Kingdom of Shadows and Wings (Dragons of Tirene, #1)

by Nina Frost

“What kind of reckless fool doesn’t request an exemption from flight academy when the idea of flying makes them collapse in the dirt like a dead slug?” “Thank you so much for that charming visual. I’ll be sure to cherish it always.”

“And me. Obviously. I’m the type of reckless fool to do that.”

“Because my sister went missing from here without a trace, and I swore to myself I’d do everything in my power to find her. And this,” I sweep my hands wide to encompass the Flighthaven campus, “is within my power. Even if I do find the thought of hopping onto an alicorn’s back terrifying enough to impersonate a dead slug.” “Can you impersonate a dead slug when it’s not a person?” I blow out an annoyed breath. “Really? You want to debate semantics right now?” He ignores my words, instead studying me with an enigmatic expression. Delightful. Now I feel like a slug he’s pinned to a board to analyze at will. After the night’s adventures, I’m probably about as appealing as one too.

“Starting tomorrow, meet me at the alicorn paddock every morning, one hour before breakfast.” The gruff quality of his voice and stilted enunciation make the offer sound forced.

“To muck out the stable?” His eyes narrow. “Don’t tempt me. I was planning to help you overcome your fear of alicorns and flying, but if you’d prefer to clean out the stalls…” He shrugs, awaiting my reply. Snarky delivery or not, his willingness to help softens something in my chest. A stupid lump forms in my throat. “Getting over my fear sounds good. Thank you.” “Let’s see if you’re still thanking me come morning. Now, if you’re done playing damsel in distress for tonight, I’m going to get some sleep.”

I produce a sunny smile. “Good morning, Instructor Thorne.” His narrowed eyes roam over me like he’s sizing me up. “You’re late.” I blink. “What? I’m ten minutes early.” He snorts his displeasure, reminding me of one of the alicorns. “You’re twenty minutes late, Duchess.” Just like that, my resolve to be agreeable fizzles. “You told me to meet you an hour before breakfast. And here I am, an hour and ten minutes before breakfast. I don’t know what kingdom you’re from, sir, but here in Aclaris, that means⁠—” “An hour before my breakfast. The instructors eat thirty minutes before the recruits do.”

His jaw ticks, and he pushes into my space. My muscles tense with a strange anticipation. “I don’t like babysitting you any more than you like being here. But if you want to survive your time at Flighthaven, it’s in your best interest to cooperate.” I suck in a breath. If I want to survive? Is he threatening me? “What is that supposed to mean?” His chest rumbles. “It means I’m trying to keep you alive.” “By yelling at and browbeating me?”

“Do you seriously have to ask me that?” I open my mouth, but the look he gives me snaps it shut. Okay. Maybe I am being a little argumentative. I blame him. He evokes a strong reaction in me. “Sorry.” My muttered apology makes me sound like an ungrateful brat. “Enough,” he tugs on my arm, and I have no choice but to follow, “we’re wasting valuable time. Let’s go.”

“Um,” I stare at my boots, annoyed by my breathlessness, “I think you were about to lecture me on how to use a pitchfork.” His mouth tips up again. “Have you ever used one?” I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.” “Well, here’s a tip,” he nods at the pitchfork, “aim the pointy end at the straw.” My jaw drops. First a laugh, and now a joke? Should I check for a big cosmic event in play tonight? “Great. Very helpful. But yesterday, I thought you said I didn’t have to muck the stable out.” His shoulders lift. “I changed my mind.”

“Is this some sort of punishment for rescuing me off the tower? Because as surprising as it may sound, getting stuck up there wasn’t my idea.” “What?” Thorne’s brow creases. “No. Of course not.”

I stare. “Okay, now what?” “Now,” his eyes actually sparkle, “you muck out the stalls.” “All of them?” “As many as you have time for.”

