Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

T he sky was alive with motion as we tore through it, weaving between battling Fae in and out of their Order forms. Moraine flew ahead of us, beating her powerful silver wings and firing arrows at any who blocked our path as we raced back towards the floating island overhead.

Cayde flew behind us, partially shifted still, his leathery wings the only piece of his Drake Order form on view. I worked hard to ignore his presence, the sting of having him sent to join us on our mission biting into me and making a cold fury spill through my veins.

I pressed a hand to my pocket, feeling the coiled body of the Basilisk shifter within and trying to calm myself with the fact that we hadn't needed Cayde's assistance anyway. At least not to retrieve the package – so far as the saving of my life went, I planned on dealing with that debt later.

"Watch out!" Dalia cried, swerving to the left and I followed without hesitation, twisting my neck to look back just as an enormous spear of ice cut through the air right where we would have been. It sped towards the sky then crashed into the outer edge of Ironwraith, blasting a chunk of the island free from the rest. The screams of the Fae standing on it filled the air as they fell.

I cursed as huge lumps of rock and earth tumbled from the sky, flattening myself to my windrider and urging it to move faster as the debris spilled down from above.

Moraine cried out as a jagged lump of rock collided with her wing, a sickening crunch sounding as it snapped.

"No," I gasped, wheeling my windrider around as she began to fall, weaving between the mass of Skyforgers who were scrambling to escape the plummeting lump of land.

Moraine's eyes met with mine as she fell, her silver braids tangling in the air before her, and I gritted my teeth, racing back towards the ground after her.

Dirt and bodies fell through the space dividing us, but I ignored them all, giving no notice to the lumps of rock which smacked against my spine or the rain of gravel which threatened to blind me. Moraine was my sister in arms. If she fell, I'd fall too. She was my strength when I found myself lacking, my spirit when my own threatened to break, my comfort when the horrors of war pressed close in the darkness of the night. She and Dalia were all I really had, and she would not fall alone.

A Griffin bellowed as it charged for me, its eagle's beak clacking menacingly as its sharp talons reached for me, meaning to pluck me from my windrider and feed me to the wrath of gravity.

I hurled a dagger at it, barely sparing a glance to make certain my blade found its mark and dropping into a roll as the beast's claws ripped across my shoulder. Its talons caught in the fabric of my leathers and jerked me backwards, but I threw all of my weight into my roll, forcing the enormous beast to move with me before kicking my boot against its lion's ass and propelling us away from each other.

Moraine was tumbling towards the ground even faster now, her broken wing curled uselessly across her chest while the other flapped feebly in an attempt to catch the wind and slow her fall.

I dove faster, tearing through the sky and looking at nothing but her, my arm outstretched as the ground rushed nearer, a unit of Raincarvers spotting us and turning their wrath our way.

Moraine threw her hand out and I caught it, her weight almost yanking me free of my windrider and we lurched precariously to one side. I snarled with determination, digging my heels into the sides of my windrider, refusing to fall free of it, hauling her up onto it instead.

Dalia tore past us, hurtling straight towards the unit of Raincarvers and scattering them as she aimed her windrider right for them and hurled more cocktails of faesine down on them too, causing their attacks to go wide, missing us with their blasts of water and spears of ice.

Moraine cursed in pain, her thighs clamping tight around the windrider and arms banding around my waist while her broken wing hung limp beside us, the pain clearly too sharp to allow her to shift them away.

The magical machine wasn't built to take two, but I was smaller than most riders, our combined weight surely no more than a large male, and she wasn't going to fall prey to this battle.

A resounding boom marked the lump of falling land hitting the ground at my back and I ducked my head as debris pelted in every direction and Fae screamed as they were crushed or wounded.

I didn't look down, setting my gaze on Ironwraith once more and leaning low against the windrider as I aimed for the floating landmass.

Dalia sped ahead of us, cutting through any who got in our way, and Moraine drew her sword to ward off attackers from the rear, but we were lucky; the lump of falling land had caused a void in the fighting where Fae had scrambled to escape being crushed.

