair. “I’ll say hello to my dragon for you.”
The boy gives me a wide, happy grin.
Outside, frigid air cuts through my thick uniform. I shiver, slip my coat on, and climb inside the awaiting carriage after Vaylen. I sit across from him, and we’re immediately on the move. Hooves and wheels clatter against the cobblestone street, echoing loudly in the quiet night.
I’m about to ask what’s happening when he explains. “There’s been an unusual attack from the Screechclaws.”
“Unusual?”
“I can’t say more at the moment, just that reinforcements are needed. Unfortunately, all we have are a handful of untrained Skyriders.” He gives me a scathing once over that makes me bristle.
“I’m not untrained,” I reply. “I’m a graduate of Aerie Academy.”
“Which means all you can handle is a wooden sword and a cogwing.”
“That’s unfair. You know well we use real swords during our final year.”
