Page 168

Selena glances down. "There's nothing there."

The wards continue humming. "Yes," I say. "There is."

By the time Sky Wing training begins, exhaustion has settled behind my eyes. Rhyven notices before I complete the first drill. He says nothing. That is worse. Training moves faster today. Shorter recovery periods. More complicated formations. Mara calls instructions from one side of the field while Rhyven walks between groups, correcting weaknesses as soon as they appear. He is not cruel. He is not angry. He is simply relentless.

Orin misses a signal and leaves the left side of the formation exposed. Rhyven stops the entire exercise. "What happened?" He asks.

Orin is breathing heavily. "I moved too early."

"Why?"

"I anticipated Mara's order."

"You guessed." Orin nods. "Again."

We reset. A second-year breaks formation to assist a partner before receiving the command. Again. Someone loses track of the simulated wounded student behind them. Again. My arms ache from holding the weighted practice blade. My attention keeps returning to the hum beneath the ground. Again. Again. Again. By the final rotation, no one is making careless mistakes. We are too tired for carelessness. Only discipline remains.

Rhyven dismisses the Wing after sunset. Students gather their equipment in silence. Orin lowers himself onto the nearest bench and presses both hands against his face. "Three hours," he mutters.

Mara passes him. "You survived."

"Barely." Orin answers.

"Barely counts." She continues toward the equipment shed. No one laughs. A week ago, someone might have. Tonight, everyone is too aware that Rhyven's new rules were not created without reason. I wait until the field begins emptying. Rhyven is speaking with Mara near the weapon racks.

I return my practice blade. When I turn, he is alone. His eyes move briefly toward the path. "Twenty-two hundred."

I nod. "Where?"

"My office." Chief Wings Officers have small rooms near their Wing grounds for reports and private meetings. I have never been inside his. "Did you tell him?"

"No." I answer.

"Good."

I stiffen. "You don't want Caelen to know?"

"I don't want him hearing half of it in a corridor." That is fair. Annoyingly so. "He'll be angry."

"Yes." Rhyven says.

"At you."

"Yes."

"At me."

Rhyven's expression changes slightly. "He'll try not to be."

I look toward the distant Dawn Wing grounds. "Will that make it better?"

"No." At least he does not lie.

At twenty-one fifty-eight, I stand outside Rhyven's office. The building sits between the Sky Wing equipment hall and the western watch path.

Rhyven opens the door before I knock. "You're early." "So are you."

He steps aside. The room is simple. It is smaller than I expected. Two windows. Bookshelves. A desk covered in reports. Three chairs. Maps pinned across one wall, several marked with coloured threads and handwritten notes. Sky Wing schedules cover another. Nothing unnecessary. I notice one small piece of dark metal resting near the edge of the desk. A scale. Vyrael's, perhaps. Rhyven follows my gaze and moves a report over it without comment. I pretend not to notice.