Wingborn by Becca Lusher Page A

saddle, she jabbed his ribs
with her toes on the way down and set about taming her skirt. “ You ’ re such a charmer, ” she grumbled, unbuckling his saddle and
harness and pulling them free. When she stepped back, he lowered
his head and unhooked his bridle with a talon, tossing it to her
with a flick.
    “ Very
clever,” she drawled. He was showing off, trying to prove that
Wingborn were so much smarter than ordinary miryhls. The only way
he really outdid normal miryhls, in Mhysra’ s opinion, was
the size of his self-consequence.
    “Let the
gawping commence,” Lieutenant Stirla chuckled, heading towards the
eyries.
    As Mhysra approached the watching crowd,
Cumulo strutting at her side, she had a sudden attack of nerves. It
was one thing to storm the headquarters and demand admittance, but
this was different. Then she ’ d had a goal and nobody could stop her. Especially
not a stuffy paper-pusher who could no more fly than dance on the
Cloud Sea.
    Here, however, she was under the eyes of the
experts, and while she knew Cumulo was a superior specimen, she
also knew she wasn ’ t.
Too tall and scrawny to be girly, too flimsy to be boyish. To
strangers she looked weak. Unworthy.
    “ Buck
up,” Cumulo murmured. “You’ re my Wingborn. Without you
I ’ m nothing. ”
    The unexpected compliment straightened her
spine and raised her chin. He was right, they belonged here. With
these men in their well-worn uniforms, their hands and some of
their faces scarred by the lives they lived. These were Rift
Riders, real Rift Riders.
    Oh, Gods. Wingborn or not, what experience
did she have to compare to theirs? Would she even get the chance to
try and fit in here?
    Cumulo nudged her with his wing, making her
realised that she ’ d
shrunk against him again, like a chick hiding behind its mother.
She straightened up and glanced towards Stirla for guidance. He was
grinning as the crowd parted to reveal the other lieutenant. The
blond one with the cold eyes.
    The other man nodded at Stirla and stepped
forward to study the new miryhl. Whistling softly, he walked slowly
around the newcomers.
    Cumulo ’ s beak crackled in annoyance and Mhysra touched his
wing, surprised. Her Wingborn had shown no such objection when
Stirla had done the same.
    “ Impressive,” the lieutenant announced, his inspection
complete. He smiled, but it didn’ t quite reach his eyes. “ I see why you were so
determined to join us, my lady. ”
    Uncertain of what was expected, she bobbed a
curtsey. “ Thank you,
sir. ”
    “Lieutenant
Lyrai.” He gave a curt bow. “Grounded until the Choice, my miryhl
retired to stud. Wounded.” He looked at Cumulo again, unable to
hide his covetous envy. “I know your name, my lady, but what about
this fine fellow?”
    “Cumulo,” she
replied, as her miryhl curled his beak protectively over her
shoulder, tugging her against his chest. She tickled his cheek just
below his eye in his favourite spot, making him purr. “My
Wingborn.”
    A ripple ran through the Riders, word
spreading to those who hadn ’ t already heard the news.
    Ignoring the talk, Lieutenant Lyrai studied
her and her eagle, taking in Cumulo ’ s protective stance and her affectionate touch. “ Welcome to the Riders,
Lady Mhysra and Cumulo. We hope you like it here. ”
    Something nipped her ankle and she glared
down at the puppy, wondering if she was to be plagued on all sides.
Disapproving lieutenants, stubborn parents, prideful miryhls and
stupid puppies – Maegla aid her to a simple life.
    Sighing, she nodded to the lieutenant. “ Thank you,
sir. ”
    From his faint smile and the occasional
mutter from the crowd, not everyone was keen on readmitting women
to the Riders.
    Mhysra lifted her chin at the challenge. She
was Wingborn. She belonged here – and she would prove it.
    “ Come
on, Cue, let’ s get you settled. ” Hefting his tack, she scooped up the puppy and
followed the chuckling Stirla inside.
     
     
     

 
Five
Derry and