We tore through the open space, a flash of beating black wings in my periphery letting me know that Cayde was still close, but I ignored him resolutely as we tore through the sky.

Dalia led the way, my windrider moving far slower with two onboard but still, we made it through the warring Fae and swept over the cliffs which marked the edge of Ironwraith.

I aimed for the open ground in front of Echo Fort, my eyes raking across the Fae who remained there, hunting for Dragor among them. I was both relieved and disappointed to find the prince absent and I swallowed a lump in my throat as we hurtled down to land, my boots skidding against the packed dirt as we came to a halt.

Dalia landed to our right, the three of us dismounting hastily and I met Moraine's dark eyes in silent question. She raised her chin, letting me know that she could withstand the agony of her injuries for a while yet and I nodded.

"Report," Imona sneered, and I looked around at the General as she stalked towards us, her narrowed gaze pinned on me.

She was a tall woman, all sharp angles and brutish attitude, her black hair cut severely to her chin. I didn't think I'd ever seen her break a smile and she certainly wouldn't dream of offering me one. Her trust in me was about as thin as spider silk and no amount of proving myself would ever change her opinion on the matter.

I was crossborn after all – birthed too early under the wrong sign. My mother had been waterborn and I had been planned for a Pisces birth, but the stars had intervened, bringing me to the world early and marking me as a child of Aquarius instead. It was why I had been sent to war at fourteen, why I had been tested and trialled more than any other I knew – though of course my sisters in arms had been placed in a similar position, but their shame was the work of their airborn parents – Dalia's father having failed in a mission which cost the Skyforgers a battle and Moraine's mother shaming her bloodline by being captured by the Stonebreakers. Yes, shame marked us all, and we had all been named as Sinfair – those whose reputation bore a stain which only glory in war could blot out - but they would never bear the weight of having weak blood.

"We retrieved the package," I replied, taking Ford from my pocket and holding the tiny snake out before me.

Imona reached for him but I withdrew my hand, ignoring Cayde who came to land on my left as if he had any right to stand with our unit.

"I have orders to deliver him to Prince Dragor myself," I said, placing the Basilisk back in my pocket and ignoring the tension which rolled through Imona as I denied her. But I had long since learned that this woman would never respect me, would never offer praise for my wins and would only ever hunt for my failures. It didn't matter – she wasn't the one who ruled here. I had fought with tooth and nail to draw the eye of the prince, to prove to him that I was worthy and earn the right to follow no command but his.

"Your windrider isn't designed to take two," Imona snapped, finding the failure she was so desperate for and proving my point. "Eight lashes for breaking protocol."

Dalia and Moraine bristled beside me, but they knew better than to try and intervene on my behalf. I fought my own battles in this place and I wouldn't stand for them getting involved.

Cayde released a low growl from my right and I shot him a dark look, not knowing why he was still here, let alone why he was involving himself in this. I dismissed him instantly, my gaze snapping back to the general.

"That's fair," I replied, though every piece of me screamed that it wasn't, that breaking protocol to save the life of one of our most loyal and ferocious warriors seemed more than worth it to me. "Now? Or after the retreat?"

General Imona sneered at me again, her contempt ripe in the air.

"After. You must report to Prince Dragor first. But once we are clear of the battlefield, I expect you in the garrison yard, stripped to the waist and ready to receive your punishment."

"I look forward to making amends for my failure," I replied, offering her an insolent smile which no doubt only made her hate me more.

Imona narrowed her eyes at me, jerking her chin towards Echo Fort and dismissing me without a word.

"Do you want us to report with you?" Dalia asked once we had moved far enough from Imona to speak privately.

"No," I replied, eyeing Moraine's broken wing with a lump in my throat, though I turned my thoughts sharply away from that path. "Go see the medics. I can handle Dragor – I'll petition for him to get you a healer," I added, and Moraine's brows pulled together.

"You don't have to-"

"You're one of his best fighters," I replied firmly. "What sense does it make to have you unable to fly for the next six months while it heals when the Reapers hold the power to fix it in an instant?"

