Bree frowned, trying to think over what she knew. Weshern and Sothren were allied together in a mutual defense pact against Candren and Galen. As for the fifth island, Elern…
“What about Elern?” she asked. “Won’t they protect us?”
Argus shook his head.
“Elern’s promised to aid any island against invasion, but Sothren’s Seraphim are all but decimated. Even with Elern’s help, we still might lose. The uneasy peace we’ve had for the last sixty years is coming to an end. These aren’t skirmishes anymore, Breanna. We’re not squabbling over trade rights or political prisoners. This is war. If Galen secures another victory against us, they’ll begin carrying over ground troops, and we’ll have no way to stop them. The fighting won’t remain in the skies. It’ll be in our streets, our homes, and our fields, and they’ll all be bathed in blood.”
Bree thought of soldiers with wide shields and tall spears smashing in the door of their home to kill Aunt Bethy, and she felt panic rising inside her chest.
“Center won’t allow it,” she said. “That’s the point of us, of our Seraphim, to fight those wars so the rest don’t have to.”
“Center will allow it because they don’t care about us, Bree. They don’t care about our lives, our traditions, our very independence. So long as the trade flows, and they receive their food and wine, they’ll not bat an eye, and I’d wager Galen’s Archon has been whispering more than enough promises in the ears of the theotechs about how they’ll share in our spoils.”
Their commander made everything seem so dire, so beyond her control, Bree had to fight down a shiver. Bree stared at the drawing of her, the implied guilt. Unpunished. To the people of Galen, she was already condemned, and for what? Slaying a man who’d murdered her lover and dumped his body at her feet? A man from the nation that had killed her parents when she was only a child? Knowing nothing of her, they’d insult her and smear her name?
Bree crumpled the crude portrait in her fingers, a silent vow on her lips. If they wanted to plaster her name throughout their island, then she’d make it one to remember. Somehow, some way, she’d make them dread her name. Not mock it, not despise it. Fear it.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, throwing the paper to the grass.
“Given our desperate situation, we need Seraphim more than ever,” Argus said. “Your skill in flight easily qualifies you in that capacity, but then when I speak to Randy, I hear a far different tale.”
Bree withered under his steel gaze and looked to her feet.
“When it comes to my fire element, I have… trouble,” she said.
“So I heard,” Argus said. “It’s such a shame. If only your skills weren’t so poor, you’d be an excellent soldier. God knows we’re in sore need of them.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason. “I’ve tried so hard, but it never seems to matter.”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.”
He said it with such dismissal, such distaste, Bree found herself taken aback.
“Yes I have,” she insisted. “I’ve tried harder at becoming a Seraph than anything else in my life. I spend twice the hours in the sky than anyone else in my class. While others sleep, I run laps around the academy. For weeks I used four fire prisms a day, when just a single one exhausts me. I have done everything I know to do, Argus. I want this. I want to fly at your side, to show you I’m ready to fight instead of letting others die for me. How can anyone not see that?”
Argus crossed his arms and frowned at her.
“You mention your extra allotment, yet Jay tells me you’ve stopped accepting it. Care to explain why?”
“I don’t see the point, so why waste everyone’s time?” Bree said. “I can create a dozen shapes, from spears to walls to spheres, but it never lasts. I drain the prism, and then it’s over. No matter what I do, I always lose control.”
“That’s it exactly,” Argus said. “Control. It’s the one thing you lack. Everything I learn of you shows this key failing. Disrespecting Instructor Dohn, the fight in the mess hall, using Dean’s harness to chase after Eric: it is all action without thought to consequence. That manifests into your flame as well.”
Bree felt too exhausted and mentally raw for such a dressing down.
“Then what do you want from me?” she snapped. “What should I do?”
“I want you to focus,” he said. “Pour your anger and frustration into a single aspect. Your element is your weakest skill? Then work at it above all else until you finally succeed. If two extra prisms daily wasn’t enough, then ask for four, and then six, until the breakthrough comes. Don’t come out here and try to break a meaningless record. Whatever limits you know, push beyond them until you get the damn job done, no matter the toll the struggle takes.”
Despite Argus’s rank, despite his legendary skill, Bree couldn’t bear to remain silent under such an attack.
“What would you know about struggles?” she said. “You’re Argus Summers, the most gifted Seraph we’ve ever had.”
“You’re wrong,” Argus said. “I wasn’t even the best in my class. Randy Kime was.”
Bree’s mouth dropped open. Instructor Kime? But that didn’t make any sense. Argus ran a hand through his short dark hair, and he glanced west, to where Randy flew drills with the second-year students above the training field.
“You should have seen him,” he said. “When it came to fire, he was an artist. The speed of flight meant nothing to him. He could anticipate distances and velocities as if they were the easiest things to master, and when he let loose his flame, he rarely missed. An enemy would weave and dodge, and he’d play with them like you or I might play with a child.”
Bree tried to imagine kind Instructor Kime in battle, but she couldn’t. It seemed too weird.
