“Good.” The slight quirk of his eyebrow says he doesn’t quite believe me. “Let me show you how to take the saddle off and groom him, and then you’d better go.”
Back in the stable, Thorne offers me a brush. I accept, turning the grooming tool over in my hands. “Where do I start?”
“At the neck.”
I eye Zephyr, reminding myself to stay calm so he doesn’t pick up on my fear. After last night’s adventure, the alicorn seems a little less scary, especially when I remember he was Leesa’s first. “Easy, boy. I bet my sister loved you to pieces, didn’t she?”
Zephyr whickers and nudges my hand with his velvety nose. The motion startles me, but I don’t jump. Progress.
After a few clumsy strokes with the brush, Thorne shakes his head.
“Let me show you.” He folds his hand over mine, guiding the brush back to Zephyr’s silvery gray neck. “Go in the direction of the hair, not against it. Don’t brush so light you’re tickling him, but don’t bear down too hard either. And be gentle with the wings.”
Together, we stroke the alicorn’s coat. I’m all too aware of the big, calloused hand wrapped around mine, and the unwelcome warmth such an innocent touch stirs inside me.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away. “I think I’ve got it.” Thorne discovering my body’s inadvertent reaction to him is a humiliation I’d prefer to avoid at all costs.
He steps back, lingering nearby as I finish. “Better.”
I breathe easier now that there’s more space between us. “Isn’t it about time for breakfast? For instructors, I mean?”
“It’s past time.” He runs his hand down Zephyr’s back, and the alicorn tosses his head. “Now it’s your turn to eat.”
“You missed breakfast? Why didn’t you stop me earlier?”
“Because I already ate in my room.” With a smirk, he grabs the brush and nods toward the mess hall. “Make sure you’re here an hour and a half beforeyourbreakfast time tomorrow.”
Unbelievable.
As I storm off, a thunderous bellow rattles the air, dying off into a keening cry. Another plaintive wail follows. A phantom fist squeezes my ribs. I whirl toward the huge iron and stone enclosure towering a short distance away. The dragon aerie. But what in the heavens could cause one of the dragons to wail like the sky is falling?
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Puzzled, I glance over my shoulder at Thorne, only then noting that I unintentionally moved toward the aerie. I shake my head a few times, attempting to dispel whatever daze grips me. Woah. Terrible idea to stumble around Flighthaven in a semi-fugue state. Between my minimal nights of good sleep and maximal stress levels since learning about Leesa, though, I’m not surprised I’m zoning out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“An excellent way to un-alive yourself. Though I suppose that would save me the trouble of early morning training.”
Wow. “Your compassion knows no bounds.” Another wail fills the air. The cry, so mournful and bruised, carves through me like a knife, digging at some hidden spot deep inside. “Why do they sound so unhappy?”
Thorne’s gaze darkens, and he replies with a cryptic, “Why wouldn’t they sound unhappy?” before stalking toward the aerie.
Chapter Fifteen
With Thorne’s strange words ringing in my ears, I muddle through morning classes without any major incidents. Though Elijah and Mark burn me with an occasional menacing glare, they don’t approach me. I wonder if that reluctance stems from Thorne stepping in during magic training yesterday, and if so, how I feel about the development. Part of me is relieved that they quit harassing me. Another part bristles over the reminder that I’m weak and need someone to fight my battles for me.
I decide to quit worrying and enjoy the harassment-free time while I can, instead focusing on training. Despite a few close calls, I manage to avoid vomiting during Kinneck’s drills. Navigation class also proceeds without a hitch. My nerves don’t make an appearance until toward the end of lunch. I forgot to ask Thorne about his plan for Flight training today. Obviously, I’m still not ready to fly, and I’d prefer to avoid another sucker punch to the head. Leaving the excuse for missing class in Thorne’s hands probably isn’t the smartest idea considering how little the man likes me. I suppose his loathing has decreased a teensy bit since our first meeting but that’s like a blizzard easing into a snowstorm. One might be more intense than the other, but both can freeze you to death.
Flyer Quinnelle solves my dilemma by approaching our table in the mess hall. “Axton, Holte, Pendrick, and Rummon. Your unit won’t be participating in flight training today. It’s your turn to work the eyril field. Report there immediately after lunch.”
My heart does a little leap as he names the members of another flight unit. I don’t know much about the plant and its green-orange tendrils, but anything that gives me a reprieve from flight training can’t be that bad. Though the memory of the fledgling thrashing and clawing his skin bloody from a magical overdose plucks the hairs on the back of my neck like an icy hand.
For once, I thank my atypical magic. Not needing eyril means that fledgling’s fate will not be mine. During the walk to the field, I think about how everyone apart from me takes eyril daily and wonder how easy it is to go from regular dosing to craving more.
“Ready for your first eyril harvesting session?”
Olive’s question tugs me out of my thoughts as our unit halts just outside the field. The pungent, earthy aroma mixed with that faint hint of sweet decay permeates the air.
“I think so. It sounds…intriguing.”