Wingborn

by Becca Lusher

  Thirteen

  Choices

  30th Fledgling

  DERRAIN WAS SWEATING, but given the milder temperatures of approaching autumn, he couldn’t blame the weather for it. Wiping his hands on his breeches, he took a deep breath and entered the temporary eyries. He’d wanted to visit ever since he had received his results five days ago, but hadn’t dared. Everyone said it was bad luck to see the miryhls before the Choice. Students who ignored this tradition were rumoured to make bad matches or have their partnership severed in nasty, abrupt ways before graduating from Aquila.

  As a skysailor, Derrain had known many superstitions and this one was far too important to ignore. Somewhere inside, a miryhl was waiting for him. He didn’t want to mess anything up.

  “I can’t do it,” he murmured, looking around the crowd of students, Riders, civilians and miryhls. So many miryhls, positioned in individual, roped-off enclosures, their perches at ground level so that each eagle could see and be seen.

  There were so many. How was he supposed to choose? “I can’t do it.”

  “You haven’t even looked yet,” Mhysra said, clearly amused as she stood beside him.

  “I’m looking now,” he replied. Shafts of sunlight poured down through the hatches, illuminating the busy scene. Fifty miryhls had been brought to Nimbys to match with thirty-two students and nine Riders. However, there were considerably more than forty people wandering around, viewing the spectacle, and more than one youngster looked as lost as he felt. Where did he even start?

  “I really can’t do this.”

  Rolling her eyes, Mhysra dragged him away from the crowded entrance. “You can’t see anything from over here. Come on, walk with me, and we’ll see what you can and can’t do.”

  While Derrain was grateful to Mhysra for agreeing to help him, she didn’t understand. She’d grown up surrounded by miryhls, living with one as part of her family. For her this was normal. There were no life-changing decisions for her to make today.

  However, as she led him around, commenting on build and temperament, he soon remembered why he’d asked for her help. Big, small, dark, pale, glossy, scrawny, she had something to say about each eagle, finding strengths and weaknesses that he’d never imagined. The eyries were full of students listening to Riders and their families, but no one else had an expert like Mhysra by their side.

  Derrain could only stare, wondering if this was the one or that one?

  How would he tell? Would it happen in an instant? Or was it more ordinary? Did he just pick the one he liked the look of the most? If so, how would he tell? What was he looking for? What was he supposed to be looking for? While he might no longer think that all miryhls looked the same, he still didn’t know how to see the best in them. They were miryhls – great, gods-blessed birds crafted out of necessity and dragon magic. What right had he to judge their worthiness?

  “Hey, Mhysra! Derry! You both survived, then?”

  Jolted out of his anxieties, Derrain spotted Mherrin Wrentherin inside the nearest enclosure. Dressed in the brown and tan of Wrentheria, he was here to help his mother and any passing stranger.

  “More than survived, we both passed with honours,” Mhysra told her cousin, warming Derrain with her pride and praise. She might have been younger than him, but in Rider terms she was the first person he sought approval from.

  “Well done.” Mherrin gave Derrain a congratulatory backslap. “Now for your reward. Have you picked out yours yet? If it’s one of ours, we’ll reserve it for you. You’re practically family.”

  Derrain could only shake his head at the overwhelming offer on such an overwhelming day.

  “Steady on, Mherrin,” Mhysra said, squeezing Derrain’s arm. “We haven’t seen them all yet, let alone spotted any favourites. Not that he could go wrong with one of ours, but there are so many here. More than I expected.”

  “Just don’t take too long,” Mherrin warned. “It’ll only get busier and it’s first come, first claimed. If you do want one of ours, Derry, and I’m not about, don’t fret – Mam, Mhylo and Mullia are all here. That’s if you’ve managed to shake this one off.” He tugged the end of Mhysra’s braid.

  She slapped his hand away. “I’m helping him.”

  “And I’m a pyreflyer,” her cousin mocked, looking smug.

  Mhysra blinked and Derrain stared. “Are you?” they asked in unison.

  Mherrin gave a tentative nod and was instantly engulfed by his delighted cousin. Grinning, Derrain managed to shake his hand and offer his own congratulations before prising Mhysra off.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Mherrin warned. “But it’s why I’m here. Mam finally talked Da into it. Training doesn’t start until Half-Year.” His cautious words were ruined by his grin. “Another half-moon. I can’t wait!”

