-SEVEN
“So all we do is wait for something to happen?” Ridoc asks the next afternoon,
leaning back in his chair and putting his boots on the end of the wooden table
that runs the length of the briefing room.
“Yes,” Mira says from the head of the table, then flicks her wrist and sends
Ridoc flying backward. “And keep your feet off the table.”
One of the Montserrat riders laughs, changing the markers on the large map
that consumes the only stone wall in the curved, windowed room. This is the
highest turret in the outpost, offering unmatched views of the Esben mountain
range around us.
We’ve been split into two groups for the day. Rhiannon, Sawyer, Cianna,
Nadine, and Heaton spent the morning with Devera in this room, studying
previous battles at the outpost, and are now out on patrol.
Dain, Ridoc, Liam, Emery, Quinn, and I spent the morning on a two-hour
flight around the surrounding area, with one extra tagalong—Xaden. He’s been
the worst kind of distraction since arriving last night.
Dain won’t stop glaring at him and making snide remarks.
Mira keeps one eye on him at all times as well, suspiciously quiet since last
night.
And me? I can’t seem to keep my eyes to myself. There’s a palpable energy in
every room he enters, and it brushes over my skin like a caress each time our
eyes meet. Even now, I’m aware of every breath he takes as he sits next to me
midway down the table.
“Consider this your Battle Brief,” Mira continues, side-eyeing Ridoc as he
scrambles back into his chair. “This morning was about a quarter of the patrol
we’d regularly fly, so normally we’d just be getting back about now and
reporting our findings to the commander. But for the sake of killing time, since
we’re in this room as the reaction flight for this afternoon, let’s pretend we’d
come across a newly fortified enemy outpost crossing our border”—she turns to
the map and sticks a pin with a small crimson flag near one of the peaks about
two miles from the Cygnisen borderline—“here.”
“We’re supposed to pretend it just popped up overnight?” Emery asks,
openly skeptical.
“For the sake of argument, third-year.” Mira narrows her eyes on him, and
he sits up a little straighter.
“I like this game,” another one of the Montserrat riders says from the end of
the table, lacing his fingers behind his neck.
“What would our objective be?” Mira glances around the table, noticeably
skipping Xaden. Last night, she’d taken one look at the rebellion relic on his
neck and walked by without saying a word. “Aetos?”
Dain startles from where he was glowering across the table at Xaden and
turns to face the map. “What type of fortifications are there? Are we talking a
haphazard wooden structure? Or something more substantial?”
“Like they had time to build a fortress overnight,” Ridoc mutters. “It has to
be wooden, right?”
“You are all so fucking literal.” Mira sighs and rubs her thumb over her
forehead. “Fine, let’s say they occupied a keep that’s already established. Stone
and all.”
“But the civilians didn’t call for help?” Quinn asks, scratching her pointed
chin. “Protocol calls for a distress signal this far into the mountains. They should
have lit their distress beacon, alerting patrolling riders, at which time the
dragons on patrol would have told all available dragons in the area. The very
riders in this room would have mounted first as the reaction force and the others
would have been woken from their rests, allowing the riders to prevent the loss
of the keep in the first place.”
Mira scoffs and braces her hands on the end of the table, staring us all down.
“Everything you’re taught at Basgiath is theory. You analyze past attacks and
learn those very…theoretical combat maneuvers. But things out here don’t
always go according to plan. So why don’t we talk about all the ways things can
go sideways, so you’ll know what to do when they do, as opposed to arguing
that the keep shouldn’t have fallen?”
Quinn shifts her weight uncomfortably.
“How many of you have been called out as third-years?” Mira stands
straight, folding her arms over her black leathers and the strap that holds her
sword to her back.
Emery and Xaden raise their hands, though Xaden’s is barely a gesture.
Dain looks like his head is about to explode. “That’s not correct. We’re never
called into service until graduation.”
Xaden presses his lips in a tight line and nods, giving him a sarcastic thumbs-
up.
