CHAPTER 3
I trudged out of the griffin gates and headed down one of the paths that wound through the extensive quad. The main academy formed an irregular square, with the dragon rider campus holding the northern quadrant, griffins the southern, untracked cadets to the east, and the myriad dorms, barracks, support buildings, and a small chapel to the west. An auxiliary section held the livestock pens and produce gardens, while a restricted section held the warm sands where dragons and griffins laid their eggs before they gave them over to the Mavens.
Until now, I’d never noticed that the dragon rider campus was situated at the highest point, placing it firmly above the rest. Even the dragon rider dorms were higher up on the western slope, though supposedly that was to place the cadets closer to the dragon eyries occupying the upper half of that diminutive mountain.
The academy wasn’t as large as the conventional military or civilian colleges, but then again, it didn’t need to be. Not everyone who was bond capable chose to serve, and unlike Savinia, the Tennessan government gave its citizens that choice. Even then, there were plenty of bond capable soldiers who chose the conventional military rather than a life bound to a dragon or griffin.
My path eventually took me near the long, low building placed in the protected center of that irregular square. The hatchery’s plain exterior belied the fact that it was the single most important building at the academy.
I longed to veer off my chosen path and turn toward the hatchery, toward my griffin, but I managed to keep walking. And while my feet behaved, my eyes latched onto the plain gray walls, as if I could see through the duracrete and to the crèche inside.
Before I knew it, the crunch of boots on dried leaves hit my ears as I stumbled off the paved path and onto the leaf-strewn lawn, halfway to the sidewalk that would lead directly to the hatchery’s front entrance. Growling in annoyance, I shook my head sharply and forced myself back on my original path through sheer determination alone.
In a desperate bid to distract myself, I studied the innocuous building as I marched past.
While it was more than large enough to hold the separate dragon and griffin hatcheries as well as the crèches, there were rumors of a massive underground facility beneath that supposedly spanned most of the academy grounds, where the Mavens did whatever it was they did to the fertilized eggs to spawn the different dragon and griffin specializations. The instructors always scoffed at the stories, claiming the sublevel below the hatchery held nothing more than the equipment necessary to maintain the ideal temperature and humidity levels for hatching baby dragons and griffins.
And while it was true that the sands were kept warm even throughout the worst winters due to some mysterious process involving underground hot springs and a clever assortment of pumps and pipes, that wasn’t nearly exciting enough for a bunch of bored cadets with too much time for gossip and ghost stories on their hands. Every year, cadets would sneak out after curfew, determined to find the secret entrance.
As far as I knew, no one had ever actually succeeded, though there were always those rumors about that one group of cadets who were never seen again . . .
The three morons and I had certainly failed spectacularly, and we’d been caught to boot. But only because Callum was incapable of keeping his smartass remarks under control. He—
Again, I shied away from thinking about my former friends, and I sped up until I was jogging along the path. I wasn’t going to waste any time on them when I had gear to square away and a sleeping griffin calling to my soul. My thighs burned as the path wound into a series of switchbacks as it climbed up the terraced slope, and I passed by the basic cadet barracks, then the griffin rider barracks, and finally made it to the dragon rider dorms.
The only thing above this level were the dragons themselves.
My palms hit the door to my former dorm, slamming it open with barely a hitch in my stride. The door hit the wall with a sharp, echoing bang, and for just an instant, I faltered, but the dorm was empty. The cramped, empty feeling in my belly said everyone was probably at evening chow. Or on that sunset orientation flight.
Without further hesitation, I sprinted up the stairs to the third level and down the hall to the room I’d shared with Bethany for the past two years.
I stumbled to a halt at the threshold.
I really shouldn’t have been surprised another cadet had already taken my place. The war with Savinia didn’t stop just because my life had exploded in spectacular fashion, and my displacement would’ve meant a reshuffling of the ranks. I stared at the unfamiliar items lying on what had been my shelves, the blue-striped blanket covering what had been my bed, and let out a slow breath.
At least Bethany wouldn’t be alone.
With that comforting thought, I yanked the standard issue green canvas bag from the closet and shoved my tiny assortment of civilian clothes, my battered books, and the few keepsakes I’d collected during my years as a cadet. My breath caught as I picked up the small dragon Dimitri had carved for me sophomore year. The sinuous lines perfectly captured the graceful nature of the greens, as if even then he’d known what I would choose given even the smallest chance.