  They traded congratulations again, then Mhysra pulled Derrain away, admonishing her cousin for distracting them when they had important work to do.

  Mherrin rolled his eyes. “If you need a better guide, Derry, let me know. She’s biased.”

  “You’d pair him with a pyrefly,” Mhysra retorted. “Just because I prefer feathers over leather, doesn’t mean I’m biased. We’re Riders.”

  “We’ll see.” With a final wave, Mherrin turned away to answer a curious student’s questions.

  “Ignore him,” Mhysra muttered, linking her arm firmly through Derrain’s. “I’ll help you just fine.”

  He squeezed her arm. “I know you will. I wouldn’t have asked you else.”

  “Come on then,” she ordered, and dragged him around the rest of the eyries.

  When they’d completed the circuit and seen every miryhl on offer, Derrain was still no wiser. The pressure was giving him a headache and being surrounded by similarly panicked faces was not helping. The expectation in the building was enormous, enough to make anyone scream.

  Apart from Mhysra. Standing near the entrance, she drank from a water flask and gossiped with her Aunt Mhylla, freshly arrived from filing the miryhl registration forms at the Rider offices.

  “What will you do now?” Mhylla asked her niece, and Derrain wondered if his input was even expected. Perhaps they should just go ahead and make his Choice for him. They were far more qualified.

  Mhysra shook her head. “I’d hoped a couple would have caught his eye, but nothing yet.”

  “What, not one?” Mhylla stared at Derrain, her dark eyes a sharp reminder of her sister, plunging him into memories of days aboard ship, scurrying like a rat to keep out of the countess’ way. She had the same commanding stare, determined set to her mouth and confidence in the merest twitch of her eyebrow. Formidable ladies the Wrentherin. “Don’t you have a list?”

  Since she was asking him rather than Mhysra, Derrain snapped to attention. “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Mhylla sent Mhysra a chiding glance. “Everyone needs a list.”

  Derrain shook his head, having never imagined having a miryhl before. Becoming a Rift Rider wasn’t his lifelong ambition as it was for some. He’d only considered it since the proclamation readmitting women to the Riders. Knowing Mhysra would want to try, he’d thought she might need a friend along for company. So he’d never thought about the kind of miryhl he wanted. Just as long as he had one.

  Mhylla frowned, looking prepared to make the Choice without him. Which suited him fine. “He’ll need strength with that height and those shoulders.”

  Mhysra nodded. “I know. Something calm, with endurance over speed. Derry’s got promise as a fighter and he’d choose pike over bow.”

  “Stalwart soldier,” Mhylla agreed, gazing into the shadows. “Nothing too showy or cocky.”

  Mhysra shook her head, smiling at him. “That wouldn’t fit. He doesn’t need a Cue.”

  He raised his eyebrows in mock offence, even though he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with a miryhl like Cumulo. Not that he didn’t like Cumulo, but his arrogance made Derrain constantly want to poke fun. It was vital that he had a miryhl
he could get along with. That was true for everyone, though he doubted many realised it. He smiled at Mhysra, doubly glad she was helping him.

  “I think I know the bird,” Mhylla announced. “Not one of mine, but I brought her down.”

  When the two women strode off, chatting about a small Lowland breeder Mhylla sometimes did business with, Derrain assumed he was supposed to follow. Their conversation didn’t mean much to him, but he didn’t mind. All that mattered was the miryhl they were leading him to, one that might become his. Personally recommended by the great Mhylla Wrentherin. He chuckled, wondering how many Rift Rider pairs could say that.

  “Here.”

  He blinked at the bird in front of him, wondering what made it any different from a dozen others in the eyries. It was on the larger size, he noticed, with curiously pale eyes in a soft barley shade. Its feathers were glossy brown with a russet hue under sunlight, but its only distinguishing markings were the black tips to its wings and tail.

  “Well, go on, make friends,” Mhylla encouraged, unhooking the barrier rope so that he could get closer.

  Mhysra showed no fear crossing the unmarked line, holding out her hands and smiling as the bird lowered its head. “What a fine girl you are,” she greeted, raising her eyebrows at Derrain, silently questioning why he was standing on the walkway like a lummox.

  With a deep breath, he cautiously approached the miryhl. She waited, the feathers on top of her head rising with interest, before she lowered her beak and rumbled. Years of observing Cumulo and Mhysra had taught Derrain a few things, so he gently tickled the eagle’s crest. It was warm and smooth.

