Wingborn (2 page)

“
You’
re practically clucking.
”

She scowled at Cumulo, though silently
grateful for the distraction. The thought of leaving her fledglings
almost brought her to tears. Cumulo would never let her live that
down, so she sniffed and plucked a loose feather from the nearest
wing.

“
What’
s wrong with that?
”

Cumulo eyed her coolly.
“
Nothing. So long as you stick to feathered
things.
”

She rolled her eyes.
“
I
’
m barely sixteen, Cue. I
’
m hardly breeding age.
”

“
Nor
me,” he agreed. “Which is all I’d be fit for if you took up such a
ridiculous notion
.
”

Mhysra chuckled. Male miryhls
didn
’
t sexually mature
until they were twenty years old, so even a precocious Wingborn
would be lucky to father anything before eighteen.

He huffed reproachfully.
“
Don
’
t deny you
’
ve been broody this past year.
”

“
Over
chicks, Cue! I don’
t even like the boys around
here.
”

He snorted scornfully.
“
I don
’
t blame you. A more pitiful human flock is hard to
imagine.
”

She grinned, tugging on a wing stub and
stroking the crinkled skin, making the chick chuckle in its sleep.
“
They
’
re not all bad.
”

“
You’
ll have more to choose from when we reach
Nimbys,
”
he said,
reminding her of what she was desperately trying to forget.
“
Best set your
priorities now.
”

Turning her back on the thought, and him,
Mhysra worked on the chicks, running her fingers through their
fluffy down. They soon woke, making her task significantly harder,
thanks to their lively mood. Since playful miryhls – even chicks –
usually resulted in copious amounts of blood loss, she left the
eyries with a shallow scratch on her face, two deep ones on her arm
and a crunched toe.

“Such
rewarding work,” Cumulo teased, when she emerged into the slushy
snow. Perched on the paddock fence, he looked like an overgrown
rooster – albeit an impressive one. Big for his age, shining,
beautiful and hers, just as she was his. Neither had been given a
choice, but on good days Mhysra acknowledged that the gods had
smiled on her.

This was not a good day, so she flipped a
rude gesture in his direction and limped on. He cackled and flapped
to the next post. Mhysra eyed his landing, waiting for the
tell-tale groan to assure her that he was still enjoying his growth
spurt. Another half-moon and she
’
d have the delight of watching him break another
rail made brittle by the winter frosts. She was looking forward to
it, if only because Cumulo was a tad too fond of his dignity.

Or she would have been, had she been
permitted to stay. Muttering the foulest words she knew earned her
whistles of approval from the nearest stable lads, donning their
armour before feeding the pyreflies. The screaming beasts kicked at
their doors, flames spouting around the edges, and Cumulo soared on
the rising heat.

“
Hurry
up and stop growing, Cue,” Mhysra murmured, watching him spiral
higher, wings spread wide. Her chest tightened with longing.
Soon
, her aunt
said.
Soon
, Cumulo
promised. Soon, one way or another, she would fly again. If only on
the deck of the
Illuminai.

As she passed the horsat barn, a silky ball
of fluff scampered out of the shadows, yipping with excitement.
Laughing, Mhysra knelt and caught the eager pup, smoothing ruffled
fur and tugging loose down from its undeveloped wings.

“You found
me.”

The black and white nakhound pup licked her
chin. Mhysra grimaced and held it at arm
’
s length, rubbing her face on her
shoulder. Bright eyes glittered, while a plumy white tail
whirled.

“Cute,” she
conceded, putting the dog down. It yapped and gambolled about her
feet before lolloping away up the slope.

Sighing, Mhysra turned to follow and looked
up at Wrentheria Manor, her home for the past sixteen years and the
place she loved most in all the world. Except her view was spoiled
by the three-tiered skyship coming into land: the
Illuminai.
The countess had arrived.

HALFWAY UP THE
slope, Mhysra’s aunt stood watching the
Illuminai
approach. The owner and manager of
Wrentheria, Mhylla Wrentherin was famous across the Overworld for
breeding the best feather-wings
money could buy. Whether it
was miryhls, nakhounds or doelyns, the quality of
Wrentheria
’
s bloodstock
could not be denied.

So when her younger sister married into the
wealthy Kilpapan family, eager to explore the world on her new
trade skyships, it had seemed wisest to leave the children in the
care of Mhylla. Luckily, Mhylla had transferred her skills with
animals easily over to children, and if given the choice between
her mother
’
s ships and
her aunt
’
s eyries,
Mhysra knew where she
’
d
pick to stay. Always. Every time.

Sighing, Mhysra joined her aunt to watch the
skyship edge into the docking cradle, timbers groaning as it came
to rest.
“
It
’
ll be years before I can come
home.
”

Her aunt raised her eyebrows.
“
I don
’
t think that
’
s quite what your parents have in mind.
”

“
No,
it’
s what
I
have in mind,
”
Mhysra grumbled.
“
I like raising miryhls. Who
’
ll take care of my chicks when
I
’
m gone?
”

“
I’
m sure we
’
ll manage somehow,
”
Mhylla said dryly, having been breeding miryhls
for nearly forty years.

Her niece smiled with little amusement.
“
I know, but it
doesn
’
t make me feel any
better. Where do I belong if not here?
”

Wrapping an arm about Mhysra
’
s shoulders, Mhylla gave her a
squeeze.
“
You can belong
anywhere you choose, sweetheart, and this will always be your home.
Stop fretting. I bet your feather duster isn
’
t.
”

“
Cumulo?” Mhysra snorted. “All he cares about is whether he
has
to fly all the way to Nimbys or not.
”

“
See.”
Mhylla squeezed her again. “If he’
s not bothered,
you
’
ve no cause to be.
Wherever you go, he
’
ll
go too. Gods have mercy.
”

“
Hey!”
Mhysra pulled away. “Don’
t insult my miryhl.
”

“Why not? You
do.”