“Yeah, all right.” Emery laughs. “Just wait until next year. I can’t count how
many times we’re the ones sitting in these very rooms in the midland forts
because their riders have been called to the front for an emergency.”
The color drains from Dain’s face.
“Now that’s settled.” Mira reaches under the table and pulls out a set of
models, putting a six-inch stone keep in the center of the table. “Catch.” One by
one, she tosses painted wooden models of dragons at us, keeping one for herself.
“Pretend Messina and Exal don’t exist back there, and we’re the only squad
available to take back that keep. Think of the power in this room. Think of what
each individual rider brings to the table and how you’d use those powers in
unison to conquer your objective.”
“But they don’t teach that to first-years,” Liam says slowly from the other
side of me.
Mira glances at the whirls of magic on his wrist, but to Liam’s credit, he
doesn’t tug his sleeve down. It’s hard to remember sometimes that the third-
years are the first riders who will serve with the children of the leaders of the
Tyrrish uprising—an uprising that could have left our borders eventually
defenseless and the innocent people of Navarre war casualties. Everyone in this
room has become accustomed to Liam, Imogen…even Xaden. But those in active
service have never flown with anyone marked by a rebellion relic.
The Tyrrish riders who remained loyal to Navarre during the uprising were
promoted, not punished, and the riders who turned against king and country
were killed or executed. And just like my grief at Brennan’s loss was directed at
Xaden that first day at the parapet, there will be more than one rider who
misdirects their own anger at marked riders.
I clear my throat.
Mira’s gaze meets mine, and I lift an eyebrow at her in clear warning.
Don’t fuck with my friends.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and she directs her attention back to Liam.
“They might not teach you this battle strategy as first-years because you’re all
busy trying to stay on your dragons. You had your first taste of strategy during
the Squad Battle, and it’s almost May, which means final War Games should be
beginning, right?”
“Two weeks,” Dain answers.
“Good timing, then. Not all of you will survive the games if you’re not
prepared.” She holds my gaze for a beat. “This kind of thinking will give your
squad—your entire wing—an advantage, since I guarantee your wingleader is
already assessing every rider for their own abilities.”
Xaden flips his dragon model over his knuckles but doesn’t reply. He hasn’t
spoken a word to Mira since arriving.
“So let’s do this.” Mira stands back. “Who is in command?” She glances
toward Quinn. “And let’s pretend that I don’t have three years of seniority on
even the highest-ranked of you.”
“Then I’m in command.” Dain sits up straight, his chin rising a good inch.
“Our wingleader is here,” Liam argues, pointing at Xaden. “I would say that
puts him in command.”
“We can pretend I’m not here, just for the sake of the exercise.” Xaden sets
his dragon on the table and leans back in his chair, draping his arm across the
back of mine, a move that makes Dain grit his teeth. “Give Aetos here the
position we all know he craves.”
“Don’t be a dick,” I whisper.
“You haven’t even seen me start to be a dick.”
My head turns so fast that it swims, and my mouth drops open as I stare at
the side of Xaden’s face. That was his voice…in my fucking head.
He turns, the golden flecks in his eyes catching the light, and I swear I hear
him laughing in my mind, though his lips are closed, tilted in that pulse-
quickening smirk of his.
“You’re staring. It’s going to get awkward in about thirty seconds if you don’t
stop.”
“How?” I hiss.
“The same way you talk to Sgaeyl. We’re all gloriously, annoyingly linked. This is
just one of the perks. Though I’m starting to wish I’d tried it sooner. The look on your
face is priceless.” He winks and turns back to the table.
He. Fucking. Winked. And is that a hint of a smile?
“You’re. The. Wingleader.” Every word Dain speaks comes out through
clenched teeth.
“I’m not even supposed to be here.” Xaden shrugs. “But if it makes you feel
better, for the purpose of War Games, you’d be getting your orders from your
section leader, Garrick Tavis, which he’d get from me. You’ll be carrying out
your maneuvers as a squad for the good of the wing. Just pretend I’m another
member of your squad and use me as you wish, Aetos.” Xaden folds his arms
across his chest.