“Let’s keep moving. We don’t have all day.” Suspicion roots in my chest. “Are you sure this isn’t punishment?” “Of course, I’m sure.” He smirks. “Though I’m not denying the entertainment value of watching a pampered princess wade through alicorn shit.” What the hells? “Sounds an awful lot like punishment to me. And I’m not a princess.” He shrugs and inspects his nails like he’s bored. “Princess…duchess. Whatever.”

lol

I take a deep breath. “I’m not a duchess either.” “Close enough. Finish up this one,” he motions around the stall, “and meet me outside.”

“Come over here.” Obeying, I approach with caution, so irritated I don’t realize what he’s doing at first. Much like yesterday, Thorne grabs my waist and deposits me onto Zephyr’s back. My heart drums in my ears, and that all too familiar panic threatens to pull me under. I grab for Zephyr’s mane, holding on for dear life. “Breathe, Duchess. Just relax. Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got the reins.” For some unknown reason, I believe him, just like I did last night when he told me to let go. At least when it comes to alicorns, I feel safe with him. And that’s a thought I don’t currently have the capacity to analyze.

“Ready to dismount?” When I nod, he reaches for me, splaying his hands around my waist and lifting me from the alicorn. Even after my boots touch the ground, he continues holding me against him for a few moments, searching my face. “You okay?” His warm, solid body, along with the scent of leather and soap, envelops me. I never thought something so simple could smell so good, but it’s intoxicating. “Yes.” I wobble a little when he releases me, but this time, I don’t collapse. “I feel fine.” “Good.” The slight quirk of his eyebrow says he doesn’t quite believe me. “Let me show you how to take the saddle off and groom him, and then you’d better go.”

After a few clumsy strokes with the brush, Thorne shakes his head. “Let me show you.” He folds his hand over mine, guiding the brush back to Zephyr’s silvery gray neck. “Go in the direction of the hair, not against it. Don’t brush so light you’re tickling him, but don’t bear down too hard either. And be gentle with the wings.” Together, we stroke the alicorn’s coat. I’m all too aware of the big, calloused hand wrapped around mine, and the unwelcome warmth such an innocent touch stirs inside me. Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away. “I think I’ve got it.” Thorne discovering my body’s inadvertent reaction to him is a humiliation I’d prefer to avoid at all costs. He steps back, lingering nearby as I finish. “Better.”

session?” Olive’s question tugs me out of my thoughts as our unit halts just outside the field. The pungent, earthy aroma mixed with that faint hint of sweet decay permeates the air. “I think so. It sounds…intriguing.” Nick lifts an eyebrow, the salty ocean breeze rippling his dark brown waves. “Interesting word choice. I’d have said dangerous, but whatever.” Is he trying to scare me? “How so?” He levels me with a you really are that naïve look and gestures toward the eyril field. “Do you really have to ask?”

He huffs. “You’ll find out soon enough.” I turn away, unable to hide a flicker of hurt over the non-answer. Nick’s difficult to read sometimes. He’s typically more reserved compared to Olive and Abel, but he doesn’t usually give off such a condescending vibe. I thought we were starting to become friends. Now I wonder if he’s merely tolerating me for the sake of the unit. Abel approaches us, pushing a cart with a large wooden crate on top. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s in a bad mood because of some letter from home. Maybe his sweetheart came to her senses and found someone more cheerful to spend her time with.” Nick’s scowl could make children burst into tears. “She didn’t⁠—”

Nick passes me an odd dragon-scale mask that covers most of my face, along with a pair of clear goggles for my eyes. “Keep these on while you’re in the field. You don’t want any oil to get on your face. It burns like the three hells.” I glance around for the instructor, ensuring he’s out of earshot under the tree. “Is that what happened to Narrton?” “That’s the prevailing theory. No one knows for sure. Narrton’s a cagey fuck.” Nick hands a helmet to Abel and Olive. “An odd one too. Once, I carried a delivery out here and caught him talking to the eyril.” Abel snorts. “Not this again.” Nick glowers at his friend. “I’m telling you, it was weird.”

“I don’t know. One of our maids chats with our roses. She swears they grow better if someone sweet-talks them.”

