CHAPTER 4
The academy wasn’t all work and no play. Besides regular rest days, there were also “mandatory fun” events, where the attendance was mandatory and the fun entirely optional. Some events like the griffin relay race and dragon war games were annual traditions, but most were games designed to foster healthy competition and improve teamwork. Any of which were preferable to the mass briefings. Mostly because those briefings usually only happened when we’d screwed something up.
There had been one from the head Maven after my egg was swapped, reminding everyone of the rules and regulations governing the hatchery. Sitting through that had been an experience in misery and an exercise in control, because every last cadet had stared at me at some point during that never-ending lecture.
Another time, we’d gotten the safe sex and consent talk from the medical staff. The academy instructors weren’t stupid enough to think we wouldn’t have a little fun, and the Mavens were smart enough to produce a preventative measure to ensure it wasn’t an issue. Nobody who’d volunteered for the academy had any intention of losing their spot to an unplanned pregnancy.
Then there was the briefing just for female cadets. Without the power of pre-War weapons, we had no place in the infantry. Instead, we served Tennessan as messengers, light cavalry, and bonded riders. But that didn’t mean we wouldn’t see combat or have to deal with the potential consequences of being captured by enemy soldiers.
That had been fun.
Today’s briefing was different. With the ongoing threat of the Savinian invasion, the academy had started bringing in combat veterans to give us declassified reports from the front lines—or hijacking active duty riders whenever they swung through the academy on a messenger run. This particular briefing was only for third- and fourth-year bonded griffin riders, and we’d started our morning in the only place large enough on academy grounds for mass briefings—the amphitheater. Surrounded by curved stone walls and set in a manmade depression in the untracked cadet campus, the amphitheater was partially open to the elements, with narrow terraces carved in a stepping-stone descent to the covered stage at the front.
We’d filled the front half of the terraces, with the senior clutches getting the terraces closest to the stage. A pair of dragon riders from Fort Ashfall, one of the major forts on the eastern border, were our guest lecturers for the day. Captain Franklin, a rangy blonde with a deep scar cutting through one cheek that did nothing to detract from her beauty, stood at the center of the stage, her posture relaxed as she concluded her briefing on how forest griffin riders positively contributed to air strikes.
There was nothing relaxed about the brawny captain who took her place center stage. He didn’t bother to introduce himself. I remembered him though. I remembered everything from that never-ending day where I lost my chance to fly.
This version of Captain Westbrook was a far cry from the arrogant but amused rider who had bragged about nearly ambushing me on my checkride. Impatience was reflected in every flex of his shoulders, every grimace barely restrained, and his harsh voice rang out across the amphitheater.
“Stand up if you’re a mountain griffin rider.”
There was the barest hesitation before dozens stood, including Bex and Volakis, Echo Clutch’s mountain griffin riders. Westbrook pointed to his massive red dragon perched on the curving stone wall of the amphitheater as Nero spread his wings with a rippling snarl. The morning sun shone through the membranes and cast a red-tinged shadow across the terraces.
“Protecting those wings is your primary duty as a mountain griffin rider.” Westbrook’s fiery orange gaze swept across the standing cadets. “When you ride with us into battle, you need to be prepared to sacrifice your griffin, to sacrifice yourself, without hesitation. The entire reason for your existence is to be our shields.”
There wasn’t a hint of softness in the dragon rider’s voice as he continued. He didn’t sugarcoat anything, didn’t shy away from the purpose of the mountain griffins—to fight the Savinian monsters that could and would take down an unprotected dragon, to die in the dragon’s defense if necessary. But while his tone was all brisk practicality, there was an underlying edge of callousness, almost cruelty. We all knew what the mountain griffins’ mission was, but I’d never heard it stated with such a lack of empathy before.
Maybe that was the point.
I’d ended up seated next to Bex, and while she remained impassive throughout the briefing, I caught the faintest tremor in her fingers before she tightened them into fists. The hard glint in her topaz eyes could be anger, but her carefully expressionless face argued for fear. I chanced a quick glance around and noted the rest of the mountain griffin riders were almost exclusively male, and even the handful of female cadets were much larger than the tiny Bex.
“Never forget you are the Talons of the Dragon Corps. Your service and sacrifice are vital to the survival of our dragons, and the defense of our nation.”
Commandant Pulaski stood next to Captain Franklin on the left of the stage, her brilliant green eyes focused with unwavering intensity on the red dragon rider. She stepped forward into the ringing silence.
