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)
Trager’s sleeping up against the door, using his pack for a pillow, and Ridoc is out a few feet away with his dagger mere inches from his fingertips.
“Vi?” Rhi whispers, sitting up beside me and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “You all right?”
I nod, spotting Maren and Cat curled with their backs against each other in the center of the room on makeshift pallets. We’re all accounted for. There’s no fire. No immediate danger. As much as I miss Sawyer, I’m glad he’s not in harm’s way. Clearly we’re too close to the front for my peace of mind with dreams like that. “Just a nightmare.”
“Oh.” She lies back down in the spot I’d usually sleep, and I fall onto Xaden’s now sweat-soaked pillow. “Basgiath? I get them sometimes, too.”
“I think so.” It’s been months since he’s slept here, but I swear I catch a hint of mint as I turn my head toward Rhi, keeping my voice low. “But Cat was there, and I was trying to find this painting of my family, but it was weird, and then they were burning.” I sigh. “Which makes sense, considering my mother turned herself into an actual flame.”
Rhi grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
I scoff lightly, remembering the dream. “And I told Cat she had to live because she was the future queen of Tyrrendor.”
Rhi’s eyes widen, and she smothers a laugh with her hand. “Now that’s the real nightmare.”
“I know, right?” My smile slips. “What’s in your nightmares when you have them?”
She smooths the piece of black silk covering her hair. “Usually, it’s that you don’t save Sawyer, and I can’t get to him fast enough because I make the wrong call—”
“You two are not as quiet as you think,” Ridoc mutters. “What time is it?”
“Probably time for us to get up,” Rhi says.
The rest of the squad stirs, and we take turns in the bathing chamber before filing into the hallway, ready to make ourselves useful. A pair of riders—one wearing major rank and the other captain—approach as I shut Xaden’s door, their footsteps as weary as their eyes.
“Maise says they have less than an hour,” the major says, wrapping a bandage around her hand, then shoving her short blond hair out of her eyes. “Came out of nowhere.”
Maise. I know that name.
“Mated to Greim,” Tairn reminds me.
Right. They’ve been mated for decades and are able to communicate at a far longer range than Tairn and Sgaeyl.
“We’re stretched too thin.” A line of stitches puckers on the captain’s cheek, and he shakes his head. “If they’re smart, they’ve already evacuated Newhall.”
We all step back against the wall so they can pass.
Well, all except Maren, who blocks their way. “I’m sorry, did you say Newhall?”
“Yes,” the captain replies, looking at Maren like he’s tasted something sour.
“Why is it being evacuated?” Maren rushes, her brow furrowing.
The officers share a knowing look, and the rest of us come off the wall in front of the pair as Cat quickly crosses behind Trager to reach Maren. “The area is under attack. It’s odd for venin to target such a small village, but scouts reported smoke.”
Maren inhales sharply, and Cat hooks her arm through her elbow.
“You have people there?” The major’s tone softens, pity in her gaze.
Maren presses her lips between her teeth and nods.
“It’s where her family fled,” Cat answers. “It’s not more than half an hour from here. Are we flying?”
“We?” The captain looks at each of us—pausing at my braid—before addressing Cat. “We are running on little to no sleep and have already lost one rider this week. Half our riot is patrolling to the north and the other half is pushing burnout, so as harsh as it may sound”—he shoots the major a look I can’t quite decipher—“the village is too small to risk any more casualties to the unit.”
My breath abandons me.
“So we just leave them to die?” Trager’s voice rises. “Why? Because they’re Poromish?”
“Not because they’re Poromish. Because we can’t help.” The major’s words grow shorter. “Not all of us wield lightning.” She glances at me. “If we want to save the towns, the cities, the denser areas of population, then an unfortunate part of war is knowing we’ll lose some of the villages. If you don’t pick up strategic concepts in your third year, then you’ll certainly learn fast once you graduate.” The pair walks around Maren and Cat, their footsteps heavy as they depart.
“If any of us are still alive by the time they graduate…” The captain’s voice fades.
“My family’s there,” Maren whispers, her face crumpling. “Why didn’t my parents go south when Zolya fell? They would have been safe in Cordyn. Or they could have gone back to Draithus.”
“Shh.” Cat rubs Maren’s arm. “I’m sure they’ll get out.”
Maren shakes her head violently. “What if they’re already dead?”