Page 41 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“What?” I snap at a pair of wide-eyed messengers who nearly collide with each other gawking at me. “Never seen a dead woman walking before?”
Vaylen shoots me a warning look before raising his voice. “Everyone, tend to your duties. I won’t repeat myself.”
The small gathering disperses like startled birds, though several throw glances over their shoulders as they retreat. I roll my shoulders back, trying to shake off the discomfort of being a spectacle.
“Word travels fast,” Phoebe murmurs.
“Too fast,” I mutter. “Next they’ll be selling tickets to come see the resurrected Skysinger.”
Vaylen spots a copper-haired young man hurrying down the corridor and calls out, “Mistwalker! A moment.”
The young Skysinger—judging by the emblem on his shoulder—changes course, approaching us with the awkward gait of someone trying not to look too eager while simultaneously appearing appropriately respectful. His green eyes widen when they land on me. I remember him from the Academy. He was a year behind my class.
“High Prime,” he says, then nods at me with undisguised fascination.
“Any new developments?” Vaylen asks.
Mistwalker blinks rapidly, his face flushing. “Yes, sir. A scout reported a horde of Screechclaws headed toward New Ferro. Prime Emberstone took a contingent that way two hours ago.” He swallows hard. “The rest are maintaining usual patrols along the border.”
“How many in the horde?” Vaylen asks.
“Thirty, possibly more. That’s all I heard, Sir.”
Vaylen nods to Mistwalker. “Thank you.”
“Yes, High Prime.” The young Skysinger’s gaze flicks to me one last time before he hurries away.
When he’s gone, Vaylen turns to Phoebe. “Take Rhealyn to the infirmary. She needs a thorough examination.”
“The infirmary?” I ask. “I can stay in the barracks like everyone else. I’m not injured.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Skysinger,” Vaylen says, his voice dropping into that commanding tone that makes everyone listen.
“I’m fine,” I insist, too forcefully.
Vaylen steps closer, his voice lowering. “You were missing for a year, Skysinger. You’re malnourished, dehydrated, and have memory loss. You need to be examined properly.”
I want to argue, but the mixture of concern and authorityin his eyes melts some of my resistance. “Fine. But I’m not staying there overnight.”
Vaylen’s jaw tightens. “You will do what the Head Medic says, and I hope that after you’ve recovered, you’ll do what’s best for our Clutch.” His eyes hold mine meaningfully.
He’s trying to convey that without order and a chain of command, chaos ensues. He’s right. I do know this. The Sky Order functions because we follow commands, trust our leaders, work as a unit. It’s how we survive against Screechclaws. It’s how we protect Embernia.
I don’t understand why everything grates on me like this. In my mind, I was just at Fort Ashmire yesterday, a freshly-winged Skyrider ready to prove myself. But something’s changed. Something in me feels raw, exposed, like skin after a burn has healed—new and hypersensitive. Every command makes me bristle, every contradiction sparks irritation.
Drawing a deep breath, I try to center myself. Maybe Vaylen is right. Maybe I do need rest. Maybe the medic will find something—some physical reason why my temper flares so quickly, why my emotions feel both numbed and sharpened at once, why I can’t remember.
“I know my duty,” I say at last.
Vaylen nods. “Good.” He turns to leave, then pauses. “I’ll check on you later.”
I watch him stride away, shoulders straight, every inch the leader.
“Lead the way,” I say to Phoebe once he’s out of earshot.
Phoebe leads me through corridors that twist and turn, nodding to Skyriders we pass. To her, this place is already home. To me, it’s still unfamiliar territory, having spent barely a day here before everything went sideways.
The infirmary is a long room with beds lining both walls, all of them empty at the moment. Lightfilters through high windows, casting geometric patterns across the stone floor. At the far end, a woman with sandy-colored hair works methodically, placing rolled bandages into a tall cabinet. Her movements are precise, efficient.
