Threshing Day (The Empyrean, #3.5) — Chapter no 10

633 AU Sliseag—Red Swordtail (Male) Descended from the Berradhdyr Line

Estimated Age: 73 Recorded Riders: 2

—THE COMPENDIUM OF DRAGONKIND, LAST UPDATED BY COLONEL VALIN KAORI

SAWYER

I would rather die in this forest than repeat another year at Basgiath.

Macabre but true. Even the love I carry for my parents isn’t enough to keep me chained to this place for another godsforsaken year if I leave this forest unbonded again.

By the end of this day, I’ll be a rider or a corpse. Period.

I just hope the people I’ve come to care about have better luck than I now expect from this place. Zihnal definitely shows his favoritism around here, and though he’s never taken a shine to me, I pray he looks out for Rhi, Violet, Ridoc, and Trina. Kind of hope Tynan meets the pointy tip of a swordtail, though. Maybe that makes me a dick, but the last thing our kingdom needs is another bully with the ability to wield.

Statistically speaking, we aren’t all coming home today, and that knowledge has me torn up like a battle-mangled sword. One of my edges is sharpened by the fury that I’m setting myself up for the humiliation of rejection again, but the other is chipped and jagged with the fear that I can’t save my squadmates from the same fate. The tension of holding both emotions simultaneously is unbearable.

My ribs clamp down on my lungs as I watch my squadmates melt into the forest ahead of me, all carrying their own share of baggage. Well, except Rhi. That woman practically skips off to her fate with a shit-eating grin. I have zero doubt she’ll be the first of us to bond. Confidence like hers is magnetic to everyone around her, but especially to dragons.

I lose sight of Ridoc, sharing one last look and a nod as we head off in separate directions among the trees. The usual golden undertones to his complexion are still leaning a little green, which I hate for him, but at least he’s taking this seriously. The fact that he survived Presentation while running his mouth like usual is all that keeps me positive when it comes to his odds. Too fucking bad, because I really like him. In fact, he might be my favorite in our year. His ability to joke about everything balances out my inability to find damn near anything amusing. I’ve tried hard not to like anyone. It hurts too much when they die…or move on without me.

There isn’t a single rider I still speak to from my squad last year. Maybe that’s why they put us in new squads when we repeat, so we won’t dwell in the misery of staring at the could-have-been of our own future every day in formation.

I tilt my head back to watch the riot of dragons as they fly overhead, and what patches of blue sky were there a moment earlier are devoured by swaths of red, orange, brown, and green scales. The ground vibrates subtly as the dragons land within the forest, and the blue skies return, just like last year. But I’m not doing anything like I did it last year.

I try to shake off the heavy weight of foreboding that settles in my stomach while I head eastward, keeping to the perimeter of the forest. A

couple of hours later, the sun is shining brightly overhead as I reach what has to be the southern edge. I haven’t seen a single dragon.

Guess this tactic isn’t a winner.

I turn toward the forest, blowing out a frustrated sigh and fighting to get a grip on my emotions, and walk along an enormous cluster of thorn-laden bushes. Dragons appreciate strength and stability, neither of which are qualities I’m feeling endowed with at the moment. Now, if a member of the Empyrean is looking for an agitated, overripe first-year repeat with a growing inferiority complex, I’m their guy.

Swear to Dunne, I need an emotional blacksmith to twist all these feelings back into the unbreakable weapon the quadrant expects them to be.

Definitely shouldn’t pray to Dunne about that, though, since she’d probably dismiss me on sight for not having my shit in order.

A hand reaches out of the brush and grabs my arm.

My heart stutters.

“What the—” I fling the hand off my arm and jump backward before drawing my sword.

“Oh, thank Zihnal, Sawyer!” Trina steps out of the bushes, twigs clinging to her red hair.

She has to be kidding me, right? It takes a couple of breaths to get my heart out of my fucking throat.

“That is an excellent way to get run through by a squadmate, Trina.” I sheathe my sword.

“There are no squadmates today, remember?” Her brown eyes are wide as she studies our surroundings. “It’s everyone for themselves.”

“You’re safe with me.” I can’t say the same for other cadets out to settle grudges while our professors aren’t looking. The dragons aren’t the only ones with murderous intentions.

“I know. That’s why I came out when I saw you.” She gives me a tentative smile.

“How long have you been hiding in the bushes?” I lift my brows and pick one of the branches out of her hair. As squadmates go, I respect Trina.

She’s quiet, keeps to herself, and avoids the never-ending drama that comes with shoving a bunch of twentysomethings into the quadrant with minimal supervision.

