Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
“I’ve got it.” I navigate my way back to the saddle, then grab hold of both flapping ends of the belt and buckle myself in. We did it.
My heart is still galloping when we land, then take our spot in formation.
“That was…unorthodox,” Kaori says.
Tairn rumbles low in his chest.
“And it worked,” I counter, shouting across the field.
“It did,” Xaden replies, a corner of his mouth rising. “I fucking love you.”
“How could you not?” I don’t bother fighting my smile.
He scoffs.
Kaori looks like he wants to protest, but then he motions the rest of the group forward.
Baylor skins his knee on landing.
Avalynn fractures her collarbone.
Sloane completes the entire exercise with a grace that reminds me of Liam but doesn’t even pretend to wield.
Lynx comes up with a face full of mud and a broken nose.
Aaric lands twenty feet from the projection without breaking a sweat, but instead of rushing the target, he whirls toward Xaden and Kaori and hurls a palm-size axe.
My heart trips as it flies end over end, but Xaden doesn’t even flinch as it lands a foot in front of Kaori, the blade embedded in the mud. The projection disappears.
“I think he won,” Rhi says.
Xaden nods once before Aaric backs away, then breaks into a run to mount Molvic.
“I’d definitely say so,” I agree.
After maneuvers are done for the day, the dragons launch, and I hang back to catch Xaden alone, even after a few reproachful looks from my year-mates.
Kaori walks up, looking like he wants to say something, but a Red Swordtail lands farther down the field, catching his attention. He simply tips his chin and walks toward the dragon, leaving me alone with Xaden on the far end of the field.
“That was fucking terrifying to watch.” Xaden’s gaze bores into mine. “And magnificent.”
“I feel that way about you every day.” I smile, then dig my hand into the pocket of my flight jacket and remove a parchment-wrapped parcel and a letter. “I got you something. Present is for now, letter is for later.”
“You didn’t have to.” His brow furrows, but he takes them both and pockets the letter.
“Open it.” My heart flutters. I hope I made the right choice, since it’s definitely too soon to bring out anything that resembles a cake.
He untucks the folded parchment, then stares at the black metal wrist cuff.
“It’s onyx,” I tell him as he studies the clasp and flat, rectangular stone mounted within the band. “And that’s a piece of the turret on top of Riorson House.”
His gaze jumps to mine, and his fist closes around the cuff.
“You mentioned it needed repairs, and I asked Brennan to have that made for you from one of the broken pieces. When things get…shitty, I hope you can look down at it and imagine us sitting there together when this is all over. That’s the vision I’m going to cling to: you and me, holding hands, looking over the city.” I close the distance between us, take the cuff from his hand, and secure it around his wrist, then flick the metal closure. “Thank gods it fits. I had to guess—”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s soft. Tender. Perfect. “Thank you,” he says.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper against his lips.
“I love you.” He lifts his head, and his hands slip from my cheeks like a caress. “But I’m only going to get worse. You really should run.”
Not done brooding. Message received.
“Come find me when you’re ready to accept the fact that I won’t.” I back away slowly. “That I never will.”
“Forty-seven days.” He searches my eyes and lets his breath go. “That’s how long it’s been since I channeled from the alloy in Deverelli.”
“That’s longer than the month you lamented about before we came home.”
“Not long enough.” His eyes spark with determination, and hope flares brightly within my chest.
“You have a number in mind before you feel…in control?”
His jaw flexes. “Control is probably just prolonging the inevitable, but I’ve got one that might indicate…stability.”
“Feel like sharing?”
He shakes his head.
“As much as I hate to break up whatever’s happening over here—” A voice booms across the area, and we both turn, finding Felix walking toward us with a full pack strapped to his back as Kaori leaves the field.
I blink three times to make sure I’m not seeing things. “I thought you said you wouldn’t leave Aretia?”
“I do hate Basgiath.” He scratches the silver cloud of his beard. “But not as much as I hate dying.” He pulls a tied bundle of missives from the pocket of his flight jacket and hands them to Xaden. “Those are yours, Your Grace.”
“News from Aretia?” Xaden takes them.
“Provincial affairs.” Felix nods. “And two wyvern came through the wards yesterday.”
My stomach pitches.
“How far did they get now?” Xaden asks, and my head swings in his direction.