A cloud of dandelion seeds sailed through the late summer air. The meadow behind the orphanage was overgrown with giant thistles and swaying bracken leaves. Leera was leaning over the wooden fence, making sure they weren’t discovered, because going outside the yard was strictly against the rules. At first, Aelar had said that they’d take turns keeping watch. But since Leera couldn’t fly yet, he’d convinced her to take his shifts too. After all, it was pointless for her to go to the meadow if she couldn’t fly.
Leera glanced at the two-story building in flaking white paint. When she saw nobody in the windows, she held up her thumb.
Whoosh! A torrent of air and whirling seeds followed her brother as he flew by. He was going lower every time, trying to whip more seeds into the air.
She crouched down and picked a dandelion that had all its seeds intact – a fragile ball of see-through gray – and held it to her face. She closed her eyes and willed her feet off the ground.
“Fly,” she whispered, tensing all the muscles in her body. “Fly, dammit!”
Her face was turning red, and her breathing became strained, while her brother kept swooshing behind her. ‘Please,’ she prayed, ‘just once.’
Leera took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was standing exactly in the same spot as before. The only difference was that the dandelion had lost some of its seeds. The perfect sphere was now cracked and broken. A single tear broke free and tumbled down her cheek. Through the remaining seeds of the flower, she saw the bulky frame of the headmistress marching towards her.
----------------------------------------
Snores filled Andromeda’s belly as Leera pulled herself off the cot. She looked over at Bryne, who somehow still managed to look smug in his sleep. Anger suddenly replaced the feeling of forlorn sadness that she had awoken to. She picked up her pillow and threw it at the tattoo artist. It sailed through the air and then landed with a disappointing thud on the floor. Leera could’ve sworn that the corner of Bryne’s mouth went up a little, in mockery her failed attack.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
She snorted and stomped up the stairs. The wind outside had a cold humidity to it. Andromeda was flying once again, and tufts of silky mist drifted across the deck. She found Quick at his usual place by the rudder. Only now, he was sitting in a chair and steering the ship with his left foot, while contently sipping from a disproportionally large cup.
“Good morning, Miss Eirey,” he said merrily. “Care for some tea and carrot biscuits? Freshly baked, of course.”
Leera picked one off the tray and put it in her mouth. “Thanks.”
It was weird, she thought, the old man never seemed to sleep. His cot was still untouched from the day they had left Jane’s Spire. She felt like it was impolite to ask why – a person’s sleeping habits were their private business.
The biscuits were actually really good - sugary, but not sickly sweet; doughy, but not soggy. Quick clearly had a gift. She was just about to reach for another when the ruffled red hair of Bryne poked out from the galley. He winked at her. She, in turn, put her finger into her mouth and pretended to throw up.
“Ah, Master Teller,” Quick said. “A beautiful morning we got, wouldn’t you agree?”
“The sun is shining…” Bryne said with a shrug and helped himself to a carrot biscuit. “And the women are smiling. I’d say it’s a perfect day!”
Leera narrowed her eyes at him, trying to squash him between her eyelids.
“Tell me, boy. What business do you have in Oceanpeak?”
Bryne strolled casually over to the broadside railing of the ship and gazed into the distance. “There’s an old acquaintance of mine, who owes me some money.”
He then turned to Leera and smiled broadly. “Something tells me you’re an expensive one to court.”
A distorted combination of a gasp and a contemptuous laugh escaped her mouth. “You… you’re. I can’t believe you. You’re the rudest, most self-absorbed, most–”
Bryne cut her off by holding up his index finger with one hand and pointing at something in the distance with the other. A massive pillar of smoke reared up, like a cobra out of a basket, and connected the ground and sky. Leera had never seen so much smoke before. It reminded her of the Spring Festival’s bonfire; only this was fifty times more smoke.
“Is that a forest fire?” she asked.
Bryne gave Leera a concerned look as Quick rose from his seat and squinted into the distance. His mouth turned into a tight minus. Bryne shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Leera asked again.
Both the men remained silent. Quick wiped his brow on his sleeve, and then returned to the rudder, steering Andromeda towards the smoke.
“Quick?” she asked nervously.
“That’s no forest,” Bryne said solemnly. “That’s Cloudrest… the City of Mount Aurora.”