  “Her name’s Zephyr,” Mhylla said.

  “Zephyr,” he repeated, and the miryhl rubbed her beak against his chest. She seemed friendly, which was all he could ask for as he stroked the exposed skin beneath her eye. Both drooped shut and she purred, the sound vibrating through her beak into him.

  Growing more confident, he stroked over her face to her neck, fingers burrowing through the abundant feathers, silky soft and rippling beneath his touch. The miryhl raised her head, inviting him to stroke her chest, back and wings.

  Dazed, Derrain explored the bird with his hands, having never had such an opportunity before. Cumulo didn’t like being touched without permission, so it was the first time Derrain had caressed glossy feathers or felt powerful flight muscles. His hand ruffled over her chest and her steady heartbeat pulsed against his palm. He was enchanted.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Mhysra agreed. “She is.”

  Zephyr chuckled, twitching her wings as if she was embarrassed, and Derrain knew he had to have her. She was lovely, strong and humble. Bigger than Cumulo and built on sturdier lines, she looked comfortable. Which was how he viewed himself. Not too showy, nor too fine. She would be strong enough to put up with him and was sweet besides. What more could he ask for?

  When she turned towards him, he stared into her pale eyes and smiled. “Yes.”

  At the edge of his vision he saw Mhysra grin as Mhylla rubbed her hands together. “I’ll fetch the paperwork.” Marking the slate outside the enclosure, Mhylla rummaged through her bag and handed him a stack marked with Zephyr’s name. “Test flights are tomorrow, bright and early. Mhysra, I expect you and Cue to lend a wing.”

  “Of course.” She shrugged, unbothered by the announcement, while Derrain felt as if the ground had tilted beneath him.

  “Test flight?” he croaked, one hand still buried in Zephyr’s feathers.

  Mhylla raised her eyebrows. “How else can we know if you’ll make a decent match or not? We don’t allow a preliminary bond on sight alone, you know. No one is quite that stupid.”

  He blinked. That was yet another thing he’d not really thought about: flying. On miryhl-back. “I’ve never flown a miryhl before.”

  Mhysra chuckled. “Not many have. You’ve flown bullwings and horsats, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, but compared to a giant eagle his flights on leatherwings were meaningless.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Mhylla assured him, patting his shoulder. “Now, I’d best get back to work. I’ll see you both later.”

  While Derrain tried to wrap his mind around the changes sweeping over him, Mouse bounced out of the crowd. “Mhysra! Derry! Have you made your Choice yet? Not you, Mhysra, of course, you’ve already got Cumulo. Is this yours, Derry? There are so many! I never imagined there were this many miryhls in the whole world. Isn’t it amazing? I don’t know where to start. Are you done? Can you help me? What should I look for?”

  Mhysra put her hands on his shoulders to stop Mouse’s jittering and raised her eyebrows at Derrain. “We’re done, aren’t we?” When he nodded, she turned to Mouse and started questioning him about what he wanted, what he’d seen and whether there were any he liked.

  Ignoring the chatter, Derrain turned and tickled Zephyr’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She blew softly on his face and rubbed his chest with her beak, then shoved him playfully away.

  “I can take a hint,” he chuckled and, with a final disbelieving stroke of her silky feathers, he let Mouse sweep him up in his bouncing bundle of enthusiasm.

  AFTER CHOOSING MOUSE a placid male named Onyx, Mhysra turned her attention to Corin, finding her a female whose mottled feathers would make an ideal scout. Then others asked for help and the rest of the day vanished. Only Dhori had chosen by himself, and Mhysra had been impressed by the slender silvery Latinym.

  It had been a good day. She’d thoroughly enjoyed herself, but was also relieved when she could finally leave. Not that she expected much rest, since her aunt and cousins were staying at Kilpapan House. After a short bath, Mhysra left her room to find things were even worse than she’d anticipated: her parents were entertaining. Lady Kilpapan had arrived from Wrentheria with the rest of the family and their eagles that morning, and since so many members of the miryhl-breeding community were in the city, she couldn’t resist bringing them all together. Life was business, as she frequently reminded her children.

  Milluqua greeted Mhysra at the bottom of the stairs and they shared a grimace. “I’m sorry. I wanted to warn you, but mother roped me into organising and there was never any time to send a messenger.”

  “Wonderful,” Mhysra sighed, clicking her fingers to call Bumble away from where she was tugging on the ribbons strewn across the chandelier. The still-growing pup huffed and fluttered down from the ceiling, wings drooping.