Dalia and Moraine exchanged a look and I knew they were thinking as I was – the chances of Dragor getting a healer to take a look at her were slim to none, but that wouldn't stop me from trying.

Moraine nodded, the closest thing I would allow to thanks, and the two of them departed, leaving me to stalk towards Echo Fort alone.

No. Not alone – I still had a fucking shadow.

"Why are you still here?" I barked, whirling on Cayde who to my utter frustration didn't even bother to stop and answer me. He just kept walking towards the huge gates which led into the fortress without even pausing to say a word.

My fist curled around the pommel of my sword and I ground my teeth as I watched him go.

The ground shuddered beneath my boots and I looked around at the edges of the floating island where the Wind Weavers were now powering the turbines which moved Ironwraith through the sky, directing air magic through them and guiding us away.

I dug my heels into the ground, giving myself a moment to adjust to the motion beneath my boots as the wind tugged at my pale pink hair and tangled in the matted blood which now stained it.

"Answer me," I barked, stalking after Cayde and having to practically jog to catch up with his long stride.

He continued to ignore me, so I snatched a dagger from my belt before grabbing his arm and forcing him around, pressing the tip of it to his side in a perfect position to spear a kidney – not entirely fatal but it would hurt like a bitch. To my utter fury, he replied in kind, though his dagger rested firmly against my throat.

"Violent little thing, aren't you?" he said, giving me a look which was about as far from fear as physically possible.

"Killing an ally is punishable by death," I replied scathingly. "Removing an organ or two will probably only earn me a whipping or a week in the brig, either of which I'm willing to suffer for the pleasure of making you scream. How about you? Is my life worth yours, because you've chosen a particularly lethal place to cut."

Cayde narrowed his eyes at me, leaning closer. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart – I've heard that Succubae bleed black and I'm all kinds of interested in finding out if that's true."

I scoffed, shoving him away from me before slicing my thumb open on the tip of my blade, red blood pooling in answer to his question. "Looks like I'm a disappointment then."

"You said it." He took off again.

I had to fight the urge to hurl my dagger at his back, sheathing it instead as the island began to pick up speed and the sound of battle faded in favour of the bellowing wind.

The shields would go up to drown out the sound and block the worst of the frigid wind soon enough, but I assumed there were still units returning from their fight with the Raincarvers, requiring them to stay down for now.

I held my ground, counting to twenty, forcing my blood to settle and my temper to still. Facing Prince Dragor while wearing my emotions so close to the surface of my skin was never a good idea and I needed him to be impressed by me if I had any hope of him summoning a healer for Moraine.

I watched as Cayde disappeared into the fortress, my dislike of him festering and my irritation over him saving my ass growing. I didn't want to owe him anything. In fact, I would make it my priority to save his sorry life as soon as possible to make us even again so I could go back to not knowing he existed.

I closed my eyes, releasing a heavy breath and forcibly ignoring the honeyed eyes which peered back at me from the confines of my mind while fire flared around us, and strong arms held me close.

I sheathed my dagger and strode towards Echo Fort with my head held high, reminding myself that I had been victorious once again. The Basilisk in my pocket proved my worth and the Flamebringers had even been kind enough to destroy every drop of stolen venom that the Raincarvers had taken from him.

The huge wooden doors which led into the fort stood open and I ignored the guards standing either side of them as I passed. I stepped into the main hall which looked out through stone archways onto the garrison yard where formation exercises and punishments took place.

I bit my tongue as my gaze fell on the whipping post in the centre of the sandstone yard, knowing I would once again be making its acquaintance before the day was done thanks to General Imona.

I turned to my left, heading away from the barracks and deeper into the building, following the curving hallway as it rounded the garrison yard until I made my way to the stone stairs at the furthest end of it.

There was no sign of Cayde and I hoped that meant he wasn't meeting with Prince Dragor after all. I wanted to demand an answer for the need to send that asshole to check up on me, but demands didn't tend to go down well with the man who owned my allegiance.

