“We’re needed in the Assembly chamber right now,” Xaden says, leaning past Sloane and raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony.
Our eyes lock and I nod, keeping my shields firmly in place to block him out, which feels not only unnatural but…wrong. How ironic to celebrate a monumental victory and still feel like I’ve lost something precious. There hasn’t been a second alone to discuss the fact that if my shields were down, he’d already know how fucked up my head is about the signet he’s hidden.
I can’t imagine walking away from this, from us, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have some serious issues we need to discuss—nor that I am not pissed as hell that he’s given me another reason to doubt my own ability to trust my own judgment. And just because I can’t imagine walking away doesn’t mean I won’t do it if we can’t find some healthy ground. I’m quickly learning it’s possible to love someone and not want to be with them at the same time.
The second we walk into the Assembly chamber and a guard shuts the door behind us, the noise outside falls away and eight pairs of eyes turn in our direction. None of them appear as happy as they should be, given what we’ve just accomplished.
Syrena and Mira break away from the Assembly and walk toward us as Felix calls Xaden over from the dais with an urgent tone.
“We need to find time to talk,” Xaden says quickly and quietly, and I know he only says it out loud because I won’t let him into my mind.
“Later,” I agree just to end the conversation before Mira and Syrena hear us. There isn’t enough time in the world to process what he’s told me.
He walks away as they approach, and I peel my gaze from his back to give my attention to my sister. The tension in her face has power rising within me swiftly, my body preparing for battle. “What’s wrong?”
“As soon as the attack was over, a missive was delivered to Ulices,” she tells me. “He was at the Terria outpost—”
“On the border with Navarre,” I finish for her, anxious to get to the heart of the matter.
“Melgren has asked us to meet with him tomorrow. He requested whomever represents our movement—no more than two marked ones allowed—along with Violet and Mira Sorrengail.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes gently. “You can say no. You should say no.”
“Why would the commanding general of all Navarrian forces ask for a cadet and lieutenant?” My voice trails off and I glance over to the dais, where Brennan is locked in a quiet, heated discussion with the other six. “Our mother will be there.”
“And if a fight breaks out, we know it ends in his favor—otherwise, he would never summon us. He’s already seen the outcome.”
I stick that predicament on the growing list of things I’ll have to deal with.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Syrena says, drawing a dagger and placing it on her outstretched palm. With a flick of the flier’s wrist, the dagger rises a few inches, then spins when she twirls her index finger.
It’s a simple, lesser magic, something I learned last year—
“You can still wield.” My heart sinks at the wider implications, and my shoulders sag.
She nods solemnly. “As glad as I am to not be stripped of my power, I’m sorry to say there’s something wrong with your wards.”
Fuck.
The day Augustine Melgren manifested his signet changed warfare
for the kingdom of Navarre forever.
—NAVARRE, AN UNEDITED HISTORY
BY COLONEL LEWIS MARKHAM
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The irony of meeting at Athebyne is not lost on me, nor is the fact that this is the second time I’m visiting the outpost on the edge of the Esben mountain range after finding out Xaden Riorson has hidden pertinent information from me.
I spent last night in the library, which was probably in the best interest of everyone as I continue to muddle through my thoughts. Intentions. What-thefuck-ever.
Today, I’m bleary-eyed and restless, with more questions than answers. But as I glance over at Xaden landing on Sgaeyl’s back, his face tense and drawn, I can recognize that telling me, whether or not he wanted to, was the ultimate gesture of trust.
And this time, I’m not the last to know. I’m the first. Maybe it makes me completely, utterly foolish, but somehow that makes a difference, even if I haven’t had the opportunity to tell him that…or the opportunity to interrogate his ass about how many of my intentions he’s read.
I’m just not sure how many this-times I have in me, no matter how much I love him.
Our riot of ten lands in the clearing over the ridgeline from the outpost at noon—a full hour before we’re due to meet—and four of the dragons back into the cover of the forest immediately, hiding in the shelter of the enormous evergreen trees that surround the field. The other six stand wing to wing, ready to launch at a moment’s notice.
“You’re sure they won’t be able to tell they’re here?” I ask Tairn, putting my flight goggles into my pack before sliding down Tairn’s foreleg. Landing on the frozen ground makes me wince. I’d woken up this morning with a hundred-yearold text stuck to my cheek and a throbbing ache in my neck.
“Not exactly, but there’s no snow at this elevation to carry tracks. Dragons only sense each other mind-to-mind when we allow it. As long as they stay downwind, the others will know they’re here but won’t be able to identify how many or who has come.”
“That’s not exactly comforting.” Especially given who insisted on traveling with us. I stretch my arms up at the sun and roll my neck carefully to ease the stiffness in my muscles. After fighting Solas yesterday and accidentally sleeping on a table in the library last night, my body has had it with me, and I can’t blame it.
“You are not a child in need of comfort.”
True, which only serves to remind me of the enraged adolescent I have waiting for me at home in Aretia. After telling her there would be no logical way to explain her presence even if Tairn carried her, which she was adamantly opposed to, Andarna cursed Tairn’s entire family line, then blocked us both and went to practice with the elders.
Tairn’s only response had been a muttered expletive about the moods of adolescents.
It doesn’t escape my notice that Sgaeyl stands between Teine and Fann, Ulices’s cantankerous Green Swordtail, not next to Tairn, which either explains or is a result of his surly mood this morning.
Mom and Dad are fighting, and everyone knows it.
Xaden crosses in front of Fann, completely unbothered by her snort of insult at his proximity, and peels off his gloves as he approaches me.
“You didn’t come to bed last night.” His brow furrows as he makes a quick study of my face, then shoves the gloves into his pocket, and I mirror his motions just in case we’ll need to wield.
Then I reinforce my shields.
“I was in the library with Dain, poring over Warrick’s journal to see what I got wrong. We both fell asleep on one of the tables, until Jesinia and a few others joined us for more study.” I meet his gaze, then look away before I start pelting him with questions or do something even more foolish like forgive him before getting answers.
“I thought Jesinia didn’t speak Old Lucerish?” He barely glances at the riders who walk by and gather in front of Fann. We’ve brought three from Mira’s unit in addition to members of the Assembly.
“She doesn’t, but Sawyer’s smitten, and the others were determined to help in any way they could.” Even Cat, Maren, and Trager had joined in a show of support.
“Did you find anything?”
The dragons raise their heads at a sound coming from the other side of the clearing, and the way they quickly lower them tells me everything I need to know. Early or not, this meeting is about to start.
“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes on the trees and fighting the apprehension trying to knot in my throat. The breath of life of the six and the one combined and set the stone ablaze in an iron flame. What did I miss? “If I had, you’d know it.”
“Would I?” His tone tightens.