I trailed a finger along the dragon’s back, the wood worn smooth by the countless times I’d done exactly that, and for one, awful moment, I had to fight the urge to smash it to splinters and light the remains on fire. My jaw trembled before I carefully packed the tiny dragon away. She was mine. Dimitri didn’t get to ruin that, too.
Just like Commandant Pulaski had promised, all of my issued gear had been packed away and supposedly delivered to my new barracks. Even my flying leathers were gone, though I imagined they’d been returned to the supply depot to be reissued to another cadet. All except the leathers I’d been wearing all day. The leathers I’d worn on my checkride.
If I’d known it would be my last flight, I might have paid more attention, might have seared the feeling of the wind on my face into my memory.
If I’d known . . .
As loss whipped through me, my hands balled up into fists—and brushed against the flying cap and goggles I’d absently tucked into my belt and promptly forgot about all day. With a snarl, I tugged them free and tossed them to the floor.
It wasn’t like I needed them anymore.
Griffins weren’t big enough to carry their bonded in flight.
I slung the canvas bag on my shoulder and took one last look around the room before I walked out without a second glance and headed for the griffin rider barracks. Again, I got lucky. Echo Barracks was empty, my new clutchmates eating dinner or possibly already at the hatchery, where I desperately wanted to be.
Urgency drove my steps as I marched down the center aisle of the high-ceilinged open bay, small human-sized beds next to griffin-sized nests lining both sides with battered metal lockers between. My bunk was all the way at the rear on the left, the locker marked with a handwritten nametag that read Tavros, Harper, though the familiar gear dumped on the bed had been a dead giveaway.
I spared the not-so-familiar riding leathers that had appeared in place of my flying sets a single glance before I dropped my bag on top of them, turned on my heel, and strode back out into the cool evening air. It was later than I’d thought, with the moon already over the horizon and the stars sweeping across the sky in a brilliant display that I couldn’t care less about. My stomach grumbled a complaint, and I briefly considered swinging by the chow hall for food, but just as quickly dismissed it in favor of inhaling a ration bar as I jogged down the slope. The emergency food might as well have been ashes for all I tasted it. The one thing, the only thing, that mattered was waiting for me in the duracrete building at the end of the path.
Finally, finally, I could get back to my griffin.
As I burst into the humid warmth of the hatchery, I felt the beginnings of panic stirring again, but this time I knew how to find him. Even as I rushed through the atrium, my mental fingers wrapped around the bond like it was a security blanket, and I brushed against my griffin’s mind with a fond, desperate yearning that felt at once absolutely normal and completely insane. We’d been bonded for less than a day, and already I felt like I couldn’t live without him.
The fact that I literally couldn’t live without him was irrelevant.
My griffin’s sleepy mind stirred within mine, all affection and love-drenched drowsiness, and I was able to regain a semblance of control as I trotted down the long hallway to the griffin crèche. Apparently, my clutchmates had beat me to the hatchery, because my griffin was alone. The same Maven who’d helped me that morning sat with him as he sprawled out on his back, wings spread to either side, all four paws in the air and his tail lazily flicking back and forth as he napped in the warm sand.
The second I drew near, purple eyes flew open, and my griffin cub let out an adorably squeaky little roar of delight. He rolled to his feet and leaped, tiny wings fluttering and beak gaping wide. I caught him, pulled him close, and tried very hard not to bawl like a baby at the warmth of his fur against my skin and the clean scent of his feathers in my nose.
Something tight in my chest eased, and it felt like I could finally breathe again.
He yawned and snuggled deeper into my chest, purring softly in utter contentment. For long moments I just held him close, but eventually I remembered my manners and dipped my head respectfully to the Maven.
“Thank you for caring for him.”
“It’s my duty,” she replied simply as she stood up and brushed the sand from her lightweight uniform. She turned to leave but paused. “What did you decide to name him?”
I’d planned to name my green Cassia, but I’d had a male backup name picked out. Just in case.
A smile tugged at my lips as I gazed fondly at my sleepy griffin. “Atticus.”
Out of all the imagined reactions of my new clutchmates, somehow, outright hostility had never crossed my mind.
Echo Barracks was filled to capacity, every bed and nest occupied. A pair of guys wrestled in the middle of the open room, mocking and taunting each other in a way I wasn’t sure was exactly playful, while a third tried to break them apart with a long-suffering expression on his face. Two girls sat at the long table near the entrance, gear scattered across the surface as they cleaned and repaired their leathers with the neat stitches we were all taught in year one. The rest were spread out across their beds, and the walls echoed with laughing cadets and trilling griffins.