“I trained day and night to reach his level,” Argus said, turning back to her. “I begged and harassed the headmaster until he allocated me a double ration of both light and ice element to practice with. Those first two years, I slept four hours a day at most, all so I could improve. All so I could spend more time in the skies, or at the practice fields flinging ice. There were people more talented than I was, Bree, people who took more easily to flying or to their element, but none worked harder than I did. And you know what? It still didn’t matter. Randy was better than I was. I was an apprentice struggling to overcome a master.”
Bree was shocked by such admissions from their commander. How could he say someone was better? Everyone knew he was the best. No one even came close.
“What happened?” she asked. “If he was so much better, why doesn’t anyone know?”
“In our very first battle together, Randy killed a man above him, then turned to fire at another. The man he’d killed had drawn his swords, and as he dropped, one blade fell wildly. It struck Randy on the wrist, and it cut down to the bone. He ignored it, and by the time the battle was finished, he’d torn it even worse. The apothecaries did their best, but the wound grew infected, and after two days they had to cut off his hand.”
Argus lifted his own left hand and stared at it, as if imagining it’d been him.
“Simple bad luck,” he said. “That’s all it takes. I’ve worked harder than anyone alive because of that. Luck is a fickle demon to be warred against. The more time you take, the more effort you put in, the less power luck will have in your life. And even then, you still might lose. People wonder at my three kills in that first battle, but they ignore how Randy had four. Listen to me. Randy was one of the most gifted men alive, but instead of actively dodging the dead body, he ignored it and continued fighting. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that body falls past him without so much as a scratch. But it didn’t, and that tiny little mistake cost Randy dearly. Try harder, Bree. Do everything you can. Perfection will be beyond you, but to give up is to invite the same demon that cost Randy Kime his hand.”
Bree felt like she’d been judged and found wanting, and her face flus
hed as she clenched her teeth, unsure of what else there was to say. Argus cleared his throat, and his tone changed somehow, growing more formal, more distant.
“Of the students I have observed from your class, I consider three currently worthy of joining us in battle: Saul Reigar, your brother Kael, and you.”
“Me?” she asked. “Are you sure?”
“Honestly? No. I wish I could say it is because of your skill, but it’s not. Given your incompetence with your fire element, you will be of limited aid during battle. The reason you’ll be with us is because you’re the current face of the conflict. You’ve been labeled a coward and a cheat by the Galen people, and Archon Willer wants you flying into battle to defend both your name and your nation as a direct counter to these claims.”
“I understand,” Bree said with a voice that was suddenly hoarse.
“I don’t expect much. With your skill in flight, I believe you’re capable of surviving, which is all we really need from you. From now on, you will join the third-and fourth-year students with their formation practices. You have a lot to learn in very little time, so expect to spend many hours in formation instead of performing simple drills and pointless obstacle courses.”
“As you wish, Commander.”
Argus dipped his head, then walked away. She watched him go, anger rumbling in her belly. Teeth grinding, she looked to the timer, still marking her record attempt. Drawing out her sword, she knelt before the wooden contraption and used her gauntleted left hand to safely hold the blade near the tip for greater control. Beneath Argus’s name she began to carve, digging the tip of her sword into the wood. It was awkward using the weapon for such a purpose, and she had strain to form the jagged letters. After what felt like forever, she stepped back and surveyed the results.
1-35 BREE SKYBORN
That done, she flew across the grounds and landed before the learners’ academy building. Not bothering to remove her wings, she shifted sideways so she might fit through the door, then hurried down the hall to the headmaster’s office. Over-Secretary Waller wasn’t at her desk, so Bree knocked on the door, then hesitated.
“Come in.”
Bree stepped inside, put a fist across her breast in salute, and then bowed to Jay Simmons at his desk.
“Headmaster,” she said. “I’ve come to request my additional allotment of fire element be resumed.”
The older man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.
“Does this mean you’ve regained hope at progressing?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bree said. “But I’m going to keep trying until I do.”
A smile blossomed on Jay’s face.
“Good enough,” he said. “Consider your request happily granted. And might I add, Bree, it’s about damn time.”
CHAPTER 25
More than anything, Kael wanted to return to his room and sleep. The past few days he’d spent so many hours practicing formations he’d used triple his normal daily allotment of light element. Every muscle in his body felt sore from the constant twisting and pulling of his wings to dive, climb, and turn. Sadly he had no plans to retire just yet, not when he had his investigations at the library to continue. After grabbing an apple from the mess hall, he tore into it as he crossed the street, passing the squat armory to the far taller library behind it. Before he could enter, he found a surprise waiting for him.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Clara said. She stood on the top step, arms crossed as she leaned against one of the four pillars that marked the library front. Her face appeared to be made of the same white stone as the pillars. Kael’s tired mind grasped wildly for an excuse.
“I, uh, was just coming here to relax,” he said. It sounded painfully false to his own ears.
“Just like last night, and the night before?” she asked. “Should I point out that I haven’t seen you at all since you started combat training with the older Seraphim?”
