A HUFF ESCAPES ME WHEN a sorcai offers to let our party skip to the front of the line waiting to travel through the jump portal, but Aeson waves them away, telling them we’re happy to wait our turn. It’s polite and considerate of the other travelers but annoying as fuck. Especially since the only reason he’s doing it is to irritate me and prolong our leaving.
I wave away my irritation and look up at the night sky through the peaked glass ceiling. I don’t know if the transparent roof is a design feature or if it’s easier to replace glass in the event a dragon reveals and blows out the ceiling, but I’m not mad at this common feature in the buildings here. I like being able to see the sky at any time of the day; it reminds me of home and grounds me in a way I need right now.
For a moment, I let myself get lost in the unknown galaxies and worlds hiding within the night’s darkest depths. The peaks of Talon’s Reach loom over us like shadow-clad giants that could either protect or destroy depending on their mood. There’s a hum of quiet chatter all around us as other traveler prepare to depart or gossip about the presence of Scion Noctis and his Wing.
The travel station we’re standing in is stark, sleek, and designed to move large numbers of Arcs in and out as quickly as possible. Two of the four available jump portals are up and running at this hour, and I marvel at the large arched openings that are about fifteen feet tall and wide. A border of stones with sorcai runes etched into them surrounds each bright white pool of magic. They’re a more refined version of the makeshift portal I was shoved through in Lairwood.
Absently, I observe the sorcai manning the tall desk near the jump portal we’ll be traveling through. They scan travel documents, upload destination coordinates, and answer questions with a bored yet practiced ease. Several covens of licensed Span Crafters maintain this and the one on the west side of Talon’s Reach. They rotate who resides at the stations themselves to ensure the portals are always operational.
My attention wanders to the travelers all around us, mostly to keep from staring at Aeson and overanalyzing everything he’s doing and saying and everything he’s not. It’s been crickets since we arrived at this portal station on the east side of the mountain range, and my frustration grows with every breath I take.
Thankfully, the line we’re in moves fairly quickly, but I’m surprised there are so many people traveling this late, or rather this early in the morning. Aeson, Ogdan, and Sondar are called to the side to provide the Span Crafter the coordinates for our jump, and I’m tempted to follow them just to see if I can get a clue myself.
Chastain nudges my shoulder with his and wags his eyebrows at me. Coming from him, the gesture could mean anything fromI want to discuss my latest conquesttoI have to shit, so I simply stare at the cheeky Channeler and wait for him to tell me what he wants. He nudges me again and offers me a goofy smile and a nod.
“Nice daggers,” he finally tells me, and it’s the exact tool he needs to crack my stoic facade.
A smile slips across my face, but I shape it into a coy smirk and shrug my shoulders. “They’re no butter knives, but they’ll do,” I tease, and Chastain’s grin morphs into a beaming smile.
“I know we gave you shit about wanting weapons, Frills, but if I’d known you’d look like that wearing them…wooo eeee, I would have gotten on board a lot sooner,” Blay proclaims as he exaggeratedly starts fanning himself.
I bark out a laugh, unable to stop myself. When I walked out of my room earlier, I was ready to thank all of them profusely for my new treasures. But the commander and his Wing were all being very solemn and guarded, and it was obvious there’d been some sort of conversation about me. So I tucked my gratitude away and just kept my mouth shut, wondering once again if my gifts were less gift and more warning.
“Hear! Hear! Biscuit. I don’t know if I want to eat or be eaten,” Herm chimes in as he exaggeratedly clutches at his chest and appreciatively rakes his eyes up and down my body.
Tove throws her hands up in exasperation and grumbles something to Farrow aboutacting like they want to be beaten with their own severed arms. Farrow just smiles and shakes his head. I instantly feel lighter now that they’re no longer looking at me like I’m the enemy, but I know this won’t last either.
“Who’s eating mymate?” Aeson enquires from behind me, the heat of his body suddenly lapping against my back as he stands as close as he can without touching me.
All I would have to do is lean back to breach the barrier of suspicion and mistrust that’s once again been erected between us, but I don’t. Some walls are there for our protection and better left alone.
“We’re up,” Ogdan announces, and I look over to see two sorcai feeding magic into the jump portal.
What’s odd, however, is that several guards have blocked access to this jump portal, and now they have their backs to it as though they’re prepared to stop anyone, by force, who might try to follow us. I haven’t used these portals other than that one time I fell out of one into the sky, so I don’t know if this is normal protocol when a royal travels or if this is something else.
“You’re awfully subdued for someone who’s about to get what they want,” Aeson observes, his mouth close to my ear, too close.
I fight off a shiver that wants to quake through me as his breath tickles down my neck, and move to put more distance between us.
“In my experience, it’s never a good idea to get your hopes up; life proves to be less disappointing that way.”
He doesn’t respond, but I can feel his stare burning into the back of my head. It makes me wonder if he’s sorry, if he regrets putting distance between us. Or maybe he’s just trying to read between the lines of everything I do, like always.
I search for our connection, for any hint of his dragon or mine present in this exchange, but there’s nothing there. It makes me wonder if I actually sensed what I thought I did. Maybe this is just a run-of-the-mill bond. What do I know about any of this shit anyway?
When we’re given the all clear by the Span Crafters, we walk up to the archway of white glowing magic and step through. It’s cold, but the suit Nixy gave me has thermal sensors, and it automatically grows warm to combat the sudden change in temperature.
My second trip through a jump portal goes much better than the first. Instead of careening through the sky like last time, my feet immediately touch solid ground when I step through the frigid wash of magic. Wherever we are, it’s also night outside, but everything here is covered in snow, and it makes the dark feel brighter.
My heart drops a little. It was a long shot, but part of me hoped we’d step out into Thrasher Territory. Somewhere near Groton, where my Flight was headed in search of the Conduit. I knew the chances were low, and yet I couldn’t help but hang on to a small sliver of hope that maybe they were on the right track and hadn’t been betrayed again. But we are most certainly not in Thrasher Territory.
“Permits,” a monotone voice demands, and Aeson moves toward the front of the group and presents his forearm.
The guard greeting us scans Aeson’s com patch and then starts flicking through the documents that just uploaded on his tablet. A cutting, icy wind whips strands of my hair free from the slicked back bun I styled my mane into. My breath fogs in the chilly air, and there’s something strange about the smell of wherever we are, but it’s not what I scent that’s worrying me, it’s what I don’t.
Aeson and his Wing are busy with the guards, and I slip a few inches to the right so I can study our location. Unfortunately there’s not much to see. We exited the portal into a rocky inlet. I look down and disturb the snow at my feet to try to see what the vegetation is like under the frozen fractals. But the snow floats oddly around as I kick it up, which I don’t think is normal.
Puzzled, I lean down to get a better look, and freeze.