“Maybe an hour?” She wrinkles her nose. “A brown stalked by, and I knew it wasn’t mine, so I took cover.”

“You do know you aren’t going to bond if you spend the day hiding in the underbrush, right?” I snag the last branch out of her hair and drop it to the forest floor.

“You know you aren’t going to bond if you don’t even enter the forest, right?” she counters, folding her arms across her chest.

She’s got me there. Heat stings my neck. I fucking hate that my skin flushes at the first sign of emotional distress. “I’m trying to do the exact opposite of what I did last year, since charging into the middle of the forest didn’t exactly work out for me.”

“How is it working for you this year?” She lifts her brows.

“It’s…not.” I shrug. “Obviously.” Hopefully the others are having better luck, though if Trina and I are any measure of our squad, it’s going to be a shit day.

“Well, we still have at least six hours until nightfall to turn that around,” she says with an optimism I envy, her eyes lighting up. “I’m thinking we head into the forest together.”

“We’re not supposed to go in groups.” I shove a hand into my hair, irritation with everything regarding today getting the best of me.

“Did you go in solo last year?” she asks.

Her tone is innocuous, but the words hit like a punch to the groin, as if I didn’t do every single thing expected of me last year.

“Yes.” My voice rises despite my best efforts to keep calm. “I did everything by the book, if that’s what you’re asking.” I throw my arms out at my sides. “Go ahead and try to determine where I went wrong last Threshing, but I hope you’re prepared for disappointment, because I’ve been trying for twelve straight months, and I’ve got nothing!”

By the time I finish ranting, her eyebrows have reached her hairline.

“Fuck.” I drop my hands to my sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Feel better?” She tilts her head, and a corner of her mouth ticks upward.

I blink and do a quick self-assessment. “Oddly, yes. A little.”

“Good.” She smacks my shoulder. “Look, I wasn’t asking what happened to you last year. You’ve been pretty clear since Parapet about that subject being off-limits. I was simply suggesting that we try the group thing, if you didn’t do it last year, considering you said you were taking opposite actions.”

“Right.” I bow my head and breathe in deeply before lifting my gaze to

hers. “I’m sorry. That makes perfect sense.”

She gestures toward the center of the forest. “Shall we?”

I blink. “You still want to team up even though I just lost my temper and displayed how undesirable I am to the fire-breathing dragons in there?”

“Yep.” She doesn’t flinch. “Not like you didn’t find me hiding in a bush.”

“Excellent point.” Neither of us is at our best today. “Let’s do it.”

We turn and walk side by side into the depths of the forest, keeping quiet for the most part. We pause when we hear branches snap, then turn as voices scream in the distance.

“Is this how it was last year?” Her voice shakes as we pass by the

severed lower half of a cadet’s body.

Gods, I hope that’s no one we know.

“There were more dragons willing to bond last year, but pretty much.” I throw my arm out in front of her when a set of green claws lands a dozen feet away from us, talons flexing in the soil. So damned close.

Both Trina and I lurch to a standstill as it lowers its head in our direction, leveling a glare. It bares its giant teeth, and a deep growl emanates from its throat.

“Lower your eyes,” I tell Trina, but I keep mine locked on the green.

Bond me or kill me. Your choice.

The green’s eyes flare, but it lifts its head instead of setting me on fire.

My ears strain, listening for whatever call Kaori thinks we’re supposed to detect when our dragons appear, but all I hear are leaves crunching under the massive claws as the green walks directly over us, swinging its sharp morningstartail above our heads as it passes by.

“Feel anything?” I ask Trina.

“No,” she whispers. “You?” Her neck cranes as she turns to watch it go.

“No.” That frustration comes roaring back. Not that I expected the first dragon I encountered to be mine, but it would have been nice.

The dragon disappears among the trees, and Trina turns to me with a

furrowed brow.

“You didn’t look away,” she accuses.

“I didn’t.” I start walking, and she races to catch up.

“It could have killed you for your insolence.”

“But it didn’t.” I shrug and slow my steps to make it easier for her.

“That’s pretty self-destructive.” Worry lines her forehead.

“No more so than Parapet or the Gauntlet. Like I said, I’m doing the opposite of what I did last year, and I’m sure as fuck not going to be waiting around when they collect all the cadets who have to restart next year. I can’t do it again. I won’t.” Sunlight streams into a clearing ahead, and my heart starts to race for a reason I can’t identify.

“You’d honestly rather meet Malek like that mutilated cadet back there than try again next year?”

