Kerrigan sighed in relief. “How exactly will I be getting there?”

“Since classes are canceled, today is your final day of being grounded. You’ll leave tomorrow, and you are free to fly Tieran there.”

Kerrigan breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t have been happier. No more grounding. It had been a grueling month without him in the skies. They didn’t get along, but a part of her missed him like a giant ache in her chest. Maybe she was actually coming to like this sardonic dragon.

“You’ll resume training after the first of the year,” Alura continued, her gaze never leaving Kerrigan. “I expect you all to look exactly the same. No matter if you’ve had a break from training or not.”

Kerrigan gulped. Well, great. That was ten days. Ten days to make up for a month of training that the others had been given. And she had to attend Season events. How was she supposed to accomplish that?

But Alura just asked, “Any other questions?”

She kept her hand down. That wasn’t an invitation.

“Go pack and be ready to be in the skies by high noon,” Alura said. “Dismissed!”

Kerrigan jumped at her shout and hastened behind the others. They had a matter of hours to get ready. Audria gossiped the entire way about who was going to be there and what the Belcourt Palace would look like this year for Geivhrea. She forced herself not to think about it.

Kerrigan hadn’t been to Bryonica in twelve years, but she remembered her last night as if it were yesterday.

She’d gone out riding with her father, cutting through Corsica Forest, which made up the bulk of their lands. Kivrin was unusually quiet. He’d never been a taciturn kind of father like everyone else. He was fair, kind, buoyant. He was as interested in teaching her the intricacies of court to have her grow into a fair lady as he was to teach her the art of deception and warfare. The son he’d never had.

They stopped at the stream on the far side of their family estate, Waisley. Her horse should have been a meager pony, but her father never would have allowed her such a small beast. He’d wanted her on stallions by the time she could toddle around.

He’d looked far away and said the words that never left her all these years, “You will survive this, Felicity.”