On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1)

by J. L. Griffin

  “How do I know you are not using your powers?” she asked suspiciously after he had shot about half a dozen arrows.

  “You don’t,” Skye replied with a grin. “But I can tell you I’m not. On a calm day such as this, it’s certainly not necessary.”

  “But you could?”

  In reply, Skye took up another arrow, and after sighting along its length, he let loose. This time, however, he guided it in the air, causing it to sink itself directly in the center of the target, sheering down the length of two more arrows as it passed.

  “That is some impressive shooting,” one of the guards complimented. It looked as if those present were about to leave as a group. “We have all heard stories of Skychild accuracy, but this is the first time I have ever witnessed it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Skye said quietly, though he kept his head lowered.

  “Your Highness,” the man addressed Tierra, “we need to leave to tend to our duties. Perhaps it is time for you to depart, too?”

  Tierra instantly understood the thrust of his concern. “There is no need to worry,” she said with an impatient wave. “I am quite safe here, thank you.”

  The men appeared to be uncomfortable despite her assurances, and the one who had spoken to her said, “Your Highness, considering his skill with the bow—”

  “I am certain the slave will never do anything to threaten me,” Tierra said, raising a brow in Skye’s direction.

  “The princess has been kind to me, so I’d never want to hurt her,” Skye said. “Besides, I have no desire to give the queen any reason to kill me.”

  “There,” Tierra said. “I am quite safe. You may leave and go about your duties.”

  The guards only appeared to be slightly mollified, yet they bowed to her and left, but not before several of them gave Skye some rather pointed looks. They were all wasted on him, however, as he kept his head down the whole time.

  “I suppose you would like me to take my turn now?” Tierra said lightly once the guards were gone, trying to return to her former camaraderie with Skye.

  The Skychild smiled and handed her the bow he held, and Tierra, after taking a deep breath, sighted along the line of her arrow and let it loose. The results were unspectacular, to say the least, and her arrow plunked down onto the ground a few paces shy of the target.

  “I think you were using your powers,” Tierra accused, but her playful tone belied any sting her words would have otherwise given.

  “I’d let you shoot off at least one arrow before I’d do anything that underhanded,” Skye said with a grin. “I’m afraid that was all your own skill at work there. Take another shot.”

  Though her eyes met his with a question in them, she nevertheless did as he asked. As soon as the bowstring was released, Skye reached out with the wind and guided the arrow until it hit the center of the target beside his last shot.

  “See? I must be a quick study,” Tierra said with a laugh.

  “I’m sure you are, Princess,” Skye responded in kind. “Skychildren do have a natural affinity for the activity, but anyone can shoot properly if they learn a few tricks. And those tricks do not require a Skychild’s powers.”

  “Then I suppose you will have to show me.”

  “Whatever Her Highness commands,” Skye said with an exaggerated bow.

  She rolled her eyes at the slight mockery of his words, but she was not irked by them. If he responded to her with sincere deference every time, then he would not be the man she knew. And despite the rocky start between them, she rather liked him as he was. So she met tease with tease and said, “Good. Then all is as it should be, my loyal subject.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked upward in amusement, and he gestured at her. “Get into your stance, Princess, and we’ll start there. That is, if Her Highness can lower herself to hold a humble hickory bow.”

  Tierra snorted and moved into the position she had taken when she shot her ill-fated arrow. Skye smiled as she did so, no doubt amused at how much of a novice she was. She frowned, unsure whether to be offended, but he did not verbalize his thoughts, so she decided to let it pass.

  Instead of teasing her further, he stepped forward and put his hands on her hips, shifting her body about as he instructed her. “You should start with your feet parallel to the target, about shoulder-width apart.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he moved her around, and she stiffened, but she did not think he realized what he had done. Even though no one appeared to be nearby, there was still a chance they could be seen, and she nearly opened her mouth to tell him he should probably refrain from touching her in public like this. Yet there was something intimate about the feel of his fingers on her hips that kept the words from coming . . . and induced a flush on her cheeks which she could not quite explain.

  Seemingly oblivious to her discomposure, Skye released her, content with how she was standing, and stepped back. “Now lift the bow and start to nock it.”

  Feeling oddly shaky, she raised the bow in the air. He moved behind her and put his arms around her, repositioning first the hand that held the bow and then the one that held the arrow, coaching her on the importance of a consistent anchor point and the need for her grip on the bow to be loose. But even as she drew back the arrow, she could scarcely focus on his words, her concentration instead consumed by the feel of his breath on her neck and his warm fingers on her wrists. His chest pressed briefly against her back as he adjusted the angle of the bow, and her pulse began to race.

  Skye said something about follow-through which Tierra did not quite catch, and then, on a word from him, she sent the arrow flying through the air. The fact that it hit the target was all Skye’s doing; the fact that it failed to hit the center was likely her own.

  “Not bad,” Skye said, sounding pleased. His mouth was near her ear, so he was speaking softly, and she found herself hard-pressed to repress a shiver. “I think you might have jerked a hair, which can make all the difference in archery, but you hit the target.”