“I think instant incineration is probably a better way to go.” I lift my hand to my chest and focus on deep, even breaths, but my heartbeat only accelerates.

“That’s not funny.” She shakes her head as we dodge a scorched patch

of ground.

“Never said it was.”

“No wonder you’re friends with Gamlyn.” Her focus shifts to her shoulder, and she pulls another thorn from the fabric of her uniform. “Shit,” she mutters, staring down at the bead of blood on her thumb.

“You all right?”

“Fine. Stupid thorns. I’m not the one with a death wish.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” My mouth tightens as I think that through.

“At least not anything beyond normal for the quadrant. We all accept death as a possibility when we climb that tower on Conscription Day. We all risk our mortality for the chance to be riders.” Gods, now my chest hurts, too. I rub my sternum. How do I explain this to her? “This feels like a second Parapet to me. Either I make it across or I—”

The words die as we step into the clearing, and I drop my hand to my side.

Two dragons stand in the field, one a medium-size orange, one a larger red. Both are looking directly at us, as if they’ve been waiting.

The orange snarls.

Shit! I lower my gaze to the ground.

Given the unpredictable nature of oranges and the tempers of reds, we may have just entered the most dangerous clearing in the Threshing Valley.

Suddenly, waiting until next year doesn’t feel like a half-bad idea.

“Mine,” Trina whispers, and my eyes dart in her direction. She’s staring in wide-eyed wonder at the orange on the left. “I think she’s…mine. What do I do?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I reply just as quietly, and the sudden pang of envy in

my chest does absolutely nothing to slow my racing heart. “I’ve never felt like that.”

“What do I do? What do I do?” she repeats, clearly talking to herself

now. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

And she thinks I have a death wish?

“You sure that’s the best course of action?” I glance toward the gleaming claws of the orange, and the ache in my chest intensifies.

“No,” Trina admits. “But—” Her head tilts and her eyes widen. “I’m not scared,” she calls across the field. “I’m cautious and careful—” Her teeth click as her mouth snaps shut. “That’s not what I said.”

Well, holy shit. She’s talking to the orange, which means she’s been chosen. A smile tugs at my mouth as Trina strides across the field, her fists clenched and head held high as she approaches the Orange Clubtail.

Good for her. She’s one less squadmate I’ll have to worry about today.

“Why do you not carry the same consideration for yourself?” a gravelly, male voice asks straight into my mind.

What in Malek’s name?

My head snaps up, and I find the red glowering down at me.

I should look away, but instead I freeze in place, my eyes glued to the red. What a terrifying, awe-inspiring creature. The ache in my chest disappears, and instead of quickening from the panic that’s locked my muscles, my heart rate inexplicably slows down.

Weird. I instantly catalog the unique horn pattern, size, and distinctive scar traversing the lower half of his right foreleg and recognize the red from the cards Kaori gave us. Sliseag. Red Swordtail. Approximate age of seventy-three. Two recorded riders, the most recent of whom died the year before last. Discerning and combative. That’s what Kaori called him during his lecture.

There’s no fucking way any dragon known as discerning is bonding a repeat like me, which means death is imminent. I close my eyes and accept my dismal fate.

My chest clenches. I have royally screwed this all up, and now it’s too late. I never should have tempted Malek with my bond-or-die mantra.

“I do not wish to repeat myself.”

“Are…” I pry one eye open slowly, then glance left and right, like there might be another cadet in the nearby vicinity. “Are you talking to me?”

Sliseag’s golden eyes narrow even more, and steam streams from his

nostrils.

Fuck. Now I’ve pissed him off. At least he hasn’t lowered his— His head descends into an attack position, bringing his teeth within

fifteen feet of me.

So much for that thought.

“Has the extra year you’ve spent in the quadrant addled your wits?” he asks, a deep, thrumming growl emanating from his throat. “Or are you so lost to your own self-loathing that you cannot apply your previous thoughts about the female and Bregh to yourself?”

“I’m not lost in self-loathing.” My head draws back at the insult before I fully process what he just said. I glance toward Trina as she faces down the orange—Bregh—then blink before whipping my gaze back to Sliseag.

My lungs falter. If he’s talking to me, he’s chosen me. It’s the first sign of a bond. This has to be a mistake. Heat prickles my face and I cringe, knowing Sliseag can see embarrassment turn my skin red.

“I do not need to witness the blood flush your face to feel your humiliation.” The long autumn grass between us bends with the force of his scoff. “I am acquainted with every aspect of you, Sawyer Henrick. Even those you wish to hide in the name of decorum.”

