Page 40 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Because I’m sure King Craven won’t lose interest in this case. Now less than ever.” The Commander’s features harden. “Your mysterious reappearance will only intensify his… curiosity. Trust me when I say he won’t be amused byI don’t rememberas an answer.”
A realization hits me like ice water. “He’ll think I’m lying.”
“Of course he will,” she agrees. “And when kings believe people are lying to them, those people tend to disappear permanently.”
My throat tightens. I glance at Vaylen, whose face remains carefully neutral, though I catch the slight tensing of his jaw.
Heratrix, the missing dragon queen? The idea seems absurd. I don’t want to spend days with my nose buried in ancient scrolls, staring at faded ink until my eyes cross. I’ve never been good at sitting still, never mind research. But the mountaindidsplit open. That much is true, and if not through Heratrix’s power, then whose?
I finally nod. “I’ll help with the research. Not like I have a better option if I want to find out what happened, which I do.”
Phoebe’s face lights up like she’s just been given a dragon egg of her own.
“But,” I add quickly, leaning forward, “I want to get back into the fight as soon as possible. The Screechclaws aren’t going to kill themselves. I’ve been gone too long already while our people are dying.” The words taste bitter in my mouth. A year of battles missed. A year of dragons and comrades lost while I was... wherever I was.
Commander Voltguard’s eyes travel from my face down to my too-thin body, her expression skeptical. I resist the urgeto cross my arms over myself. Yes, I look like shit. I know that.
“You’ll need to regain your strength first, Wyndward,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re in no condition to face Screechclaws as you are now.”
Hope flickers in my chest. She hasn’t dismissed the idea outright. “I can get back to fighting form quickly.”
“You can certainly do that,” she agrees, then her expression hardens. “But you’ll need to shake off that murder accusation before you’re allowed back as an official member of the Sky Order.”
And there it is. The obstacle I knew was coming.
“So I’m just supposed to sit around waiting for the King or whoever to decide my fate?” I snap, rising from my chair. “While our dragons are dying and Screechclaws tear us apart?”
“Skysinger Wyndward,” Vaylen warns.
I try, but I can’t contain the frustration burning through me. “This is wrong and you know it, Commander. You need every Skyrider you can get.”
“What I need,” Commander Voltguard says, her voice cutting like steel, “are Skyriders I can trust not to be arrested mid-battle by some overzealous Chief Inspector.” She stands, planting both palms on her desk. “In the meantime, your alternative is a cell in Emberton. Would you prefer that?”
I swallow hard, anger burning my throat like dragon fire. My fists clench as I force myself to take a deep breath. Then another. Silence stretches taut between us.
“No,” I finally say, the single word costing me more pride than I care to admit. “I don’t prefer a cell in Emberton.”
Commander Voltguard studies me, her face unreadable. I brace for the reprimand I know is coming, shoulders tensing.
“I’ll allow this outburst, Skysinger, because I understand what you’re going through.” Her voice softens slightly, thoughher posture remains rigid. “Losing a year of your life, returning to find everything changed… I can sympathize with your frustration.”
I blink, surprised by this unexpected show of compassion.
“However,” she continues, the softness gone, “the Sky Order has a code of discipline that I hope you haven’t forgotten during your... absence.” She straightens to her full height, the gold dragon-scale embroidery making her look regal. “I will enforce that code, regardless of your unique circumstances. Is that understood?”
The temptation to snap back burns in my chest. To ask what good their precious code does when Neutros maim children, and the King behaves like an insecure toddler. But Vaylen’s steady presence beside me is a silent reminder of what’s at stake.
“Understood, Commander,” I reply, the words clipped but respectful.
I sink back into my chair, legs suddenly weak. I’ve faced down Screechclaws and survived a year of who-knows-what, yet here I am, chastened like a Claw fresh from the Academy. The humiliation stings, but I swallow it down as I know I should.
There’s a chain of command I won’t subvert. The power I’ve always wanted is still very much mine. I’m bonded to Zephyros, and he’s more loyal to me than I ever could have imagined. I want safety and change for Embernia, and justice for anyone the Cleansing Authority has wronged. Maybe I can be that change if I play this game right.
15
Rhea
The three of us leave Voltguard’s office, the door closing with a soft click behind us. When we exit the tower, the courtyard isn’t exactly crowded, but those few who are there stop mid-stride, conversations dying on their lips as heads turn my way. I feel their stares like physical touches. Some curious, others suspicious.
