Page 31 of Kingdom of Shadows and Wings

Theo grins and slaps another fledgling on the shoulder. “I’ve got you covered, Soron.”

He hustles over to a cabinet in the corner that I missed on my initial inspection, withdraws a swathe of dark, shiny fabric, and tosses it to Soron. Huh. Now that I’m looking, I notice the other fledglings wearing or donning long-sleeved garments that skim their bodies and fall all the way to their boots. Fire-resistant, certainly. A very sensible safety precaution that never occurred to me before.

Not wanting to get caught without an outer layer that could prevent me from getting cooked like a hunk of fleetjac on a spit, I head for the cabinet.

Theo winks as he passes. “Glad you’re breaking up our sausage party, Axton. This is my chance to see how hot I can get you.”

I groan. “If terrible puns like that are what I can look forward to, I may defect to join the earth elementals.”

He gasps and clutches his chest. “You wound me.”

His antics bring a smile to my face. Cringey jokes or not, I’m happy he’s here to help balance out the haters, because the stocky guy with the shaved head scowling at me from Elijah’s side doesn’t seem to be my biggest fan.

I get Theo’s comment about a boys’ club now. Apart from me, all the fire wielders appear to be men.

The robe I grab is heavier than I expect. Prettier too. The garment glimmers and sparkles against the sun’s touch.

Resnick approaches. “The material’s treated with melted dragon fat to help fireproof it.”

He just had to go and ruin the moment.

I try my best not to form a visual. “That’s…kind of gross.”

His mouth tips into a faint smile. “Perhaps, but necessary. Sometimes things can get a little wild during training.” Cocking his head, he taps a finger against his chin. “To clarify, you’re Fledgling Lark Axton, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. I assumed as much, but once I took a good gander at you, I thought it best to confirm. You and your sister don’t resemble each other much.” His shoulders droop. “I’m sorry about Leesa. She’s one of my favorite pupils. You and your family must be out of their minds with worry… I hope you get good news soon.”

Emotion clogs my throat. He’s the first instructor to express genuine sorrow over Leesa’s disappearance. “Thank you, sir. I hope so too.”

When moisture fills my eyes, I bite my cheek to stop the tears from falling. As I regain my composure, Resnick kindly turns away and rummages through the cabinet to produce a robe for himself. “Go ahead and get suited up.”

I slip into the garment, surprised by the lightness of the fabric.

Resnick waves us forward. “Follow me.” He leads me to a human-shaped burlap sack that hangs from a hook. Fabric wings dangling from the figure’s back leave no illusions about the identity of the intended target. “Okay, then. Let’s see what you can do.”

More than one pair of eyes watch as I dive deep inside myself to seek the place where my power dwells. As expected, the magic suppressant smothers my fire, forcing me to dig and scrape for the faintest hint of a spark. It feels like my magic is trapped at the bottom of a dark sea with no way to rise to the surface.

Whispers kick up. Snickers about my weakness. I want to ignore the insults, but it’s hard when they feed into the same narrative my mother’s given me for as long as I can remember.

Gritting my teeth, I dive into the well where my power exists, tunneling and grasping until, at long last, I sense the tiniest spark. My blood warms. My fingertips crackle. A small, nearly translucent flame flares, only to vanish in the next heartbeat.

I breathe hard while Resnick frowns. “That’s a start, but you’re not there yet. You’ll need to generate more power to create a fireball.”

I’d accuse him of sarcasm if he didn’t appear so serious. “A fireball. Sure. I’ll get right on that.” My heavy breathing has officially turned into panting and sweat streams down my body in multiple places.

“Are you sure that’s the best you can do?”

Resnick graces me with a hopeful expression, like maybe I’m faking my poor performance. Guilt pinches me, because in a roundabout way, I suppose I am. I wish I didn’t need to. It’s not as if I get off on his disappointment or the scorn of my peers.

“Weakling.” Elijah scoffs, elbowing me out of the way. “I’ll show you how a real Aclaris patriot takes down the fucking Tirenese.”

Assuming the stance of a conquering king, Elijah creates a fireball the size of a cantaloupe in his hand. He hurls the elemental weapon at the burlap Tirenese warrior, striking him in the chest.

“Good job, Durand. Power and precision.” Resnick applauds and slants me a sympathetic look. “The first few times can be a little tricky. Try drawing from the existing fire until you get the hang of it.”

I slink over to an empty spot by a big urn, as far from the others as possible. Resnick and the other fledglings are probably wondering how I managed to pass the king’s minimal magic requirement. I’d love to hear the answer myself. It doesn’t seem possible that the tiny bit of fire the tester witnessed met the typical standard for entry to Flighthaven, so why approve me? Does Aclaris have a shortage of fire wielders?

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