Page 26 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

I turn around.

There are four of them, all trying to outshine the other three. The way they go on, you would think they slayed a dragon, not bested another candidate. My eyes fall on a familiar face. It’s the brutish man I cut down with a dagger. I snort out a laugh and shake my head.

My movement catches his eye, and he scowls at me. I smirk. His friends notice our exchange, and he takes a threatening step toward me.

“You think you can take me?” He puffs out his chest. I let my smile widen.

We both know I can.

For a second, he looks like he is going to attack me, and my hand slips to my dagger, but he stops short.

“He doesn’t have to.” Calix's voice rumbles next to me. The recruit gives me another glare before he turns back to his friends.

I give Calix a thankful smile before commotion at the front draws our attention.

A tall, stern-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair strides through the door, his piercing gaze gliding over us.

“Welcome, runners,” he booms, and his words are greeted with a cheer. “I’m Legatus Janus, the Aerie commander,” he continues once we all quieted down again. “I know today was hard, but believe me when I say you haven’t seen anything yet.” He crosses the platform and seems kind of disappointed that we don’t make a sound at that declaration. “In this academy, we expect you to go above and beyond. Not only physically but in your studies as well.” He gives us a stern look.

“Every one of you had to prove you are a warrior to be accepted. We expect you to be a weapon that needs to be sharpened and not a hunk of metal in need of a forge.” He pauses. “Everything aims at making you the best version of yourself and preparing you for battle.” He takes his wandering up again.

“We skyriders are the best weapons our kingdom has to keep our borders safe and to reach even desolate areas quickly and effortlessly, no matter the terrain. This also means that you are on your own in a fight—only you, your birds, and the brothers and sisters you see around here.” He makes a sweeping gesture encompassing the whole academy, but I’m reminded of my brothers at home.

“Trust and loyalty are not given. They are earned, and you will have the next two years to do it,” Janus continues. “You will have many opportunities while you interact and mingle with theactive riders on assignments, during strategy meetings, and in everyday life. You will live and eat next to them, but…” His gaze roams over us. “Until you are done and fully accepted as one of us, every active rider is higher ranking than you, and you will follow their commands. And while you live and eat next to them, I don’t want to catch a runner in a rider’s bed.” He pauses. “And by that, I don’t mean that intercourse in any other place is fine.” This earns him a few chuckles. “No fraternization. See it as your test of self-discipline and obedience. Any of you failing will be expelled. Have I made myself clear?”

Calix pouts next to me, and I stifle a laugh. Since I don’t plan to let anyone close enough to discover I’m a woman, I don’t see the problem.

I nudge Calix's side.

“Don’t look so crestfallen. It’s only three months, not a lifetime.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud when he gives me a look that says he has an entirely different opinion.

“So remember, do your best, value trust, loyalty, discipline, and obedience, and you will succeed here.” He looks to the side, and a rider jogs up the steps and stops next to him. It is the same blond rider who wrote down my name this morning. They speak quietly before the rider turns to us, and the commander leaves.

“Congratulations, everyone. I’m Jared Venti. Professor Myrsky charged me with handing out assignments and giving you an overview of what your life here will look like since he is needed in the coop, our version of the stables, housing the Strix.” He grins at us. “You all look exhausted, so I’ll make it short. You will have theoretical classes over there”—he gestures to his left—“all first years together. You will start with subjects like history, geography, magical creatures, magic and flight theory, and strategy meetings. Then there are practical classes like all the physical training and flight classes, and you will be split into smaller groups. Until you have earned your wings duringPicking, you are runners. Just like with riders, ten of you will form a flight, and two flights make up a squadron. A division is formed from five squadrons or ten flights, with four divisions in an Aerie. Clear so far?”

The numbers dance around in my tired brain, but I nod anyway. Venti looks us over and laughs.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll get the hang of it. Every squadron was assigned a rider who will keep an eye on you and will be your contact for…everything, your squadron leader. You will meet them tomorrow.” The twinkle in his eyes makes me think there is more to it than just meeting them. “And then there are…” He looks off to the side of the crowd, and when I follow his line of sight, three men and one woman in skyrider uniform are striding over to us. “Perfect timing. I was just about to start.” They ascend the steps and stop next to Venti.

“Your division leaders,” he announces. “Centurion Allard, northern division.” A stocky woman with short-cropped brown hair nods at us and walks over to the left side of the stage. “Centurion Vega, eastern division.” A man with the dark complexion of the southern isles steps up a few steps next to her. “Centurion Kyronos, southern division.” My eyes stop on the dark hair and golden eyes of the man I admired during sign-up.

I blame my tired brain for missing the rest of the introductions.

I end up in the southern division, squadron 4, tail flight, together with Calix, which means Kyronos will be my centurion. Great. Now, I’ll always risk drooling whenever he addresses us. It can’t get much worse than that.

The stairs, hallways, and rooms we are shown afterward blur together, and I’m resigned to the fact I will get lost a few times over the next days.

At least everything is located in the buildings around the courtyard.

A grumpy-looking, gray-haired man, introduced as Prefect Ovidius and in charge of the buildings and supply of the Aerie, oversees the issuing of bedding, towels, and our uniforms, as well as weapons, a backpack, and a healing kit.

With filled backpacks and armed with two short swords, a spear, a bow, a filled quiver, and a knife each, we reach the room our flight is assigned.

I’m not the only one who dumps everything rather unceremoniously on their bed, only to have the boy who led the way assure us he would wait until we put everything away.

I guess discipline isn’t even to be neglected when you’re tired enough to drop.

Sitting down in the warm refectory, filling my rumbling stomach with fish, cooked vegetables, olives, and salty white cheese, has the same effect as if Egin, the god of sleep and healing himself, was singing.

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