“I didn’t do that.” My fingers curl around the orb. “Xaden did.”
“He hunted riderless wyvern, deposited them on Melgren’s front door, and exposed Navarre’s greatest secret to the border outposts before noon,” Felix agrees. “But you were the one who demanded he give the cadets a choice. In that moment, you wielded him, our unyielding, uncompromising, headstrong heir apparent.”
“I did no such thing.” Energy buzzes, and I roll my shoulders as it vibrates through my limbs, building to a breaking point. “I presented a humane option, and he took it. He did it for the sake of the other cadets.”
“He did it for you,” Felix says softly. “The wyvern, the exposure, breaching Basgiath, stealing half its riders. All for you. Why do you think the Assembly wanted to lock you away in July? They saw what you were. In that way, I suppose you’re just as much a danger to Aretia as you are to Basgiath, aren’t you? Power isn’t only found in our signets.”
“I’m not powerful just because he loves me.” The bitter taste of fear fills my mouth a heartbeat before power breaks free, cracking through me like a whip, but lightning doesn’t flash. At least not in the sky.
I blink at the glowing orb, then marvel at the string of lightning that runs from where my forefinger rests against the metal strip to the alloy pendant inside. The bolt vanishes a breath later.
“No. You’re powerful and he loves you, which is even worse. Your power is too closely tied to your emotions,” Felix notes. “This will help. It’s not a permanent solution, but it will keep everyone in Aretia safe from your temper for now.”
“I don’t understand.” And I can’t stop staring at the orb, like the tiny lightning bolt will reappear at any second.
“The runes etched into the conduit are woven to draw specific power. I wove these specifically for you the last time you were here, but you were forced to leave before I could teach you how to use it. I’d hoped you wouldn’t need it, honestly, but it seems Carr hasn’t changed much in the six years I’ve been gone.”
“Runes?” I repeat like a bird, staring at the etched shapes.
“Yes. Runes. Wielded power woven for set purposes.” He exhales slowly. “Which you know nothing about because Basgiath doesn’t teach Tyrrish runes, even if the college was fucking built on them. Guess we’ll ask Trissa to teach that class. She has the most patience out of the Assembly.”
I yank my gaze from the orb to Felix. “This… siphons my power?”
“Somewhat. I made it as a simpler way to imbue power into alloy. It will draw it from you when it threatens to overpower you or when you choose to direct it. Hopefully”—he lifts his brows—“in small, controlled amounts. Practice this week. You have to learn control, Sorrengail, or you’ll continue to be a threat to everyone around you. God forbid you’re flying in the clouds with your squad the next time you lose your temper.”
“I’m not a threat.”
“What you want to be doesn’t change what you are without work.” He picks up his pack and slings it over his shoulders. “You never learned how to start small, like the rest of your squad, and then move to the bigger, harder strikes. You have to master the basics you were never taught. Small, precise strikes. Small strands of your power instead of”—he gestures to the sky—“whatever in Dunne’s name that was.”
“I don’t have time to master small, precise strikes. I need help today,” I argue. “We need Tecarus to give us a luminary or—” I cut myself off.
“Or you and Xaden fucked the entire movement on that whim I mentioned earlier?” He lifts both brows at me.
“Something like that. It was a lot easier last year when all I had to worry about was keeping myself alive, and not the entire Continent.” And I failed.
“Well, they do say second year makes or breaks you.” He delivers the joke with a straight face, but there’s a definite light in his eyes. “As for Tecarus, he wants to see you wield, not necessarily see you wield well. Your biggest obstacle there is convincing Xaden to fly with you, since I hazard to guess he’s not budging on the topic of you going. He already shut down the possibility in July.” He shrugs. “But we’re done for today. We’ll meet again in a week, and I’ll be able to tell by the amount of power stored in that alloy whether or not you’ve been practicing. Store enough, and I’ll continue to teach you.”
“And if I don’t?” My fingers curl around the orb.
“I won’t,” he answers simply over his shoulder as he walks toward his Red Swordtail. “I’m not interested in wasting my time on cadets who don’t want to be taught when there are over a hundred who do.”
The scorch mark behind him. The untouched boulders. The blast sites across the ridge. They all capture my attention. He’s right. I’m a light show with deadly consequences, and the amount of times I’ve unleashed while close to my friends, close to Xaden… My throat tightens. I’m the menace everyone thinks Xaden is.
He might be a weapon, but I’m a natural disaster.
And I’m done letting everyone around me suffer because I can’t get my shit together.
“I want to learn,” I call after him. As soon as I get back.
“Good. Show me.”
“Are you sure about this?” Mira asks as we enter the valley under the brightest moon this month. Every blade of grass is coated with predawn frost, reflecting back at us like glittering gems.
“‘Sure’ is a relative term.”
“How relative?” She lifts her brows at me. “Because what we’re about to do could have some pretty major consequences.”
“I’m sure this is the only way we’ll be able to make the weapons we need.” I fasten the top button of my flight jacket to ward off the late-October chill. “And sure that if we stay on task, we can be back in two days max. I’m definitely sure that this will stop the gryphon attacks on Navarrian outposts. But am I sure that we won’t fail or end up permanent guests of Viscount Tecarus? No.”
“Well, I’m sure Xaden is going to lose his shit when he finds out you went behind his back,” Mira lectures as we make our way to our dragons.
“Yeah, well, Xaden will forgive me as soon as he realizes we’re back in the venin-slaying business. I’m only doing it this way because he refuses to do what needs to be done in the name of protecting me.”
“Just so you know, I’m only doing this because doing everything you ever ask for the rest of our lives still wouldn’t make up for me not believing you. I happen to like protective Xaden. Makes me worry about you less.”
I kind of miss when he wanted to kill me. At least then he didn’t insist on hovering.
“And I’m only doing this to make sure neither of you die,” Brennan chimes in from the right.
“Please.” Mira scoffs. “You’re only here because of the rank on your uniform.”
“Neither of you can negotiate an arms deal on behalf of the Assembly. You both know this could go very badly, right?” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his flight leathers.
“Is there a risk?” I nod and ignore the jump in my heart rate. “Yes. But he wants to see me wield for a luminary. Even Xaden said the biggest threat is him keeping me, not killing me.” And if I have to stay in Poromiel so my friends and family can be safe, then fine. As long as Brennan and Mira get to leave with the luminary, it’s a fair trade.
“Feel free to stay in the place you’ve called home for six years,” Mira challenges Brennan, then shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve always been better than you with a sword, anyway. I’ll bring Violet home without a scratch.”
“No.” I glance between them. Have they always bickered like this? “We’re not fighting the entire way there, and we sure as hell can’t fight once we get there. This is dangerous enough as it is. Pull yourselves together and quit squabbling.”
“Yes, Mom,” Mira mocks.
Mom. What would she think of the three of us working together?
We all fall silent, the quiet only broken by the frost crackling beneath our boots.
“Too soon?” Mira asks.
“I’d say so,” I answer, tightening the straps on my pack.