Indignation overpowers embarrassment, and my spine straightens. “I think humiliation might be an overstatement—”

“It is not.” His swordtail swishes through the grass in a display of temper, arcing toward me before returning to its previous position. “Nor is there a mistake. You insult me by inferring I am anything but infallible.”

Fuck me. Insults equal fire. I snap my mouth shut, catching my tongue between my front teeth in the process. The taste of metal accompanies the quick burst of pain. I touch my index finger to the tip of my tongue, and it comes away red. Great, now he’ll think I can’t even speak without bursting a blood vessel. “I didn’t say mistake.”

“You thought it, which is the same. Only honesty is acceptable between us.” His upper lip curls, baring a set of dripping teeth. “Lie to me again, and you’ll get that introduction to your death god you keep griping about.”

“I’m not—” I kill the sentence before it causes Sliseag to do the same to me, then fill my lungs with a stabilizing breath. This would be a great time for that emotional blacksmith to show up. My hands flex at my sides as I search for the right, the honest words. “Yes, I thought the word ‘mistake.’ I know who you are. I know your last rider was one of the best of her year,

which I am not. I’m a godsdamn repeat. You don’t want to risk your bond on me. It would only make sense for you to seek out Liam Mairi or Rhiannon Matthias—”

“I seek you,” he snarls. “That is the second time you have insinuated that I am incorrect, and you will not live if you repeat the offense.”

“For being so intent on bonding me, you sure do threaten to kill me frequently,” I snap in retort. Pretty sure the god of wisdom just turned his back on me for that move, not that Hedeon has ever blessed me previously.

Sliseag’s eyes flare, the scaly ridges that look like eyebrows rise, and he sheathes his teeth. “That fire is precisely why I choose you. The anger you conceal from those around you matches my own.”

Speech fails me. My struggle to regulate my emotions is his catnip?

“Yes, though I do not care for the comparison to a house cat.” Sliseag’s head slides over the grass as his neck moves in a reptilian pattern that should scare the shit out of me but doesn’t. “I see all of you. Your shame, your rage, your obstinance, your determination to persevere despite it. You know who I am, but I know you.”

The very rage he speaks of bubbles up to my surface, not that it takes much to unearth it. It’s always there, a fingernail scratch away from exposure. My hands curl into fists.

“Accept yourself as I do,” he demands. “Naturally, you may present yourself to the rest of the world however you wish.”

“I may?” My spine stiffens to steel. “Thanks for—”

“But I will only tolerate—”

“—the permission.” I raise my voice as he tramples me verbally. “But you don’t get—”

“—transparency within the bond.” He cuts me off again.

“—a say in how I choose to preserve my dignity.” My tone pitches higher, and I take a single step toward him.

“Without it, you are indeed the risk you proclaim—”

Enough.

“Would you let me get a fucking word in?” I shout.

He blinks, and his voice falls silent in my head, but his tail flicks at the

far edge of the field.

“You want transparency?” I challenge.

“I require it.”

“Fine.” Fuck it. If he wants honesty, I’ll give it to him. Then we’ll see if

he’s so certain about his choice. “Yes, I’m angry. I had one of the best times on the Gauntlet my first year. I walked at the front of my squad for Presentation, and it meant nothing. I listened to every piece of advice Kaori gave last Threshing. I memorized every card, studied every breed, and even had the audacity to stand in front of a snarling green, only to have it swat me away with its not-so-gentle scorpiontail when I refused to back down.” I take another step. “I watched others be selected, cadets who broke every rule and didn’t bother to conceal the hatred in their hearts, while I did everything right. And all it got me was a two-week stay in the infirmary and an instruction to do it all over again!”

The intense focus of his gaze is all that indicates he’s even listening as I yell.

“I highly doubt that someone as infallible as you could understand the humiliation of being labeled an unbonded in the quadrant. It’s unbearable to walk the halls, knowing you’re not enough, found unworthy by the ones you’ve spent your life preparing to meet, to please.” The excruciating pain cuts into me like a rusted blade shredding its incurable infection in the

wound mid-slice.

His eyes narrow, but he remains quiet.

“But by gods, you don’t get to show any of that.” I shake my head violently. “Only strength is permissible in the quadrant, permissible to you.

We have to be hard as steel, sharper than a honed blade. Perfection isn’t the exception, it’s the standard, and those who don’t meet it find themselves bleeding out on the challenge mat to preserve the efficacy of the wing.

Can’t have any weak riders running around feeling things, now can we?”

A burst of air hits me in the face, jarring me from my tirade, and my head jerks to the left as Bregh and Trina launch. They take to the sky with powerful wingbeats that send gust after gust in our direction. I only catch a glimpse of Trina as they climb vertically, and my brow furrows.

