I can see the edge of this island of Skyshire quickly approaching through the window. I suck in a deep breath, beginning to feel panic well up within me. I’m considering diving out the window and saving myself when we suddenly run out of ground. The carriage drops slightly, but then I see the dragons spread out their wings, their impressive wingspan blocking out much of the view beyond the window and somehow the carriage doesn’t drop like a weight.
It must be some sort of fae engineering or magic that I’m too human-raised to understand, but either way I’m grateful to not be plummeting to the ground. I exhale loudly, feeling myself relax as I do something shifts under my hand. I glance out of the corner of my eye to see that in my moment of panic I had reached out and grasped Byron. No, worse than that, I had clamped my hand around his knee.
“You’re going to be all right,” Byron says. “Do you really think I’d let us all plummet to our deaths?”
Byron Coalbiter may have some fancy magic for a blacksmith’s grandson, but not even he can defy gravity, so I’m not entirely sure why he thinks his words would be reassuring.
I blush and yank my hand back, shaking it out before I settle for wiping it on my pants to try to get rid of the feel of Byron. “Sorry about that.”
“Hey, no worries. You can squeeze my knee anytime you want to.”
I glower at him pausing in wiping my hand down my leg. “And what about punching you in the nose? How often can I do that?”
“As little as possible.” Byron gestures up at his straight nose. “I prefer to look pretty. You wouldn’t believe how often it gets me out of trouble.”
I roll my eyes and he grins, his eyes twinkling. “I’m just teasing. You know I’m not like that. My grandfather certainly didn’t raise someone who would make a habit out of getting in trouble.”
“I always got too nervous when I did something wrong, I’d turn myself in,” Marvin says.
I shift in my seat. “I never had anyone to sin against.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I realize that they aren’t true. Perhaps I never worried about sinning against an absent god like the Maker, but I do have the good people of Woodsbury. They took me in, and I’ve always tried to do right by them. I’d always clean and help with other chores for the families that took me in during the time that I was staying with them. I did my best not to seem like a burden or a strain on them financially, even if that was how I still always felt inside.
“Why are we talking of sinning?” Istaria demands, coldly. She straightens her shoulders and lifts her nose. “I certainly have strange companions.”
I won’t argue with her there. I suppose we are strange, the three of us. All from our tiny village and on our way to try to join the most esteemed knightly order there is.
After all paladins are known for the sacrifices they make to join the order and serve their Maker, templars are known for their mystery, wardens for their close ties to nature, mercenaries for their corruption, but the knight champions? They are known for their distinction.
To be chosen by a high fae to be their personal protector, the extension of their arm in a sense… well that is an honor above all else and one that is not lightly given. To become gilded, you must be chosen, and I intend to be chosen by Menavillion.
My stomach flops as I glance at Byron. That is if I can convince the fae lord to turn his back onthisprotégé who wields his magic.
I wish I could spend this carriage ride in anticipation or even just admiring the view. Commonweald is hard to make out below in the darkness now that the sun has set, but the stars are brilliant and so close. It makes me wonder why not everyone chooses to live in the sky.
But deep down I mostly just stew and fret and wonder if this dream of mine will be stolen from me. No… not just stolen. Snatched away by Byron Coalbiter. Now there is a boy born with everything. He has a wonderful grandfather who loves him, an esteemed position in our village, powerful magic, and an easy way with people.
Why does he need Menavillion’s patronage? Why can’t he just be a blacksmith for the village that always loved him and leave me alone as I try to finally find some place in this world to call my own. Somewhere that I will not have to live off the charity of others just to get by.
I can’t tell if the journey is long or short, it somehow feels both. I’m surprised when I feel the carriage jolt and yet my stiff legs tell me that I have been riding in the carriage for more than enough time to make them cramp up.
At the second jolt, I manage to tense my leg and brace myself enough that I don’t wind up flying forward and landing in Byron’s lap. Forget the knee squeezing episode, if I wound up in his lap that is something I would never be able to live down.
The carriage lurches again and it takes every amount of strength in my core to keep from flying forward. Istaria sits up higher, not seemingly phased by our jolting carriage. “We’re here.”
“The academy,” Byron breathes.
Marvin is starting to look a little green. “What was my father thinking sending me here?”
I reach across Istaria and clasp his hand. “We’re in this together. We’ll get through this.”
I startle slightly when Byron puts his hand over mine. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he’s focused on Marvin. “We’ll put Woodsbury on the map, the three of us.”
Barely waiting for the carriage to still, Istaria steps out without a single “by your leave” and I scurry to follow her. I will be there when she meets with Menavillion to make absolutely certain that she doesn’t leave me out in her recounting of her heroic rescue. I need to make a good impression on him, and despite her strange views on me, like seeing me as a wild fae, I did save Istaria’s life. That has to count for something, right? And sure, Byron was there to help save her as well, but I’m the one who actually entered that chamber and cut her free.
My boot lands on hard stone, and I glance around. Behind the carriage, I can see the dark form of a platform just end… nothing but empty air waits beyond. There is a warm glow on the other side of the dragons, as I step around them, I take it in for the first time.
The Academy of the Gilded Knight.
Nothing about this moment is exactly how I imagined it. For one, it’s too dark to take in much of the view from up here. Torches line the academy’s walls, throwing a glow around us, but casting all else in shadow. Secondly, I’m standing next to two massive dragons whose majesty make the academy pale in comparison. Thirdly, I’m much colder than I ever imagined I would be.