  “Poor girl,” Milluqua chuckled, scratching the nakhound behind the ears. “We’ve had to shut her in your room most of the day.”

  “I thought things in there were a little more haphazard than usual,” Mhysra said, smiling at her sister and the puppy. She’d half-hoped that the dog would transfer her affections to Milluqua, since they spent so much time together. Unfortunately, even though Bumble liked Milluqua, she still preferred Mhysra. Gods alone knew why, since she didn’t even feed the creature. “There’s no accounting for taste.” She patted Bumble and ruffled her wings, barely managing to avoid an enthusiastic lick.

  “Aunt Mhylla will want to see her,” Milluqua said, entering the ballroom, where a buffet had been laid out to tide people over until supper. “And at least you’ll have people to talk to tonight.”

  Mhysra hummed in agreement, filling a plate with delicacies and slipping a slice of chicken to Bumble. It certainly would be nice to enjoy one of her parents’ parties for once. Usually they were full of nobles and merchants who thought too highly of themselves to waste time on the hoyden daughter. Unless they were younger sons ordered to court the wild Kilpapan chit, for her connections and impressive dowry. Mhysra hated the false smiles, feigned interest and lack of conversation. She had nothing in common with those people. Thankfully, tonight would be different, and she planned to make the most of it.

  “Oh, there’s Derry. I asked mother to invite him. Can I leave you with him? There were supposed to be three plates of berry tarts out here
, but I can only see two. And I’m certain there should have been a trifle…” Still muttering, Milluqua smiled at Derrain and hurried off in a swirl of silk.

  “You’re a fool,” Mhysra said, handing him a plate. “Brave, but ultimately foolish.”

  He chuckled and picked up a chicken leg. “I thought you could use the company, and it would have been rude to refuse. Your mother’s never invited me inside before.”

  “Maybe she’s proud of you.” Mhysra shrugged as they worked their way along the table, before taking their plates to sit out of the way. They were soon joined by her cousins, self-consciously balancing plates on their knees. Thanks to Milluqua’s attentive refilling of their wineglasses, though, everyone relaxed as the night progressed.

  To Mhysra’s surprise, more than one Rider attended. Even Lieutenant Lyrai made an appearance. Mhysra thought that was brave after the speculations at the Midsummer ball, although now that she thought about it her mother’s egalitarian guest list finally began to make sense. Captain Myran, Lieutenants Stirla, Fleik and Imaino, Sergeants Honra and Rees also came, the latter not staying long, for which everyone was thankful.

  A string quartet played for dancing and the addition of the Riders livened things up considerably. Laughing her way through the spirited supper dance with Lieutenant Stirla, Mhysra couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun at her parents’ house. If society affairs were more like this, she could almost reconcile herself to the life her parents demanded.

  As Stirla led her off the floor, her hand was snatched up and gallantly kissed. “Lady Mhysra! You look radiant tonight.”

  Breathless from the dance, she smiled at the handsome face. “Captain Torven! What a delightful surprise.”

  “The generosity of Nimbys is famous, my lady.” He winked. “As are your family.”

  Her smile faded as her parents and Milluqua approached, gathering their guests for supper.

  Lady Kilpapan returned Torven’s bow with a polite nod. “I had no idea you were acquainted with my daughter, captain.”

  “A recent pleasure,” he explained. “We encountered one another flying into Nimbys two days ago. My ship was honoured by the presence of so beautiful a Rift Rider.” He smiled flirtatiously and didn’t see her wince.

  Nor did he seem to notice when Lord Kilpapan gripped her arm, preventing her from slipping away.

  “Rift Rider?” Lady Kilpapan laughed smoothly. “My daughter is not a Rift Rider.”

  Oblivious to the tension, the captain waved a dismissive hand. “Student, Rider, it will all be the same thing in the end. Such a flyer and such a miryhl. The Riders are blessed to have her.”

  “A noble sentiment,” Lord Kilpapan ground out between clenched teeth.

  “We are indeed lucky to have such a Wingborn in our ranks,” a new voice agreed, and Mhysra blinked as Captain Myran joined their conversation. The presence of Lyrai and Stirla beside him explained everything, and she shut her eyes, dreading that her father would express his contempt and embarrass them all. She’d never spoken to the captain before, but had heard so much about the near-legendary man, so to make his acquaintance under such circumstances mortified her. Staring at the floor, she waited for the storm to break.

