Page 73 of Court of Secrets and Flames

My wings spread with a mind of their own, catching the breeze like sails. I stumble, grumbling under my breath. Despite days of having them constantly out, the sensation is still foreign and unwieldy. Knox’s voice slices through the wind, patient but unyielding.

Then again, the three air wielders are in front of him, directing their winds at me while he stands there giving instruction.

“Focus, Lark. Command them as you would your own limbs. Because theyareyour limbs, and you are not a child who doesn’t understand control.”

Concentrating, I nod. Muscles flex, wings retract, and I walk on solid land again, mastering the tempest’s attempt to claim me. With each step, I grow more confident, grounded despite the gusts that vie to upend me.

“Good.” He cocks his head, approval coating his tone. “Now, take off. No running start.”

Easier said than done with each person casting at a different speed. Combined, they mimic a summer’s storm.

I crouch, reaching for the power coiled in my legs and in the unfamiliar stretch of my wings. With a singular thrust, I launch into the heavens, leaving the safety of the courtyard behind.

“Use the thermals!” Agnar calls from beside Knox. Blair stands on the prince’s other side, no doubt gearing up to bark orders at me too.

“I’m trying!” That’s all I can manage without breaking my concentration and cascading to the ground in a heap.

The updrafts are tricky, invisible currents that can either hoist one higher or buffet one aimlessly. I find one, hook onto it with an instinct I didn’t know I possessed, and ride it, conserving my strength.

Flying is a dance. A game of trust with the air itself.

“Remember, momentum is strength!” Yet another helpful training nugget from Agnar.

I dive.

The ground rushes to meet me. At the last moment, I twist, using my speed to mimic the force of a blow. A phantom enemy falls beneath the might of my imagined strike. Pulling up, I level out just above the grass, heart pounding with exhilaration.

I touch down in front of the prince. “How was that?”

Knox merely grunts. “Again.”

Rolling my eyes, I address his friends. “I forgot what a sheer delight he is as an instructor. Truly inspirational.”

Blair coughs to hide a laugh while Agnar has no such compunction. Knox shoots them both dirty glares.

“Oh, come on.” Agnar wipes his eyes. “You have to admit, you can be a grumpy son of a bitch during training.”

My eyebrows raise. “Only sometimes?”

Knox crosses his arms over his chest, unamused. “If me being grumpy helps save your life, then I’m fine with that.Again.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I obey. I’m enjoying getting to know Agnar and Blair, even if I still sometimes suspect they aren’t sure what to make of me. They share tales from their childhoods with ease, usually to elicit a laugh. Unlikesomepeople.

My own amusement fades, and a niggling doubt gnaws at the edge of my consciousness.

Knox’s relentless training isn’t just for mastery of flight, but for something more dire. After eight more climbs, dives, and strikes, I land before him, wings quivering in the aftermath of exertion.

“This isn’t just about flying, is it? You’re preparing me for battle.”

He doesn’t flinch as his brown eyes meet mine. “We’re Tirenese. We battle on the ground, sea, and sky. And last time I checked, you’re no sailor.”

“I’m no soldier either.”

His gaze flickers to the three men assisting our training with their air magic. “With the growing animosity between Tirene and Aclaris, and as Tirene’s only dragoncaller, you may find that changing soon enough.”

Wonderful. Apparently I escaped training to become part of one kingdom’s flight brigade only to get inducted as a soldier into another.

“Thank you for your help today. You’re dismissed.” At Knox’s words, the three air users depart. He turns to Agnar and Blair next and sends them off.

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