“
He’s
mine, I’m allowed
.
”

Mhylla smiled.
“
And that makes all the difference. If you
didn
’
t have him, I
might
worry about you.
Then again, maybe I wouldn
’
t. You
’
ve a wise head on those shoulders, when you choose
to remember it. And if, in five years or so, it
’
s still what you want and your parents
agree, come back and we
’
ll be happy to have you. Who knows what
’
ll happen twixt then and now? We
can
’
t even predict
tomorrow.
But I’
m sorry
to lose you. Bad enough that Kilai deserted me, though I knew
Milluqua would never stay. But you, Mhysra, I
’
ll miss you.
”

Since her aunt had three sons and two
daughters of her own, all still at home, Mhysra felt no guilt about
leaving. Especially when it wasn
’
t her choice.
“
Kilai was always headed for the Riders.
”
Her father
’
s family had a long and distinguished
history of serving in the Rift Riders, one Kilai had been eager to
continue.
“
And I am a
Kilpapan. My parents were bound to remember that one
day.
”

Mhylla chuckled at her gloomy tone and
walked towards the ship.
“
Buck up, chick, your mother
’
s here.
”

Mhysra pulled a face behind her
aunt
’
s back.
“
That
’
s what I
’
m worried about,
”
she muttered, watching a slender woman disembark:
Countess Kilpapan was here.

“Mhylla.”

“
Lunrai!”
The two women embraced and Mhysra felt
forgotten as the worlds of the manor and the skyship intermingled
around her. Once she
’
d
had her own allotted place in the dance, but no longer.
She
’
d been tugged apart
and left to drift.

“You’re
brooding,” a rough voice rumbled in her ear, and she smiled, having
felt Cumulo land behind her. An eight-foot tall eagle with a
wingspan of over twenty feet would never be famed for its stealth –
the downdraft always gave him away.

“Good morning,
Cumulo. I trust I find you well.” Lunrai bowed, hand across her
heart in deference to the one to whom miryhls were sacred: Goddess
Maegla, Lady of Storms.

Tradition stated that miryhls only ever
spoke directly to their bonded partners, but Cumulo had always
disregarded that to include those he considered family. With
Lunrai, though, he merely inclined his head in a slight, polite
bow. Head still lowered, he rubbed his beak against
Mhysra
’
s back,
apologising because her mother had greeted him before even looking
at her.

Mhysra was used to it. Her mother was a
businesswoman, her social skills honed to deal with clients,
potential customers, traders and skyship crews. Since Mhysra came
under the haziest of headings –
family –
Lunrai had never
quite known how to treat her. Unlike her older sister Milluqua, a
born society hostess, Mhysra took after her aunt. Without having
had the benefit of raising her during which to learn this, Lunrai
treated her youngest child like the stranger she was.

“Mhysra. I
trust you’re ready to depart tomorrow.” Her mother kissed her
stiffly on the cheek and Mhysra jerked with surprise. Not at the
throwaway token of affection, but because Lunrai had to stretch up
to reach her. When had she outgrown her mother?

Mhylla draped a scarred arm across her
niece
’
s shoulders and
smiled.
“
You
’
ve a fine girl here, Lunrai.
Well-mannered and intelligent. She
’
s been rearing miryhls on her own these last two
summers, and I daresay they
’
ll be some of our best.
”

Lunrai raised delicate eyebrows.
“
Have you enjoyed your time with
your aunt, Mhysra?
”
she
asked, as though she
’
d
merely been on holiday.

Mhylla
’
s grip tightened in warning when Mhysra bristled on
her aunt
’
s behalf.

Swallowing her anger, Mhysra forced herself
to be polite.
“
Yes,
Mother. I doubt there
’
s
anyone or any place in the world that could have raised me
better.
”

Lunrai
’
s eyebrows remained high.
“
Oh?
”
she said, as if amazed that anyone could like
Wrentheria. Then she smiled with surprising sweetness.
“
Good. Thank you, sister, for
taking such excellent care of my children. I
’
m sure you
’
ll be relieved to relinquish the last of them.
I
’
ve brought letters
from Milluqua and Kilai. He mentioned something about nakhound
pups
?”

While the sisters talked, Mhysra slipped
free. She
’
d done her
duty, greeted her mother and been made uncomfortable. Usually
she
’
d help her cousins
tally the new supplies and claim her stake for the miryhls, but
that wasn
’
t her role
anymore.

“You’re
brooding again. Stop it.”

Scowling, she tugged her braid free as her
miryhl tweaked it.
“
What
else can I do? Tomorrow I
’
m leaving everything I
’
ve ever loved, known and wanted to know, to go
where I know no one but my sister, who I haven
’
t even seen for three years!
”

“You’ll still
have me.” He nudged her in the back. “I hope you know and value
me.”

“Only as much
as you do me,” she retorted.

“Look on the
happier side of this tragic tale, chickling,” he purred. “It’ll be
an adventure. Who knows what excitement lies just around the
corner?”

“I already
do,” was her gloomy reply. “Dress fittings, etiquette lessons,
morning calls, deportment lessons, long dinners, breakfast parties,
afternoon tea, dinners, balls, musicales and boredom, boredom,
boredom.”

“Hmm.” Cumulo
turned to arrange his flight feathers just so. “That doesn’t sound
so terrible.”