  “Women have no place in the Rift Riders,” Lord Kilpapan growled.

  “In times such as these, my lord, there is a place in the Riders for any brave enough to try,” Myran corrected. “As Wingborn your daughter is a precious gift that should not be wasted.”

  Her father’s hand tightened painfully and Mhysra locked her jaw to stifle a yelp.

  “Sir,” Stirla murmured, and it was the earl’s turn to hide his pain as she was abruptly freed.

  “There is no need for this, my lord,” Lieutenant Lyrai said softly, removing his hand from the earl. “You should be proud to have such a daughter.”

  “Proud?” Lord Kilpapan spat, rubbing his wrist. “How can I be proud of –”

  “Our youngest has always been wilful,” the countess interrupted with a flat laugh. “So we permit her follies in the hope that she will grow out of them. Is this not so, Mhysra?”

  She forced herself to meet her mother’s cold eyes, aware that the entire room was watching them now. This was not how she’d wanted to tell her parents, but as her arm throbbed and Milluqua’s hand slipped into hers with a squeeze of support, she realised the truth was already out. At last.

  “I know my duty,” she replied, licking her dry lips. “It is only right that I see it done.”

  “Duty,” snarled her father, but his wife silenced him with a hand on his arm.

  “Indeed,” Lady Kilpapan replied, her words clipped. “I am sure Aquila will welcome you with open arms as you do your duty. No Kilpapan has ever turned aside from what is right.”

  “A fine sentiment,” Captain Myran murmured. “You have much to be proud of in your daughter, my lady. Both your daughters.” He nodded at Milluqua.

  “Indeed,” the countess repeated, her smile not reaching her eyes. “The pride we take in our daughters is exactly what they deserve. I believe supper is being served.” She turned her husband away and led the guests into the dining room. Most departed slowly, glancing back at the tense group.

  “Gods,” Mhysra whispered, shivering in her sister’s embrace. “Oh, Gods, they’ll kill me.”

  “My lady.” Captain Torven touched her shoulder hesitantly. “Forgive me, I meant no harm. I did not realise. I had thought they would be proud.”

  “As they should be,” rumbled Captain Myran. “As any parent should be. There is no higher honour for a family than to have a child serve in the Rift Riders.”

  “Our brother is already a Rider,” Milluqua explained, rubbing Mhysra’s back. “My father believes his service is sufficient for the family honour.”

  “But your sister is Wingborn.” Myran turned to his lieutenants in obvious confusion, perhaps seeking confirmation.

  “My niece is Wingborn, but my sister is foolish,” Mhylla confirmed, emerging from the crowd to take Mhysra from Milluqua and hug her hard. “I’m sorry it came to this, sweet, but it’s better they know.”

  “I didn’t want them to find out like this,” Mhysra murmured. “Not so publicly. They’ll never forgive me.”

  “So dramatic, cuz?” Mherrin sounded amused as he patted her back. “Is that what they’ve been teaching you at that school? High drama and tragedy? Just the thing for the Riders.”

  She snuffled a laugh. “You pyrefliers are all savages. I wasn’t meaning to be dramatic.”

  “If they cast you off, love, come to me,” her aunt said, taking her chin firmly in hand and forcing her to meet her eyes. “Wrentheria will always be your home.”

  Mhysra bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” she croaked, and turned to Captain Myran, dipping an awkward curtsey. “And thank you, sir, for defending me. Especially as we’ve never met. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

  “And I, sir,” Milluqua agreed, echoed by her aunt and cousins.

  Embarrassed, the captain waved a dismissive hand. “You may thank my lieutenants, since they provided me with all the pertinent details. And while we may not have met, Lady Mhysra, I have heard much about you. How could I not, with the stir you’ve caused? A female Wingborn. A miryhl the envy of all my Riders. A daughter of a noble house who has no need to join us in these troubled times, yet chooses to anyway. One who spends the entire Choice helping her friends pick out their miryhls. Oh yes, child, I have heard of you.”

  She blushed. “You are too kind, sir.”

  He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’m never kind for the sake of kindness, Lady Mhysra. You’re one of my Riders now. Chin up, student, you’re amongst family.” As a tear trailed down her cheek, he offered his handkerchief and his arm. “I believe supper is being served. Shall we?”

  “I’d be honoured.” Smiling, she wiped her face and walked into the dining room with her head held high.