Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
“Seriously, Ciaran?” The brunette second-year lifts a hand to her forehead, shielding her fair skin from the sun and revealing a First Squad, Flame Section patch on her shoulder, then lifts a pierced eyebrow at him. “You’re defending General Sorrengail?”
“No, Eya, I’m not. But she wasn’t there when orders were handed out—” He cuts off the sentence as two eyebrows slash down in warning. “And Aetos was in charge of War Games this year,” he adds.
Ciaran and Eya. I look to the lean guy, who pushes his glasses up his pointed nose with a dark-brown hand, standing next to Garrick’s hulking build. “I’m so sorry, but what is your name?” It feels wrong to not know them all.
“Masen,” he replies with a quick smile. “And if it makes you feel better”— he glances at Brennan—“I don’t think your mom had anything to do with the War Games this year, either. Aetos was pretty loud about his dad planning the whole thing.”
Fucking Dain.
“Thank you.” I turn toward Brennan. “I would bet my life that she didn’t know what was waiting for us.”
“You willing to bet all of ours, too?” Eya asks, clearly not convinced, looking at Imogen for support and not getting any.
“I vote we go,” Garrick says. “We have to risk it. They’ll kill the others if we don’t return, and we can’t cut off the flow of weapons from Basgiath. Who agrees?”
One by one, every hand rises but Xaden’s and Brennan’s.
Xaden’s jaw flexes, and two little lines appear between his brows. I know that expression. He’s thinking, scheming.
“The second Aetos puts hands on her, we lose Aretia and you lose your lives,” Brennan says to him.
“I’ll train her to shut him out,” Xaden responds. “She already has the strongest shields of her year from learning to shut out Tairn. She only has to learn to keep them up at all times.”
I don’t argue. He has a direct link to my mind through the bond, which makes him the most logical choice to practice on.
“And until she can shield out a memory reader? How are you going to keep his hands off her if you’re not even there?” Brennan challenges.
“By hitting him in his biggest weakness—his pride.” Xaden’s mouth curves into a ruthless smile. “If everyone is sure about going, we’ll fly as soon as Andarna’s awake.”
“We’re sure,” Garrick answers for us, and I try to swallow the knot forming in my throat.
It’s the right decision. It could also get us killed.
A rustling behind me catches my attention, and I turn to see Andarna rise, her golden eyes blinking slowly at me as she clumsily gains her newly taloned claws. The relief and joy curving my mouth are short-lived as she struggles to stand.
Oh…gods. She reminds me of a newborn horse. Her wings and legs seem disproportionate to her body, and everything wobbles as she fights to keep upright. There’s no way she’s making the flight. I’m not even sure she can walk across the field.
“Hey,” I say, offering her a smile.
“I can no longer stop time.” She watches me carefully, her golden eyes judging me in a way that reminds me of Presentation.
“I know.” I nod and study the coppery streaks in her eyes. Were those always there?
“You are not disappointed?”
“You’re alive. You kept us all alive. How could I be disappointed?” My chest tightens as I stare into her unblinking eyes, choosing my next words carefully. “We always knew that gift would only last as long as you were little, and you, my dearest, are no longer little.” A growl rumbles in her chest, and my eyebrows shoot up. “Are you…feeling okay?” What the hell did I say to deserve that?
“Adolescents,” Tairn grumbles.
“I am fine,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at Tairn. “We will leave now.” She flares her wings out, but only one fully extends, and she stumbles under the uneven weight, careening forward.
Xaden’s shadows whip out from the trees and wrap around her chest, keeping her from face-planting.
Well. Shit.
“I…uh…think we’re going to have to make some modifications on that harness,” Bodhi remarks as Andarna struggles to maintain her balance. “That’s going to take a few hours.”
“Can you fly her back to the Vale?” I ask Tairn. “She’s…huge.”
“I’ve killed lesser riders for that kind of insult.”
“So dramatic.”
“I can fly myself,” Andarna argues, gaining her balance with the aid of Xaden’s shadows.
“It’s just in case,” I promise her, but she eyes me with deserved skepticism.
“Get the harness done quickly,” Xaden says. “I have a plan, but we have to be back in forty-eight hours for this to work, and a day of that is needed for flight time.”
“What’s in forty-eight hours?” I ask.
“Graduation.”
There is no moment as rewarding, as stirring, as…anticlimactic as a Riders Quadrant Graduation. It’s the only time I’ve ever envied the Infantry Quadrant. Now those cadets know how to hold a ceremony.