I must not fail.
I must never fail.
Arawn’s heart was in his throat. He could picture the look on his father’s face. He could almost smell the smoke rising from his skin as he paid penance, accepted the brand that signified his failure. A Crown Prince did not follow anyone but the gods.
A Crown Prince was born tolead.
But today...he was going to lose.
Soraya’s eagle dipped past the cliff face, soaring so close, her talons nearly scraped the window of the training room.
Arawn was a breath behind her, Cyrra screeching as she pushed and pushed, but she wasn’t fast enough to win. The Snow Gates were right there, towering black obelisks that he was supposed to fly throughfirst.His father had ground it into his brain last night, and the night before, and themonthsbefore, that Arawn would be First Rider, or he would be as good as dead.
I’m sorry,Arawn thought, as the cliffs faded behind Cyrra’s feathers.I’m sorry.
He wasn’t even sure who he thought the apology for.
To himself, or to the gods, or maybe to the queen that had gone south with his brother without muttering so much as a goodbye. Maybe it was to the King that had never looked at him with reallove.
Just once, Arawn thought he’d see it when he got first place.
But Soraya’s eagle waswingbeatsfrom the Gates.
A final push more, and she’d soar through them and cement herself as First Rider.
Arawn would follow her. Ofcoursehe would follow, for she would lead the way she always had...without an ounce of fear in her bones.
But just before her eagle reached the gap between the Gates, she glanced back.
She smiled. He saw it in slow motion, as if the world hadstilledfor just the two of them... for him and for her.
And he saw, ever so subtly, the way she shifted her position. The way she leaned back, so that her eagle slowed. It was hardly even a dip, but it was enough that Cyrra took the window and saw it as a challenge.
And with a final burst of speed...Arawn took the lead.
He soared through the Snow Gates first, into the Expanse and then up again, where he glanced back to find that he’d taken first place.
Soraya was second, the other riders – Indriya and Riven – soared in at third and fourth.
He was First Rider. He was in command of this group behind him now, this war eagle aerie that was nowhis.
But it didn’t feel like a victory at all...because Arawn knew, deep in his bones...
Soraya had let him win.
8
On the cliffside, Arawn could see the younglings and Knights and Scribes waiting, all those who’d gathered to watch this Descent. His father was among them, but from here, he couldn’t tell where he was. He didn’t want to see his face, because what if Drayborknew?
A trained eye could see the way Soraya had pulled back. How she’d let Arawn take the lead at the last second.
Failure,his mind hissed.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He directed Cyrra back to the wards, the tension easing from her wings as they cut through them and soared once more to the yawning mouth of the Eagle’s Nest.
Into the spring, they went, past feathery evergreens and aspens full of dancing green leaves. He landed Cyrra awkwardly – she’d need a true Eagleminder to get her ready for a real landing, in the real heat of war – but she washisnow.
He’d claimed her with the Descent, just as he’d claimed First Rider position with the win.