“Thank you both for your inspiring words—”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’m not finished,” Westbrook interrupted in that harsh voice. “All the training in the world won’t prepare you cadets for active duty if you don’t understand the harsh realities of this war. You will lose friends. You will get hurt. Many of you won’t survive until retirement. The Savinians have more conventional soldiers than us, more artillery and ammo stockpiles than us, they have their wyverns and their broken beasts. The one advantage we have is more dragons, and that advantage could be lost in a single battle.”
Once again, that fiery orange gaze swept over all of us.
“Without our dragons, we will lose this war. Remember that.”
“Thank you, Captain Westbrook.” The commandant’s jaw flexed once before she addressed us. “Dismissed.”
The red dragon rider gave an impatient tug on his flying leathers and strode off the stage before we’d even stood to attention. Wow, what an ass.
Elias smirked as we filed out of the amphitheater. “Man, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m inspired.”
“Shut up, Eli,” Reese growled as he marched next to a stone-faced Bex. “Or I’ll pick you for my sparring partner today.”
“Shutting up,” Elias said with a sarcastic salute, but he fell back a few paces as if he wanted to distance himself from even the possibility of sparring with Reese.
“Holy shit, Tavros.” Reese stared down at me in genuine confusion, his typical belligerence completely absent. “It’s like you’ve never done this before.”
I gritted my teeth as my lungs struggled to remember how to draw in air. “I haven’t.”
Griffin rider training was so utterly at odds with dragon rider training that most of what I’d learned, what I’d excelled at, no longer applied. I’d been trained in aerial combat—to support a dragon in flight and fight, to protect my partner’s vulnerable wings, to fly.
But griffin riders didn’t fly in battle, or at least, forest griffin riders didn’t. We were the scouts. Our duties sent us far from civilization, from supply depots, from backup. We needed to learn land navigation, survival skills, memorization, attention to detail. We needed to learn to work in tandem with our griffin partners, to see through their eyes when they went places we couldn’t, to build a complete intelligence picture. Every last bit of our training was designed to turn us into the eyes and ears of the Tennessan military.
Part of that training was ensuring we were capable of defending ourselves so we could get that information back to those who needed it most. Which was why I was flat on my back with the freezing ground nipping at my skin, struggling to remember how to breathe after Reese effortlessly put me on my ass in hand-to-hand combat training.
Just like Callum used to—nope. Not going there.
“We get basic combat training,” I added when Reese’s confusion didn’t clear up. “Not whatever the hell martial arts crap you just pulled on me.”
Reese grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed. I was fairly certain he was embarrassed for me though, which was somehow worse than the expected scorn.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That explains why you’re so bad at it.”
I let my head fall back to the cold ground. “Gee, thanks.”
Keaton leaned over my prone position, sweat running down his face despite the winter chill. “Problem, Tavros?”
Yes, there was a problem. Everything hurt and I was failing spectacularly.
“Nope.” Groaning, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “No problem.”
At the flare of pain, Atticus brushed against my mind, but he was getting better at gleaning when I was actually hurt. A faint, trilling laugh echoed along our bond along with a burst of encouragement to “do better,” and then he went back to whatever game he was playing with his clutchmates.
A grin flashed across my face as I leveraged myself into a sitting position. My back felt like one long bruise, and my wrist twinged when I flexed it, but nothing was broken. I wasn’t broken. For all that Reese hadn’t held back, he also hadn’t deliberately tried to hurt me.
Neither of my clutchmates offered a hand up. Even with the faint glimmers of comradery, everyone in Echo had made it clear from the beginning I had no friends here, that I was alone but for Atticus. That was fine. I could stand on my own.
Despite my best efforts, a hiss of pain escaped as I climbed to my feet.
“Dragon rider pussy,” Langston muttered loudly as he sparred with Hawthorne. The two biggest cadets had been paired up at the beginning of the class, and what I’d caught of their matches told the story of their personalities. Langston was all attack and aggression, while the stockier Hawthorne was a mix of defense, offense, and most importantly, patience.
“What did you just say?” Hawthorne’s expression hardened. “That is not how we talk about ladies, you fucking prick.”
In the next instant, he caught the bigger cadet in a nasty armlock, decisively ending their current match.
“Fuck!” Langston went up onto his tiptoes and arched his back, grunting at the strain. Another inch, and Hawthorne would dislocate his elbow. “Ease up, man, I just meant she was being a wimp, not that.”
Hawthorne held him for another few seconds before he released him and stepped back. His eyes flicked to mine for a brief instant before he refocused on Langston. “I don’t see any wimps here.”
With that, the big guy stomped over to the water station. I blinked a few times. That had been . . . unexpected.