More guards lined the doors to the prince's private chambers, eight of them scowling at me as I approached, their dislike clear even if several of them were painted with lust too. I could feel it, that crawling appreciation, the eyes which peeled me apart and spoke of sinful thoughts, it was power but that didn't stop my contempt from rising at the touch of it.

I ignored the guards, striding between them, my skin prickling as the wards placed over the entrance to Dragor's private quarters reached out and tested my magical signature, checking my identity and letting me pass.

My boots thumped from hard-wearing stone to the pristine runner emblazoned with our kingdom's coat of arms; a crowned eagle, wings spread wide within a swirling vortex, a lightning bolt caught in its talons.

I kept my head high, refusing to cringe at the mess I was leaving in my wake. I had my orders. Prince Dragor was clear that I was to report to him alone when the task was complete.

The opulence only grew the deeper I moved into the prince's quarters, passing heavy wooden doors which punctuated the sandstone walls, each of them closed to refuse me so much as a peek within. Tapestries depicting the most celebrated victories of our nation hung in the spaces between the arched doorways, the warriors represented in them watching me pass with silent judgement in their eyes. I fought so hard to be counted among them, yet sometimes, I doubted there was anything I could achieve which would cast the tarnish from my name. I was Sinfair and I always would be to anyone who counted.

The long corridor opened up into the prince's reception room where several of his advisors stopped talking abruptly as I rounded into their presence. A table heaped with refreshments; wine, fruit, bread and countless baked delicacies lay behind them, ignored. Several richly-crafted chairs remained unoccupied while the advisors chose to stand lumped closely together in the centre of the room.

"You were successful?" Tobias asked, peering down his long nose at me with expectation.

"I was," I agreed because the fact that Ironwraith was moving made it plain that I'd either failed or succeeded anyway.

He exchanged a look with the three others, silently communicating something which I didn't care to interpret.

"Casualties?" Vernon demanded, his red hair windswept and battle leathers splattered with what looked like mud up the side of his leg, letting me know he had been out there for at least part of it.

The others wore the tailored, impractical clothes which marked them as aristocracy, making it obvious they had not seen battle today, though that didn't surprise me. Skirmishes like the one we had just taken part in were mostly fought by the infantry with several colonels risking their necks alongside us and a few generals barking commands.

"I'm not here to make a full report," I replied.

"You have the package?" Amoria asked, the aged woman easily the smallest among them yet still a good head taller than me, her greying hair braided into a coronet on top of her head.

Any answer I may have given was interrupted by Tobias who chuckled, gesturing at me with the silver wine goblet clasped in his many-ringed hand.

"Is that a Basilisk in your pocket, or are you pleased to see me?" he boomed, sloshing some of the wine over the rim of the goblet and staining his fingers with it.

I was saved from responding to that remark as the doors to Dragor's office were thrown open, a wild breeze gusting past us and revealing him within the lavishly decorated space, leaning against his desk to the rear of the room.

"Release Ford from your protection, lieutenant," Prince Dragor said, not bothering to raise his voice and I hurried to take the small snake from my pocket before placing him on the rug before me.

Ford shifted without needing to be commanded, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his pasty skin, marked with countless lacerations and oozing wounds, his ragged breath scraping through the air like a drag of fingernails through my ears. But I didn't look at him directly. Prince Dragor had my full attention now.

He didn't blink, didn't flinch at the state of his prize, merely glanced at him then beckoned me into the office with the curl of a single, elegant finger.

I stepped over Ford, leaving the advisors to deal with him, muttered curses passing between them as they assessed his condition and lifted him between them using their air magic. I heard them departing as I strode into Dragor's office, but I didn't look back, my gaze set firmly on the prince and his icy blue eyes which tracked every step I took into the room.

The doors slammed behind me, his cast so subtle that I hadn't even noticed him moving his hand, but the air from his magic billowed around me, hurling the lengths of pink hair over my shoulders to dance across my face.

Dragor lifted a silver pocket watch from the desk beside him and glanced at it. "Fifty-eight minutes," he commented.

