Page 12 of FoolSilver
I wondered if I’d survive it.
Chapter 5
Max
Dawn came gray and cold. I was awake before the first hint of pale light bled through the canvas.
The heirs stirred within seconds of each other—Aelindor first, rising in one fluid motion, then Caspian, who stretched with a groan and ran his fingers through his wine-red hair, then Drakken, who sat up like a man called to formation, alert and sharp.
I’d been lying between them with my eyes open for some time, listening to the camp come alive. Boots on packed earth. The low murmur of Spartans changing watch. The faint hiss of the DarkVeil that only I could hear, pressing against the edges of my consciousness.
“You can sleep longer,” Aelindor said, glancing at me as he pulled on his uniform coat.
I shook my head and sat up. I’d slept deeper than I had in weeks, shielded by their combined presence.
But I couldn’t stay. The heirs had done something generous by letting me into their tent, and I’d needed it. If they’d left me alone last night, I’d have been halfway to the Haven by now, running south on a raw tide of adrenaline and grief. No plan,no intel, nothing but the Coldiron arrow clenched in my fist and Missy’s scream ringing in my ears.
They’d kept me from making that mistake and spared me that reckless flight.
The Spartans were already up, sharpening weapons, checking gear, eating rations out of tin cups. Several gazes tracked me as I emerged from the heirs’ tent behind Caspian. I could feel the weight of their assessment.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t explain. I walked the way I’d walked through the mine after a bad shift, shoulders straight, jaw set, eyes forward. Nothing had happened in the heirs’ tent. End of story.
The heirs didn’t care what the world thought. They moved through judgment untouched, as if other people’s opinions were weather in a different hemisphere. But I’d return to a barracks full of hundreds of cadets and a fortress full of thousands, and rumors spread faster than wildfire.
I was walking toward the Spartan section to make myself useful—haul supplies, help with the rebuilding, anything to keep my hands busy—when a familiar pewter-silver uniform fell into step beside me.
“Cadet Max,” Frost called. The Fae major’s cropped silver hair was neat as always, his lean fighter’s build moving with coiled efficiency. “Change of plans. You are to join the heirs and senior staff for the morning briefing at Greyhold.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Orders from Prince Aelindor,” he said, which ended the discussion.
A battered jeep powered by Stormglass idled at the edge of the camp, mud caked to the wheel wells. The heirs were already gone, having left in the lead vehicle minutes ago. Frost held the rear door for me and climbed into the driver’s seat.
As I ducked in, Captain Jessa Holt slid into the passenger side.
The eagle shifter wore a worn shirt and trousers, the same nondescript outfit she’d worn when she’d delivered the demon intel on the train. Her sharp eyes found me in the rearview mirror before the jeep started moving.
“Morning, cadet,” Holt said. Her tone was pleasant, the kind that a spy used right before she extracted information you didn’t know you were carrying.
“Morning, Captain,” I said.
Frost pulled the jeep onto the dirt track that led toward the outpost. For a few seconds, the only sound was the hum of the Stormglass engine and the crunch of gravel under the tires.
“Heard there was some excitement in camp last night,” Holt said, turning in her seat to face me, her eyes bright, alert. “Some screaming sent even the Spartans scrambling. And Prince Aelindor carrying a certain cadet in his arms.”
“I had a nightmare,” I sighed. “It happens.”
“A nightmare?” Holt’s mouth twitched. “The heirs don’t comfort cadets over nightmares, Cadet Max. Prince Aelindor doesn’t carry people. And not even high-ranking officers have ever had the honor of sharing a tent with the heirs. Not once in the entire history of the Covenant. That’s not a thing that happens.”
I kept my face neutral. “It was a bad nightmare, Captain Holt.”
“Must have been.” Holt tilted her head, studying me with the focused patience of a raptor circling prey. “Because from where I was flying last night, it looked like the kind of nightmare that changes the course of?—”
“Holt!” Frost’s sharp voice cut through whatever the eagle shifter was about to say. “Stop tormenting Cadet Max. There’slikely a reason she’s been summoned. You can wait for the intel with everyone else.”
Holt leaned back in her seat and grinned. She didn’t look chastened at all.