More tired mental scrambling. He didn’t want to lie to her, not in the slightest, so he tried to find some way to at least tell a bit of the truth. Kael shifted his weight from foot as she towered over him to foot halfway up the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My mind’s been kind of… occupied lately.”
“Do you have a few moments to spare right now?”
There was no way to tell her no without explaining why, and truth be told, he did miss spending time with Clara. Since Argus chose him as one of the three to be elevated to full combat duty, his schedule had rarely intersected with hers.
“Sure,” he said. “I guess I do.”
Just like that, her stony facade dropped, and she was all smiles as she grabbed his hand.
“Good,” she said. “Now hurry up, or we’ll miss it.”
“Miss what?” he asked as he nearly fell down the stairs from her pulling him after her.
“You’ll see,” she said, green eyes sparkling.
She guided him onto the road, then turned west at the intersection. He caught her glancing at the sky a couple times, but he saw nothing in particular to explain her sudden hurry. Her steps turned to a sprint. Across the bridge they ran, hands still locked, and she slowed only upon reaching the gear sheds.
“Get your wings on,” she said, once more scanning the sky. “And make it quick.”
By now his curiosity was piqued, and he did not argue. Rushing inside the empty building, he found a pole and pulled his set of wings down from the wall hook. Part of him groaned at the thought of putting them back on after so many hours of training, but he had a feeling Clara wasn’t interested in performing more boring drills. So what did she plan?
He didn’t know, but his heart sped at the possibilities.
Outside the shed, he found her already waiting, her silver wings strapped comfortably onto her back.
“Follow me,” she said without checking to see if he was ready. Her wings hummed to life, taking on a soft glow. Twisting her back to him, she soared into the air, and flicking the throttle forward, he followed. She rose at a steep angle, flying toward seemingly nothing in particular.
“Where are we going?” he shouted, hoping she’d hear.
“You’ll see,” she shouted back over her shoulder.
Higher and higher they rose into the evening sky. The sun was just beginning its descent, and it was painful to look directly at it. The academy steadily shrank beneath him as they climbed far higher than they ever would during drills. Still baffled, he had to veer a bit to the right when she spun to face him while reducing her speed to a hover. Coming to a stop beside her, he looked up to see a ceiling of puffy white clouds stretched out as far as their training fields.
“Figured it out yet?” she asked him, a devilish smile on her face.
“Not in the slightest,” Kael said.
“So disappointing. Come on up and look, and you finally will.”
She offered him her hand, and he took it. Together they hovered higher into the clouds. To Kael’s surprise, they were thin, maybe two feet thick at most, and they emerged immediately. Coupled with that surprise was how the sun colored the clouds due to its initial descent. Instead of being soft white like the bottom, the top seemed to shine a vibrant pink. Hovering upon it, Kael felt like he stood upon a pink cotton carpet, and the silliness of it put a smile on his face.
“It’s beautiful,” he said to Clara as she pushed him away.
“I thought you’d like it,” she said as she fell through the clouds. Kael followed her, then flared his wings to chase her as she immediately rose back up. The two reemerged as if they were fish leaping in and out of the ocean, only instead of blue waters they had their own private pink pool. Kael twirled as he veered himself up and down through it, having never seen clouds so thin and thoroughly enjoying the chance to explore. It felt so good to relax, to play. Clara ceased diving, instead skimming along the surface of the cloud, her right hand hanging down so her fingers could tease the surface. The pink shifted at her touch, not much, just eno
ugh to mark her passage, like a hand waving through the smoke of a dwindling campfire.
Kael spun about, spread his arms, and dropped down into the clouds as if falling into a layer of snow. Once beneath the clouds, he righted himself, burst ahead, and then rose in front of Clara, catching her extended hand on his way up. Her body began to swing, and he grabbed her other hand to lock themselves together. Swirling, they rose above the clouds, angels on a heavenly dance floor. Kael lessened his wings to a hover, and Clara did likewise as she peered up at him.
“Kael?” she said.
“Yes?”
He expected a question, but instead she pulled herself closer and pressed her lips to his. Panic struck him, a primal fear of knowing absolutely nothing of what to do next, nor how to do it. If put off by his sudden freezing, she didn’t let it show. She kissed him again, soft lips brushing his, and he opened his own the slightest bit as he finally kissed back. Just like that, everything felt natural. She held him tightly, eyes closed. His hands drifted to her waist, keeping her close as the kiss continued on and on.
At last she pulled away, and she gave a playful push so they’d separate.
“Was that your first kiss?” she asked him as she slowly drifted away.
“Not counting moms and sisters?” he said, heart still hammering in his chest. “Yeah, it was.”
Clara smiled, scrunching her nose as she did.
“You’re adorable.”
He reached for her arm, caught her wrist, and yanked her closer. Clara laughed as it sent them into another spin. He kissed her again, quick, relaxed, and suddenly he couldn’t believe it’d been two days since he’d spent time with her. What the hell was wrong with him? Clara kissed back, but this time when she pulled away, she didn’t try to separate, instead leaning her head against his chest.
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