With a curl of his lip, Langston leveled a glare at me. He made it exactly a single step in my direction before Elias casually sidestepped—and stuck his foot out. When the asshole tripped, Elias pretended to catch him, but in reality, he just redirected his momentum and put the bigger cadet on his ass. It was remarkably similar to the move Reese had used on me.
“Oops, sorry about that, Langy.” Elias’ smirk said he wasn’t sorry in the least. “Gotta watch your footing.”
I stared. Had Elias just helped me? Or was it just an opportunity to mess with Langston, who hadn’t exactly been making any friends either? Elias was such a troublemaker, it was impossible for me to guess. And then the lanky bastard glanced over his shoulder at me . . . and winked.
Langston scrambled to his feet, fists clenched tight. “What’d you just call me?”
Elias’ smirk widened. “Langy—it’s your griffin name.”
“What?” His face turned a brilliant shade of red that contrasted horribly with his muddy green eyes. “How’d you know Bailey calls me that?”
“Your griffin told my griffin, and now you’re stuck with it.”
Oh hells, I’d forgotten about the Griffin Corps naming tradition. If it got out that Feli—Atticus called me Harpy, I’d never escape it. It was a miracle he hadn’t told the other griffins already.
“Waiting,” he purred into my mind. Apprehension shivered down my spine at the sly mischief in his tone.
“Waiting for what?”
“The perfect moment.”
My brow furrowed before understanding hit. “You’re waiting for the perfect moment to tell everyone you call me Harpy?”
“Yes.” He trilled a laugh. “Live in fear.”
My griffin was evil.
Elias spread his hands and affected an innocent look that fooled exactly nobody. “Sorry, Langy, I don’t make the rules.”
Reese snickered, and even Keaton cracked a smile before his eyes abruptly hardened. “Lock it down.”
Even a first-year cadet knew what that meant. Langston snapped his jaw shut, and Elias’ expression carefully blanked as he sidled back to Rodriguez, his original sparring partner.
The winter wind gusted sharply, and the sweat plastering my PT gear to my skin turned to ice as the rest of us straightened up. Unfortunately, I wasn’t tall enough to see past the others. In fact, the only person smaller than me in Echo was Bex. But even though I couldn’t see why Keaton had called knock it off, I didn’t need to. Our instructor, or sabeo, was more than capable of making herself heard.
“Excuse me,” Sabeo Taylin said from behind Langston, her soft voice somehow cutting straight through the background noise of the training field. “Did I call for a break?”
Langston leaped aside as if he’d been goosed, and our diminutive instructor marched through where he’d been standing. Her demeanor conveyed that she’d fully expected him to move—and would have moved him if he’d declined. Despite being less than half Langston’s size, I had no doubt she was more than capable.
While the rest of us snapped to attention, Keaton stepped forward, chin up, shoulders back, and professional mask firmly in place. “No, Sabeo.”
Her dark eyes took in everything in an instant and landed on me. If it were possible to stand more at attention than I already was, I’d have done it. As it was, my belly tightened with nervous anticipation.
She shifted her dark gaze to Reese. “Assessment?”
To my shock, a flash of what might have been respect crossed the grumpy cadet’s face. “She got up.”
“Very well.” Sabeo Taylin’s serene expression never faltered as she dipped her head in a nod. A single finger pointed at my chest. “With me, Tavros.”
I’d thought the sabeo had hated me when she’d paired me with Reese. While he wasn’t much larger than me, he was all wiry muscle and speed. The mismatch in our training was painfully obvious from the moment we’d first sparred, and I could see why Elias hadn’t wanted to partner with him. It turned out she’d done me a favor by not sparring with me personally until now.
For the third time in as many minutes, I stared up at the gray skies. The tiny woman was equal parts terrifying and unstoppable. I wanted to be her when I grew up. Assuming I survived until the end of class.
My eyes idly tracked a pair of dragons as they flew past overhead, dancing across the wintry skies while I lay in the dirt. It almost didn’t hurt this time. Of course, that might have been because of the high-pitched whine in my ears. With a sharp shake of my head, the world snapped back into focus, and I got back up.
Slowly, painfully . . . but I did it.
Sabeo Taylin dipped her head in a gesture of respect. “Again.”
I mirrored it. “Yes, Sabeo.”
By the time the lesson concluded, my gray PT shirt was closer to brown with all the dirt ground into it. But I’d gotten back up, every time.
Periodically, I’d felt Keaton’s gaze on me. Watching me. Judging me. Waiting for me to break. He’d be watching for a long time, because I refused to give up. I might be the worst griffin rider cadet now, but I wouldn’t stay that way. I’d get better at this.