I glance at Mira, who’s watching the play-by-play with raised brows.
“Why are you even here?” Dain challenges. “No offense, sir, but we weren’t
exactly expecting senior leadership on this trip.”
“You’re more than aware that Sgaeyl and Tairn are mated.”
“Three days?” Dain fires back, leaning in. “You couldn’t make it three days?”
“It has nothing to do with him,” I interrupt, setting my dragon down with a
little more force than necessary. “That’s up to Tairn and Sgaeyl.”
“You never considered that it was you I couldn’t stay away from?”
I crook my right arm and jab it into Xaden’s biceps. He doesn’t mean that.
Not when he’s still adamant that kissing me was a mistake. And if he does… I’m
not going there.
“Now, now, you’ll give our little communication secret away if you can’t keep
from being so…violent.” He barely restrains a smile, obviously loving that he gets
the last word.
I need to figure out how the hell he’s doing it so I can mentally argue back.
“Of course you rush to defend him.” Dain hurls a hurt glare at me. “Though
how you can forget that this guy wanted to kill you six months ago is beyond
me.”
I blink up at him. “I cannot believe you went there.”
“Good job remaining professional, Aetos.” Xaden scratches the relic on his
neck I’m all but certain doesn’t actually itch. “Really shows those leadership
qualities to their best advantage.”
One of the riders down the table whistles low. “Do you boys just want to
whip it out and measure? It would be faster.”
Liam smothers a laugh, but his shoulders shake.
“Enough!” Mira slams her hands on the table.
“Oh, come on, Sorrengail,” the rider down the table whines with a wide
smile.
Both Mira and I look his way.
“I mean…the older Sorrengail. This is the best entertainment we’ve had in
ages.”
I shake my head and look around the table. “Mira has the ability to extend
the shield if the wards are down, so the first thing I would do is send her to
scout the area with Teine. We need to know if we’re dealing with infantry or
gryphon riders.”
“Good.” Mira moves her dragon closer to the castle. “Now let’s assume there
are gryphons.”
“You want to do your job?” I ask Dain, smiling sweetly. “I mean, how you
can forget you’re the squad leader is beyond me.”
His hand clenches around his own dragon as he rips his gaze from mine.
“Quinn, can you astral project from the back of your dragon?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“Then I would have you project into the fortress to check for signs of
weakness,” Dain orders. “And have you report back. Same with Liam. We’d use
your farsight to see if you can locate where the gryphon riders are and if there
are any traps.”
“Good. The weaknesses are the wooden gate,” Mira notes as Quinn and Liam
move their dragons into position, “and the Navarrian citizens they have captive
in the dungeons.”
“So much for blasting the whole place,” Ridoc says.
“You’re an air wielder, right?” Dain asks Emery. “So you can shape your
dragon’s flames, lead them through the occupied parts of the keep without
killing civilians.”
“Yes,” Emery answers. “But I’d have to be in the keep.”
“Then you’ll have to get into the keep,” Mira says with a shrug.
Emery’s eyes widen. “You want me to leave my dragon and go on foot?”
“Why do you think we get all that hand-to-hand training? Or are you going
to leave all those innocent people to die?” Mira flicks her wrist and Emery’s
dragon goes flying out of his hand and into hers. She puts it in the center of the
keep. “The real question is, how do we get you close enough without getting you
killed?” She glances around the table. “Since I’m guessing the others will be
busy fighting off the gryphons that launch once the fireworks start.”
“What’s your signet, Aetos?” Quinn asks.
“Above your pay grade,” Dain answers, glancing around the table and
skipping over Xaden, then making the rounds again, finally sighing. “Any
ideas?”
Is the quadrant really making Dain keep the memory reading secret? Had
him reaching for my head the day Amber burned been a loss of control? How
has he gotten this far without telling anyone what his signet is? I shake my head.
