“Give them time.”
Better temporary distress than a permanent magical lobotomy at their “teacher’s” hands.
“The trial preparations are complete.” Coralee gazed down at the crisp piece of paper lying on the table in front of her. “The usual parameters, with modifications to account for the increased number of recruits.”
“How many can we expect to survive?” Grayson asked, his right eye twitching as he looked at me.
“Enough.”
Who lived had never been our decision. The beast council had the final say.
The trial wasn’t designed for maximum casualties, only necessary ones. Those who couldn’t follow simple instructions, who grabbed for power without understanding its cost, and who failed to demonstrate restraint would never survive the bonding. Better a quick death in Fernwood than the slow agony of magical rejection.
“Anything else we need to discuss?” I studied each of my advisors.
All shook their heads, even my aunt who often kept us here past dawn.
“Good.” I rose, the others following suit. “Perhaps we’ll soon have answers.”
Grayson and Coralee bowed and departed, Grayson’s owl swooping from the room in a flash of pure white feathers, Coralee’s ermine looking back at me with its whiskers twitching.
Kira lingered by my side, waiting until the door had shut behind the others.
“Would you care to walk in the eastern gardens?” she asked. “The moonflowers have opened early this year.”
Her invitation carried no particular inflection, but I knew what she offered. Comfort. Distraction.
“Not tonight.” I kept my voice polite but firm. “The trials require preparation.” A sorry excuse, and I could tell she knew it.
An image of Isi flashed through my mind, her eyes fierce in combat, the graceful arc of her body as she fought. The raw, wounded way she’d looked at the mark on my neck. The expression in her eyes had nearly taken me to my knees.
She wasjealous. This mysterious, deadly woman who claimed to want nothing from me had looked at the mark like it was a personal betrayal.
She wanted me. The thought was intoxicating. Completely mad.
Kira had not branded me, however. No one had.
I clenched my jaw, irritated by the intrusive thoughts of another woman. My fascination with Isi could become a liability. I had a kingdom to oversee, a legacy to restore. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by a recruit who might not survive the trials, no matter how she ignited everything inside me.
I forced my thoughts back to the Skathes, to the children, to any of the hundreds of problems demanding my attention. Not to her. Never to her. Not when she could move through the halls, carving up assassins like she’d been born to it.
Disappointment flashed through Kira’s eyes. Or calculation.With her, the two were often indistinguishable. She nodded and left, her death adder’s tail flicking against her skin as she tugged the door closed behind her.
Gavelle nipped at my ear, sending a flash of impatience.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I know.”
My quarters reflected my life, simple and functional, with none of the opulence expected of royal chambers. A bed, a desk, and bookshelves filled with tactical and magical texts. The only luxury was the massive balcony overlooking the moonlit expanse of Syllavar Court, my kingdom hidden far from the Skathes and whoever commanded them.
I pushed open the glass doors, letting the night air wash over me. Gavelle launched from my shoulder, landing on the stone railing, looking up at me.
“Go,” I said. “You’ve been more than patient.”
The cinderhawk stretched his wings, his charcoal feathers gleaming in the moonlight. Our connection snapped into place, the familiar sensation of our minds linking. Not words, but impressions, emotions, sensory input shared between us.
He sprang from the balcony, and I closed my eyes as his sensations flooded mine. Wind beneath wings. The sharp clarity of night vision. The kingdom spread below like a tapestry of light and shadow.
Freedom.