It was chaotic and messy and so far removed from the quiet discipline of the dragon rider dorms that I froze in the doorway for a long moment. When I stepped inside, still wearing my sweat-stained flying leathers and carrying a sleepy griffin in my arms, heads snapped around and everyone fell silent. All that was left was the echo of comradery as every last cadet glared at me. Their griffins shifted uneasily, tiny wings rustling in the silence.
My jaw tightened as shock and dismay and anger ricocheted through me. It wasn’t enough that I didn’t belong with the dragon riders anymore, I couldn’t even belong with my flight . . . my clutch. Atticus lifted his head and snapped his beak in response to the hostility, and I stroked a soothing hand down his back and across his little wings.
Damn it, I’ve got to get this right.
Drawing in a deep breath for courage, I strode forward with as pleasant a smile as I could manage, though it probably looked more like a pained grimace than anything else. “Um, hi. I’m Harper Tavros—”
“We know who you are.” A young man stepped into the aisle, blocking my path. He was easily twice my size, and I couldn’t stop my muscles from tensing up as he glared down at me. “The dragon rider bitch who stole Marcos’ griffin.”
Outrage whipped through me, and I glared right back at him even as guilt bubbled up. “I did not. I’m sorry Marcos has to wait for the next clutch—”
“The next clutch?” Katie Bex called out from where she lounged on her bed with her snowy gray-and-white mountain griffin cub. Any hope I’d had for an ally died at the hard look in her new topaz eyes. “Try next year.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m sorry he has to wait, but I’m just as much a victim as he is.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
The two guys who’d been wrestling when I walked in popped to their feet. While they looked nothing alike—one tall and lanky with brown hair, the other short and muscular with black hair—they acted like brothers as they moved to confront me.
“Victim, huh?” the black-haired guy growled. “Says the girl who got Marcos’ griffin, the best of the clutch.” He paused, his red eyes narrowing. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. Dragon riders think we’re worthless shit. I guess to you, even the best of the griffins would be a letdown, huh?”
The lanky guy snorted a laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on Marcos’ face when he went to the hatching, expecting to meet his bondmate—and found a dragon egg in its place.” All traces of levity fell away, leaving a hard expression in its place as he leaned closer to me. “But it’s not like Marcos got to keep your dragon egg, did he? Oh no, that’ll go to another dragon rider cadet. Meanwhile, our team leader, the best in our class, got kicked to the back of the line. He’ll have to wait for another chance to bond. Meanwhile you have his griffin, and you walk in here trying to play the victim?”
My mouth hung open, and all the words I wanted to say got tangled up in a ball of rage and hurt and frustration. It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t done anything wrong, but they still blamed me for taking Marcos’ place. My jaw clenched. I longed to lash out, to tell them exactly how I felt about the situation . . . but I didn’t. There was no way I could say anything without hurting my griffin.
So I shielded my spiteful, toxic, swirling, angry thoughts from my tiny bondmate . . . and shut my mouth.
The lanky guy’s purple eyes, a shade bluer than mine, gleamed in satisfaction. “Nothing to say, hotshot?”
Bile rose up in the back of my throat. Dimitri might’ve called me hotshot, but never with that mix of scorn and loathing.
The lanky guy leaned close enough I could feel the hot wash of his breath across my cheek and smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Atticus screeched a warning, and my griffin beat his tiny wings so hard I had to scramble to keep hold of him. Lanky backed off, remorse flickering across his face so fast if I’d blinked I would’ve missed it. Surprise flashed through me until I realized his remorse was only directed at Atticus. He didn’t give a shit about upsetting me, but he was decent enough to care that he’d upset my griffin.
“All right, guys, that’s enough,” a calm voice cut through the background murmur without any apparent effort.
Not quite as large as the big guy who’d first blocked my way, the young man who pushed his way through the cadets was bigger than the two knuckleheads currently blocking the aisle, and they reluctantly moved aside at his firm stare. Recognition rocked through me. This was the cadet who’d waved for Bex earlier today at the hatchery.
My eyes latched onto the small lightning bolt insignia pinned to his uniform collar. He couldn’t have been wearing the badge of a team leader for more than a few hours, but he carried himself with an unmistakable air of command that reminded me so much of Dimitri that I couldn’t quite hold back a flinch.
