Page 105 of Forcing Fate

“Really?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.

It was hard to believe that anyone residing in Northwing would be on the enemy’s side. How could anyone witness the suffering these people went through, then help the ones inflicting that hurt? What could drive someone to ally themselves with the Shadows? What did they have to offer?

“Aye, and it seems your bounty hunter found him by digging around.”

“He’s not my bounty hunter,” I muttered.

Bane glowered from across the way. “You were simply a source of information to him.”

I glared right back. Sure, I spoke with Darrack, and would have named him my friend if anyone asked, but I never noticed him pumping me for details. He was always intrigued with things on the school grounds–

A twinge of unease curled deep in my stomach. Perhaps he had used me…

I finished my cider in silence as the men chatted about the day’s events. It appeared the man, Wevtyn, was due for an immediate escort to the King’s Palace. Paperwork was being sorted concerning the King’s bounty hunter—Darrak Nightfell.

So it was true then—that gossip almost six months ago. He really was a bounty hunter. Perhaps he had used me, but that didn’t bother me nearly as much as the notion of him leaving. I had an ally with him, and I would lose that when he left.

I stood, feeling selfish that I only thought of myself when Northwing was probably in an uproar over this news.

“Avyanna?” Rory looked up at me as I stepped over the bench.

“Just going to turn in early tonight, is all.” I shrugged.

I ignored Bane’s intense gaze. He always scrutinized me as though I would cause trouble—or be the reason others did so.

“I’ll walk you to the bunkhouse,” Willhelm said, standing.

“No. No, that’s all right.”

Confusion crossed his features, and I offered him a smile. I didn’t want to tell him I wanted space, but he seemed to understand without me stating it.

“See you tomorrow then?”

“As always.”

I wrapped my cloak around me as I dropped my mug off in the bin, then left the hall.

The night was cold. Stray snowflakes fell here and there, lonely and solitary things. A puff of breath curled past my lips as I glanced up. It didn’t surprise me to see the heavy clouds threatening the first real snowfall of the season.

The night sky was empty of dragons. The older beasts retreated to the warm underground caverns. This year’s hatchlings—now strong and more than doubled in size—joined the others in the journey to Southwing for the winter.

I had to be honest with myself… I missed them and their constant racket in the background of everyday life. The squealing and trumpets of the young ones playing, the growls and bellows of the older ones reaching maturity. It was something that was always there–until it wasn’t. It made the night feel so much quieter.

“There you are.”

I jumped at the sound of Darrak’s voice and squinted into the dark for the source. A silhouette snared my attention, moving away from a building nearby.

“Darrak?” I asked, as one hand went to the bandit breaker on my belt.

The shadowed form laughed quietly and stepped into the torchlight, revealing his familiar face.

His face might have been familiar, but his clothes were not. I couldn’t discern many details of his red leather armor, aside from the gryphon embedded onto his chest piece. The King’s Gryphon.

“So it’s true then?” I asked. I released the hilt of my blade and clutched my cloak tight against the cold.

“Afraid so.” He shrugged with an easy grin. He paused, noting my expression, and frowned. “Tell me you’re more disappointed that I’m leaving, rather than for dear Wevtyn.”

My eyes widened at his implication. “You don’t believe I would sympathize with one of his kind, do you?”

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