“Summitwing drifts?” I can’t help but ask.
“Those best suited for altitude, for flying the summits of the Esben range,”
she explains. “Daja might not want to admit it, but she’s a lowland girl.” Her smile brightens even as the gryphon snaps her beak rapidly a foot away from Maren’s ear. “Like you wouldn’t rather be stationed with the seawing drifts after graduation?” She laughs softly, no doubt at something the gryphon said. “That’s what I thought. Trust me, we don’t want to be headed into Tyrrendor any more than you want us to be there.”
“So why come?” Sloane asks, walking too close to the next gryphon and getting flicked in the face by its tail.
“Like Syrena said, it’s our best chance of survival—not just for us but for our people, too.”
After another few minutes of tense silence, I ask, “So where are you from?”
“Draithus,” Maren answers. “I’d ask about you, but everyone knows you grew up moving outpost to outpost until your mother was assigned to Basgiath.”
My footsteps almost falter.
Sloane glances back at me with raised eyebrows.
“You’ve been a hell of a ransom target,” Maren explains as we come to a series of carved steps meant to deter wagons. “Honestly, most of us figured Riorson would nab you after harvest his first year and gift you to us.”
“You mean Cat figured.” Sloane’s tone has suspicious bite.
“Cat definitely figured,” Maren agrees.
“Harvest?” I ask, skipping over the whole Xaden-should-have-kidnappedme insinuation. “You mean Threshing?”
“Right.” Maren checks on Daja’s progress on the stairs before continuing upward. “Whatever it is you call it. When your dragons either kill you or choose you.”
“So, our entire first year.” Sloane laughs.
“Imagine our surprise when he shows up ready to defend you to the death last year.”
I look back at her because I don’t hear the animosity I’d expect. There’s none of it in her eyes, either. “Were you disappointed?”
She shrugs, the metal rings at her shoulder catching the sunlight with the motion. “I was disappointed for Cat, but I wasn’t exactly rooting for that toxicity any more than you would for your best friend. She’s the one up there with Cat, now, right? Your squad leader?”
I nod, moving forward along the narrowing stairs, keeping my body as close to the cliff wall as I can without scraping up my flight jacket. “Rhiannon doesn’t want Cat trying to hurl me off the trail.”
“She probably would have,” Maren admits, a smile in her voice. “She’s a little…”
“Unhinged?” Sloane offers, keeping a good ten feet between her and the gryphon ahead of her with Ridoc, Visia, and the flier. I think that one is Luella, but I’m not completely sure. “Hopefully she doesn’t try any of her mindwork on Rhiannon, or she might find herself dangling off the edge. Rhi isn’t someone to mess with.”
My eyebrows rise.
“Shocked?” Sloane says over her shoulder at me, keeping her hand on the cliff wall as we reach the end of the stairs. “Don’t be. Liam didn’t hate many people, but Cat was on that list.”
Right. Because he and Xaden were fostered together. He would have met her.
“Angry,” Maren corrects her. “I was going to say ‘angry.’ And relax, Sloane— none of us would dare channel power from our gryphons when they need to stay completely focused on not falling to their deaths.”
“At least it’s not just me you hate.” I bite back a smile at Sloane.
“I don’t hate you,” Sloane says so quietly that I almost question hearing it. “It’s hard to hate you when Liam didn’t.” My confused look must be enough for her to continue. “I’m in the October letters now.”
“Ah, when Xaden forced him to become my bodyguard.” We turn at the switchback and start the next ascent, this one cut a little steeper into the harsh gray rock of the cliffside. I look up and immediately regret the decision, my stomach churning at the view that’s nearly identical to the one below. It’s cliff and more cliff.
“We both knew my brother well enough to say for certain that no one forced him,” Sloane replies, her shoulders dipping. “I just wish Xaden had asked someone else. Anyone else.”
“Me too,” I admit in a whisper, focusing on my footing where the path has crumbled to nothing more than a few yards.
“Look out!” Panicked voices call out above us.
Our attention jerks up.
The sky is gray and falling rapidly toward us.
It’s not sky. It’s a boulder.
We’re about to become debris thanks to a triggered trap.
“Take cover!” I shout, throwing up my hands and pushing back against the cliff wall, making myself as small as possible while I reach for Tairn’s power as a boulder hits the edge of the ledge an ascent above and barrels toward us.
My heart beats in my ears. It’s just like turning a door handle. Just like twisting a lock. It’s a lesser magic. I can do lesser magics…
With a boulder the size of a feathertail?
I envision the boulder changing course and twist my hands—
Black streaks through my vision a second before an explosion sounds above me, and I cover my head with my hands as pebbles rain down.
Tairn pulverized the boulder with his tail.
“Thank you.” I sag back against the rock wall and take a couple of deep breaths to slow my hammering heart.
“Vi!” Rhiannon yells from up ahead.
“We’re all right!” I shout back.
“Holy shit.” Maren leans next to me, her hand on her chest.
“Morningstartail?” Sloane asks.
“Morningstartail,” I confirm, watching Tairn level out, then fly back our direction.
Within seconds, he’s hovering in front of me with precise beats of his wings, his golden eyes narrowing.
Maren ducks her head, and Sloane looks away.
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t slip.” I lift my brows at him.
“It would be a shame to have gone through the last year just to have you kill us on a measly hike.”
I scoff. “Noted.”
He flexes his wings, air gusting against my cheeks before he dives again.
“Is…um…that normal?” Maren asks as we resume the trudge, my heart pounding through the surge of adrenaline.
“Which part? Tairn saving my ass? Or being grumpy about it? Because yes, both are normal.”
“When you walk your parapet, there are rocks thrown at you?” she clarifies.
“Oh.” I shake my head. “No. You just have to cross it, which is harder than it sounds. What do you go through to be chosen?”
“We walk to the edge of Cliffsbane, look out over the river—it’s about thirty feet deep at that point—and wait for the drifts to fly by.” Her tone lightens, and when I glance back, she’s smiling. “When they approach, we jump.”
“You jump?” Sloane whips her head back, her eyes wide.
Maren nods, and a dimple forms in her cheek. “We jump. And if we can land on a gryphon, climb into position, and hold on, they bond us.” She reaches up and scratches under Dajalair’s chin where beak turns to feather.