Traitor (10 page)

Doubt crept into my mind. What was I doing here? It was only a matter of time until I was sent to fight. In a few days, or maybe even hours, I could be facing this same choice—to kill my mother’s people or not. And what would I do then?

“As far as I know, halfbreeds are exempt from the decree. Technically, people like you aren’t even supposed to exist, right?” Felix gave me a nudge like he was trying to cheer me up. “I’m sorry, Jae.”

“I saw Sile before I left Blybrig,” I blurted suddenly. I don’t know why I told him. Sile had warned me not to tell anyone. But Felix was one of the only people in my life I knew I could always trust.

His brows went up in surprise. “He came back? Why?”

I bowed my head slightly and buried my face in one of my hands. “He told me to go to Luntharda. He said he wanted me to see what my mother’s people were going through. He said there was some sort of ritual that I had to perform in order to tap into my full power.”

Now Felix was the one being quiet. When I looked at him again, I could almost see the wheels turning in his eyes. He was busy thinking about something. “So I guess this means your power does have something to do with the gray elves,” he whispered.

I cringed. “I guess so.”

“Do you think he knew this was coming? This mass genocide?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He didn’t say anything about it. But then again, he probably wouldn’t have told me even if he did know.”

We sat there without saying a word for what felt like a long while. In that time, my fears and worries ran rampant through my brain. I was confused. I didn’t know what part I had to play in all this, or what my power, the god stone, or my dreams had to do with it all—but there was no escaping it now.

“So that just leaves one question,” Felix said as he let out a deep sigh.

I was really curious how he had narrowed everything down to one question. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around most of what was happening now. I sent him a dubious look and waited to hear what that one question was.

He laughed humorlessly, like this whole situation was cruelly ironic to him. “What amazing, unexpected thing are we going to do next?”

Hearing such awful news from Felix had effectively distracted me from what was sure to come next. He was a new lieutenant, which meant he had a night full of brotherly bonding and excessive drinking ahead of him. Not to mention, he was about to meet his partner—the man I also suspected was his real father.

I should have warned him.

As soon as I heard the sparring room door open, I regretted having talked myself out of it. There definitely wasn’t time bring it up now. Jace, Prax, and a few of the other riders in our flight were coming our way.

“Thick as thieves aren’t they?” Prax chuckled as they gathered around us, laughing and peering curiously at their newest rookie.

Felix and I got up right away. I kept my mouth shut while my best friend started introducing himself around the group. He shook hands with the other men, smiled, and carried on like nothing was the matter.

That is, until he got to Prax.

“I’m Lieutenant Darion Prax,” he said in his cheerful, booming voice. “I take it you took the bid to act as my wing end?”

Felix hesitated when the big rider extended one of his hands to shake. Seeing them standing together, face to face, was downright eerie. Felix wasn’t nearly as tall as Prax was, but his brawny build was practically the same. They definitely had the same wavy, dark gold hair, although Prax’s was beginning to turn gray. They had the same face-shape, the same casual demeanor, and the same cunning twinkle in their dark eyes. There was no way they couldn’t be related. They just had to be.

The longer I stood there comparing all their similarities, the harder it was for me to keep my expression neutral. Anxious tension put a hard knot in the back of my throat. I started noticing the way everyone else in our group was looking at them, too. Jace and I weren’t the only ones who were seeing it now. The question was … would Felix and Prax notice it, too?

Prax’s hand hung out there, waiting to shake Felix’s, for what felt like an eternity. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Then Felix smiled. He laughed. And he shook Prax’s hand like nothing was wrong. “Yes, sir. You came very highly recommended. I look forward to riding with you.”

That was it.

They went on talking like nothing was wrong. In fact, they seemed to really be hitting it off. They were laughing and talking, already acting like they had known each other for years. I didn’t see any hint of recognition in either of their faces.

As we all started to leave the sparring room, I stepped in closer to Jace wanting to ask him about it. Before I could get a word out, Jace punched me in the side hard enough to make me stagger and wheeze. He shot me a scorching glare of warning and growled, “Stay out of it. It’s none of our business.”

I wheezed again and nodded.

Once everyone had gotten off their daytime work shifts and met down at the bottom of the tower, we set out into the city for another welcoming party. Everyone started bickering like a bunch of angry hens about which bar was best, and yet we ended right back at the Laughing Fox again. I was starting to suspect this was a typical routine for them. No wonder it was known as a “dragonrider bar.”

Knowing the evening was going to be geared toward getting Felix as drunk as humanly possible, I was extra cautious about how much I was drinking. Felix unfortunately had no idea what was going on. I sort of doubted he would have put up much of a fight, though, even if he had known. Four mugs of ale in, he was starting to slur and was having a hard time sitting upright. But I’d seen Felix drink a lot more than that, so I knew we still had a long night ahead of us.

I sat next to Jace and nursed my one mug all night. Thankfully, no one noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t care. Felix was their victim tonight, so I was left alone for the most part.

That is, until one of the barmaids started getting a little more friendly than usual with me. I still remembered what Jace had told me about them—how they were just after tips and being a new lieutenant made me an easy target. So the first time she ran a hand through my hair teasingly, I didn’t think much of it. Granted, I wasn’t exactly used to being petted like that, but it didn’t really mean anything.

Or so I thought.

