I press my mouth shut against a snarl, and Fyrestar flies so fast that the high mountain air helps hammer the echoes of my time as a student off me, leaving only the need to prove myself and win.
“We’re almost there, Fyrestar. Go!” Entrances to the war room open near the pinnacle of Drayke Mountain, not far below Bale’s lair. We aim for the nearest window. Excelling at combat against everyone’s expectations is the only reason I’m anything, and I want right wing.
We blast through a high entrance, and my warbird moves like a firebolt straight for the six pillars of the Elite Wing. Kellan flies in through another window at nearly the same time. His primary wing guard follows, sleek, fast, and glowing, his long tail feathers trailing fire. Grambolt is as mature and experienced as Fyrestar.
My pulse racing, I urge Fyrestar faster. Kellan’s scales shimmer even in the low light of the gigantic room, the arresting mix of darkness and iridescence a distracting flash in my periphery as we both dive for the same flat-topped column rising from the stone floor next to the map of Ellonrift.
Kellan’s ice-blue eyes narrow. “Not today.” The words resonate inside my head in the same deep voice that used to suggest things like leaving the Elite Wing, settling down together, mating.
I don’t answer and vault off Fyrestar, already sprinting for the coveted first spot at the right-hand side of the map. With only a few steps to go, I take a running leap and land on top of the wide pillar. Kellan hits it at the same time, instantly transforming into his fully clothed common form to get both booted feet on the surface. Skidding wildly, I thump into the rock-solid, four-hundred-year-old dragon shifter and bounce right off him. My stomach plummets.
Kellan reaches out to steady me, but it’s too late. I’m already falling, and the failure is nauseating. I hit the ground on my side, a pained breath wheezing out of me. Fyrestar’s worried caw rattles in my head. My hip numb, I scramble up, vault over the map, and lunge for the left-wing column, but Maia just took the front pillar because she didn’t even try for right wing. I jump onto the column behind her before anyone else can take the second row. Right wing is more prestigious, but I don’t want to be responsible for watching Kellan’s back. I’m too incensed right now.
Seething, I scowl across the giant, raised map of Ellonrift, wishing I could breathe fire. Kellan winks at me, his smirk as big as he is.
“That was mine,” I grind out.
“Same time, but I kept my balance,” he says as the rest of the team fills in the remaining pillars, their primary warbirds already circling the cavernous room along with mine. The phoenixes brighten the yawning darkness above our heads, their luminous feathers throwing warm, reddish-gold light onto the roughly carved-out rock ceiling. The floor is smoother, worn down by centuries of dragon shifters working tirelessly to keep the peace in Ellonrift.
I don’t have inner fire like the rest of the team and force myself not to shiver as I take in today’s formation. Five dragon shifters and whatever-the-stars I am. Six phoenixes so far. Too many blades to count.
“We could share,” Kellan offers, knowing that’s patently impossible.
“Fuck you.”
He gives me a heated look. “Anytime you want.”
“How about never, never, never, ever,” I shoot back.
His brows rise so slowly and deliberately that I want to bite them off his forehead. “You mean never again?”
Turning away, I ignore him as the younger birds arrive. They’re the dragon shifters’ left-wing guards. There are only two of us without—Danica and me—because our little ones are still too young to fight. She has her right-wing phoenix, and I have Fyrestar. Bale gave me three warbirds since I don’t have wings of my own.
Fyrestar catches my attention with a heavy, golden gaze. He doesn’t like that I’m alone—either in flight or in life. But I’m not truly alone. My warbird and I have matching eyes.
The wing guards find their principals and stick to the older birds like pitch, just like Rim will do with Fyrestar soon. But for now, it’s Fyrestar who’s alone, and I don’t like it, but there aren’t any other phoenixes in Ellonrift.
The Dragon King created thirteen phoenixes infused with everlife and his own fire from the thirteen chest scales his greatest enemy sliced through, nearly reaching his heart. Bale won the battle in the end, but the Vampire King somehow survived. With some of the strongest magic in Torridaig, Bale created the fiercest, most devoted fighting force in Ellonrift. He raised the phoenixes to their first maturity and trained them to be as loyal as they are lethal. Then he established the Elite Wing about two hundred years ago—one dragon shifter for two warbirds.
Or that’s how it’s supposed to work. Bale didn’t fill the last pillar until he chose me straight out of school. He walked the lines of graduating students, looking us over with narrowed eyes—not that he hadn’t already been watching us for years. Then he stopped in front of me and offered me a home and a team. It took half a second to realize I’d bested everyone at school, and another half a second to push my yes past the explosion of excitement launching my heart straight up my throat.
Rimblaze, Embersol, and Fyrestar were the last to be given a soldier. Maybe it was just luck that three remained, but it gave me a warbird to ride, and two wing guards to make us an even more formidable team. The day I met my birds, I fully understood how lucky I was—I finally had a real family after all these years.
Some say the Vampire King ripped a fourteenth scale right off Bale’s chest. Bale has never confirmed, but the scar that still marks his skin after all these years makes me think it could be true. Bale removed the thirteen damaged scales to create our firebirds, and so that new scales could grow in their place. He doesn’t have a warbird of his own, though Rim, Sol, and Fyrestar flew with him until I came along.
As usual, Kellan doesn’t let the subject drop. “Never ever is a long time when you live as long as we do. We’ll see what happens in a decade or two.” His admittedly attractive blue eyes dip over me. “Or we could just go back a couple dozen years and remember the good times?”
I glare at him, hearing Maia quietly snort to my front and Arran groan softly behind me. They were good times, but they’re over. Kellan needs to let go of the past and stop dragging everyone else into our business.
Our finished business.
“Or, I could reach my hand down your throat and yank out your vocal cords so you’ll stop bringing up ancient history,” I growl.
He chuckles. “Love your fire, Idallia. Too bad it doesn’t actually burn.”
My nostrils flare on a sharp breath.
Not having a comeback enrages me, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone goes quiet and faces forward as Bale Cinderheart explodes like a volcanic blast into the war room.