  “It was really all you,” Tierra told him in a near-whisper. She was unsure why she felt so weak in the knees, but it did not help that Skye did not appear to have realized he was still holding onto her.

  At last, however, he seemed to collect himself, and he stepped backward. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she turned to look at him, praying to Terrain that he would not realize how off-balance he was making her feel. She was not certain whether to feel relieved or disappointed at his lack of reaction to her presence.

  “How about you try it on your own now?” Skye suggested. He seemed unaffected by the close proximity they had shared, and it left her wondering at her own reaction. What was wrong with her?

  “All right,” she said in response. She moved into position once more, focusing on the target, trying to remember Skye’s advice, and endeavoring to ignore the rapid beat of her heart.

  After the arrow sped through the air, it landed closer to the target than it had the first time, but it was still a dismal shot. Skye stepped forward and made adjustments to this and that, advising Tierra on what to do and what not to do.

  They tried again and again, and slowly, she began to make progress. At the end of their practice session, she was consistently hitting the target at least, which she perhaps should have viewed as a victory of sorts. Yet she began to suspect that she would have been more successful with a different teacher. Skye had an instinctive grasp of how to shoot, certainly, but there was something about his touch that flustered her, and when he finally proposed they stop, she agreed with no small measure of relief.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Skye,” she told him, managing a smile that hopefully did not look too forced.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling back. “Perhaps one day, you’ll be able to rival some of the Skychildren with a bow.”

  She laughed. “That sounds a little overconfident. But I know I have improved thanks to your help. I would like to g
o relax and spend some time with River. How about you pick up the arrows and deal with the equipment? Then you can take a little time to yourself. You deserve it after having to spend so long with a poor pupil such as me.”

  “You aren’t a poor pupil. It was my pleasure. I’ve . . . I’ve never taught anyone about archery before.”

  “Well, you are certainly skilled,” she told him firmly.

  “Do you think we could try again sometime?” he asked, sounding oddly hopeful.

  She hesitated a moment before nodding. “I am certain we can.”

  He smiled once more—his face looked so warm and pleasant whenever he was happy—and then he moved forward to begin the hunt for the multitude of arrows she had shot off.

  After one last look at Skye, Tierra practically fled the archery range.

  Before leaving her children, Celesta took thought for their future. She knew there would be times when the Skychildren would need a reminder of her majesty. They would never forget her. But all mortal creatures require a visible symbol of hope for posterity.

  And so, in her great power and glory, Celesta created a new constellation in the sky, that her descendants might look upon it and think of her.

  The Skychildren cried out in pain and sorrow. “Dear Goddess,” said they, “please return to us.”

  Yet while Celesta’s tears poured down like rain, she did not heed their pleas, and she lifted herself up into the heavens.

  —The Book of Celesta

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Reminder

  Skye was running an errand for Tierra later that day when he was stopped by a pair of Iron Swords. He looked at them, about to make a comment concerning how Tierra was expecting him, but then he saw the grim looks on their faces, and he knew they would not care about his current task.

  “The queen wishes to see you,” one of the guards said. Skye could have been mistaken, but he thought he saw a gleam of pity in the man’s eyes.

  “Should I take my shirt off now?” Skye quipped. He did not know what he had done this time—he thought he had been behaving as he should—but he could feel dread forming a ball in his gut. Before Tierra had taken the whip to him, he had felt nothing more than fury at the prospect of a beating; it was disconcerting that his feelings should differ so greatly now.

  The guard who had spoken gave him a sympathetic look but did not respond verbally, instead just gesturing for Skye to precede him toward the throne room. With a shrug that spoke of a nonchalance he did not feel, Skye stepped out into the hallway.

  There was little traffic in the corridors of the castle, a circumstance which suited Skye quite admirably, considering the situation. Of course, he did not exactly know what the situation was. He only knew that apparently he had done something to annoy the queen, and now she was out for blood. At least, that was what he suspected; Sequoia never asked to see him under any other circumstances.

  “Slave?”

  Pausing in the hallway, Skye looked around and saw Tierra regarding him with a concerned yet confused look. It seemed the princess was no more aware of what was happening than he was.

  Mindful of his audience, Skye bowed his head and responded, “Hello, Your Highness. I’m sorry, but it seems I can’t complete your errand.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tierra demanded as she gazed upon him. “Once again, I have found myself summoned, and it seems as though it has something to do with your behavior. What have you done this time?”

  Skye almost smiled at her words, which were a clear attempt at showing a superior attitude in front of the Iron Swords watching them. Their expressions of sympathy would change substantially if they knew the true state of affairs between their princess and her slave!

  “I am certain I don’t know,” Skye said, keeping his voice deferential and biting down on all the caustic remarks which suddenly sprung to his mind. Tierra was clearly as in the dark about this as he was, and he would not unleash his anger upon her. “I was on my way to your rooms, as instructed, when I was intercepted and informed that my presence was required.”

  Tierra turned an accusatory glance on the guards. “Why does my mother wish to see him?”