Commandant Pulaski’s voice floated in my memory. Give yourself some grace . . . no driving yourself into the ground.
I snorted a laugh as I got back up for the last time and bowed to my tiny, brutal instructor. Good thing the commandant hadn’t meant that last part literally, because I was well acquainted with the ground at this point. Everything hurt, but I refused to limp as we jogged in formation to the next event on our afternoon schedule—the obstacle course.
Not just any obstacle course. The griffin rider course. The course we had to master to graduate. Located well outside the academy walls, it covered miles of terrain and a variety of challenges meant to simulate a scouting mission. When our griffins were big enough, we’d have to get through it together. Until then, we were here to learn how to survive it.
Instructor Anton Bayard, a burly ex-ranger with more muscles than a black dragon, cast an unimpressed look over the lot of us before he launched into an overview of the safety rules, the course rules, and finally, his expectations. The temperature steadily dropped throughout his lecture, and dark clouds built on the western horizon. Snow was an exceedingly rare event, but based on the hint of clean frost in the brisk wind, we might actually get some this time.
As inconspicuously as possible, I flexed cold-numbed fingers behind my back and hoped we’d be able to move soon. Preferably before I couldn’t.
“Well, go on.” Instructor Bayard concluded his lecture with a flick of his hand toward the start of the course, a trail leading into a thickly wooded stretch of rolling hills. “Impress me.”
In the time he’d spent briefing us, my muscles had stiffened horribly, and I couldn’t quite suppress my limp from hitting the ground hip first earlier. My clutchmates left me so far behind, I might has well have been on that trail alone. Before I’d made it even a fraction of the way through the first section, it felt like a dragon sat on my chest, and I struggled to suck in enough air. Why had I thought moving was preferable again?
My boot caught on a branch hidden in a pile of leaves, and I faceplanted in the middle of the trail. Growling, I smacked one fist on the ground and staggered to my feet—and froze.
Keaton stood further up the trail, his amber gaze fixed on me and his expression unreadable. I tried to resist the urge, but when his lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk, I gave in and held up my middle finger. His lips twitched again, and then he arched a brow and tapped a finger against his cheek . . . where I had mud clinging to my skin.
With a grimace, I wiped the chill mud off my face. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. Forcing rubbery legs to cooperate, I jogged down the trail. Only four more days until rest day.
“Harper Tavros!”
So much for my rest day.
BAM!
The doors to Echo Barracks slammed open, silencing every last human and griffin as an enraged dragon rider cadet marched inside.
“Harper Tavros!” my old roommate roared again. “Front and center!”
“Hey!” Langston’s face turned red and he planted himself in the aisle. “No dragon cadet assholes allowed—”
“Piss off.”
Bethany slipped around him without breaking stride. When he spun around and caught her arm, she put him on his ass without breaking a sweat. She bent down, still holding his arm in a painful lock, and whispered in his ear. Whatever she told him was enough to make him simultaneously pale and back down with a mumbled apology. The glare he shot me promised retribution, but I didn’t care—my friend was such a badass.
Unfortunately, my badass friend seemed pissed, and not at Langston. Sighing, I tucked my book away and slipped off my bunk. Atticus didn’t bother to uncurl from his nest, but he lifted his head and watched, his gaze bright and full of mischief.
“You’re enjoying my apprehension a little much, don’t you think?” I muttered.
“No.”
“Traitor.”
Atticus trilled a laugh as Bethany stalked toward me with fire in her eyes. I braced myself.
“Harper Tavros,” she snarled. “I gave you space because I thought you needed it, but I think I’ve let you sulk long enough.” She slammed to a halt in front of me and jabbed a finger at my chest. “No more hiding!”
“I wasn’t hiding!” I shot back in automatic protest. “I was . . . busy.”
At her exasperated glare, I winced. Okay, maybe I’d been hiding from her a little. Then I took a good look at her face, and a gasp tore itself from my throat.
“Your eyes!”
Her exasperation drained away as she blinked fiery orange eyes at me, pride and joy shining bright in her gaze. But all the way in the back, buried so deep I almost missed it, was guilt. Oh, hells no. My girl was not allowed to feel even a speck of guilt on today of all days.
I grinned, so broadly it hurt my cheeks, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “He hatched?”
A grin that seemed born from relief as much as joy spread across her face. “He hatched!”
I squealed, not giving two shits about the show I was putting on for my clutchmates, and pulled her into a wild, spinning dance right there in the aisle. It ended in a tight hug that lasted only until Atticus butted in with a squawk, forcing his way into the embrace.
