Page 65 of Kingdom of Shadows and Wings

During lunch, a flyer I don’t recognize announces the arrival of a mail delivery. Prompted by Olive, I stuff the remaining bite of pork and mushroom gravy in my mouth and pick up my tray. She leads me outside and around to the far side of the mess hall, to a small room I’ve never noticed that houses dozens of niches in the wall, each with a room number written above.

Olive pulls out a small stack of envelopes sealed with wax stamps and thrusts two of them at me. “Here you go.”

She grips two envelopes to her own chest as well. Sparing a moment to hope that one is from the cousins she hasn’t heard from in a long time, I tell her I’ll see her in a bit and exit the mail room to wander the grounds in search of a quiet place to read. My aimless roaming leads me toward a shady tree near the alicorn stable. A husky, feminine laugh draws me up short.

I spot Instructor Thorne first. Hands in his pockets, leaning against the white fence with his head tilted low, he appears as relaxed as I’d ever seen him. I can’t help the spark that ignites within me at the sight of him, but the flame snuffs out when my gaze falls on the beautiful advanced battle maneuvers instructor standing beside him.

Tall, willowy, and blond, Celeste Dawson toys with a loose strand of hair as she again giggles at something Thorne says. Uncomfortable pressure squeezes my ribcage, and a strange urge to stalk over and yank her back by her shiny ponytail fills me. What the hells is so funny, anyway? I doubt anything coming from Thorne’s mouth could possibly be that amusing.

I bet she’s faking it.

I should turn around before they spot me, but for some reason, I’m rooted to the ground.

As if sensing my presence, Thorne lifts his head and locates me. The instant our eyes meet, a zap of energy courses through me. His nostrils flare, causing me to wonder if he feels the electricity, too, before Dawson plants an elegant hand on his arm, returning his attention to her.

Ugh. The sight of that pale hand on his arm bugs me far more than it should. Huffing an annoyed breath, I swirl around, stomp to the tree, and plop down, determined to block out their voices and grab a few minutes of solitude to read my letters. I remove my socks and boots, wiggling my toes through the sun-warmed grass until I feel myself start to relax.

Tossing one of the envelopes onto the grass beside me, I open the one featuring my mother’s elegant script.

My dearest Lark,

Since you’ve been gone, I’ve barely slept or eaten. I’m so worried about you, I’m certain I’ll face an early grave.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing for the thousandth time she’d quit with the dramatics. She acts like I’m as helpless as a newborn baby, completely incapable of caring for myself.

I pray to the gods daily that you haven’t been injured at Flighthaven. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.

Grimacing, I skim the remaining contents, my mother’s emotional tirade growing worse by the sentence. Of course she’s worried. That much, I get. But I don’t understand her lack of faith in my abilities to stand on my own two feet. Transient dizzy and weak spells don’t make me utterly incompetent to survive on my own.

At last, I reach the end.

I know you said you’d remain at Flighthaven for a month, but I’m terrified of what might happen in that amount of time. It’s due to my concern for your well-being that I’ve already written to the king about exempting you from the service commitment. I’ll write the second I get word back.

A torrent of emotion sweeps through me. I should be ecstatic about the possibility of going home. Thrilled to leave this place teeming with obnoxious fledglings, dangerous hazing, and mysterious dragon deaths. Overjoyed to never again worry about flying on the back of an alicorn or spending time with rude instructors who make my body yearn for unobtainable things.

But I’m not. And not just because I’m finally getting somewhere regarding Leesa’s whereabouts, although that’s a big part of it. I’m so close to overcoming my terror of flying. If I quit before I do, I will never get a chance like this again. When I leave Flighthaven, I want to march out of that gate knowing I conquered my fear of alicorns for good and put the demons of my past to rest.

I scowl at the page. “Why must you always treat me like an invalid?” I know she means well, but gods. Her constant fussing and smothering rips at my confidence with razored claws. For once, why can’t she simply believe in me the way she does Leesa?

Crumpling the letter, I shove her words back into the envelope and open the second message. It’s from Royce and short and to the point.

Lady Lark,his letter begins.

Cringe. I keep telling him to forego the title, but he never complies. Lady Lark sounds so pretentious. Like some snooty noblewoman who flits around in elaborate gowns, ordering servants to fetch her tea and plump her pillows while she lounges on gold-tasseled settees and commands a string quartet to serenade her.

I apologize for bothering you, but a fire destroyed our food stores for the pantry. We suffered no injuries, but we have families that rely on us. I hate to ask when you’re dealing with so much, but it’s an emergency. We are in desperate need of replacements for our stockpile. Can you spare coin to send as soon as possible?

My heart sinks. Although I brought money from home and already received payment for my first two weeks here, I don’t know how I feel about using mail service to get the funds to Royce. We’ve had issues in my village with thieves opening any mail they believe might contain valuables. I’d hate to send coins only to have them stolen, especially when it sounds like those families can’t afford any delay.

There’s more to the letter, so I continue reading.

Also, I received a new book that I think might interest you. It’s from the library where Peaches was staying before she went on her extended vacation. You can pick it up when you next visit.

Baffled, I scan the line again. Royce and I never exchange books. And who in the three hells is Peaches?

A couple beats later, the name clicks. My hands tremble. Royce jokingly referred to Leesa as Peaches. Shortly before she left for duty, I took her with me to see him. Royce’s wife had baked peach pies, Leesa’s favorite type. She inspired the nickname after scarfing down an entire pie on her own.

Reading between the lines, I deduce that someone sent Royce a book from Flighthaven. Possiblythebook. The one Leesa checked out and never returned to the library. I’m not sure why he felt the need to be so cryptic, but he clearly wants me to retrieve the book in person. Otherwise, he would have included it with the letter.

---