Page 34 of Kingdom of Shadows and Wings

I brace for a tongue lashing. Instead, he nods. “Better.”

I stare like he sprouted a second head. “Better? I just insulted you.”

“Yes. And if you’re insulting someone, you’re not debasing yourself trying to gain approval.”

Every time he opens his mouth, it gets worse. If I could get away with it, I’d knee him in the family jewels. “Debasing?” My voice rises by several octaves.

A commotion from the central arena spares me from another infuriating comment. In the midst of people shouting, someone yells for an instructor.

With a reluctant glance in that direction, Thorne releases me. I tag along behind him as he stalks toward the disturbance. The screaming grows louder, and a fledgling bursts into view. He races across the sand, sobbing. One hand rips at his hair, while the other claws at his face. Too many angry red scratches to count crisscross his skin, oozing blood.

A group of fledglings chases after him. “Someone grab his hands so he quits hurting himself,” one says.

Helene shakes her head. “If you’re so eager, be my guest. The last person who tried in a situation like this ended up in the infirmary from bite wounds.”

Situation like what, I wonder. Has this happened before?

The fledgling takes a sharp turn and charges toward Thorne and me. “Please, someone make them shut up. They’re loud and terrible and I can’t hear myselfthink. I can feel it inside me, laughing and rotting. Get it out! Out!” He yanks at his hair again and pulls out a chunk.

“What’s happening?”

Without answering, Thorne grunts and approaches the fledgling. The student drops to the ground, writhing in the sand while alternating between laughter and sobs. “Get it out. Get it out!” He rakes his nails down his arms, drawing more blood.

Resnick races to the scene. Somehow, he and Thorne manage to calm our classmate enough to pick him up.

Once Resnick has a secure grip on the fledgling’s feet, he hollers at the rest of us. “Unless you want to practice on your own, class is dismissed for today.”

The fledgling whimpers as the instructors carry him from the arena.

Heart hammering, I find Olive in the crowd. “What in the hells was that?”

Olive’s lips dip at the corners. “That’s what happens when you overdose on eyril.”

Chapter Twelve

By breakfast, most of the buzz surrounding yesterday’s incident has died down. The fledgling, Tobias Fleece, is in the infirmary until his family fetches him. Then he’ll be taken to a healer who can hopefully fix him, though the prognosis for eyril overdose or poisoning doesn’t sound good. According to gossip, Fligthhaven loses at least one fledgling per class to the epidemic. Leesa’s class already had one, so this makes two. No one ever hears from them again. No one even knows how they get the additional eyril needed to cause that type of reaction in the first place. Despite these horrific revelations, my attention centers on a different topic.

Elijah.

Yesterday, he all but admitted he asked Leesa out and she turned him down. Based on the anger he displayed, it doesn’t seem farfetched to believe Leesa’s rejection spurred him to either hurt or, gods forbid, kill her. It’s the closest I have to a working theory so far, but tracking down proof seems impossible.

After breakfast, I survive Kinneck’s drills and sprints, vomiting only once and evading most of my classmates’ attempts at revenge for being the cause of additional repetitions.

In Flight Geography, we discuss how to navigate in challenging weather conditions and assess the safest locations to land. The instructor mentions that certain places with old magic can be hidden from detection altogether, making me wish I could borrow that ability when Elijah glares at me from across the room.

I spend most of lunch fretting about how to get through flight training without revealing my fear of alicorns. Pleading dizziness worked once, but something tells me Thorne won’t let that same excuse fly a second time. And unless my fear went poof overnight, there’s no possibility of me climbing onto one of those winged beasts’ backs and letting the creature launch me into the sky.

The more I dwell, the more panic sets in. What am I going to do? I’m a fool for coming to a flight academy without a solid plan for managing my fear of flying, but too late for second guessing. I need more time.

I scan the mess hall, searching wildly for inspiration while Olive and Abel joke about a mishap in magic training their first week where a student accidentally hit the instructor with a stream of water that propelled him into the pond. Nick mentions an incident with a student involving a hangover so terrible that the student tripped themselves with their own wind magic, injured their ankle, and had to sit out of classes for the day. My attention sweeps past Elijah and Helene. Pauses. Returns.

Clenching a cup of lukewarm tea in my hand, I push back my chair and stand. My pulse throbs in my throat. This is such a bad idea. Terrible. The worst. Am I really going through with it?

I picture Zephyr, with his huge black horn and enormous wings. I see Thorne tossing me into the saddle and slapping the alicorn on the haunch, sending us hurtling to the heavens. My stomach plunges, and my hands shake.

Ignoring Olive’s questioning glance, I head straight for Elijah.

When I show up to Flight training a little late, I find the other students already in the process of leading their saddled mounts from the stable. With his arms folded across his chest, Thorne supervises, his back facing me.

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