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)
My stomach hits the floor. Six months? I figured we’d at least have a year or two before the wards gave out. That path’s timeline just got complicated, but I’ll be damned if Xaden loses his home twice.
“Six months.” Brennan’s gaze darts between Ridoc’s and Rhi’s doors as if he’s performing calculations in his head.
“No. This is the kind of mission riders don’t return from.” Mira draws back, studying our brother like he’s a stranger.
Well, that’s comforting.
“This is bigger than the three of us. Hundreds of thousands of civilians are under attack in Poromiel.” He shoves the missives into his chest pocket and sighs. “Of course I don’t want her in danger, and they won’t let me go with her. I already asked.”
“Find another way.” Mira shakes her head. “You can’t trade Violet’s life for strangers’.”
“Now you sound like Mom.” The words fly from his mouth, and to his credit, he immediately winces when both Mira and I gasp. “Shit.” He hangs his head.
“You dare mention our mother when you won’t even wear it?” She grabs the runed disk from her pack and throws it at our brother, smacking him square in the chest. He fumbles to catch it. “Look at what I’ve been doing this week, Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. Not sure Mom would approve.”
Crap. This is not the cool, calm plan we discussed presenting to our brother.
His brows knit as he studies the disk. “I don’t understand.”
“We found a way to keep the fliers at Basgiath safely,” she says.
He keeps looking at it, and I see the moment the truth hits him. The blood drains from his face, and his mouth slackens. “You want to—”
“Yes. And you should find a mirror,” Mira interrupts, earning his attention. “Sacrificing members of our family for what’s considered the greater good is a weapon straight out of Mom’s arsenal.” She walks away without another word.
I pat his shoulder. “Take it to the Senarium.”
“They’ll never agree.”
“You and I both know it’s the only way to forge this alliance.”
He nods. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Never forget that dragon riders have been selected, trained, and even bred for cruelty. Expecting mercy from a rider is a mistake, for none will be given.
—Chapter One: The Tactical Guide to Defeating Dragons by Colonel Elijah Joben
CHAPTER FIVE
Afew hours later, I’m pretty sure this has been the longest day of my entire life. The gathering hall is less than a quarter full and the perfect place to wait for news, so that’s what the three of us do while Sawyer naps and the first-years tour with the fliers: sit—with our backs to the wall in case some Navarrian rider decides they want to make a point—and wait for Brennan and Mira to bring news.
Xaden hasn’t returned, either.
Not knowing if more venin could be running around campus is terrifying, but at least if there are, Xaden will sense them. The thought is oddly comforting.
“That venin by Jack’s cell had silver hair,” I mutter, setting my dagger to an apple and peeling it in one long ribbon. “That’s weird, right?”
“Everyone’s hair eventually turns gray. That’s the least weird thing about yesterday’s attack. How long are we supposed to wait to see if they charge us with treason?” Ridoc drums his fingers on the thick oak table. “Let’s just go with plan B already before another group of scarily coordinated dark wielders tries to break Barlowe out again.”
“It’s called plan A for a reason. Be patient,” Rhi lectures from Ridoc’s right, skimming through the book of Tyrrish knotwork Xaden gave me back before I knew it was meant to prepare me for runes. “I highly doubt the Treaty of Aretia was written in a matter of hours.”
“The initial phase was thirteen days of negotiation.” I finish peeling the apple as a first-year comes running through the arched double doors, then set my blade down as the gangly guy makes a beeline to a full table in First Wing’s section, immediately spreading what appears to be a tasty bit of gossip. “When are the first-years going to be done?” I ask.
Whatever rumor First Wing has caught wind of spreads quickly, rippling outward from the center table down the line in a fascinating display of turning heads and scrambling cadets.
“No clue,” Rhi says, turning a page. “I’m just hoping it’s a peaceful bonding experience, since I’m fairly certain there’s some kind of love triangle going on between Avalynn, Baylor, and Kai. Which I normally wouldn’t stress about; it’s not like Aetos cared who any of us were fucking last year—”
“So not true.” Ridoc snorts and shoulder bumps me.
I glance over at the next table to make sure Dain didn’t hear, but he’s clearly engrossed in conversation with a group of third-years, including Imogen and Quinn.
“—but they keep…” Rhi wrinkles her nose. “Squabbling. It isn’t helping integrate the fliers in this hostile environment, and it’s screwing with their interpersonal dynamics.”