I remained silent, uncertain if the time it had taken me to complete the task he'd set pleased or disappointed him.

The watch hit the desk with a thump as he tossed it aside and my heart leapt, though my features remained utterly motionless.

"You're wounded," he added.

My brows pinched together in confusion – I couldn't recall sustaining any relevant injuries during the battle but he pushed to his feet, towering over me as he advanced, taking my hand in his.

My throat worked on a rough swallow as his skin met with mine, his fingers gently turning my filthy palm in his grip, lifting it as he ran his thumb up the length of mine before pressing down on the cut which I'd carved there myself to prove a point to that asshole, Cayde.

"Self-inflicted," I confirmed, raising my eyes to his, daring to meet the icy blue of his gaze.

Dragor lifted my hand to his mouth, smiling at me in the way a wolf might grin at a lamb before pressing his lips to the bleeding flesh, placing a kiss against the sting of the wound. The way he held my hand meant my fingertips brushed the sharp line of his jaw and I stilled, the temptation to flex my fingers and test the softness of his skin warring with the icy coldness in his expression.

"The venom was destroyed," I said, remaining utterly still, picking my words with care. "Flamebringers snuck into the battle - I think they sought to remove the weapon from both us and water but-"

"But you managed to extract Ford before they could end his life alongside the destruction of the venom," he finished for me and I blinked, uncertain what he thought of that.

"Yes."

"General Imona informs me you have earned a lashing," he went on, his words spoken against the sting of my thumb, my blood staining his lips and forcing my eyes to fall to them even as bitterness coiled in my gut.

Of course Imona would have sent a message ahead of me, eager as always to point out my failings. My gaze fell from the captivating torture of the prince to the desk behind him where a note bearing the tell-tale signs of having been folded into the shape of a bird was written in the general's scrawling script. No doubt she'd shot it directly to him using her air magic while I'd been caught up bickering with the trained dog the prince had sent to check up on me.

"Moraine was the one who got Ford out," I said, snapping my focus back to the prince, knowing he wouldn't appreciate any hesitation. "It was due to her that we succeeded. I earned my punishment for saving her when her wing was broken, but I believe I did the best thing for the interest of Stormfell. She is a ferocious warrior and sacrificing her when I was able to save her made no-"

"What was the priority of the mission?" Dragor asked coolly, his grip on my hand tightening the smallest amount, though I stilled as if he'd struck me.

"To retrieve Ford," I replied.

"And where was my asset when you dove from the sky to save your friend? "

"Moraine is my comrade, not my friend," I protested, knowing I'd said the wrong thing the moment the words spilled from my tongue.

"Ask it," he growled.

I raised my chin, steeling myself as I flexed my fingers against his jaw, hoping that was what he wanted, wondering if I'd ever be able to figure him out the way I did most men. I made no attempt to wield my Succubus Order gifts though – I wasn't a fucking fool.

"She needs a healer," I said, refusing to let my voice waver. "The medics can bind her wing, but it will be months before the bone heals well enough for her to fly and-"

"There it is," he breathed, withdrawing so sharply that I stood with my hand raised before me for several seconds as I took in the fact that he was no longer inhaling my oxygen, no longer touching me at all.

I bit my tongue against the words which ached to follow, dropping my hand then remaining still as his assessing eyes roamed over me, the silence stretching. I wanted to demand a healer for Moraine. I wanted to ask him why he had sent Cayde – why he had decided that I was incapable of fulfilling the task he'd set me? Why-

"Are you going to tell me why you reek of another man?" Dragor asked as he moved to my right, circling me like a hawk above a rabbit.

"I don't," I growled, knowing he could smell nothing on me but blood and death, totally thrown off by the unexpected question.

"So you haven't been embroiled with a winged Fae who was described as – what was it? – Oh yes." Dragor lifted Imona's note from his desk before circling behind me as he read her description of Cayde. "Bloodied from battle and exuding a level of arrogance fit for the company he kept – she isn't a fan of yours at all, is she?"