“Okay, but Narrton wasn’t whispering sweet nothings. He was having a full-blown argument with the stalks, complete with hand gestures and a raised voice. At one point, he even rolled around near the edge of the field and cried.” “Oh. That does seem a little bizarre. Reena never did that.” Nick points at Abel. “See? I told you. Weird.” Then he frowns. “Wait. Who’s Reena?” “She’s one of my mother’s maids.” His animation dies. “Right. I sometimes forget how different our upbringings were.”

“You’d better be careful, though.” Nick winks. “If you pierce the wrong part, eyril will squirt on you.” I picture Narrton’s angry scar and grip the spade so hard I’m certain my knuckles have whitened under the gloves. Yeah, no thank you. “Got it.” Abel laughs, the sound a little distorted under his mask. “He’s just messing with you. It doesn’t work that way.” I elbow Nick in the ribs. “Jerk. I’ll be careful nonetheless.”

At the end of the field, we wade through the plants, checking for oozing black oil on the ground. A weird murmuring hum seems to come from the stalks, as if the eyril’s either greeting me or warning me away. The humming infiltrates my body, tugging at me with an invisible line. My surroundings dim as the line pulls me forward, toward the vibrant stalks that undulate in the breeze. The murmuring grows louder. “Hey guys, do you hear…” The words die in my throat once I realize I’m alone.

In the short time I’ve been at Flighthaven, I’ve grown to cherish Olive’s friendship. I think I can consider her a friend. If my mother knew one of the recruits in my flight unit came from a family of Kamor sympathizers, though, she’d have a stroke. She’s never cared for Kamor and despises Tirene, often telling me tales of the winged brutes who killed my father.

“I think you should save the humor for your girlfriend.” Abel brushes off an eyril bulb like he’s been doing it for years. “Wouldn’t want you to wear them out on us.” “She appreciates my jokes, unlike you three,” Nick snarks. “Among other things.” Abel clucks his tongue. “Are you sure she isn’t lying to spare your delicate ego?” Nick’s scowl returns. “I’m sure.”

No hint of my fear of flying exists as I marvel. Just a yearning in my chest. “I wonder what it’s like to fly.” Olive’s voice shakes me from the strange vision. The dragon swoops lower and dips the wing closest to us, revealing a rider with bronze skin and a shock of wavy black hair. Instructor Thorne’s gaze locks on mine. The joyful sensation vanishes, replaced by a shiver of awareness. He lifts one dark eyebrow, a question in his eyes. Wait. Does he know it’s me under the mask and protective gear?

“What, are you giving me the silent treatment now? Very mature. Use your words, please.” “I’ll give you three.” He raises his right fist and extends a single finger. “Pitchfork.” Another finger joins the first. “Stalls.” A third finger goes up. “Now.”

“Let me see it.” I flinch, glancing up to find myself face-to-face with my instructor. “See what?” “Your hand.” He grasps my right wrist and inspects my palm with the same gentleness he used on Solara. “Why didn’t you tell me your hands look like they got in a fight with a meat grinder?”

“I don’t know what a fight with a meat grinder looks like. Besides, isn’t this part of why you have me working here? To teach me a lesson? To make a high-and-mighty noble suffer through hard labor? I figured any wounds I incurred would make you happy.” His breath hisses between his teeth. “No, Duchess. The sight of your bleeding hands doesn’t make me happy at all. And I already told you that mucking out the stable isn’t a punishment.” “Why have me do it then?” “Because I’m hoping that repeated exposure to alicorns in a safe setting will help you get over your fear faster!”