“Sure.” I pick up Xaden’s dragon and shove it toward the keep, planting one
mental foot in the Archives where I keep my power and using it to lift the
dragon figurine into a hover above the structure. “You stop ignoring that you
have an incredibly powerful shadow wielder at your disposal and ask him to
black out the area so no one sees you land.”
“She’s not wrong,” Mira agrees, but her words are clipped.
“You can do that?” Dain begrudgingly looks at Xaden.
“Are you seriously asking?” Xaden retorts.
“Just wasn’t sure you could cover an area that—”
Xaden lifts a hand a few inches above the table, and shadows pour from
underneath our seats, filling the room and turning it dark as midnight in a blink.
My heart jumps as my sight goes black.
“Relax. It’s just me.” A ghost of a touch skims my cheek.
Just him is slightly…terrifying. I shove that thought at him, but there’s no
response. Maybe we have a one-way-communication thing going on over here,
because I don’t think I can talk to him the way he does me.
What had Sgaeyl said about signets? It reflects who you are at the core of your
being. It makes sense. Mira is protective. Dain has to know everything. And
Xaden…has secrets.
“Fuck me,” someone says.
“I can surround this entire outpost, but I think that might freak some people
out,” Xaden says, and the shadows disappear, racing back under the table.
I draw in a full breath, noting that everyone at the table besides Emery—
who has no doubt seen Xaden pull this kind of trick before—looks slightly
greenish.
Even Mira, who’s staring at Xaden like he’s a threat she needs to assess.
My stomach turns.
“I hope you didn’t get any ideas while we were in the dark there,” Xaden teases,
and just like that, my sympathy for the ass evaporates. I don’t bother to face
him, just raise one finger.
He chuckles, and I grit my teeth.
“Get him out of my head,” I toss in Tairn’s direction.
“You’ll get used to it,” Tairn responds.
“Is this normal with all mated pairs and their riders?”
“For some. It’s a great advantage in a battle.”
“Well, it’s a pain in my ass right now.” I miss Andarna. We’re so far apart that I
can barely feel her.
“Then shield him out the same way you do me—or start talking back,” Tairn
grumbles. “You have the power to be a pain in the ass, too. Trust me.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to talk back at him?” I give Xaden a heavy
dose of side-eye, but he’s engrossed in the ongoing battle we’ve waged against
an imaginary keep.
“Figure out which pathway into your mind is his.”
Oh joy. That should be easy.
We finish the hypothetical operation, each of us using our power to its best
ability…everyone except me. But when it’s time to take the gryphons out in the
air, Tairn overpowers every other dragon in the room.
“Good job,” Mira says, glancing at her pocket watch. “Aetos, Riorson, and
Sorrengail, I want to see you in the hallway. The rest of you are dismissed.”
It’s not like any of us has an option, so we follow Mira out to the spiral
staircase.
She shuts the door behind us and throws up a line of blue energy that covers
the entrance.
“Sound shield,” Dain says with a smile. “Nice.”
“Shut up.” Mira spins on the top step, putting her finger in Dain’s face. “I
don’t know what bug has crawled up your ass, Dain Aetos, but have you
forgotten that you’re a squad leader? That you have a very real chance of
becoming a wingleader next year?”
Oh shit, she’s pissed, and that’s not anything I want a part of. I retreat
another step, but with Xaden beneath me on the stairs, there’s nowhere left to
go.
“Mira—” Dain starts.
“Lieutenant Sorrengail,” Mira responds. “You’re blowing it, Dain. I know
how badly you want his job next year.” She points a finger at Xaden. “Don’t
forget that we’ve grown up about ten feet apart. And you are blowing it, because
what? You’re pissed that Violet bonded his dragon’s mate?”
Heat stings my cheeks. She’s never been one to mince words, but just…
damn.
“He is the worst possible thing for her!” Dain counters.