Her knees aren’t bent, but if that’s the seat position that works for her, then…all right.

“Are you finished getting your damned words in?” Sliseag asks, and my gaze jumps back to meet his.

A knot twists every organ in my abdomen. I just lost my shit on the most temperamental breed known to dragonkind. My throat threatens to seal shut, but I don’t mutter the apology that hangs on the tip of my wounded tongue. He asked for honesty. I delivered. “Yes.”

“I relish in your anger.” A glow of excitement brightens his eyes. “I have felt your shame through your memories, and while I accept the burden of responsibility for last year’s misfortunes, I do not regret my choice—”

“Responsibility?” I question, my eyebrows hiking skyward.

Sliseag lunges forward and snaps his teeth within inches of my face.

My soul all but leaves my body.

“Silence,” he orders, withdrawing his head slowly. “It is my turn to speak.”

I nod, and at the edge of my vision, Bregh and Trina begin a series of dives overhead.

“Feel whatever you wish, but your shame is annoyingly misplaced.” A breath of steam washes over me. “Yes, you have plenty to be embarrassed of. Your bow work is atrocious, your understanding of physics is mortifying, the only call you answer to is pain, and I know of at least two occasions when your attempts at approaching a potential mate were so awkward, I

found myself embarrassed for you.”

My jaw slackens as he lists my faults.

“But you were not unworthy last year.” Sliseag lifts his head, exposing his throat. “I simply wasn’t available to you. When half of a pair cannot open themselves to a bond, the other must wait, as you have.” His tail flicks again as I process what he’s telling me. “Unfortunately, that waiting has created a self-doubt I will not tolerate, and you will overcome it.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask quietly.

“I’m willing to risk my infallibility on the odds of your persevering. You have an excellent history of having done so.” He straightens to his full, intimidating height, and my neck strains as I follow the motion with my eyes. “Take your seat and let us join your squadmates.”

A high-pitched scream rends the air, and I spot a rapidly falling shape to the left of Sliseag’s head, only making out details as it comes closer.

Black leathers. Auburn curls.

Trina.

Her limbs flail in midair as she hurtles toward the ground against an orange backdrop, and air flees from my lungs.

Malek, no. She’s fallen off Bregh. And there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.

I watch in horror, completely helpless, as she disappears in the trees beyond the edge of the clearing. A sickening thud follows soon after.

“Trina!” My body lurches as I take a step toward the trees.

“Unfortunate.” Sliseag tilts his head as though listening to something.

“There is nothing to be done. Her life is extinguished. She is… irrecoverable.”

“No.” I double over, bracing my hands on my knees as I struggle to breathe through the instant nausea that accompanies his declaration. I’ve seen my share of squadmates die, but none on the cusp of getting everything we’ve worked for. She was so fucking close. The unfairness of it clenches my heart with an iron fist.

How am I supposed to join my squadmates now?

“You take your seat,” Sliseag orders.

I force myself upright and stare into the trees as if Trina might

magically walk through them.

“Choose,” he hisses.

“Choose what?” I tear my focus from the forest to look him in the eye as he peers down at me with blatant expectation. The fist squeezes tighter.

“I will not attach myself to another rider who cannot adapt to loss, so choose. Climb or wallow. Persevere or perish. As you put it earlier, bond or die.” Steam wafts from his nostrils as he flares them. “I am not the only one with agency here, but I approach the limits of my patience.”

The threat of losing him, of losing the future hovering at the edge of my fingertips, shakes me like nothing else could. I banish the fist that holds my heartbeat prisoner, mentally peeling it away, finger by finger.

I’m not unworthy. I was never unworthy. Sliseag just wasn’t ready yet.

Yes, Trina’s gone. But Rhiannon, Violet, and Ridoc will be waiting for me. That’s the only possibility permitted to exist in my mind.

Sliseag is willing to risk being wrong about me.

I won’t allow him to find out what being wrong feels like. Not on my account, at least.

“I choose you,” I say to Sliseag before mounting with a run. It’s as natural as breathing, and within minutes, I find myself in the seat, exactly where I’ve always belonged. Suddenly, it’s inconceivable that this day would have ended any other way, unfathomable that I would lose something so magnificent over the cost of a measly year. “I would have repeated another year if I knew you would be waiting for me at the end of it.”

“Quit waxing poetic before you embarrass us both, and hold on.”

My hands grasp onto his pommel scales, and I grin as he heaves us into

the sky.

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