She was pretty, I guess. That was this bar’s claim to fame, after all. But I tried not to make too much eye contact with her. She had ginger-colored hair tied up in ribbons with a few curly pieces framing her face. She batted her eyes at me, and always made a point to touch me somehow whenever she came around the table to bring us another round of ale or food. The other riders in my flight noticed, and the heckling inevitably started.

“Guess she’d like to take a nibble of those pointy ears, eh?” Prax laughed.

“You should have seen him juggling the girls at last year’s ball,” Felix chimed in. “It’s like they didn’t even notice he was a halfbreed. Totally not fair.”

Beside me, Jace snickered in agreement. “It’s the cheekbones. Women go stupid for that kind of thing.”

Despite my best efforts to keep it in, my face was burning with embarrassment. I couldn’t even think of anything to say in my own defense. Not that it would have done me any good if I’d tried.

Thankfully, I got a good excuse to leave the bar for a few minutes when Felix started to get sick. After six mugs of ale, I knew he was bound to pass out or throw up—maybe even both. So when he started weaving dangerously in his seat and complaining that his stomach hurt, I knew it was time to go outside for some air.

“Come on. Let’s take a breather,” I said while trying to coax him out of his chair. I let him lean on me as I hauled him out the back door of the bar.

Felix didn’t put up much of a fight. But he did insist, amidst his slurred words, that we were coming back for more. The rest of the riders in our flight, Jace and Prax included, cheered him on as we went. I guess they approved of his determination to jump right back into a fresh mug of ale as soon as he was finished.

No one could ever accuse Felix of being a lightweight. He could drink with the best of them. But those men in our flight were really putting him through the ringer tonight. We barely made it out the back door before Felix was on his knees, throwing up in the alleyway. I couldn’t do much for him except make sure he didn’t choke or pass out.

“You should probably take a break,” I suggested as I watched him heave. “Have some water or at least eat something before you drink anything else, yeah?”

I couldn’t understand his reply. It was garbled as he started throwing up again. He definitely needed to drink something other than ale or liquor if he was going to make it through tonight with his dignity intact.

The weather outside was still miserable. Where we stood in the dark, narrow alley behind the bar, there was snowy slush gathered along the sides of the cobblestone street. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and without my cloak, I was feeling every puff of frigid air against my body.

Felix was standing up again, wiping his chin on his sleeve, and squinting at me like he was too drunk to remember who I was. I started to loop one of his arms over my shoulder when a sound made us both stop cold in our tracks. It wasn’t anything either of us had ever heard before—at least, not like this. But as soon as we heard it, both our gazes snapped upward to the tower that loomed over us.

The battle horn was blaring.

We hurried back inside where Jace and the others were putting on their cloaks and getting ready to leave. No one was smiling or laughing anymore. We only waited long enough for Felix to pound a glass of water before we left the bar in a hurry, the horn still blaring in the cold night wind. Torches were being lit along the ramparts, and I could see the dark silhouettes of soldiers running to and fro. People were trickling out of their houses and shops, holding candles and wearing heavy coats, to peer curiously up at the tower.

No one in our group spoke as we jogged all the way back through the gates into the tower. We ran up the stairs, and everyone was thoroughly winded and sweaty by the time we made it to the dragonriders’ levels. Inside, the halls were packed with men and gear. It didn’t take us long to figure out that Gold Squadron was being deployed to Barrowton.

Memories of my training in the academy, of many sleepless nights spent dreading the mournful wail of the battle horn, came rushing back as I stood against the wall with Jace and the other riders of Blue Squadron. We watched as those being mobilized rushed to prepare. They came out of their rooms fully dressed, their helms under their arms and go-bags over their shoulders.

As the riders of Gold Squadron filed down to the stable, we followed in complete silence. My nerves were drawn tight. I was on edge watching all these steel-eyed men gather in full battle dress to hear Colonel Bragg give them a quick brief of their situation. It wasn’t something the rest of us were required to hear, but it wasn’t something I would have dared miss.

The atmosphere was tense and so quiet you could have heard a pin drop as he explained they would be departing immediately, keeping tight formation because of the storm. They would be making for Barrowton for a dawn surprise assault. Things weren’t going well in the effort to retake the city, apparently. The infantry on the ground had called for aid.

And the Dragonriders of Northwatch would answer.

All I could think about was my brother. Roland was at Barrowton. He was one of those infantrymen calling for help. I couldn’t even consider that he might already be dead. Roland was strong. He would survive—or so I prayed.

There were about fifty riders in Gold Squadron, and watching them all mount up with their armor gleaming was a beautiful sight. Something about it made emotion stir in my chest. I was proud to be counted among them, but I was also terrified of when my own day came to be standing where they were.

The heavy gates of the tower were rolled open. One by one, the riders filed out into the howling spring storm. It was like watching bats exiting a cave as they all spiraled and swarmed at the top of the tower, waiting until everyone was out to assume their formations. They vanished like phantoms into the gloom of the cold night, leaving us all in a state of numb silence.

Then came the boom of a familiar roar.

I knew it right away—even before I saw the shape of a monstrous, winged black beast sailing past the tower. Icarus let out a second, bellowing roar that shook the very foundations of the tower. He spat a plume of flame that lit up the dark, illuminating the black-armored rider sitting on his back.

All the dragonriders standing around me inside the tower cheered in triumph. They chanted the name “Seraph” over and over like it was some sort of battle cry. Just the sight of Icarus was absolutely terrifying. I couldn’t blame them for being inspired by it. But knowing it was the woman I loved sitting on his back, riding toward blood and doom, made it impossible for me to join in.