  The man who had been acting as the spokesman shook his head and replied, “I apologize, Your Highness, but while we were told to bring the Skychild to the throne room, the queen did not see fit to explain the reason for doing so. Perhaps you should address this issue with your mother?”

  It was a tactful reminder of who had instructed them, not to mention a reminder of the general temperament of the queen, and Tierra, though she appeared to wish to pursue the matter further, merely nodded and began moving toward the throne room herself, with Skye and the guards following. Watching her as she walked, Skye had to admit that he admired her pluck. Her mother was not the most pleasant person to deal with, yet Tierra was marching straight into the griffin’s den to brave the displeasure that awaited her.

  Awaits me, he corrected himself with glum amusement.

  When he entered the throne room, Skye’s heart fell at the sight. Sequoia was sitting on her throne, with that useless excuse of a king beside her and that albino garm at her feet. Skye wondered at the creature; it lay down with its face between its front paws, but it also watched everything about it carefully, as if it possessed some sort of feral intelligence. With a mental shrug, Skye glanced at Wisteria, who sat on a chair at the queen’s other side, directing a smug leer at Skye and Tierra. Skye had never wished to slap the expression from her disgusting countenance as much as he did at that moment; she had obviously been carrying tales to her mother again, though Skye could not imagine what she could accuse him of. How in Celesta’s name a fine young woman like Tierra had come from such a family of misfits, Skye would never be able to understand.

  “Tierra, I am glad you are here,” Sequoia said before her daughter could say a word.

  “I must admit to being confused, Mother,” Tierra said. Though her voice was outwardly respectful, Skye could detect more than a little tightness. “What has my slave done this time?”

  Queen Sequoia turned a disapproving glare on her youngest daughter. “I am surprised at you, Tierra. Surely you must know exactly why you are here.”

  When Tierra protested that she did not know anything of the kind, Sequoia waved her off. “Then I have been remiss in your education. But be that as it may, you shall be silent while I question this Skychild.”

  Her flinty glare was now heavy upon Skye, and he tried to assume a deferential pose. Well aware of what awaited him—and knowing it would become much worse at any show of defiance—Skye held himself in check.

  “And what do you have to say for yourself, Skychild?”

  “What would Your Majesty have me say?” Skye responded. “I apologize, but I’m at a loss. I have no idea why I was summoned.”

  An eyebrow rose in blatant skepticism at his statement. “You do not remember a certain incident this morning with my daughter in the training grounds?”

  “But I took him there, Mother,” Tierra said slowly. “Why would you punish him for something I instigated?”

  “Tierra,” her mother chided, “why would you give this Skychild a weapon?”

  Tierra regarded her mother with unfeigned incredulity. “It was a wooden sword,” she said. “He could hardly have threatened me with that. Did your spy not inform you that I prevailed when I sparred with my slave?”

  The queen ignored her words. “You are aware, are you not, that the Skychild can control the wind? You have certainly played with practice swords enough times to know how dangerous they can be in the wrong hands. He could have sent the practice sword toward you at high speed, injuring you seriously.”

  Skye could not help but speak up. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I could do that whether I held the weapon in my hand or not. Regardless of what you may think of my people, I do not have a death wish. Tierra has been good to me. I would not want to repay her i
n such a way.”

  The queen stared at him for some moments, her expression unreadable, and then she nodded slowly. “It seems you have learned a little. That is good, Skychild.

  “But that is not the reason why you were brought here today, though I would caution you, Tierra, that the Skychild should under no circumstances be allowed to handle any sort of weapon in your presence.” This last directive was accompanied by a significant look at her daughter. “In fact, he should not have a weapon at any time.”

  Tierra dipped her head but said nothing.

  Sequoia continued, her eyes sharp and all-seeing. “Truthfully, I am more concerned with what happened afterward.” She turned back to Skye, and he found himself under the full force of her glare. “Did you, or did you not, touch my daughter in a familiar manner?”

  Skye inwardly cringed. While no Groundbreather or Groundwalker had as of yet seen fit to inform him that he was not to touch the princess, he was in fact aware of the restriction, as he had been told of it by Gusty. He had been lulled into a sense of complacency due to the fact that Tierra had initiated contact with him in her room, most notably when she had apologized for hitting him and treated his wounds with the salve. He should have been more careful.

  Though he wanted to do anything but submit to this so-called queen, he could not very well escape if he was constantly in pain from the beatings, so he tried for a more conciliatory tone.

  “I did, Your Majesty,” Skye replied, keeping his head down. “When my mistress was shooting, I noticed that her stance was not correct and that she was not holding the bow properly, so I gave her some assistance. Was I wrong to do so?”

  “It was nothing,” Tierra interjected. “Like he said, it was innocent. He was just showing me the proper technique.”

  “It looked as though it was anything but innocent,” Wisteria said. “It looked like he was trying to take liberties with you.”

  Tierra gasped, her outrage plainly evident. “Have you taken to following this slave about the castle, looking for reasons to punish him? I must admit to surprise that the crown princess has nothing better to do than that.”