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 think Violet is about to lose her shit,” Ridoc whispers.
“This”—I toss the halves of the scroll at Halden, and he catches them with the same reflexes that make him lethal on the battlefield—“is not the plan, and they”—I gesture toward the seated riders—“are not my squad.”
Xaden’s smirk deepens, and he settles into his seat like he’s ready for a show.
“Searching Aretia is the first logical course of action, considering it is the only area we have no information on—” Markham starts, his cheeks leaning toward ruddy.
“You don’t speak,” I snap, meeting his gaze for the first time in months. “Not to me. As far as I’m concerned, you have the credibility of a drunkard and the integrity of a rat. You dare complain about missing six years of information on Aretia when you’ve hidden centuries of our continent’s history from public knowledge?”
Halden’s brows rise, and Mira shifts her hand to the pommel of her sword.
“You cannot speak to a superior officer, let alone the commander of a quadrant, with such disrespect!” Markham roars, coming out of his chair.
“In case you missed it when I crossed the parapet, I am not in your chain of command,” I fire back.
“But you are in mine,” Aetos warns. “And I speak with the authority of Melgren.”
Fury gets the best of me. “And I speak with the authority of Tairn, Andarna, and the Empyrean. Or did you forget that two dragons also lost their riders?”
“If I wasn’t in love with you already, I would be now,” Xaden says, crossing his ankles.
“Sit, Markham,” Halden orders, a note of surprise in his tone. “You tried and failed.”
Markham sinks into his chair.
“We’ll give this one shot. Name your squad for the Deverelli mission, Cadet Sorrengail,” Halden says. “But know that if you fail, we’ll assign another commander, and refusing to continue will negate the terms of the Second Aretia Accord.”
The one that gave Xaden back his title.
I swallow the lump in my throat. No pressure or anything.
“Accepted.” I straighten my shoulders. “For the Deverelli mission, my squad will consist of Lieutenant Riorson, Lieutenant Sorrengail, Cadet Gamlyn, Cadet Cordella”—I glance back over my shoulder to get his rank—“Captain Cordella, Cadet Aetos, Prince Halden, and whatever favorite guard follows you in case you stub your toe,” I say to Halden. “When we succeed, I reserve the right to switch out members after the first expedition.”
“Absolutely not.” Aetos shakes his head. “You’ll take only commissioned officers, no fliers, and Riorson is out of the question.”
Halden lifts his hand, and Aetos quiets.
Xaden stills to the point I have to glance to see if he’s breathing.
“I’ll take whomever I wish,” I counter. “As third in line for the throne, Catriona’s capable of speaking for Poromiel—”
“And the captain?” the Duchess of Morraine asks, her face twisting like she’s scented something sour. “You need two fliers?”
“Cadet Cordella deserves to have someone she trusts, too.” I tilt my head at Halden. “Dragons don’t carry humans who haven’t crossed the parapet or climbed the Gauntlet, so you’re lucky gryphons are kinder in this regard, or you’d never keep up. Lieutenant Sorrengail is the only rider capable of creating her own wards. Cadet Aetos is the only rider I trust who speaks fluent Krovlish—which is the second most common language used in Deverelli. Cadet Gamlyn is dedicated to my personal safety, and even if Lieutenant Riorson weren’t the deadliest rider in the whole of our forces”—I glance at Aetos, then Halden—“which he is, you know Tairn and Sgaeyl cannot be separated, and there’s no telling how long we’ll be forced to travel. I’m tired of arguing this point.”
“He’s a professor at this war college,” Aetos sputters.
“He is my choice.”
Halden sits back in his chair and looks at me like he’s never seen me before.
“He hasn’t,” Tairn reminds me. “He no longer knows you.”
I stare straight at Halden. “And the Tyrrish kept contact with Deverelli up until the last century. Who better to reopen those lines of communication than the Duke of Tyrrendor himself?”
Xaden’s surprise barrels down the bond, but he remains unnaturally still.
“You may read my father’s book whenever you want,” I tell him.
“Riorson holds a seat in the Senarium,” the Duchess of Morraine argues. “He can’t just leave. He doesn’t even have an heir should…tragedy befall, though I might be persuaded to agree to his absence should he consider my daughter’s proposal.”
“Proposal?” The blood runs from my face.
“One of about a dozen since they gave me the title back. Nothing to stress over.” A soft strand of shimmering onyx brushes against my mind.
My heart lurches. We have very different ideas of stress.
“At least say what you mean, Ilene.” Halden sends a sideways glance her way. “You don’t trust him and would like to see your bloodline in not only Morraine but Tyrrendor.”
“He led a rebellion!” She slams her hands on the tabletop.