Wingborn (Wingborn 1)

Chapter 12: Taming the Hurricane, Part 1

Cumulo tucked his wings in and dropped several feet, before catching them again – an airborne sigh. "You think too much." His voice was a reassuring vibration against her.

"It was a fair question, after what you said."

He clucked reproachfully. "I was joking. Since you started training you've lost all sense of humour. Not that you had much to begin with."

She smiled into his feathers, loving the clean smell of him touched with a sweet hint of dust. "Did it ever occur to you that you're not funny?"

"Of course not. The fault has always been yours."

"Naturally."

"But even without a true appreciation for my genius, I'd rather have you than anyone. I can't imagine a better flight partner. You're my Wingborn. Even though I can't live without you, I don't wish to either. I'm yours as you are mine. If I made disparaging remarks about the Choice it's because I pity all other miryhls. They'll never have what we have, nor comprehend what they're missing. You are like flight to me."

Stunned to hear such words from her proud and often irreverent Wingborn, Mhysra couldn't speak. Instead she reached forward as far as she could and hugged him tightly. Tears stung her eyes, from the cold and the wind as well as emotion, and she buried her face in his feathers.

"Are you crying?" he rumbled. "You'd better not be crying. Your nose always runs when you cry and it ruins my feathers. I am not a handkerchief."

Chuckling, she sat up and wiped her face. "I'm not crying."

"Good. It would damage my reputation should anyone catch you being so unashamedly girlish. There is no room for maudlin sentiment in the Riders."

"Yes, sir," she chirped, saluting cheekily.

"Are you mocking me, student?" he growled, in a perfect impersonation of Sergeant Rees.

"Never, sir."

"Because if you were, student, I would have to take severe action."

"I would never dare mock you, most gracious and brilliant sir."

"Good. I should hate, for example, to have to do this!" Wings tucking in tight, he clamped her legs against his sides and plummeted into freefall. Had Mhysra been a little less familiar with her miryhl it would have been terrifying, especially when the world turned and the clouds rushed up to meet them, but after years of flying together she knew him almost as well as she knew herself. Which was why when she felt his wings twitch, she gripped his neck feathers, tightened her thighs and held on.

She still screamed, though, when Cumulo began to spin. Her heart thundered, her chest felt tight and her eyes closed. The wind roared in her ears, slapping her face and pulling at her hair as it raced over them while they tumbled down and around. With a final roll, Cumulo righted himself, swooping across the clouds and scattered rocks below.

Mhysra laughed breathlessly, face buried against his neck. "You'll kill me one day."

He didn't answer. Fresh tension shivered through him and he powered upwards with heavy beats of his wings, lifting them higher with each hard pull. "Ship," he growled.

She sat up in surprise. A skyship was drifting over the Cloud Sea towards them. Specks circled the unfamiliar vessel, swooping in and out of the hatch doors on the bottom of the ship's five tiers. Thinner than the broad hulls her family favoured, the dark craft was sleek and slender, perfect for cutting through the air. The gasbag was red and black, the insignia unknown.

She was intrigued. "I'm game, if you are."

He chuckled. "Far be it for me to deny your pleasure, my lady."