“Oh, I’m not arguing that.” She leans into his space. “But there’s nothing
anyone can do about the choices of dragons. They don’t bother with the
opinions of mere humans, do they? But whatever is going on between the two of
you”—that finger swings between Dain and me—“is fucking up your squad. If I
can see it after four days with you, then they sure as hell can tell. And if I’d
known that you were going to be such a hard-ass with zero flexibility for the
things she can’t control, I never would have told her to find you after crossing
the parapet.” She glances at me, then back at him. “You two have been best
friends since you were five years old. Figure your shit out.”
Dain is so tense, he looks like he might crack in half, but he glances at me
and nods.
I do the same.
“Good, now get back in there.” She motions toward the door with her head,
and Dain leaves, walking through the shield. “And as for you.” She walks down
two steps and pins Xaden with a glare. “Is this what she can expect next year?”
“Aetos being an asshole?” Xaden asks, leaving his hands loose at his sides.
“Probably.”
Mira’s eyes narrow. “Mated dragons typically bond riders in the same year
for a reason. You cannot expect your assigned wing or her instructors to let you
both fly off every three days.”
“Wasn’t my choice.” He shrugs.
“What are we supposed to do? Tell the giant, flame-throwing dragons how
it’s going to be?” I ask my sister.
“Yes!” she exclaims, turning toward me. “Because you can’t live this way,
Violet. You’ll be the one who ends up missing the training you need, because
he’s the more powerful of the two of you right now. But if you don’t get to focus
on your training, then that’s how it will always be. You won’t ever become who
Tairn can push you to be. Is that what you’re after, Riorson?”
“Mira,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You’re wrong about him.”
“Listen to me.” She grasps my shoulders. “He might wield shadows, Violet,
but give him his way, and you’ll become one.”
“That won’t happen,” I promise her.
“It will if he has anything to say about it.” Her gaze flickers behind me.
“Killing someone isn’t the only way to destroy them. Keeping you from reaching
your potential seems like a great path to the retribution he swore against our
mother. Think long and hard. How well do you even really know him?”
I suck in a breath. I trust Xaden. At least, I think I do. But Mira’s right; there
are infinite ways to demolish someone without ending their life.
“That’s what I thought.” The look in her eyes turns to something worse than
anger. It’s pity. “Do you even know why he hates our mother so much? Why the
kids like him are put on the para—”
“I’m right here,” Xaden interrupts, rising to the same step to stand at my
side. “In case you didn’t notice.”
“You’re kind of hard to miss,” she retorts.
“You’re not listening.” His voice lowers. “I. Am. Here. Tairn didn’t drag her
back to Basgiath. He didn’t break through her shields and pour his emotions into
her. He didn’t demand she fly across the fucking kingdom. Your sister is still
right here. I’m the one who left my post, my position, and my executive officer in
charge of my wing. She’s not missing out on shit.”
“And next year? When you’re a brand-new lieutenant? What shit is she going
to miss out on then?” Mira asks.
“We’ll figure it out.” I reach for her hand and squeeze. “Mira, he’s taken
every spare minute he has to train me on the mat for challenges or take me
flying in hopes I’ll finally figure out how to keep my damned seat without Tairn
holding me in place. He’s—”
She flinches. “You can’t keep your seat?”
“No.” It’s barely a whisper, and the heat of embarrassment scorches my skin.
“How the hell can you not?” Her mouth hangs open.
“Because I’m not you!” I shout.
She rears back like I’ve slapped her, our hands breaking apart. “But you…
you look so much stronger now.”
“My joints and muscles are stronger because Imogen makes me lift these
horrible weights, but that doesn’t…fix me.”
Mira blanches. “No. I didn’t mean it like that, Vi. You’re not anything that
needs to be fixed. I just didn’t know you couldn’t hold your seat. Why didn’t you
tell me?”
“Because there’s nothing you can do about it.” I force a wry smile. “There’s
nothing anyone can do about the way I’m made.”
A long, uncomfortable silence stretches between us. For as close as we are,
there’s still so much we don’t share.
