Page 49 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted,” Vaylen continues, his gaze still boring into Silas, “Commander Voltguard awaits instructions from Emberton regarding Skysinger Wyndward’s full reinstatement and any other matters requiring resolution. Until then,” Vaylen’s voice hardens further, “no one is permitted to fling accusations before there’s a proper trial.” His eyes flash as he stares pointedly at Silas. “No one is to spread baseless rumors among the ranks. The Sky Order is not a newssheet drama full of nagging idiots, is it, Pyrewing?”
A few stifled laughs ripple through the gathered Skyriders. My lips twitch. Watching Vaylen publicly dress down Silas is surprisingly satisfying.
Silas’s face goes crimson, spreading from his neck to his hairline like wildfire. “No, High Prime,” he grits out through clenched teeth, looking like he might spontaneously combust.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Vaylen says.
I catch Adelaide’s eye, and she gives me the tiniest of winks. It feels good to have allies. Nate doesn’t bother hiding his amusement, a broad grin stretching across his face as he watches Silas, his once friend, squirm.
Vaylen takes a step back, his gaze sweeping over the assembly like a hawk scanning for prey. “And that goes for everyone. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” comes theunified response.
“Now, spread the word to those who are out on patrol, and return to your duties.” Vaylen’s command breaks the formation, sending bodies scattering across the courtyard.
I notice Nate and Adelaide lingering at the edges, uncertainty painted across their features. My heart twists. These people were my friends before the mountain swallowed me whole, before a year of my life vanished like morning mist.
“Can I talk to them?” I ask Vaylen, nodding toward the pair. “Just for a minute.”
His eyes soften at the edges. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
I cross the courtyard with hesitant steps. Before I can even open my mouth, Nate sweeps me up in a bear hug that lifts my feet clean off the ground. His massive arms practically crush my ribs, but the pain feels good—real—anchoring me to this moment.
“Can’t breathe,” I wheeze, smacking his shoulder.
He sets me down with a rumbling laugh. “Sorry. Just making sure you’re not a ghost.”
Adelaide’s greeting is more restrained—a mock punch to my shoulder that still carries enough force to rock me back on my heels. “Next time you decide to vanish, take me with you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, rubbing my arm. Her silver eyes study me with uncomfortable intensity.
“You look like crap,” she observes bluntly.
I snort. “Thanks. You’re as charming as ever, Icesurge.”
The conversation stutters to a halt, the weight of unsaid things pressing down between us. What do you say to people who thought you were dead? Who’ve lived a year you can’t remember?
“I need to go,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder toward Vaylen. “But we should catch up properly.”
Nate’s face brightens. “Tonight at the tavern. Your one tankard is on me.”
I remember the Commander has given express orders that Sky Order members are only allowed one beer every night—orders no one dares break, not even the tavern’s owner.
“I’ll be there,” I promise, though I have no idea if Vaylen will allow it. I nod farewell and return to his side, feeling the pressure of stares—both friendly and hostile—boring into my back.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Vaylen asks as we leave the courtyard behind, his voice light with forced optimism.
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Oh sure, nothing like having my dark past dragged out and examined like a carcass at the butcher’s block. Particularly enjoyed the part where Pyrewing called me a traitor.”
I’m still simmering with anger from Silas’s not-so-veiled accusations. The fact that Vaylen put him in his place helps, but doesn’t erase the sting completely. The whispers, the stares… they’ll continue regardless.
“You handled it well,” Vaylen says, his voice softening. “Better than I expected, actually.”
“What, did you think I’d throw him across the courtyard with Wind Blast?” I ask, only half-joking.
Vaylen’s lips twitch. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”
I just shrug, not trusting myself to say more. The truth is, I’m exhausted from standing in that courtyard for ten minutes. My body still feels like it’s made of flimsy sticks—fragile and ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. But I’d rather swallow broken glass than admit that weakness.
