"Watch it fly higher—see that, Mother?" I shouted, fingers digging into Frostwing's crest as she kicked off the trial platform.
"Don't catch a cold," Emilie called back, but she didn't sound serious. Noah shoved his hands into his sleeves and pretended not to smile. Frostwing unfurled like a shard of winter and surged between the ropes, wings blurring cold air into mist.
"Impossible," a tutor barked from the dais. "No one with a revoked cultivation is allowed to mount an examination spirit mid-trial. Step down, girl."
I grinned at him. "Official rule or opinion?"
"Both," he snapped. "Remove yourself."
"Then remove me," I said, and pushed my weight forward.
Frostwing lunged. The crowd hissed. Guards reached for me. I hooked my legs under her soft belly and held on as she banked, picking up the wind that smelled like frost and old rumor. Someone in the noble seats laughed sharp and loud. I cupped my hands and screamed back toward them.
"Watch and learn!"
A blue flare choked the platform below as Frostwing sliced a plume into the air. She answered me with a single, high, dramatic screech—her voice the kind that told other birds to mind their place. I leaned into it, felt the hollow strength under her feathers, and let the laughter out of me like a spark.
"Catch the ribbon!" shouted a judge. The trial required a ride, a ribbon taken from the highest pole and returned before an hour passed