“I know someone who used to be terrified of horses. One reared up and kicked him in the chest as a child, and after that, he refused to go near them. When he decided he needed to get over his fear, we started him out by watching horses from a distance. Once he was comfortable with that, we shrank the distance until he was able to touch them without panicking. Eventually, he was able to ride.” Chagrined, I rub the back of my neck. “Oh.” “Yes. Oh.” My conscience stings. “Now I feel like an ass.” He lifts his eyebrows as if in agreement but says nothing. “Do you really think it will work?” He shrugs. “Won’t know until we try.” “Wait…you said your friend started from a distance. Why do I have to touch and mount the alicorns already if slower is better?” “Because, Duchess, we don’t have the luxury of time. You can only skip class so often before your classmates start to suspect, and if you think the hazing is bad now, imagine how much worse it would get if someone...

“Let me get a look at your hands.” “They’re fine.” He peels back my fingers to inspect the raw flesh. “They’re not fine.” “I’ll find some gloves for tomorrow.” I tug my hand free from his grip. “I’d better finish.” “You’re the most stubborn…” He stalks out of the stall. I can’t make out the rest of his tirade, but I’m pretty certain he swears a few times.

Moments later, footsteps thud in the aisle, and Thorne reappears beside me. “Put that down.” His barked command has me bristling. Ignoring him, I continue to scoop the soiled straw. “I see that listening isn’t one of your strong points.” Narrowing my eyes, I spin to face him. “I see that using manners isn’t one of yours.” His jaw flexes. “Put that down…please.”

“Five minutes.” His low voice is menacing as he cages me by planting his forearms on either side of my head. He leans close to my ear and whispers. “I just need you to shut that annoying mouth of yours for five minutes. Think you can handle that?” He’s standing so close that his minty breath grazes my skin. The heady scent of leather and soap assaults my senses, and I can feel his body heat. This little display of dominance should frighten me or piss me off. What it shouldn’t do is tempt me to push off the wall until our bodies press together and drag his head down until our lips touch. It shouldn’t generate an explosion of tingles all over my skin or ignite a fire deep in my belly.

“Good.” He reaches into his pocket, produces a small tin, and pops off the lid. “Hold out your hand.” I hesitate. After my attitude, I’m half afraid he’ll rub salt in my wounds. “Why?” Heaving a sigh, he scoops out a dollop of some kind of clear ointment, crooking his finger. “It hasn’t even been a minute.” “Sorry.” The word is a whisper.

He reaches into his pocket again, pulling out gauze and bandages. “It’s rude to stare.” My jaw drops. How can he tell? He’s not even looking at me. My gaze dips to watch him bandage me with efficient yet surprisingly gentle hands. “Have you dressed a lot of wounds? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I spent a lot of time traveling with soldiers, sometimes in remote areas. There wasn’t always a medic nearby, so I learned how to treat an assortment of wounds.” “Do you ever miss your home?” His throat bobs with the force of his swallow. “I do. I’ve been away a long time, and I can’t help but wonder how much I’ve missed over the years or how things have changed.” My heart aches over the yearning in his voice. “Do you think you’ll get a chance to go back again soon?” He hesitates. His gaze darts to my face before returning to the task. “I hope so.” I place a bandaged palm on his arm and squeeze. “I hope so too.” His eyes linger on my hand. His harsh features soften for an instant before a shadow crosses his expression. Straightening, he steps away again. “Finished.”

We reach the end of the aisle, where a saddled Zephyr waits. “Ready?” Thorne asks. I regard the alicorn like he might explode at any moment. “No, but let’s do it anyway.” My flight instructor gives his approval. “Good answer.”

Thorne leads Zephyr through the stable, toward one of the paddocks. “So far, so good?” “Sure. If your definition of good is me only considering flinging myself from the saddle every few seconds rather than every single one.” “That’s still progress.” “Right.” I search for a distraction. Anything to keep my mind off the giant winged beast prancing beneath me. “That dragon last night. What do you think happened? Was he old? I thought dragons usually lived hundreds of years.”

“What, then? What could cause a dragon to drop out of the sky?” Which, by the way, has done no wonders for my fear of flying. Staring straight ahead, he rubs his chest. “That’s a very good question. I only wish I had an answer.”