His stern expression softened when his eyes rested on mine. “Give Tavros some space and stop acting like a pair of dickheads without an ounce of empathy.”
The grouchy black-haired cadet winced. “Sorry, Keaton.”
Keaton arched a brow. “And you’re apologizing to me because?”
When Grouchy frowned in confusion, Lanky elbowed him hard and cleared his throat. “Uh, we’re sorry, Tavros. We’re just upset over Marcos.”
He sounded as sincere as Callum did when forced to apologize for being a smartass, which was to say, not at all . . . and I had to stop thinking about those morons. I forced another ghastly smile on my face and lied through my teeth.
“Don’t sweat it. It’s been a long day.”
“For all of us,” Keaton said with a nod of agreement. “Come on, Tavros, let’s get you and your griffin settled.”
As I followed him down the aisle, my shoulders tensed at the hostile stares from either side. When we finally reached my bunk at the very end, Keaton nodded across the aisle. Unlike the hasty scrawl on my locker, his locker had an actual name tag that read Keaton, Tyler in neat lettering.
“That’s me,” he said gruffly. “If you have any questions or issues, come to me first.”
While he said it loudly enough for the others to hear, I wasn’t stupid enough to mistake his offer for kindness. There was a distinct lack of friendliness in his amber gaze, and I had no doubt he was just as pissed as the others over Marcos’ setback. Even though it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t. Atticus shifted in my arms, and again, I bit back anything I might have said in my defense.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He regarded me for an uncomfortably long moment before he gave me the smallest nod of acknowledgment. “I know it’s been a long day, Tavros, but get your shit squared away.”
With that brusque order, he turned on his heel and walked back to Grouchy and Lanky, snagging the big guy on his way. It looked like he was lecturing them, but for all I knew he was conspiring with them to make my life miserable.
Sighing, I turned my back on the whole barracks and stared at the disorganized mess lying across my bunk and on the floor. I was so damn tired. Only the feeling of all those eyes on my back gave me the strength to keep my spine straight. They were watching me, waiting to see me break.
Well, fuck them too. They could keep waiting, because I wasn’t about to break in front of people who hated my guts.
My arms ached from carrying Atticus, so I set him down in his new nest and got to work. While it was tempting to just throw everything in the locker and call it good, instructors liked to spring surprise inspections, and I didn’t want to look like more of an idiot than necessary. By the time I’d squared away my gear, the rest of the cadets had started to settle down for the night.
And I was still in sweat-stained, stinking leathers.
It didn’t truly hit me how dirty I was until a pair of cadets walked out of the back where the attached bathrooms were located. Steam and the fresh scent of soap swirled inside with them, and I suddenly, desperately wanted to peel my skin off. There was sand in places sand had no business being, and my skin itched. I had to get clean.
Atticus had curled up in his nest, but he hadn’t gone back to sleep. Instead, his purple gaze followed me, and his baby thoughts were bright with curiosity.
I smiled as I knelt and scratched behind his tufted ears. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll be back soon.”
He trilled softly and angled his head, eyes drifting closed with a hum of pleasure as my fingers found a particularly itchy spot. Only my driving need to get clean tore me away from him.
Exhaustion crept around the edges of my thoughts, coating everything in a soft haze, but I forced myself back to my feet. Yawning, I grabbed my bath supplies and a clean set of PT gear to sleep in, and shuffled off to the attached bathrooms. While the open barracks curtailed any extracurricular activities, a shared shower would do the exact opposite, so they were segregated by gender. Small mercies. It was still a far cry from the private bathroom I’d shared with Bethany in the dragon rider dorms.
Fine tremors shivered throughout every muscle by the time I was clean, and I staggered back to my bunk in the dark. As quick as I’d tried to be, it was still past lights out, and more than one cadet was out cold. Several snored in a loud, discordant symphony that was going to make sleeping on the nights where I wasn’t quite so exhausted . . . interesting.
Bethany had never snored.
Before anything else, I checked on Atticus, but his baby thoughts were sleepy again, and his eyes were closed. Moving quietly, I secured my supplies in my locker and crawled into bed. My bunk had a small shelf built into the headboard, but I very deliberately didn’t look at the dragon figurine I’d reluctantly placed in the darkest corner, as if I couldn’t decide whether to proudly display it or hide it away forever.