Bethany immediately let me go to drop down to one knee. “Hello there, little one. You’ve grown so much since I saw you hatch.”
Atticus tilted his head, purple eyes studying my former roommate intently. “She was there when I hatched?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “She was there.”
He clacked his beak in irritation. “Don’t remember.”
I snorted a laugh and grinned at Bethany. “Atticus is miffed he doesn’t remember you.”
Our bondmates couldn’t talk to other humans. Their souls weren’t entangled, so there was no way for them to be heard. It left us playing translator, but none of us minded.
“May I?” Bethany lifted one hand toward my griffin but stopped short of touching him. Atticus answered by practically shoving his neck into her fingers, trilling happily when she scratched beneath the feathers. Her eyes flicked to mine. “He’s beautiful.”
“He knows,” I replied dryly as he preened under her attention.
After a long moment—though not nearly long enough based on Atticus’ surge of outrage when she stopped scratching behind his tufted ears—she stood back up, her fiery orange eyes sparkling. “Want to meet Jasper?”
“Yes!” I hesitated, because red dragons were notoriously cranky, antisocial assholes, even as hatchlings. “Atticus too?”
Her nod was firm. “Atticus too.”
As we strode down the aisle with my griffin bouncing between us, my clutchmates eyed us in silent hostility. It seemed like any ground I’d gained in the past three weeks was gone. Bex, the only one who might not have had a problem, was off somewhere with Reese.
When Keaton stepped into my path, I gritted my teeth and glared at him. He might be the team leader, but his authority only went so far, and we were free to do as we pleased on rest days. Within limits. Going with Bethany to the hatchery was well within those limits, and I was sick of being on the defensive. So I attacked.
“Would you respect me more if I turned my friend away just because she’s a dragon rider?” I demanded in a low voice.
The fact that I’d been hiding from her the past few weeks was irrelevant. I wasn’t hiding anymore, and I wasn’t going to ruin my friendship with Bethany over stupid academy rivalries. I’d already lost enough friends. Surprise flickered in Keaton’s eyes, and he snapped his mouth closed on whatever he’d planned to say.
“That’s what I thought.” I lifted my chin. “I’ll be back before curfew.”
He held my stare for an uncomfortably long moment before he tilted his head, a griffin-like gesture many of us were picking up from our bondmates. “Don’t be late, Tavros.”
As we stepped out into the weak winter sunlight, Bethany rolled her shoulders. “Tough crowd. Have they been dicks this whole time?”
I avoided her piercing stare in favor of watching my cavorting griffin. He wouldn’t be considered a cub for much longer. He was growing so fast.
“Damn it,” Bethany muttered when I refused to answer. She whipped an angry glare over her shoulder at the barracks as her steps slowed. She looked seconds away from waging war on my entire clutch, and I’d never loved her more.
I grinned. “Damn, I missed you.”
Bethany turned that fiery orange glare on me before her gaze softened. The new color was definitely going to take some getting used to, but it really suited her.
“Well, if you hadn’t been hiding with a bunch of rude assholes the past few weeks like a stubborn bitch, you wouldn’t have missed me,” she said flatly. But then her lips twitched into a smirk. “Missed you too, girl.”
When she still looked like she wanted to charge back into the barracks, I started walking again, leaving her the choice to go back alone or follow. She growled under her breath and quickly caught up.
“Don’t think too badly of them,” I said quietly, thinking back on how very little sympathy I’d felt toward Echo’s displaced team leader, Marcos. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain that day, but it was no excuse. “I didn’t exactly make the best first impression.”
Bethany scoffed. “You had a rough day, they should’ve made allowances.”
I rolled my shoulders in a shrug, as if shedding my past mistakes was that easy. A playful smirk crossed her face.
“At least some of them are nice to look at.” She wrinkled her nose. “There’s definitely no hotties in Alpha Flight, that’s for damn sure.”
My gut tightened. I should’ve been in Alpha with her. I pushed the thought away, determined not to wallow on my friend’s day.
“Poor baby,” I teased. “Feel free to go hunting in Echo. I certainly don’t want any of those assholes.”
Bethany snickered as we made a beeline straight for the hatchery—or as much of a beeline as possible with a griffin who didn’t feel like hurrying. My newly bonded dragon rider friend had to be impatient to get back to her hatchling, but she’d always been the most disciplined in our class, and not a trace of it showed in her expression as she watched my griffin play.
With a trilling cry, Atticus spread his wings and leaped into the slightly warmer than usual breeze. The anticipated snow had never materialized, which was a shame. It would’ve been fun to watch him play in the snow. Regardless, I loved watching him try to fly, though his wings were still far too small for him to do much more than extended jumps. He actually managed to stick the landing on this one, and he preened at the burst of pride I sent his way before he leaped again—and faceplanted.