“How did you know?” The question pulls me from my reverie. “How did I know what?” “That the dragon was still alive and suffering?” “I mean, wasn’t it obvious?” He pats Zephyr’s muzzle. “Clearly not to everyone, or else they wouldn’t have stood around with their thumbs up their asses.”

“I’m not sure. There was a lot going on, and with all the pounding in my head and the mass confusion, I can’t remember exactly what happened. I probably saw his chest rise or his eyelid twitch or something.” He considers that for a moment, then nods. “Probably.”

Zephyr’s silvery wings unfurl the rest of the way, the gleaming feathers catching the breeze and fluttering. Panic claws through me. He’s going to take off. Without thinking, I fling my right leg over the saddle and jump. Thorne catches me, grunting as our bodies make contact. Terror transforms into prickly awareness when I register the sensation of my breasts mashed against his firm chest. As his warmth surrounds me, my stomach clenches. Lust coils in my belly and steals my breath. Time stands still as his pupils dilate, the silence between us seething with unnamed desires. The tension binds us until Thorne snaps free with a jerk of his head. He drops me like a flaming stick and puts space between us. Angling his face toward the ground, he walks Zephyr in a circle. “So are you ever planning on telling me why you’re so petrified of alicorns?” Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my flight instructor’s the one desperate for a distraction now.

“When I was four, I was riding an alicorn with my father when we were attacked. My father was wounded, and I fell off the alicorn and almost died. My father saved me but succumbed to his wounds later.” He stops abruptly, causing Zephyr to toss his head. “I’d be careful about who you share that story with. Who told you that? Your mother?” “Partly, but I also remember bits and pieces. My father’s laugh, followed by screams. Fire. Falling.”

“Do you know what prompted the attack?” My upper lip curls. “Nothing except for the brutality of the Tirenese. We were only one of several attacks that day, half of them on children. I try to keep an open mind toward Kamor and other kingdoms that come into conflict with Aclaris, but Tirene could go up in flames and I wouldn’t shed a single tear.”

He clicks his tongue and walks Zephyr toward the stable. “That’s enough for today.” When I try to trail his moody ass, he waves me off. “You’re free to go. I’ll return Zephyr to his stall.”

Despite his infuriating personality, something draws me too him. It’s the expression in his eyes when he gazes off into the distance. And how he seems closer to the animals in his care than any of the other staff. Beneath that arrogant exterior, Sterling Thorne is lonely. I’d stake a year’s allowance on it. Because if there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s loneliness.

I’m finishing my bowl of fruit when Bigly calls for our attention. Cutlery pings against plates and chair legs scrape the floor as every student swivels in his direction. “As I’m sure everyone is aware by now, Flighthaven experienced a tragic incident late last night when one of our treasured dragons died. While Instructor Dawon was riding Raider, he quit responding to her commands. He fell from the sky and crashed to the Flighthaven grounds. Only quick thinking on Instructor Dawson’s part, and her affinity for air magic, spared her life. The impact crushed Raider’s legs and caused internal injuries, so Instructor Thorne made the difficult call to end his suffering.” Inadvertently, my gaze skips to Thorne. For a fleeting moment, his eyes connect with mine before he redirects them so he’s peering straight ahead.

Torno steps forward, her hands clasped behind her back. “Due to last night’s incident, along with other circumstances beyond our control, we will be moving up the date of the upcoming trial. It will now take place in two weeks’ time.”

“Quiet, please! I know this comes as an unpleasant surprise, but I have every confidence in all of you. I know our students will rise to the occasion in the face of adversity. Between now and then, I recommend that you all dedicate yourselves to training. My office is open to you anytime. Stop by if you have questions or need a pep talk.” Is it my imagination, or do her eyes pause on me when she says that last bit? “Now, finish eating, and head to your regularly scheduled classes.”

Bigley and Torno file out, followed by Dawson and Thorne. Walking side by side, they make a gorgeous couple, with her fair skin and blond hair complimenting his darker complexion. For some reason, the observation bothers me, and I rub at the sudden burning sensation in my chest.