For long minutes, I lay rigidly under the blankets and tried to resist the habit. I failed. With a defeated sigh, I twisted around and caressed the little wooden dragon with a single finger just like I did every night, and then curled up in a tight ball and huddled under my blanket.
With a shuddering breath, every wall I’d put in place to get through the day came crashing down. Every bit of despair, of loss, ricocheted through my soul, and it took everything I had to keep my tears silent.
I’d never felt so alone.
Until Atticus woke up and leaped from his nest to my bed in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs and wings and tail. Purring in a soft but steady vibration I could feel in my bones, he rubbed his downy cheek against mine in an affectionate caress before he collapsed in a sleepy pile of fur and feathers. The clean, slightly spicy scent of griffin cub filled my nose. A faint smile tugged at my lips. He smelled like sun-warmed cinnamon. He smelled like home.
I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep with my griffin curled up against my belly.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of emotional whiplash hell. Outside of Keaton, who remained cool but professional, my clutchmates either ignored me or outright hated me. Nobody bothered to mess with me though, not even during afternoon group training. They didn’t need to. I’d gone from being the top dragon rider cadet to the bottom-ranked griffin cadet.
Mornings were spent in the classroom surrounded by younger cadets who didn’t know me and who never bothered to speak to me directly. But they knew of me, and they whispered plenty when I walked past in the halls. Hushed voices full of relief, pity, and scorn filled my ears for hours every day, pricking holes in my self-confidence. The holes were tiny but many—there was so much I didn’t know about griffins in general, or being a griffin rider in particular, and I was struggling.
As I rushed out of my last class of the morning into a crowded hallway, another cadet rammed his shoulder into mine, knocking me into the wall. He didn’t even seem to notice, he just strode away like I was invisible . . . but for a split second, his eyes had connected with mine, and I saw hatred. I flexed my shoulder with a grimace. Dragon and griffin cadets had always maintained a less than friendly rivalry, but a dragon rider cadet who’d “stolen” a griffin seemed to bring out the worst in some people.
Shaking it off, I dove back into the nonstop moving flow of cadets and out into the chill day. I needed to get back to Atticus.
It felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t have anyone to help keep my head above the waves—except for my griffin, who loved me unconditionally. What he did not love was his name.
“Atticus stupid name.”
They were practically his first words. It should have been an indication of how things were going to go. His growth, both physical and mental, had been explosive. He’d almost doubled in size, and he’d quickly progressed from formless baby thoughts to having an opinion on everything.
Sometimes I missed those brief days where he couldn’t talk.
“It’s not stupid, it’s the name of one of the first dragons,” I protested as we ambled along the path to the hatchery after lunch.
“Stupid name,” he muttered, his tufted ears flicking back in disapproval. I might have thought it was for the chill breeze sweeping through campus, sending dried leaves swirling up into the sky . . . except for the fact that I could feel his irritation, like an itch deep within my mind, a discordant note that sang with his displeasure. And then a thoughtful hum permeated his thoughts. “Felix better name.”
I blinked. My two-week-old, incredibly gangly, opinionated-as-fuck griffin cub had just named himself? That was precocious, even with as quickly as griffins matured. From what I’d gleaned from snatches of overheard conversation, my clutchmates’ griffins were barely forming words—meanwhile, mine wouldn’t shut up. Pride welled up and obliterated any irritation I felt over his dislike for the name I’d chosen.
He really was the best of his clutch.
And then he promptly tripped over his own paws and fell beak-first onto the ground. His wings snapped out and his tail lashed with embarrassment as he popped back to his feet. His narrowed eyes dared me to comment, and I pressed my lips tightly together to hold back a grin. Not that it mattered when he could feel my amusement.
Atticus snapped his beak at me and stalked along the path, his paws far too big for his body and his wings far too small. Still, it was possible to see the graceful creature he would become in the way he moved when he wasn’t tripping all over himself. Already, he had the beginnings of sleek muscle, and he was by far the largest forest griffin in the clutch, almost as tall as the mountain griffins though not nearly as stocky.
I arched a brow down at him. “Somebody’s hangry. Let’s get you fed, and then I need to drop you off in the crèche so I can get to PT.”
“Don’t wanna go.”
“Atticus—”
“Felix,” he replied with a decisive clack of his beak.
