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)
“But you’re not,” Andarna argues, her voice fading the farther we fly. “I can burn venin.”
“I’ve told you a dozen times, first fire burns the hottest, which could explain the phenomenon,” Tairn replies. “This mission is dangerous enough without adding a desirable target for any lurking dark wielders.”
“They’re all busy to the south…” Her voice trails off as the connection is severed.
“We have about twelve hours before you’ll start to feel the pain of distance from Andarna,” Tairn reminds me as we cut through the night, opening the conversation to Sgaeyl and Xaden’s pathways.
I have no desire to test the three-to-four-day limit that riders and their dragons can be apart, nor to suffer the fatal consequences. Three hours to Anca. One hour to locate the citrine. Three hours back. A third of the riot stationed at Samara launched an offensive against a known stronghold just north of the fortress an hour ago, which allowed us to slip through the red line on Battle Brief’s map unnoticed by the enemy. Everything is going according to plan.
Three hours later, it feels almost a little too easy as we land in the desiccated village square of what had once been Anca. Definitely not occupied. Other than evading two patrols of wyvern by staying low, we haven’t seen a single enemy, only sparse villages and dimly lit encampments of civilians between the land the venin drained in their advance toward Samara. Tairn sets his claws down first as usual, despite being told to hang back in formation by Grady, and the rest follow suit around the withered remains of a clock tower.
“Just because I accepted the terms of the mission does not mean I like them.” Tairn grumbles low in his chest as I bundle my flight jacket with the pack at the edge of my saddle and dismount.
“I know.” My feet hit the ground, and everything feels…off without the presence of magic. According to our latest intel, wielding within drained territory isn’t just challenging, but it seems to draw venin, so I let the conduit fall along my wrist, keeping it close just in case everything goes to shit. “Stick to the plan. I’ll let you know when we have it.”
Tairn bends, then launches high above the crumbling two-story buildings, and is quickly joined by the rest of the dragons, two of whom bear the riders Grady chose to do recon from above—Pugh and Foley.
Xaden strides past the clock tower, heading my way. He’s done a good job of masking his discomfort, but I can see the struggle in his eyes and the curl of his fingers.
“You should have taken the sentry assignment,” I tell him as Grady gathers the others to my left.
“I wasn’t leaving you on the ground.” Our hands nearly brush as we turn and walk toward the group, but we’re careful not to touch, especially with how Aura Beinhaven narrows her eyes in our direction. “And it’s not like I’m risking anything as long as I remain calm, cool, and collected within the perimeter. The magic is long since drained.”
Which is why the dragons are in the sky, flying over the land the dark wielders left untouched in their haste to reach Samara.
“I can’t tell…” Grady flips the hand-drawn map over. “Her handwriting is atrocious.”
“It looks like that way,” Captain Henson notes, leaning in to see and pointing across the village square.
“Which is why you should have brought Cat like Violet asked.” Mira plucks the map straight out of Grady’s hand and studies it.
“Gryphons can’t keep up,” Grady reminds us. “And this mission will serve as a trial run for all those that follow. An extra member would have thrown off the dynamic.”
“What fucking dynamic?” I ask Xaden. “I loathe Aura, don’t really trust Grady after he fed us the serum during RSC training, and don’t know the rest of them.”
“Calm. Cool. Collected.” Xaden slides his hands into his pockets.
“Really? I don’t see a prince or his guards here, let alone anyone representing Poromiel. And stop whispering like they can hear you.” Mira rotates the map and lines up the landmarks Cat sketched out. “The area is deserted, and we’ll be fine as long as our sentries intercept any wayward patrols and no one wields.” Mira points past my right shoulder. “It’s this way.”
“I’ll take that, Lieutenant.” Grady snatches the map back.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were setting the mission up to fail.” Mira offers a cutting smile.
“Let’s go.” Grady glares my sister’s way, then stalks past me in the direction she pointed.
“If it makes any difference,” Captain Henson says, glancing at Mira as she passes, “I agree with you.”
“I don’t.” Aura pushes up the sleeves of her uniform and runs by. “We can’t trust the fliers.”
“And yet it’s their artifact that Cat is helping us find,” I mutter as we follow.