Cadoc frowns, bemused. ‘You know there is.’

  ‘If I knew, I wouldn’t ask!’

  ‘Your great aunt. Or to be accurate in the light of recent revelations. My aunt.’

  ‘Elia?’

  Elia was eccentric even by the family’s standards. She lived in attic apartments in the oldest part of the house. She avoided people and surrounded herself with birds that fluttered through her windows all day and night. Her apartment stank from a floor away. I’d seen her transfer the inheritance from a family member to one of my father’s guards. A useful technique when a soldier is being sent on a mission and needs a specific power for a particular task, and the family member is too old or infirm to do it themselves.

  ‘But that’s a temporary fix, I need to be a member of the family, not appear as one.’

  Cadoc shakes his head, irritated. ‘You’re too young to know this, but when Elia was a young woman, she was a great warrior. Her power was an enormous asset on the battlefield. If one of the family received a mortal wound, she could take their power from them and transfer it to one of the people, so that power wouldn’t be lost.’

  ‘Permanently?’

  ‘Exactly so.’

  ‘How do I not know about this?’

  ‘Because the process extinguishes life. Even when facing death, who wishes to hand over what is most precious to them? The family revolted and insisted that Elia not be allowed to fight alongside them.’

  The implications are two awful to contemplate. ‘You’re saying to truly inherit, I would have to kill my father’s son.’

  ‘To be strictly accurate, you’d have to persuade an elderly woman to kill him for you.’

  I slump back in the chair. ‘Then there’s no hope for me.’

  ‘There’s always hope,’ Cadoc murmurs, ‘It’s just that it has a tendency not to arrive in the manner we expect.’

  That night there is another dinner in my honour. A spectacular event with imported meat and vegetables, gifts from allies from across the water of the Sleeve. The soil of the Citadel no longer sustains crops or livestock; on most days we live on food produced on land we have taken from the enemy. So scarce is flora and fauna on our own land, that use of the inheritance within the realm must be approved by the King himself. I have no appetite, but diplomacy requires me to sample course after course to prevent offence. The great hall is filled with music, smoke from the fires and conversation in a dozen different tongues. I can only hope that my silence will be read as confidence, now I have been seen to inherit both power and my place as heir. The King makes a speech which makes me sound as if I am already a great hero. Although next to me, Raylee cannot help but raise an eyebrow at his boasts about my abilities, only to be silently reprimanded by the Queen.

  My gaze keeps returning to a nearby long table, where older relatives are seated. They are first cousins, aunts and uncles; members of the family who can rightfully claim seniority over most of the clan gathered here tonight. There is a cousin who can briefly stop time, an uncle who can control animals, and, sitting on her own, at the end of the table, is Great Aunt Elia. The gown she is wearing is almost as old as she is. It is burgundy, with a ruffled collar, which looks so stiff that it forces her to keep her chin raised. Her hair is white and thin, piled up in a style I have only seen in old portraits. Her face is as a pale as Cadoc’s, and with her outfit and hair, she makes me think of a ghost haunting the feast.

  She catches me looking - my eye is drawn to her with such frequency that it would be surprising if she didn’t. She raises her wine glass and toasts me politely. She has narrow features, but a kind smile. I realise that in the whole of my young life, I haven’t exchanged more than a few words with her.

  If I were to ask her to kill for me, would she? What would I have to do to persuade her? Could I live with myself if I succeeded? I have killed countless of our enemies. I killed three this very morning, one with my bare hands. But this would be different. Whoever that boy is, he is an innocent. Not only that but he is my parents’ blood. Earlier, in Cadoc’s rooms, I felt that it was a worthy sacrifice - of both a stranger’s life and my morality. Now I feel less certain. What is the alternative? The deception cannot be maintained forever. A new heir must be found.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  My sister takes a sip of her wine and leans in to catch something the Queen discretely whispers in her ear. She smiles, amused, and replies. Will Raylee be heir? She has the inheritance and our mother’s approval. What would become of me? Would some excuse be made that I could not succeed my father? Would I be asked to publicly refuse the throne and what? Find myself exiled to a subterranean life like Cadoc or banished to a loft like Elia, snubbed by the family and forced to live a life of solitude and bird shit?

  What if they find the real heir? Some peasant in a far-off land, whose blood burns with phosphorus fire. What then? I look over at my father - or at least the man I have always called that. He has his arm around one of his cousins; a bear of a man, whose battles have been recorded in half a dozen songs. Would the King allow us both to be called his son? Or would I be an embarrassment? Evidence of the enemy’s ability to outmaneuver us. Would I be sent away or wake to find a knife at my throat in the night? I dispel such thoughts. He said I was his son and heir. Those were his words.