“She’s getting better,” Xaden offers, his voice calm and even. “The first few
weeks were…disastrous.”
“Hey, he caught me before I hit the ground,” I argue.
“Barely,” Xaden grumbles before turning back to Mira. “You don’t have to
trust me—”
“Good, because I don’t,” she says. “All of that power in the hands of someone
with your history is bad enough, but to know your dragons are so tangled up
that you can’t be more than three days from Violet is unacceptable in every
possible way I can think—” She goes completely still, her eyes un-focusing.
“There’s a drift of gryphons headed this way!” Tairn bellows.
“Fuck! The wards are down,” Mira mutters, apparently receiving the same
alarm from Teine. She clutches my shoulders and yanks me into a hug. “You
have to go.”
“We can help!” I argue, but she holds me so tightly that I can’t move.
“You can’t. And if Tairn is using his power to keep you seated, then he’s
diminished as well. You have to go. Get out of here. If you love me, Violet, you’ll
go so I don’t have to worry about you, too.” She releases me, looking to Xaden
as our squad pours out of the door above, thundering by as they run down the
steps. “Get her out of here.”
“Let’s go!” Dain shouts. “Now!”
“Even if you don’t trust me, I’m the best weapon you have,” Xaden snarls at
Mira.
“If what you say is true, then you’re the best weapon she has. The other half
of the squad will be here in moments, and Teine thinks we have about twenty
minutes until the gryphons arrive.” Mira’s eyes meet mine. “You have to get to
safety, Violet. I love you. Don’t die. I’d hate to be an only child.” There’s no
cocky grin like when she left me at Basgiath on Conscription Day.
Xaden hauls me against his side as Mira runs up the remaining stairs toward
the roof.
This can’t be happening. There’s no way I can flee to safety and leave my
sister here, with absolutely zero way of knowing if she’s alive or dead. This feels
like the exact sort of thing we’d never hear about in Battle Brief.
No fucking way. Every cell in my body rebels at the thought.
“No!” I fight, but there’s no point. He’s too strong. “Mira! What if you get
hurt? Tairn’s speed could be the only thing that saves you. At least let us stay.”
She looks over her shoulder at the doorway, but there’s steel in her
expression. “You want me to trust you, Riorson? Get her the fuck out of here and
find a way for her to keep her seat. We both know she’s dead if she doesn’t.”
“Mira!” I scream, clawing at Xaden’s arms, but he’s already half carrying me
down the stairs with an arm clamped around my waist as if I weigh less than the
sword on his back. “I love you!” I call up the turret, but there’s no way of
knowing if she heard me.
“Can I trust you to get your own pack?” Xaden asks as he marches down the
hallway of the barracks. “Or am I going to have to carry you out of here without
whatever you brought?”
“I’ll get it myself.” I shove at him, and he lets me go.
It takes mere minutes to grab my pack and Rhiannon’s, since we’ve left them
intact, even cramming in our cloaks. Then I’m back in the hallway where Xaden
waits, his own pack slung over his shoulder. It looks considerably smaller than
the one he arrived with, and I don’t want to even think about what he’s left
behind in order to force me out faster.
I don’t bother looking at him, marching for the door, but he grabs my elbow
and spins me around. “Nope. It’s too dangerous to leave the fortress walls. We’re
going up.” He wraps his arm around my waist and all but hauls me to the
nearest turret. “Climb.”
“This is bullshit!” I yell at him, uncaring that every other member of our
squad who’s climbing the same turret can hear. “Tairn could help them!”
“Your sister is right. You have to make it out, so we’re leaving. Now fucking
climb.”
“Dain,” I argue, realizing he’s right in front of us.
He turns around and takes Rhiannon’s pack, slinging it over his own
shoulder. “For once, Riorson and I agree. It’s not just you we have to get out,
Violet. Think of every other first-year.” The plea in his eyes shuts my mouth.