My jaw clenched. “Atticus, you need to stay in the crèche with the others. You’re not allowed to go to PT with me.”
Silence.
“What’s wrong?”
More silence.
I stopped in my tracks. It took Atticus a few steps to notice I was no longer walking with him. He turned back to me with an inquisitive look, but another gust of wind tore through the campus, and his purple eyes latched onto a particularly large leaf tumbling past. He crouched down low, rear end sticking up high, and launched himself. Little wings snapped out, beak gaped wide, and claws sprang out from front paws as he snatched the leaf out of the air and landed in a surprisingly coordinated tumble.
His little roar of triumph brought a grin to my face. When he was done shredding the leaf, he bounced to his feet before leaping for another pile of leaves, batting them this way and that with his oversized paws.
This time, I realized what he was doing.
“You know,” I said casually even as my eyes narrowed, “I can feel you trying to distract me with adorable antics. Avoidance isn’t going to work on me.”
Atticus froze for an instant before he raised guilty eyes, fragments of leaves falling from his beak. “It was.”
He was entirely too smart for his own good.
I knelt in the leaves, ignored the damp that immediately seeped into my pants, and held open my arms. Blowing out a sharp huff of air, he slunk over and butted his head against my chest.
Carefully, I asked, “Do you not like being with your clutchmates?”
“I like being with Tavi.” A tawny brown forest griffin much like Atticus flashed in my mind. He grumbled and twisted around so his side pressed against mine in a griffin hug. “Rest of clutchmates as stupid as name.”
Protective rage roared up. It was one thing for the other griffin cadets to shun me. I would bite my tongue until it bled if it protected my little griffin, but if their shitty attitude was spilling over onto him, I would make them bleed.
Atticus angled his head so he was looking at me from the corner of one eye. “Not mean to me.”
Oh.
I tilted my face up to the overcast sky and blinked back stupid, useless tears. No dragons flew overhead today . . . or if they did, they flew high above the clouds.
A purr rumbled in my griffin’s throat, drawing my gaze back down. “Love Harpy, love Tavi, rest of clutchmates stupid.”
At his fierce declaration, a smile tugged at my lips. “Harper,” I corrected gently before I sighed. “It’s okay—”
“No.” He snapped his beak, tufted ears flattened to his rounded skull. “Not nice.”
I gave in to the burning need and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his feathered neck. “It’s okay. Just . . . give them time.”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or me.
Atticus leaned into the embrace for a few moments before he wiggled free and pounced on another tumbling leaf with a piercing shriek. His thoughts took on a red tinge, different from when he was hungry, as he viciously shredded it.
He snapped his head up and glared at me. “Don’t wanna.”
His petulant tone destroyed the last of my melancholy, and I snorted a laugh as I climbed back to my feet. Absently, I brushed a handful of wet leaves off my knees and strode out of the griffin campus and toward the hatchery. “Tough.”
After a beat, he scrambled after me, his tail lashing in annoyance and his mind churning with bloodthirsty images. Loud bloodthirsty images. Despite his incessant chatter, he didn’t always think in words. A lot of it was emotion-tinged impressions. Sometimes, my brain translated those flashes into words, other times, I got a visual of what he was thinking or imagining.
As he growled and slashed another innocent leaf to shreds, I was treated to an impressively detailed image as he imagined the leaf was another griffin in his clutch. Judging by the dark brown ear tufts, I was fairly certain she was Langston’s—the big guy who had been the first to confront me in the barracks.
“Vicious little monster,” I said fondly. As another gust swept across the grounds, depositing the chill straight into my bones, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and glanced down at him. “Behave.”
“No.” Atticus said with a trilling laugh as we walked into the hatchery. His beak dropped open in a griffin grin before he stalked down the hallway on silent paws. Groaning, I darted after him just as he shouldered the crèche door open. The rest of his clutch had already been dropped off, their bondmates on a different class schedule than mine. As Atticus stepped out onto the warm sands, avian heads snapped around, and a chorus of trills and roars rose up in friendly greeting. A tawny brown forest griffin who must be Tavi brushed against Atticus, and my griffin nuzzled his neck affectionately.
One sleek forest griffin ignored him in favor of narrowing muddy green eyes at me. In the next instant, Atticus let out a fierce war cry and pounced on the other cub. I winced as they tumbled across the sands in a tangle of limbs and wings, but at least it looked like they were keeping their claws sheathed.
