Page 50 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
Silas seems to understand my message because he shrugs and lets it be. Relaxing, I glance around. The smell of delicious food is heavy in the air, but no one has been served.
“Nice haircuts,” I tell them.
Silas runs a hand through his now-cropped blond hair, making a face. It seems he misses his long locks.
“Why isn’t anyone eating?” I ask.
“They won’t serve us,” Silas says. “I guess they’re waiting for the Primes.” With a wave of the hand, as if to say that’s not what’s important, he changes the subject, leaning in to whisper. “Were you two asked about your Neutros?”
My stomach clenches, and I can’t answer. Phoebe simply nods, hands twisting in her lap.
“They suspect one of us for sure,” Nate says.
Silas shakes his head. “Who would be so dumb?”
“Gilbert is dumb,” Phoebe says, then bites her lower lip, looking as if she regrets the quip.
Nate snorts. Silas appears unsure, as if he doesn’t know what to think.
Phoebe stares at her hands, mortified now. How can she look so fearless on a cogwing then so meek sitting on a chair? For the first time, I wonder if she will cower once faced with a real dragon. Maybe that’s Silas’s train of thought.
“But why would anyone want to kill their Neutro?” Nate asks. “Their only job is to keep us safe from another Dual Blight.”
I flinch and hide my reaction by rubbing my forehead. “I just hope all this nonsense doesn’t interfere with our training. I’m?—”
The sound of firm steps from the door cuts me short. I glance back over my shoulder to find the six Primes lined up inside the room, standing shoulder to shoulder. My heart stutters at the sight of Vaylen standing in the middle, his uniform pristine, his stature and wide shoulders making the others appear small.
They stand there surveying us, without saying a word. Vaylen’s blue gaze finds Phoebe and me. He barely acknowledges me, but nods at Phoebe as if in welcome. She stands and salutes. The rest of us scramble to our feet, following suit. Prime Vivienne Rockshield sneers. She’s a Skydune, whose general demeanor suggests she’s perpetually smelling something sour. At the moment, she appears discontent, though unsurprised by our failure to provide a prompt salute. As unfriendly as she might be, maybe I’d be better off with her as my Prime. Vaylen might try to kill me again.
If you stop trying to get in his pants, he might be all right, you idiot.
Last night, I thought about this mess in the shower and decided I’m over-complicating things. Just because seducing the most powerful Prime in the Sky Order was part of my original plan, it doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind. Once Zephyros and I are bonded, I could topple Vaylen from his pedestal, and wouldn’t that be just as fun as?—
I shut my eyes as I remember his lips on my neck, and his fingers pinching my nipple to an aching point. Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind.
Yes, forgetting about my original plan and crafting a new one will be for the best.Time to ignore this man.
Without a word, the Primes walk to the front of the room and sit at the table in front. Immediately, servers rush out from side doors, carrying plates laden with food and decanters full of dark, aromatic brews. The clatter of silverware begins, followed by conversation.
Nate pats his stomach and whispers. “About time. I’m starving.”
We wait, but no servers make their way to us. After a few more minutes, it becomes evident they don’t intend to feed us.
“What the fuck?” Silas murmurs.
Nate appears on the verge of demanding a plate full of bacon. The man is a beast, wide as a barrel and outfitted with tree trunks for arms and legs. At the Academy, his plates were legendary, towering into edible mountain ranges.
“We’re riding our dragons for the first time today,” Phoebe says, a satisfied smile lighting up her face at the thought. “I bet they’re not feeding us because they don’t want us to vomit all over the place.”
Nate huffs. “We wouldn’t. The cogwings gave us strong stomachs.”
I open my mouth to tell him riding cogwings isn’t the same as riding a real dragon. Not at all. But I’m probably not supposed to talk about any of that.
“So stupid.” Silas sets an elbow on the table, rests his head on his hand, and slumps over with a sigh.
We’re all quiet for a long moment, except for Nate’s apologies every time his stomach growls. Slowly, deliberately, Silas’s eyes lift from the table. His gaze roves over Phoebe and me. He wears a heavy frown.
“What?” I ask.