When I couldn’t hold back my laugh, he snapped his beak in annoyance and flounced toward the hatchery in a huff.
“Named him after one of the first dragons, huh?” Bethany murmured with a straight face, but barely suppressed laughter suffused her tone.
“Yeah.” I sighed as Atticus flattened his ears and sped up his pace, as if he could escape the name if he just walked fast enough. “He hates it.”
“Atticus stupid.” He flared his wings, accidentally-on-purpose smacking me in the side before he shoved the door to the hatchery open with one oversized paw. Sly amusement threaded through his mental voice when he added, “Harpy not stupid. Harpy good name for you.”
I rolled my eyes as we followed him into the humid warmth of the hatchery. Bethany and I had to pause in the atrium to allow our eyes to adjust to the dim interior lighting, but my griffin just ambled down the central hallway, his eyes automatically adjusting in a fraction of an instant. When I learned how to share his eyes, I’d be able to do that too.
Bethany’s patience finally snapped at my griffin’s slow pace. With an explosive huff only slightly tinged with desperation, she hustled around him and all the way down to the heavily reinforced steel door at the end. There was a small, square panel to the right, a relic from a different time when we had the power to do magical things.
Without that power, the locks built into the door wouldn’t engage, but the academy had improvised. Instead of the inert panel, Bethany rapped sharply on the door, triggering a call and response with the Maven inside. Only when she’d given the correct responses did the Maven unbar the door. The griffin crèche didn’t have that level of security.
The door swung inward silently, and I stepped into the dragon crèche for the first time. The differences were immediately apparent. It was larger for one, the sands hotter, the air a touch less humid. And there was a green dragon hatchling sleeping in the sands, her graceful tail tip curled in front of her muzzle.
My heart stopped.
She looked about a week old. There had only been one green due to hatch in that time frame.
“Shit,” Bethany snarled before she whirled to me with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I thought he would’ve picked her up by now.”
“Who,” I said, my voice little more than a harsh rasp of acidic pain. My griffin leaned against my leg, purring, but the quiet rumble didn’t soothe me this time. “Who bonded her?”
I couldn’t tear my gaze off that perfect little green. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known someone else would bond her, wasn’t like I hadn’t understood she’d share her soul with another. It still hurt far more than I’d thought it would.
“Harper . . .” Her voice gentled. “Is knowing going to help? Really help?”
“No,” I said in a ragged whisper. “But not knowing will be so much worse.”
Bethany was silent for so long I didn’t think she would answer. So I watched the little green while my heart bled and my griffin purred. She shifted in her sleep, wings rustling as she stretched the membranes out before furling them tight against her back.
Bethany’s heavy sigh broke the heartbroken spell I was under. “Zayne.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I snapped my head around, certain I’d misheard. One look at her expression was enough. Outrage joined the toxic swirl of jealousy and loss. After everything he’d done, for him to get rewarded with my dragon—
A bitter, disbelieving laugh ripped its way out of my throat, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from shifting back to the sleeping green again. Mine. She was supposed to be mine.
“How could he do this?” I barely recognized the shredded voice as my own. “That bastard. How could he do this!”
Possessive jealous rage roared. My hands shook, and for just an instant, I wanted nothing more than to burn the world down. Atticus let out a distressed cry, but it was muffled, as if he were very far away.
Shock allowed me to tamp the rage back down, compartmentalize it where it wouldn’t hurt my bonded. Shame quickly followed. I’d forgotten him. How could I forget my griffin—the literal other half of my soul—was standing at my side, purring in a desperate attempt to make me feel better?
I was a terrible bondmate.
“Harpy okay?” Atticus asked in a tentative voice that threatened to shatter what was left of my broken heart. Trembling, I reached out and stroked a hand down his head and neck in an attempt to soothe him. It wasn’t enough.
“Oh, gods.” I dropped to my knees so I could look him in the eye, so shaken I couldn’t even manage mindspeech. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why sorry? Harpy hurt.” He sounded puzzled as he inspected me, as if he were looking for physical wounds. Understanding lit up his gaze before he dipped his head and tapped his beak against my chest, right over my heart. “Harpy hurt here.”
I thought about lying to him, but I’d already shielded what I could. Besides, lying to the other half of your soul was stupid, even when your other half was still so very young.
“Harpy hurt,” I said in agreement and gently wrapped my arms around his neck. “But I’ll be okay. Promise.”
