Wingborn by Becca Lusher Page B

Dinner

    9 th Blizzard
    “I DON’T KNOW what you ’ re worrying about, ” Mherrin told Mhysra three days later as they
ambled through the Cathedral market. “ You ’ ve
got an official letter from Mam already, which should be enough for
even the highest sticklers. ”
    “ Except
that sniffy clerk,” Mhysra grumbled, slapping her gloved hands
together to generate some warmth. It had snowed heavily overnight,
making her doubly grateful that Cumulo now had other miryhls to
huddle up with. “He wants a letter from my father.” Deep down she
wanted one from him too. Surely after all these years of ignoring
her, the earl could do this one small thing to secure her future
happiness. He’ d done it for Kilai.
    “ I can
write you a letter from your father,” Mherrin assured her blithely,
as though forging an earl’ s seal was no small feat. “ I ’ ve been practising. ”
    He sounded so pleased with himself that
Mhysra had to smile. “ What would your mother say? ”
    Mherrin
grinned. “It was her idea in the first place.”
    Knowing she should be shocked, considering
the potential illegalities, Mhysra shook her head, unsurprised by
the attitudes of both her aunt and cousin. To them the solution was
simple, so everything else was nonsense. “ I don ’ t want you to get in trouble. ” Forgery carried heavy penalties, such as
imprisonment and work camps.
    “ We
won’ t get caught, ” he said confidently. “ And it ’ ll save you from continuing to bang your head
against that brick wall. You know he ’ ll never change his mind. ”
    “ I
know,” she sighed, but she still couldn’ t stop hoping. It
was all so underhand. She hated starting out her Rift Rider career
based on a lie, but what choice did she have?
    “Well, well,
look what the pyrefly dragged in.”
    The cousins stopped as a young man stepped
into their path. Mhysra tilted her head right back to meet a pair
of merry brown eyes.
    “ Derry!”
She launched herself into his arms and was wrapped in a great bear hug.
    Slapping him on the shoulder, Mherrin
started asking questions: “ When did you get back? Did you come on the Illuminai ? Was my aunt with you? ” Looping an arm around Mhysra ’ s waist, he hauled her backwards. “ Try not to strangle the
man, cuz. ”
    Laughing, Derrain ran a hand over his
ruffled hair. “ We got
back this morning. Yes, I was on the Illuminai. And yes, the
countess is home. ”
    Mhysra shared a grimace with her cousin,
then smiled at Derrain. The Illuminai sailor had been a
regular part of Mhysra and Mherrin ’ s life over the last eight years, having spent most
of his grounded Storm Seasons at Wrentheria. In fact, outside of
her family and Cumulo, Derrain was Mhysra ’ s closest friend, always ready to lead or
follow her into trouble.
    “ It’ s good to see you, Derry. ”
    “You might not
think that in a month or two.” He winked at Mherrin.
    Mhysra frowned, sensing that she was missing
something. “ A bit late
for the Storm Season, aren ’ t you? ” That autumnal month seemed far behind now, though the memory of the
horsat obstacle course relay still made her smile. “ Or has the captain finally seen
sense and pensioned you off? ”
    “In a way,”
Derrain agreed, with a mild and infuriating smile.
    She narrowed her eyes. “ What aren ’ t you telling me? ” At a chuckle from her cousin, she turned to glare
at him instead. “ What do
you know, Mherrin? ”
    “ Plenty,” Mherrin said, highly amused. “I’ m not just
a pretty face, you know. ”
    Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Derrain
and poked his broad chest. “ Spill it. ”
    Catching her finger, he swung her arm wide,
twirling her in the middle of the busy market square. “ You know how you talked and talked
and talked my ear off all the way from Wrentheria about
becoming a Rift Rider? ”
    Stumbling to a stop, she frowned. “ I wasn ’ t that bad. ”
    “Yes, you
were,” the boys chorused.
    “ You
weren’ t even there! ”