I said nothing. He was the one who had sent Cayde after all. What did he expect me to say of him? Was this some test? Another trial I'd been set up to pass or fail without knowing he was once again assessing me?

"So tell me why you saw fit to include a new member in your squad?" he pressed.

"He was very insistent," I ground out. "And we didn't have time to waste arguing over-"

"Did you catch him in your snare, little demon?" Dragor asked, his presence so close behind me that I couldn't help but turn my head, just enough to see him at my back, looming over me, his shadow consuming me entirely.

"No," I said truthfully. "I made no use of my Order gifts and he wasn't even stunned when first laying eyes on-"

My words cut off abruptly as Dragor's hand wrapped around my throat, his chest slamming to my back, his mouth dropping to my ear as he bent low to growl into it.

"And how did that feel?" he asked, amusement and malice equally ripe in his voice.

"Odd," I replied honestly.

I had met enough Fae who could resist the pull of my kind to know it wasn't impossible, though admittedly uncommon when looking upon my features for the first time, but Cayde's flippant dismissal of me had been new.

"I've warned you not to rely so heavily on your pretty face, haven't I?"

"I don't," I protested.

Did I use my lure to distract my opponents? Of course I did, just as all Fae used the gifts of their Order forms in battle, but I didn't rely on it and I was more than a match for those I met on the field without the need for tricks.

Dragor breathed a laugh which crested the shell of my ear and made my hair flutter against my neck. His free hand closed over mine where I had gripped the dagger at my waist the moment he'd grabbed me, and I felt his smile as he moved his mouth to my cheek.

His white battle leathers had to be getting filthy pressed so tightly to mine, but he didn't seem to care about that as he held me captive in his grasp.

"You did well," he said finally, and I exhaled slowly past the grip he maintained on my throat. "Though not well enough to save you from that lashing."

"I wasn't asking you to-"

"No. You never do," he said in a low voice which had my skin prickling as his hand slipped from my throat, fingers trailing down the sensitive skin until he was lightly clasping the neck of my leathers. "You just ask me to call upon the Reapers to help your…comrade."

I said nothing. Pleading him to help Moraine certainly wouldn't help.

Dragor stepped back, my body flushing with heat as he released me, leaving me uncertain if I craved his return or relished the freedom. He moved his hands to my shoulders and slowly, deliberately, ran them down my spine, his thumbs scoring the lines of my shoulder blades in a way which had me biting back the ungodly sound that rose in the back of my throat.

I shut down the thoughts which rushed for me, the memories, the yearning, the fucking raw need-

"One day," he murmured, almost to himself as he withdrew, leaving me trembling from the possessive touch. "You and I will stop dancing around this and-"

The ground beneath my feet lurched so suddenly that even my sharply-honed reflexes couldn't stop me from staggering forward and falling over Dragor's desk. His weight collided with mine a heartbeat later, a furious bellow escaping him as we clutched the desk which was thankfully bolted to the ground and held on as the world tipped beneath our feet.

The screams came before the bells began to toll – the familiar rhythm clanging out a pattern which let every Fae on Ironwraith know precisely who was attacking us.

"Stonebreakers," I spat in surprise as Dragor shoved himself off of me and stalked to the arched window behind his desk, throwing it wide.

"We'll conclude this later," he snarled before leaping from the window and letting the air snatch him into its grasp.

He was gone by the time I lurched to the open window, my fingers biting into the metal frame as I looked out over the view offered by the position of his office on the fourth floor of the fort. Sunlight speared the sky as it punctured the horizon ahead of me and I squinted against it, holding up a hand to look out over the landscape far beneath the outer edge of our flying island.

I couldn't make out much of the rugged landscape but as another echoing boom rocked the entire island, almost hurling me from the window and marking a second harpoon's impact with our land, I found myself not caring. This was war and that was all I knew. My blood hummed with power as the Ether of the world called out to me and I released a sharp whistle, hoping to Aquarius that an air wielder had recharged my windrider, because today's fighting clearly hadn't come to an end.