Page 82 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Alaire caught her staring. “Go ahead. Ask.”
“You said you don’t want the throne. Does that change now that you can make a difference?”
“The way humans are treated in Cielore is reprehensible.” Her mind flashed to the boy beaten outside Mandallay’s Market. “Aurelia is gone. I have no kingdom, no people. But if I can use my influence to help humans, I will.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Alaire pursed her lips. More than once, Kaia had hinted she knew Alaire’s pain firsthand, though she’d never shared what had happened to her. Alaire didn’t want to imagine any world in which her bright, cheerful, and delightful friend had even an ounce of her light snuffed out.
She’d never press, but she hoped one day Kaia would let her shoulder even a sliver of the burden—just as Kaia had done for her since the day they met.
“I’m going to grab us something to eat. Training on an empty stomach is not something I recommend. Eggs?”
“Fruit, please.”
“That’s it?”
“About all I can stomach right now.”
“Alright.”
Without Kaia’s presence, the weight of the stares pressed against Alaire’s back. She pulled her rucksack into her lap, flipping open a notebook. She’d be returning to the Australe Library soon—there was more to learn about the topics she and Kaia had discussed. She needed every weapon on hand at her disposal.
Blake had taught her to be a physical threat; books had taught her words could cut just as deeply. In diplomacy, conversation was as much a battlefield as any war—its wounds often invisible but no less deadly. Words could be a balm or a scalpel, honed to slice clean. In court politics, they were wielded with precision, their true intent hidden beneath tight smiles and placating tones.
Alaire preferred the raw honesty of a fight. In battle, there was no pretense, no masks.
“Good morning. How are you?” Archer slid into Kaia’s empty spot on the bench, his smooth voice breaking through her thoughts. Freshly shaven, leathers immaculate, not a strand of hair out of place—he was the picture of composure.
She hadn’t even noticed him approach.
“Keep your guard up,” Solflara warned. “Now is not the time to be staring off into nothing.”
“I’m managing,” Alaire said with a shrug.
Archer nodded solemnly. “I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under. The stress alone could age you significantly—wrinkles, grey hair…” He hesitated, then quickly added, “Not that you have any of those. I merely mean—if there’s anything I can do to help…”
His awkward attempt earned him a small smile. He wasn’t good at emotions, but she appreciated the effort.
Before she could reply, Archer lifted his hands. The dining hall melted away, replaced by a field of sunflowers under aflawless blue sky. The breeze was so real she could almost feel it against her cheeks. Then, just as suddenly, the illusion vanished.
“That’s about all I can offer right now,” he said quietly.
“Thanks, Archer,” she replied, smiling broadly. “It helped.”
“It is my deepest pleasure. But… you should be prepared. The academy is already split into two camps—those who recognize your new position and wish to be in your good graces…”
“And the others?” she asked, twirling her writing utensil between her fingers.
“Unfortunately, they’d prefer to see you gone.”
“Lovely,” she drawled.
“I wouldn’t quite call it—” Archer broke off, his composure faltering as something behind her caught his attention.
Alaire followed his gaze to the fruit station, where Kaia and Caius stood locked in what looked like a heated exchange. Kaia jabbed a finger into his chest, their faces inches apart, tension sparking between them. Her bowl of fruit was clutched in her other hand.