The Maven tasked with their care for the day didn’t seem concerned, so I left him to work out his issues with his clutchmate. I had my own problems to solve.
Striding back into the crisp fall afternoon, I made it halfway to the physical fitness area before I ran into trouble. Specifically, a trio of morons heading down the same path I was on. The way they sped up told me they’d not only spotted me, they’d been looking for me.
My jaw clenched, and I spun on my heel, intending to take the long way around. I had nothing to say to them—until Callum opened his mouth.
“Did bonding a griffin turn you into a coward, Harper?” he called after me mockingly.
Oh, hell no. He did not just say that to me.
I spun back around and marched up the path to confront the assholes who’d blown up my life. My baleful glare rested solely on Callum, who’d just moved back to the top of my list.
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a humorless smirk as he planted his feet and let me come to him. While Callum was shorter than the other two, he was still taller than me, and all lean, whipcord muscle. It made him deadly fast in a fight, and he’d kicked my ass more times than I could count on the training mat. Before the end of our first semester, I’d learned not to underestimate him—that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to punch him in the face.
Zayne stepped between us. Tall, broad shouldered, and muscular without being bulky, he had the physical presence to break up most of our fights but usually relied on his words. He’d always been the strategic thinker of our group, the one who had bullied the four of us into working together more often than not that first year until the bonds of friendship took hold.
Or at least, I thought we’d been friends.
I sucked in a sharp breath as I stared up at Zayne’s eyes. The last time I’d seen him two short weeks ago, they were a dark brown. Now, they were a warm green shot through with gold. He’d bonded a dragon.
My hands balled up as rage flashed through me, setting fire to my heart and eating away at my restraint. I lifted my chin and glared at the taller boy. “Get out of my way, Zayne.”
“Not happening,” he said with quiet authority, but his eyes . . . his beautiful, stupid eyes begged for understanding. “We’re not here to fight, Harper. We’re here to apologize.”
That last was tossed over his shoulder, though I couldn’t tell if it was meant for Callum, Dimitri, or both.
Zayne turned back to me with a determined glint in his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Harper—”
“Skulls up,” Callum muttered.
All four of us stepped off the path, stiffened to attention, and saluted as an instructor walked past. He absently returned the salute without breaking stride, clearly in a hurry. It was a sorely needed splash of cold reality, dampening my rage. Fighting was against the rules, and I had enough trouble right now without adding an administrative punishment detail to the list.
Drawing in a deep breath, I decided focusing on Zayne was the best course of action. Possibly the only course of action that would get me through this without bloody knuckles.
“From where I’m standing, the only cowards are you three,” I said with barely controlled venom. “You assholes could’ve apologized days ago, weeks ago, but you didn’t. So why bother now?”
I couldn’t keep my gaze from flicking to Dimitri. He stood just behind Zayne’s left shoulder, slightly shorter, slightly more muscular. The first to come up with pranks, the first to take the top rank of our class . . . the first to befriend me, to fight with me, to fight for me. His jaw tightened, but his gaze didn’t waver from mine. I couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. And he didn’t say a damn word.
It pissed me off.
Zayne held up his hands in an attempt to redirect my attention to him. “We were confined to campus the last two weeks on punishment detail. We couldn’t risk breaking the rules.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” I snapped.
Zayne winced. “One toe out of line, and they would’ve held us all back from bonding for a year.”
“Oh, no,” I muttered. “Not that.”
“You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?” Callum sidestepped around Zayne, glaring at me like I was the bad guy. “We know you talked with Iverson after we left his office that day. What the hell did you say, Harper?”
Fury whipped through me, obliterating the last shreds of my control. I didn’t think, I just lunged forward with my fist leading the way. Zayne caught me around the waist and pulled me back before I could connect with Callum’s face.
The bastard had the audacity to smirk. “Looks like bonding a griffin made you slow, too.”
For an instant, I hung in Zayne’s grip, unable to react—because my griffin had felt my anger and surged forward in alarm. His presence, normally curled up in a tight ball, spread out across my mind as if he’d just flared his wings and soared forward until he was all I could feel.
“Harpy okay?”
My eyes burned as he looked through them for the first time, even as I tried to reassure him.
“Harper, are you okay?” Zayne asked cautiously in an unintentional echo of Atticus.
“I’m fine.”
