ryker
I’m completely exhausted,and my body is aching from sitting so long. We arrived home sometime in the early morning hours, and I took a long, hot shower to wash off the long day of travel before I collapsed into bed. With a rare day off to recuperate, I planned to spend the first half under the blankets, avoiding the rest of the world—and my responsibilities.
It’s around midday when I finally groan awake, reluctantly peeling my eyelids apart. As I adjust to the light, another loud bang reverberates against my door. Maybe if I ignore it, whoever it is will just give up and go away. I shove my head deeper into the pillow, but another forceful knock echoes even louder this time.
Dammit.
“Open up!” a voice barks from the other side. My stomach twists at the sound of Kellan’s voice.
With a heavy sigh, I push myself out of bed, grabbing the first pair of pants I can find, jumping into them and completely disregarding whether I look presentable.
“Yes?” I shove every bit of annoyance into the single word as I swing the door open to reveal Kellan standing there, looking far fromhis usual self. He appears almost sickly, his face pale and drawn. I might be the dorm leader, but I’m not a damn nurse.
“Where is she?” Kellan demands, his eyes narrowing as he looks past me into my room as if expecting to find Raea hiding in the corner. The idea strikes me as almost absurd—there’s no way she would ever be in here. But then my mind comes to a sudden halt.
Why is he so desperate to find her here?
“What do you mean? Why would she be here? Have you checked her room?” I keep my tone calm, even as dread washes over me like a cold wave. Of course, he’s already checked her room; the frantic look he gives me says enough.
“She’s not there. Nobody has seen her. Is it possible she’s still flying?” The edge of panic in his voice makes my blood run cold. They should have been back by now. I leave the door open, my mind racing with hundreds of possibilities, as I fumble through my clothes to grab a shirt, pulling it on in a hurry and searching for my boots. Once I’m dressed enough to face the world, I strap on my weapon belt and shut the door behind me with a loud clack.
“Let’s go,” I bark, anxiety already swirling inside me, as I take off at a brisk pace toward the launch pad.
If her transport has arrived, it means they’re back. If it hasn’t, well... Why the hell are there so many people in my way? Nobody else seems to share my rising panic as I weave through the throng of bodies filling the corridor. I ignore the surprised gasps and protests from other students as I shove them out of the way. I hear Kellan behind me muttering apologies as we go.
Always the simpering fool.
I reach out for the Bond between us—both of them—and can’t get a reading on either. I calm the storm already brewing within me; no need to tear the school apart if she’s here. She could be in the healers’ center again.
My pace quickens as we leave Taeolyn, heading straight for the launch pad. The transport bay comes into view, and one by one, I count the ships docked and ready for cleaning. I know Raea has been assigned to transport five, which is located at the end of the long pad.My heart races as I sprint down the hallway, urgency fueling my every step.
There is an oppressive silence that blankets the launch area. The Sky Division’s launch pad remains unlit, everything shut down for the day as we all recover. As I approach Launchpad Five, dread uncoils in my chest—it’s completely empty.
My instinct drives me toward the control tower, where they’ll hopefully have answers. My heart pounds in my chest as I storm up the six levels, Kellan trailing anxiously behind me.
“You can’t come up here,” the guard stationed at the entrance warns me. I know I could easily shove him aside without a second thought.
“Call Chancellor Xara,” I demand, brushing past him without waiting for a response.
His sigh of resignation accompanies my ascension as he reluctantly pages the Chancellor. I don’t bother knocking when I reach the control room, finding only one tower controller, sitting casually, halfway through a sandwich on the opposite side of the room. He doesn’t see me, and I don’t bother wasting my time striking up a conversation. I head straight for the console and pull up the transport log, scanning the data relayed from her ship. There’s no current flight signal, and their last known location was Cidal.
The knot in my chest tightens as images of what could have gone wrong flash through my mind. Perhaps they faced mechanical failure, though surely they would have called for help if that had been the case.
“Prince Anders,” a voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. It’s Paulson, the tower control operator, his brow furrowed as he approaches me, still wiping his mouth. For some damn reason, the sight irritates me. We have a missing transport, and he’s just in here enjoying his damn lunch.
“It’s an emergency,” I reply, not caring much about my flippant tone. Much to my surprise, instead of taking the controls, he pulls up a seat next to me. I can sense his gaze studying me, weighing his options.
“Alright, what are you looking for?” he finally asks.
“Princess Raea Tierson’s transport never landed,” I explain, my words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s no signal.” Paulson inhales sharply, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he turns in his seat to page Professor Brendn. I quickly find the tower number for Cidal and initiate a satellite communication.
After a few agonizing minutes, the response crackles over the intercom. “This is Tower Twelve, Cidal,” the voice on the other end states, echoing through the room.
“This is Drithm Academy Control.” I force myself into that steady calm required of a prince, of a king. “We are looking for an academy transport—number five.”
Silence descends upon the room, every ear tuned to the transmission as we await news.
“Copy that. Transport five was here last night,” the tower operator continues, each word feeling like a blow. “They launched after Private Johanson gave them their token.”