  I make my excuses and leave the table at the first opportunity. I feel Tamarla’s eyes on me as I slip from the hall. She’s hoping for an invitation to my rooms, but I can’t be with anyone tonight. Least of all her, she knows me too well. I consider retreating to my apartments, but to do what? Sulk like a child? Instead, I make my way to the Royal Stables at the rear of the house. The military stables are housed at the gates to the city, but our personal griffin are kept nearer to us.

  Aetos is in her stall. She raises her beak to greet me and peels, her call surprisingly thin and high for such a huge creature. I consider tacking her up, but the desire to be away from here is too strong and I cannot wait. I climb on her broad, feline back and hold onto her feathers. She pads softly outside her stall, her claws tapping lightly on the cobblestones. She turns her head around and presses her beak against my cheek. I shrug, having no clear idea where I want to go. Just away.

  ‘Up up,’ I whisper in her ear. She trots for a few paces, before pouncing as if the air itself were her prey. Her huge wings extend at the height of her leap. The lion in her yields to the eagle. We lift in great surges as she thrashes her wings, her giant shoulders flexing between my knees. The lights of the stable fade and then the citadel itself becomes the size of a doll’s house. I dig my heels gently into her flank and lean toward the direction I wish to travel.

  She doesn’t question me, but veers towards the west and the enemy lines. I knew this was the destination I had in mind, even though I didn’t want to admit it. There is a foolishness in flying into their airspace alone, without even a saddle to keep me on Aetos’s back. But there are questions to which I need answers, and I need to find them tonight. We fly for four hours, always below the clouds, but it is still bitterly cold. Aetos is well within her range - she can fly without landing for an entire night.

  The Savernake Valley is thirty miles into enemy territory. The river at its base is a supply line for the enemy, but not a major one. We have never launched an assault here for this reason. As we fly over the hills, the valley is revealed beneath us, the river no more than a dark smudge in the night. There’s no moon and the clouds are low. We circle a few times over the valley, but it remains impenetrable beneath us. What did I expect to see in the dark?

  I whisper a command in Aetos’s ear and she turns for home. She banks, her wings outstretched and almost vertical, using the heat rising from the valley to support the maneuver. I grip my knees against her flank and hold tightly to her feathers. For a moment there is nothing beneath me but the valley and the black river. As she starts to level out, I hear a new sound. At first, it’s not unlike the regular beating of wings, but it is too fast and regular for that. Aetos hears it too. I feel her breath quicken. She’s too experienced to panic, but that doesn’t mean she cannot feel fear.

  The enemy are airborne.

  A glow appears beneath us. The sound increases in intensity. The enemy are directly beneath us. Aetos does not wait for a command but frantically beats her wings to rise up. As we ascend, I look down over her shoulders. I can see the cold white lights of the enemy. I cannot see their wings, they move too quickly for that, but their insane clatter drowns out the wind. They are rising up beneath us more quickly than we can escape.

  I yank at Aetos’ feathers to pull her out of the enemy’s flight path. At first, she is too frightened to feel the instruction. The enemy is making too much noise for me to be heard. I pull her again, and this time she understands the command in my hands and knees. She swoops to the East, eager to return home. Her angle is unexpectedly sharp, my knees slip from her back and I slide down her flank. For a terrifying moment, I think I’ll fall, but I keep my grip on her neck feathers and hang, my legs dangling into space. I’m about to heave myself onto her back, when the enemy rises in front of us.

  We are buffeted by its invisible wings as it roars and thunders. It is no further than forty feet away, giant and hornet-shaped against the night. I have seen these abominations in the skies over our cities before, but never this close. There is a glass front, which houses a bright searchlight and within which I can see silhouettes of elves. The side of the machine is open. An elf in dark green fatigues and a metal helmet sits framed in the opening, its long, metal weapon balanced on its knees. It’s so close, I can see the bored expression on its face as it stares out into the night. If it turns a few degrees, it will see me and that will be the end. I know what the enemy’s metal birds can do. I’ve seen them belch fire and destroy buildings.

  The machine tilts and moves off at incredible speed. In a moment, we are in its slipstream. It takes all my strength to keep hold of Aetos, until it is safe to heave myself onto her back. Two more of the machines lift into the air beneath us. The three craft move off in parallel, ascending over the hills at the end of the valley. The sound dies away and now all I can hear is the ringing in my ears.

  I lean forward to tell Aetos to make for home, but she is already moving before I express the command.