“When did you do that?” I ask.
“About two seconds after I put you in Brennan’s arms after Resson.”
My gaze falls to the floor as they continue to shout in Tyrrish. I brought the cadets here. I was the one who got caught stealing Lyra’s journal. I’m the one who forced Xaden’s hand, forced them all into this situation.
“Then you will consider them my guests.” Xaden’s words drag me out of my self-pity. Shadows fill the floor and curl around the dais. “I do not ask permission of you—of anyone—to bring guests into my own home.” Xaden’s tone cools to glacial.
Garrick swears under his breath and rests his hand on the hilt of one of his swords.
“Xaden—” Ulices starts.
“Or did you forget that this is my house?” Xaden tilts his head to the side and stares at them in the same way Sgaeyl studies prey. “My life is tethered to Violet’s, so if you want me in that fucking chair, you’ll accept her.”
Ulices’s skin blotches while I feel the blood rush from mine.
His chair. The empty one. He’s the seventh.
Holy shit. I knew this was his house, of course, but it never really registered. This is all Xaden’s. No noble has claimed the duchy of Aretia. They all think the land is ruined, or worse—cursed. It’s all his.
“Fine,” the quiet woman says, her voice soft and calm. “We will trust Violet Sorrengail. But that doesn’t help us arm the drifts without an operational forge. In winning this first battle with Navarre by taking half the Riders Quadrant, you may have lost us this war.”
“And what do we do with all these cadets?” Battle-Ax asks wearily, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Gods, you brought us Aetos and scribes. It’s not like we can send them out to battle wyvern and venin.”
“I also brought you four professors, and it’s not like you’re without your share of knowledge,” Xaden replies. “I’ve already questioned the scribes. They can be trusted, and Cath vouches for Aetos. As for the other cadets, I suggest you get them back into class.”
Something… shimmers, curling around the Archives I keep in my head.
“Violet.” Her soft voice rattles me to my very core, and I grasp Xaden’s arm to stay upright. Relief, joy, wonder—it all weakens my knees and stings my eyes.
For the first time in months, I feel whole.
A smile spreads across my face. “Andarna.”
With all we’ve sacrificed for this kingdom, we’d better be able to defend it.
—THE JOURNAL OF WARRICK OF LUCERAS—TRANSLATED BY CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The valley above Aretia looks eerily similar to the last time I was here, as though fall at this elevation is meaningless, when there are clear signs of winter approaching in the town beneath us. But unlike last time, there are dragons everywhere—the jagged outcroppings of rock above us, the mouths of the caves to the west, the wide valley to the east… everywhere.
And two of the biggest stand before me like bookends with Andarna between them.
“I thought you said she was awake?” I whisper at Tairn as if my voice might wake her, like there isn’t a giant brown stomping his way past the copse of trees where Andarna is napping, her body curved into an S-shape. Grass moves in front of her snout with every gust of her exhale, and she looks quite content with her scorpion tail curled around her. And kind of… green?
No, her scales are still black. It must be an adolescent thing that they’re so shiny she reflects some of the color around her.
“An hour ago.” Tairn chuffs and I’m pretty sure Sgaeyl just rolled her eyes.
“It took me an hour to get out of that meeting, and then I had to hike that cliff of a trail.” I shouldn’t wake her. The responsible action would be none, to let her sleep off the remnants of her nearly three-month-long dragon coma. But I’ve missed her so damn—
Gold eyes flash open.
Relief nearly brings me to my knees. She’s awake.
I grin and feel my world right itself. “Hi.”
“Violet.” Andarna lifts her head, and a puff of steam blows back the loosened strands of my long braid. “I meant to stay awake.”
“That’s all right. Tairn says you’ll be nodding off for the next week or so.” Stepping forward, I reach up to scratch her scaly jawline. “You were out a long time.”
“It felt like nothing.” She arches her neck so I can get the area beneath her chin.
“Trust me, it wasn’t.” I step back and really look at her. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s almost two-thirds the size of Sgaeyl. “I think you’re bigger.”
“Naturally.” She huffs, digging her claws into the ground as she stands upright.
I retreat another couple of steps, looking higher and higher as she shakes off the sleep, her wings rustling as she swivels her head, taking in the valley. “What do you want to do? Fly? Take a walk?” There’s so much I need to tell her.
“Food. We should seek sheep.” She flares her wings out and then stumbles forward just like she did in the height of summer.
Shit.
I scramble backward through the cumbersome grass, rushing to keep from being sliced by Andarna’s claws as she finds her balance.
“Could you not crush our human?” Tairn barks.
“I wasn’t even close,” Andarna snaps in return with a quick glare his direction as she flares her wings with the same result.
“I told you to be patient,” Tairn chides.
The look she levels on him makes Sgaeyl huff in what I think is appreciation, and Andarna rolls her shoulders, digs her claws in, and tries again to raise her wings.
My stomach drops, my mind spinning so quickly I can barely catch a whirring thought as my gaze flicks between the two wings. Her left one doesn’t fully extend. It makes it halfway, but the remainder of the black webbing never pulls taut.
She attempts once, twice, then bares her sharp teeth and hisses steam when it doesn’t snap into place on the third attempt.
Oh gods. Something’s wrong.
I have no fucking clue what to say or do. I’m… speechless. Powerless to help. Fuck. Am I supposed to ask her if she’s all right? Or do I ignore it as I would a battle wound on an adult? Is the wing broken? In need of mending? Or is it part of the growth process?
Andarna’s head whips back toward mine and her eyes narrow. “I am not broken.”
My heart sinks.
“I never said you were,” I whisper.
Shit, shit, shit. I hurt her feelings.
“Speech isn’t necessary when I can hear your thoughts. I am no more broken than you are.” Her lip curls and her teeth flash.
Ouch. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant to imply.” The thought is barely a whisper.
“Enough.” Tairn lowers his head to her level. “She is allowed to be concerned for you, as you are for her. Now go eat before hunger overpowers common sense.”
Sgaeyl stalks past me on the right, the ground lightly shuddering beneath my feet as she heads for the meadow to the east. Feirge gets out of her way.
“There is a herd that is far better hunted on foot,” Tairn says, a soft growl vibrating in his throat. “Follow Sgaeyl.”
Andarna tucks her wings, flexes her claws, then walks around me wordlessly, heading for Sgaeyl. I turn to watch them walk away.
“Adolescents,” Tairn grumbles. “They’re insufferable when hungry.”
“Her wing,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
His sigh ripples the grass around me. “The elders and I will work with her to strengthen the muscles, but there are complications.”
“Like?” My chest tightens, and I glance up at him.
“Put your shields up and block her out as much as possible.”