Bethany did us the courtesy of pretending she couldn’t hear my half of the conversation and waited patiently. Almost of its own volition, my gaze tracked back to the green. She wasn’t mine. Even though I’d tended her egg, even though she was supposed to be mine, she wasn’t. Unshed tears burned the back of my eyes.
“He didn’t tell me,” I whispered as I carded my fingers through Atticus’ feathers. This . . . this might be the moment I finally broke. At least Bethany was the only one present to witness it. I tore my gaze from the green who wasn’t mine, who would never be mine, and looked at my friend. “He didn’t say a word.”
She gripped my shoulder, the touch at once comforting and grounding. “Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t know how.” Her voice turned wry. “Maybe somebody wouldn’t stop walking away from him long enough for him to get the words out.”
I froze for a moment before my shoulders slumped.
“Damn it.”
Groaning, I buried my face in my griffin’s feathers in embarrassment while he trilled a soft, relieved laugh. I breathed in his clean, spicy scent, then I stood up, rolled my shoulders back, and looked at the green dragon.
“Zayne will be a good rider for her,” I said as resolutely as I could. It helped that it was true. His personality would be a good fit for a green, though it was a little puzzling—he’d always claimed he wanted an active combat role. “If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was him.”
Bethany gave me a little side-eye. “You want to drench all his clothes and leave them out overnight to freeze again, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
She bumped her shoulder to mine. “Just say the word, and Operation Popsicle is a go.”
“I love you so much.” A tentative smile spread across my face. “Introduce me to your bondmate?”
She grinned broadly. “Thought you’d never ask.”
To my chagrin, when we’d first walked into the crèche, my attention had been so riveted to my—to Zayne’s green, I hadn’t even noticed the other dragons. And while the crèche wasn’t crowded, there were a decent number of hatchlings in the low-ceilinged room.
A pair of grays who could only be a day or two old at best were curled up together in the middle of the sands, with a quartet of slightly older grays to the right, a black hatchling twice the size of the others to the left, and even a rare blue peeking out from behind one of the Mavens. A flash of red in the far corner behind the hulking black caught my eye as Bethany led us across the hot sands.
The black dragon hatchling tilted his head and watched as we drew near. He couldn’t have been more than a few days old. One day, he would be an unstoppable tank on the battlefield, but right now he was downright adorable. Beautiful black-ringed amber eyes regarded me solemnly, and my steps slowed, caught in the intensity of his gaze. And then the hatchling yawned, showing off an impressive number of fangs, and flopped onto his side with a huff, his eyes already drifting closed.
As we skirted around the sleepy-eyed black, I finally got my first look at Bethany’s new bondmate, Jasper. Only a day old, and the fierce red raised his head on a wobbling neck and bared his fangs at us. Bethany grinned fondly, I kept my distance, and my idiot griffin took it as an invitation to play.
Atticus bowed and pranced around the hatchling, trilling in delight while Jasper snapped his jaws and hissed in warning. Griffins and dragons couldn’t talk to each other, but even a young griffin couldn’t mistake that kind of body language.
“Atticus, no!” My heart skipped several beats, because reds were lethal from the moment they broke their shell. Bethany’s eyes went vague for a moment before she waved a reassuring hand.
“He won’t hurt him, but he says ‘stupid bird annoying.’”
I gaped at her. “He’s already talking?”
Pride shone bright in Bethany’s fiery orange eyes, but she shook her head. “Not in words, no, but the imagery and emotion came through loud and clear.”
“Precocious.” I grinned as my griffin dropped low on his front legs, leaving his tail waving in the air. “Just like someone else I know.”
When Jasper made no move to get up and play no matter how Atticus teased him, my griffin stretched out on the sand next to him and crossed one paw over the other. His head tilted as he studied the irritable hatchling through narrowed purple eyes.
“I like him,” he announced as he tucked his wings against his back. “Her too. Bethany good for Harpy.”
My eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you can say her name right, but not mine?”
“I am saying your name right.” Atticus trilled a laugh. “You’re saying mine wrong.”
“What’s he saying?” Bethany asked with a grin. “You look like steam is going to burst out of your ears.”
I rolled my eyes. “He wants to be called Felix, not Atticus.”
“He named himself?” Astonishment stamped her features before she shook her head in admiration. “Whoever started the rumor that griffins are stupid is a moron.”
Atticus raised his head proudly. “Griffins sneaky and smart.”
A smile pulled at my lips, and my shattered heart knit together a little more. I’d wanted a dragon. Instead, I’d ended up with an incredibly smart, incredibly stubborn griffin.
