Page 63 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
After breaking the seal, Vaylen reads. His expression changes slowly, growing somber.
What? More bad news?
Vaylen addresses the messenger. “Deliver a message back, reply that we’ll be there shortly.”
The Claw leaves, and Vaylen turns to face me. “We have to go.”
“We?”
“Yes, you and me.”
“Where?”
“Stonefall Castle to see the King.”
* * *
Vaylenand I ride in a carriage. I thought we would fly on Fragor, except King Stonefall is not in Emberton, but in Eastwatch Manor, which is only a thirty-minute ride from Sky’s Edge. The manor serves as a place for the King to vacation and get away from the capital.
I fidget, bouncing my knee. We’re both out of our leathers and in formal uniforms.
“I don’t like this,” I blurt out.
Vaylen raises an eyebrow.
I cross my arms and force my leg to stop moving.
“You’re a bonded rider, Skysinger Wyndward. It’s an honor. The King wishes to congratulate you.”
Scrutinizing his face, I try to decide whether or not he believes this. “Is that what he did with you? Congratulate you?”
“Yes,” he says dryly.
“I don’t know. This seems… out of the blue. Besides, we don’t have time to waste. I should be training, learning all I can. I’m already behind as it is.” My stomach feels as if a snake is slithering inside it.
“He’s the King,” he offers as explanation, implying that, as such, he can do whatever he wants. We’re quiet for a moment, then Vaylen lets out a sigh. “My advice to you, Skysinger, is to say little and bow deeply.”
I wait for more, but he looks out the window.
“That’s it?” I ask, puzzled. “That’s your advice?”
“You’re smart, I assume. Top of the class and all. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
Given all the rumors about the King, Vaylen’s message is clear.Talk littleandbow deeplymeans I should be nothing but subservient in front of King Craven Stonefall. For Embernia’s sake, I must pretend that a man who requires constant flattery to bolster his fragile ego holds all the power—all while sharing a bond with a dragon capable of blowing anyone across the realm. Of course, I don’t need Vaylen to spell anything out.
I sigh. “I just thought we could talk about it since we’re… the same. Bonded, I mean.”
He flicks a lint off his black trousers.
“But,” I add, “you don’t seem to be much of a conversationalist.”
“You’d be wise not to make the King a topic for conversation, Skysinger.”
A cogwing! I swear the man is a cogwing.
* * *
The heavy oakdoor creaks open as Vaylen and I step inside, the scent of oiled leather immediately filling the air. My gaze sweeps over the room, taking everything in. Polished crossbows, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and what look suspiciously like uncut gemstones, are mounted on prominent wall fixtures, more like trophies than tools. Quivers with meticulously fletched arrows and gleaming tips hang from the walls, along with jeweled swords polished to perfection. The scene is completed by several tapestries depicting large stags brought down by lone, regal figures who bear a striking resemblance to the King, though sporting larger muscles and stature than in real life.
