Side by side, they’d taken lives, and even though those lives belonged to darksouls and shadow wolves...even though they wereenemies, to the Sacred and to their gods...
Arawn still felt that trembling shudder in his bones when it was all said and done.
The kind that came when a person looked another being in the face and silenced it.
He’d done that. He’d removed a living thing from this world with his own hands. With his own blade.
“Sometimes...I wonder if the gods truly see us at all,” Soraya said. “If theycarefor us, the people we arebeneathour purpose...or if it’s all just a lie.”
They were dangerous thoughts, blasphemous things. Even worse, to say them out loud.
And she seemed to know it, too, because before she could say another word, she turned on her heel and left him alone in the snow.
7
They earned their swords.
And then, as every Sacred did, they set their sights on earning their wings.
For the next year, Arawn worked to secure his chance at becoming a Rider. Soraya worked alongside him, spurring him on when he faltered. Making him smile when the war became far too much for any one soul to carry.
They became friends.
Realfriends, the kind a Crown Prince had never believed he would have a chance to earn.
Their training together shifted, no longer just the two of them on the sparring mat, the hope of asomeday warheld between them.
Now it was aneveryday war.
And it became clearer than ever before, how much the Sacred needed the strength of their gods.
By day, they trained inside the Eagle’s Nest, with a crop of hopeful Riders and fledgling war eagles that were far too wild to be considered even remotely safe for war.
Before Arawn turned fifteen, he broke more bones than he could count on both hands. Only Soraya broke more, and together theyoften took their rest in the infirmary, while Alaris worked her healing magic on their bodies.
And as the next year of Arawn’s life went on, it became a pattern. A dance he’d come to know and expect, and it was this:
Wake up and pray, his soul connected to Vivorr as he brought flames to his hands and wondered, with every pull of power, when his body would finally show signs of it.
Attend morning meetings with the War Table. Be frowned at by his father the entire time.
Answer Kinlear’s questions through the Speaking Stone, and often, when Kinlear was in the middle of paying penance...then wonder if his brother would ever learn.
Climb the cliff to the Aviary to join the other hopeful Riders. Fight off Soraya for the final cinnamon roll. Lose, on purpose, even if it pained him. Feel better, when she offered up a victorious smile.
