Page 91 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“Cut it out.”
Ross’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Celestials rarely mince words.”
“Understatement of the century.” Alaire brushed sand from her pants, eyeing him warily. “Was there something you needed, Professor?”
“I wanted to see how you’re adjusting. Bonding with a celestial can be overwhelming.”
“More like annoying.”
“Pfft… like anyone else would tell you when your hair is dull and looks like straw.”
“I’m managing,” she answered curtly. He didn’t trust her with the truth; she wasn’t about to trust him with it either.
Professor Ross approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back. The scar across his lip lent him a more menacing air. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately. This isn’t the first time you’ve been out here at dawn.”
“Problem with that?”
“Not a problem, no. But there’s a difference between dedication and self-destruction.” His tone softened. “You don’t have to prove yourself every minute of every day.”
Alaire’s laugh was hollow. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the half-blood everyone thinks conned her way into bonding with the realm’s long-lost celestial.”
“Is that what you think happened?”
“It better not be,” Solflara cut in sharply.
“What matters is the optics.” Alaire crossed her arms. “What everyone thinks happened. I’ve had to work twice as hard for everything, and that hasn’t changed since the day I walked across this campus’s threshold.”
“Celestials don’t make mistakes,” Professor Ross pointed out. “They see things we cannot—the essence of a person, their true nature. If Solflara chose you, it’s because she saw someone worthy of that bond.”
“Or because there was no one else. Last phoenix, last Vallorian.” The thought sat in her chest like a stone, irrational but persistent—that she’d never truly been worthy.
“I thought this was something we’d already gone over.”Solflara puffed out a tiny fireball that zipped past the professor, who didn’t even flinch. “There could’ve been an entire herdof Vallorians,but I wouldalwayshave chosen you and your slobbery puppy-dog heart.”
“You can’t believe that,” Ross said.
Whatever she believed was too tangled to voice.
“You should know better than to doubt me,” Solflara warned. “Or you’re the one getting incinerated next time.”
Alaire exhaled slowly.
“What I believe doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t screw this up.”
“And what would screwing it up look like to you?”
The question caught her off guard. She thought of falling from Solflara’s back in training, of every mistake that reminded her just how far behind she was.
Alaire stared at her hands. Nothing. Not even a flicker of the magic that had blazed through her that night with Dawson. For a few glorious seconds, she’d felt whole—fulfilled. Without it, a piece of her was missing.
Professor Ross cleared his throat, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Failing her,” Alaire said quietly. “Being weak when she needs me to be strong—that’s what screwing up would look like to me.”
He nodded slowly. “I once knew someone who carried that same burden—the weight of living up to a legacy, of being worthy of something greater than themselves.”
Despite herself, she asked, tipping her head back to take in the dewy pinks and oranges streaking the sky. “How did they handle it?”
“They learned that strength isn’t about never failing. It’s about getting back up, even when the whole world is watching. Even when you’re afraid.”