“Are you going to sentence an entire untrained squad to death? Because I’ll make
it. Cianna, Emery, and Heaton will, too. And we all fucking know Riorson will.
But what about Rhiannon? Ridoc? Sawyer? You want their deaths on your
hands?” he asks, his words choppy as we race upward toward the open door.
This isn’t about me.
We burst onto the roof as Emery mounts his dragon, who is precariously
perched on the thinner-than-quadrant wall.
Oh gods, I’m never going to be able to mount Tairn at this angle.
“Ridoc and Quinn are already in the air,” Liam tells us as Emery launches
skyward, where Cath and Deigh hover, their wings beating the air.
“You’re next!” Xaden shouts at Liam, and Dain nods.
Deigh crumbles the masonry with the force of his landing, and Liam takes off
down the narrow walkway toward the large Red Daggertail.
“You next, Aetos,” Xaden barks.
“Vi—” Dain starts to argue.
“That’s an order.” There’s no room for argument in that tone, and we all
know it, especially when Cath takes Deigh’s place on the wall. “I’ve got her. Go.”
“Go,” I urge. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to
Dain on my account. He may have been an ass the last few months, but that
doesn’t negate the years he’s been my best friend.
Dain looks like he’s about to fight but finally nods, turning to Xaden. “I’m
trusting you to get her out.”
“There’s a lot of that going around today,” Xaden retorts. “Now get on your
dragon so I can get her on hers.”
Dain gives me a long, intense look, then turns and runs, racing up Cath’s
foreleg in a way that’s so reminiscent of the Gauntlet that I get flashbacks.
“Where are you?” I ask Tairn, seeing empty skies above us.
“Almost there. I was doing what could be done.”
“I can’t do this,” I say to Xaden, turning in his arms to face him. “The others
are gone. Call it the favor you owe me, I don’t care. We can stay. I can’t just
leave her here. It’s wrong, and it’s something she’d never do to me. I have to
stay for her. I just have to.”
There’s so much compassion, so much understanding in his eyes, that when
he lets go of my waist, I think he might just let me stay. Then his hands are on
my cheeks, sliding back to cup the base of my neck as he brings his mouth to
mine.
The kiss is reckless and consuming, and I give it my all, knowing it might be
the last one. His tongue licks into my mouth with an urgency I return, angling to
take him deeper.
Gods, it’s not just as good as I’d been fantasizing about, remembering that
night. It’s so much better. He was careful with me against that wall, but there is
nothing hesitant about the way he lays claim to my mouth, nothing cautious
about the ache that pulses low in my stomach. He only breaks the kiss when
we’re both panting, then rests his forehead against mine. “Leave for me, Violet.”
“Almost there,” Tairn says.
Xaden’s been stalling to give Tairn and Sgaeyl time to arrive. My heart sinks
like a rock, pinning my feet in place. “I will hate you for this.”
“Yeah.” He nods, a flash of pure regret crossing his face as he draws away. “I
can live with that.” His hands fall away from my face and reach for my arms,
lifting them so I’m shaped like a T. “Arms up. Hold tight.”
“Fuck. You.”
The enormous shape of Tairn appears behind him, and Xaden drops to the
stone floor just as Tairn flies directly above, his shadow falling over me a second
before his foreclaw scoops me up like he’s done countless times when I’ve fallen
midflight.
“You have to take us back!”
“I have done everything I can and will not risk your life.” He climbs in altitude,
then throws me up onto his back in a practiced maneuver. “Now, hold on so we
can outfly them.”
I look over my shoulder and see Xaden on Sgaeyl, approaching quickly, and
farther behind them, hundreds of feet below, a dozen gryphons envelop the
keep.
Winning the War Games isn’t about strength. It’s about cunning. To
know how to strike, you have to understand where your enemies—
your friends—are most vulnerable. No one stays friends forever,
Mira. Eventually those closest to us become our enemies in some
way, even if it’s through well-intentioned love or apathy, or if we live
long enough to become their villains.
—Page eighty, the Book of Brennan
