Page 38 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Don’t you all have duties to attend to?” Vaylen’s voice cracks across the yard like thunder. “Stop gawking and get back to work.”
The spell breaks. Bodies scatter, though the glancescontinue, furtive and burning with curiosity. My skin crawls beneath their scrutiny.
Vaylen turns to me, voice dropping. “Are you well enough to face the Commander now? Or do you need rest first?”
I roll my shoulders, swallowing the knot of apprehension in my throat. “I’ve been resting for a year, apparently. Let’s get this over with.”
Phoebe squeezes my arm in silent support as we cross the courtyard toward Commander Voltguard’s office in the south tower, every step bringing me closer to judgment. I hang back as Vaylen approaches the Commander’s door, where a young Claw stands at attention, eyes widening at the sight of us.
“Announce the High Prime has returned,” Vaylen orders, his voice carrying that familiar authoritative edge.
The Claw nods vigorously, knocks twice, then pokes her head through the door. “High Prime Stormsong has returned, Commander.”
She pulls back immediately, gesturing for us to enter without meeting my eyes.
I take a steadying breath and follow Vaylen into the lion’s den, Phoebe at my heels. The Commander’s office smells of parchment and ink, with hints of polished leather.
“What in Heratrix’s name were you thinking, Stormsong?” She slams a palm on her desk. “Abandoning new recruits mid-training to chase after that crazy dragon? I expected better judgment from my High Prime and?—”
Her voice cuts off abruptly as her gaze lands on me. Commander Voltguard freezes, mouth still partly open, her face draining of color like she’s seen a phantom. She stands behind her desk, resplendent in her obsidian Sky Order uniform with its gold-threaded dragon scales at the collar and cuffs. Her gray hair is pulled into its customary tight bun, and those keen brown eyes flash with a mix of irritationand awe.
I step forward, chin held high. No cowering now. “Hello, Commander. Sorry to interrupt your work. I’d have sent a note ahead, but I’ve been indisposed for the past year.”
The silence coils between us, like suffocating smoke in a closed room. I meet her stare directly, refusing to flinch despite my thundering heart.
Commander Voltguard slumps back into her chair, the fight visibly draining from her body. She scrubs a weathered hand across her face, the gesture making her look every one of her fifty-something years.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Wyndward. I’m relieved you’re alive. Truly.” She sighs, the sound heavy with resignation. “But your return is going to create a political shitstorm that will make a Screechclaw attack look like a pleasant afternoon stroll.”
A bitter laugh crosses my lips. “I’m not looking forward to it either. I’d rather face that Screechclaw attack.”
The Commander ignores my sarcasm, gesturing to the chairs arranged before her desk. “Sit, all of you. Let’s get this over with before the gossips spread the news to half of Embernia.”
I drop into the nearest chair, my body still too weak to maintain the defiant posture I’d been forcing. Vaylen and Phoebe settle on either side of me like protective bookends.
“Explain,” she orders, folding her hands on the desk.
Vaylen leans forward, his voice steady and precise as he recounts our reunion. “Zephyros took flight suddenly yesterday, roaring like I’ve never heard before. I’m sure you heard. But he flew with purpose, not grief. Skysinger Breezehart and I followed him to Hearthdale, where we found Rhealyn by the lake, severely weakened but alive.” He omits all the rest—the important parts that belong to us—keeping his report professionally detached.
I watch the Commander’s face as he speaks, searching for clues of my fate. Her expression remains carefully neutral, but I catch the subtle tightening around her eyes when Vaylen mentions my weakened state.
“And where exactly have you been for a year, Wyndward?” she asks when Vaylen finishes, her gaze piercing through me.
I meet her eyes directly. “That’s the problem, Commander. I have no idea.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have no memory of… anything.”
I exchange a quick look with Vaylen, searching his face for guidance. Should I mention the amber-eyed man? The girl called Fern? The wordOmneirathat echoes in my fractured dreams? But his expression gives nothing away, no subtle nod or frown to indicate what he expects me to share.
Fine. Those secrets remain ours until I understand them better. If he didn’t share them, I won’t either.
“I remember darkness,” I say instead, which isn’t entirely a lie. “Then waking up where the High Prime and Breezehart found me. Everything between vanishing and yesterday is just... gone.”
Commander Voltguard scrubs her face again, looking even more exhausted than before. The lines around her eyes deepen as she sighs.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” she mutters. “The newssheets will have a field day. Your disappearance fueled their imagination to no end. Conspiracy theories, wild speculation about your fate. Every few weeks they drag it back up, printing some new fabricated account from awitnesswho claims they saw you flying with Screechclaws or dancing naked under the moons with forest spirits.”
