CH1195 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1195: Things I Want to Do

Good couldn’t remember the walk home.

By the time he reached the residential area, dusk had settled over the refugee quarter. Smoke threaded up from chimneys and neighbors called to each other across doorways. The air carried the sweet thickness of simmering porridge and the salt-iron smell of a day’s labor — voices loud and unguarded, the neighborhood raucous with the confidence of people who expected to eat tonight.

Nobody would have guessed this was a refugee settlement. The energy was wrong for misery. Residents who worked kept themselves fed; within half a month you could afford eggs, the occasional cut of pork. The whole place had the smell of hope — rough and unpolished, but genuine.

Everything here was full of color.

Except Good.

His neighbors smiled and he couldn’t meet it. His eyes burned. That voice was still circling inside his skull: Look at what you did, you thickhead. You ruined everything.

If he had accepted Princess Tilly’s punishment without demanding a trial, he would still be enrolled. Even without ever flying, he would have had a future — a decent post, steady wages, housing and medical benefits. Better than homeless. Better than nothing.

He’d had courage enough to make the demand. It had drained out of him the moment Tilly agreed.

Now there was only fear. And the arithmetic: if he failed, he lost everything.

Good pushed through the door.

“Good, you’re home! Look what I made for you.”

Rachel ran toward him, pulled him to his chair, and whipped the cover off a plate with a flourish. “Egg pancakes! Pretty good, right?”

It was two-layered — more accurately a pancake with scrambled egg laid over it — but it was undeniably beautiful. The egg white had gone thin and lacy at the edges, the rim curling gold, the yolk still soft and orange at the center. Melted butter ran to the edge of the plate and the smell of it rose rich and warm and slightly dangerous.

Rachel had put real effort into this.

“You bought eggs?” Good stared at the plate.

“Uncle Bucky took me to the marketplace.” She pressed a wooden fork into his hand. “Don’t worry — I still have savings. You almost never get a day off. It’s fine to eat eggs sometimes. And once you become an aerial knight, we’ll save up fast. I already worked it out.” She patted her own chest.

Good took the fork. “Y-yes. You’re right.”

“Eat it. Tell me if you like it.”

He hesitated, then put a small piece in his mouth. The yolk broke against his tongue, butter-rich, the flavor spreading through him like something previously forgotten.

Memory surfaced with it.

The road from the Kingdom of Wolfheart to the Western Region of Graycastle had been long and ugly, marked by a hunger that had made food like this unimaginable. Then Neverwinter. Then this: a clean room, meals, a future that looked like a corridor rather than a wall. If he stayed enrolled, Rachel could have egg pancakes whenever she wanted. All of it hinged on him continuing to study.

He wanted to fly. He genuinely wanted it.

But was it worth wagering his life? Their lives?

He’d had nothing to lose before. That was no longer true. He had Rachel, and Rachel had a future that depended on choices he made when he was angry or reckless or simply not thinking about her at all — like when he’d agreed to follow Finkin to look at the planes.

Selfish. He had been selfish. He hadn’t thought of her once.

“Is it bad? I haven’t cooked in a while — maybe I’ve gotten rusty.” Rachel studied him. “Say something. Oi — why are you crying? Is it that bad?”

“No.” Good pressed the back of his wrist against his face and kept eating. His voice came out thick. “It’s good. It’s really good. I just — I couldn’t help it — ”

Rachel crossed to him. She put her hand on top of his head, the way she sometimes did, and asked quietly, “Did something happen?”

“I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “I probably can’t stay at the Academy.”

He told her everything.

Rachel was quiet for a moment. Then: “I only have one question. Do you like flying?”

Good opened his mouth and stopped. There was no useful lie available with Rachel looking straight at him. He nodded.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled. “This is the first time you’ve found something you actually like, isn’t it? You’ve done so much for me since we left. I was the one who pushed us to leave the Kingdom of Wolfheart. You could have refused — you had every reason to — and you didn’t. How does that make you selfish?”

“But I — ”

“The worst that happens is we start over.” She tilted her head. “I’m literate. I can find work on my own. So just do your best.” A pause, then, with the brisk authority of someone closing the matter: “And you don’t have time to sit here worrying about the future. Think about how to pass the trial. And keep your temper next time.”

Good watched her for a long moment.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I think you understand the world better than I do.”

“I’m older. Naturally I know more.” She gave him a look of mild exasperation. “You’re the one who insisted I be your younger sister. If you get expelled, we’re switching. I’ll be your elder sister and you’ll have to listen to me properly.”


The next morning, at the Aerial Knight Academy airfield.

Sixteen students stood in a line at the runway’s end. They had passed the written portion first and earned the right to test first. Four planes came down the runway in sequence — sleek, polished, brand new — and halted in front of them.

Murmurs ran along the row. Every student leaned forward to study the machines.

Every student except Finkin and Hinds, whose faces had gone tight and closed.

Good shut his eyes.

The breeze off the field touched his face. He went back through his training in the darkness behind his lids — the officer’s instructions, the sequence of controls, the feel of each maneuver. Slowly, dim and fragmentary, images resolved: the cockpit, the instruments, his own hands.

When Princess Tilly appeared, everyone dropped to one knee. Finkin caught Good’s sleeve.

“Your Royal Highness!”

“Rise.” Tilly’s voice was level. She walked the line with her hands behind her back. “This is your first time seeing these aircraft, but they should already be familiar. All your textbook materials were built around the Unicorn. These are upgraded Unicorns — improved performance across every measure. Apply what you trained, and the trial is passable.” She stopped at the center of the line and addressed them all. “Because it’s your first flight, I’ll be present to observe and mark your performance. I would prefer not to have to offer instructions, but I will if necessary.

“However — in light of the errors you will likely make — I’ve invited Miss Nana to attend as well. As long as you don’t die outright, she can repair the damage. Be aware that requiring her services will cost you significantly on your score. If you cannot improve in subsequent training, you will be expelled.” A beat. “Furthermore: if the aircraft sustains substantial damage, you receive a zero. We do not have planes to spare. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Sixteen voices in unison.

“Then we begin.” Tilly’s eyes moved to the first name on her list. “First examinant: Good.”

Good drew a full breath. He walked to the plane and climbed into the cockpit.

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