Irritably, I tore myself out of Zayne’s hold and bowed my head, struggling to adjust to the new sensation of an additional soul looking out through my eyes. They felt . . . heavy. A blink, and the burn faded. A slow breath, and the weight felt normal. When I looked up, I knew my eyes shone brighter, an unmistakable sign that I wasn’t alone.
I shifted to mindspeak and softly repeated, “I’m fine.”
I could feel Atticus’ concern mingle with delight at his accomplishment. We hadn’t been taught how to look through our bonded’s eyes yet, and I honestly wasn’t sure how he’d done it. Precocious indeed.
“Harpy sure?”
“I’m sure. Go back to playing with the others.” I snorted a laugh. “Or beating up that other griffin.” A warm smile graced my lips, and I didn’t care that the guys could see. It wasn’t for them. “Love you, Atticus.”
“Felix,” he said firmly. He laughed when I rolled my eyes. “Love too, Harpy.”
“Harper,” I shot back just as firmly, but his attention was already elsewhere, and my eyes were my own again. I blinked a few times to adjust before I glared at the morons. “Your weak-ass apologies aren’t accepted. Oh, wait. The only one who actually apologized was Zayne.” I shifted my glare to Callum. “You can take your accusations and shove them. After everything, if you really think I’d do that to you—”
I broke off, unable to force the words out past the knot of rage in my throat, and drew in a deep, calming breath. Judging by the way my hands shook, it wasn’t enough, so I took another deep breath, and another. One more, and I finally turned to the silent Dimitri. My former best friend.
“And you’ve apparently turned mute in the past few weeks. Nothing to say?” I waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn’t. Curling my lip in disgust, I stepped past them. “I don’t have time for this crap. I’m late for PT.”
Dimitri’s hand shot out as I brushed past him and wrapped around my upper arm. The warmth of his fingers burned through my sleeve like a brand. “Hotshot, wait—”
Again, I didn’t think. I just reacted, whipping around and slamming my fist into his nose. Blood spurted in a highly satisfying arc, and he stumbled back, clutching his face.
“Damn it,” he mumbled, blood oozing through his fingers. “Hotshot—”
“Don’t call me that.” I leaned closer to him, my voice a hoarse rasp that revealed far more pain and vulnerability than I wanted. “Ever again.”
Zayne lurched forward, one hand up. “Harper, wait.”
“No,” I said coldly and walked away from them.
“Harper!”
My heart bled at the desperation in his voice, but I kept walking, and I didn’t look back . . . no matter how much I wanted to.
As I stalked into the PT area, late enough to earn extra pushups and two extra laps, I cast a rueful grimace at my throbbing hand. So much for not getting bloody knuckles.
Still, I didn’t regret the pain. Not when the shocked look on Dimitri’s face danced in my memory. My griffin didn’t have to tell me he approved of my actions, not when I could feel his satisfaction as a warm glow in the back of my mind.
Keaton frowned at my hand as I fell into the back row of the formation. “You good?”
A small smile crossed my face at the gruff question. He still didn’t like me very much, but he’d cared enough to ask. It was a start.
“I’m good,” I said as I began warming up. “Just a minor disagreement.”
Grouchy and Lanky, whose names were actually Asher Reese and Sam Elias, exchanged smirks as they jogged in place.
“Oh no,” Elias said mockingly. “Did the little hotshot get into a fight?”
This time, I didn’t hesitate. I pushed past Reese, fisted my hand in Elias’ shirt, and dragged his face down to mine. “Call me hotshot again, and you’ll find out.”
Elias clenched his jaw, but I just glared a challenge at him and didn’t back down. For once, he didn’t seem to know what to say. And then Reese roared a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to stagger the lanky cadet sideways, tearing his shirt from my grip.
“Tavros has some claws. I like it.”
When Elias whirled on the shorter cadet, Garrett Hawthorne, the stocky guy who’d tried to break up their wrestling match on my first night in the barracks, heaved a sigh and placed himself between them. It seemed like he had to do that a lot.
“You only like it because she sharpened them on Elias,” he told Reese with a roll of his eyes.
Reese grinned, a surprisingly bright expression that transformed his typically grumpy face into something approaching friendly. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elias muttered as he straightened his shirt. He glanced at me. “Whatever, Tavros.”
Before he turned away, I caught the barest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Maybe I’d been going about this all wrong. What was it that Commandant Pulaski had told me? A slow smile spread across my face as the memory snapped into place.
Hold on to that fire.
I could do that.