“If he bites your tail, I’m going to say I told you so,” I said in warning as my wonderful idiot spread the wide fan of feathers at the tip of his tail and dangled it in front of Jasper’s muzzle like a lure. The red hatchling eyed the feathers with predatory interest. In the next instant, his head darted forward teeth first, but Atticus snapped his tail out of his reach, and his fangs only closed on air.
As the red grumbled in annoyance, Atticus dropped his beak open in a griffin grin and waggled his tufted ears. “Gonna be friends. Can tell.”
We stayed for a little longer, but it was getting close to curfew, and we needed to head back. Bethany insisted on walking with us after giving Jasper a loving caress. The fierce little red seemed indifferent to her touch, almost haughty, until his eyes slipped closed in unmistakable contentment.
Outside, the brilliant reds and oranges of sunset splashed across the sky, while a crescent moon hung on the eastern horizon, shining bright amid the cool purples and blues of approaching twilight. It was the kind of sky that made you stop and take notice, the kind that had made me long to soar in the first place.
As I turned to watch Atticus attempt to fly again, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold air crawled down my spine, and unease settled in my gut. Bethany noticed my reaction.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, her eyes scanning the quad for threats.
“Nothing.” The crawling sensation of unfriendly eyes quickly faded, and I shrugged my shoulders to shed the tension. I tilted my head toward the gaggle of unbonded griffin cadets heading up the slope toward their barracks. “I’ll just be happy when they forget about me and stop watching me all the time.”
Bethany grimaced. “That can’t be fun.”
“Nope,” I said, but a slow smile crossed my face. I’d come so close to breaking this afternoon . . . but I hadn’t. “They can watch all they want. They’ll never see me break.”
“Damn right they won’t.” She waited until we were alone in the quad before she spoke again. “So. Harpy, huh?”
I shoved her sideways. “Shut up.”
She snickered. “I could not think of a better griffin name for you, girl.”
“Don’t you dare breathe a word of it to anyone,” I said with a growl, but she just gave me a grin that meant nothing but trouble.
We fell back into our friendship as if no time had passed since Atticus hatched and changed my life forever. We bantered and bickered while my griffin leaped and pounced and stretched his wings, gamboling around us as we tromped up to Echo barracks. Just outside the double doors, an enthusiastic roar split the air.
“Harpy catch!”
Startled at the demand in his tone, I turned just in time to see Atticus leap toward me, wings flared wide and beak dropped open in a grin. He slammed into my chest, and I suddenly had an armful of griffin.
“Oof.” Completely blinded by tawny feathers, I staggered back a step as his momentum threatened to bowl me over. Only Bethany’s swift reaction kept me from falling backward, her arm a solid counterbalance across my back. He trilled a joyous laugh as he hooked his paws over my shoulders and shifted his head back. I spat out a feather and gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little big for this?”
Atticus tilted his head. “No.”
Contentment and sleepiness accompanied that decisive remark, along with a less than pleasant ache in his wings. He’d overdone it. My arms already burned from the strain, but I hitched him a little higher to rebalance his weight without further complaint. One day soon, he’d be big enough to carry me. I only had so much time to return the favor.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Bethany said with a grin.
She reached for the door, but it opened before she could grasp the handle. Elias paused in the opening, slowly dragged his gaze over my friend, and gave her a first-class leer.
“Any time you want to put me on my ass like you did Langston, you just let me know, pretty lady,” he said smoothly before stepping aside and holding the door for us.
I stared. Elias was flirting with her. To my utter shock, Bethany flirted back.
“You like it rough, pretty boy?” she purred as a smile danced on her lips.
He winked. “Try me and find out.”
“I think I might vomit,” I muttered.
“What?” Bethany grinned. “You said your clutchmates were fair game.”
I wrinkled my nose and walked past Elias. “That doesn’t mean I want to witness it.”
“Rude.” She let out a low chuckle and waved. “See you later . . . Harpy!”
She’d raised her voice back to that battlefield bellow she’d used before, and the damning nickname echoed throughout the barracks. Heads snapped around, more than a few of my clutchmates snickered, and a truly evil glow lit up Elias’ eyes.
“Aw, she ruined my game,” Atticus grumbled as I shot a glare over my shoulder.
“I hate you.”
Bethany smirked. “Consider this payback for the hair incident.”
“Oh, come on,” I muttered. “The pink washed out . . . eventually. Now I’m stuck with Harpy forever.”
My griffin’s annoyance vanished and he rumbled happily, his eyes bright with mischief. “Good.”
After the way I’d treated him earlier, I’d rather die than ruin his happiness, though I couldn’t stop my defeated sigh from escaping. “Harpy it is.”