“With all due respect”—Rhiannon straightens her posture and stares him down—“unlike War Games, Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing will remain intact, though you’re welcome to join us.”
Sawyer and Ridoc move to my sides, and I know if I fall back, Quinn and Imogen will be there waiting.
Xaden lifts his scarred brow at me, and instead of contradicting Rhiannon, I glance at my sister. “Same goes for you. You’re welcome to join, but I stay with my squad.”
The wind blows bitterly cold against my face nearly eighteen hours later as we cross into the Morraine province and follow the Iakobos River through the winding mountain range that leads to Basgiath. I’ve never been so thankful that my body heats when I channel. Everyone else in our party must be frozen to the core.
It’s a testament to General Melgren’s certainty about Samara that we aren’t stopped by any patrols…because there are none. Even the mid-guard posts are devoid of riders as we fly over in a riot of fifty led by Tairn and Sgaeyl.
We may have left the first-years behind, but we also gained some of the active riders who hadn’t been stationed along the cliffside border, like Mira, who’s flying with Teine directly behind me as if she’s scared to let me out of her sight.
“Aimsir is indeed within the Vale. Teine will relay communications for the squad while you locate your mother.” Tairn finishes telling me the plan devised by leadership midflight that will allow us to recon, then adjust to whatever we find waiting for us.
My assigned task is to get through to my mother. No pressure or anything.
“When we reach the upcoming bend in the river, you’ll release your harness from mine,” Tairn tells Andarna. “Fly to the Vale and stay there. An adolescent black dragon will raise human suspicion at Basgiath. Hide among our kind until it’s over.”
“What if you need me? Like last time? I can stay hidden right at your side.”
My heart clenches at the memory of how she’d appeared on the battlefield even after I’d begged her to stay hidden. She’d risked her life to help us and nearly lost it in the process. “Stay with the feathertails—they’ll need all your protection if the wards fall—and report anything the second it feels off.”
If we’re too late, then gods help us all.
At the bend in the river, Andarna detaches and flies alongside us until the beats of her smaller wings can’t keep up, then dives toward the ice-crusted river beneath us.
“The Vale,” I remind her.
“I will be where I am needed,” she counters, banking left, leaving the trail of the river in favor of the snowcapped ridgeline that leads back behind the flight field and up into the Vale.
“That didn’t sound like she intends on listening,” I tell Tairn, watching her until she fades from view.
“I warned you what adolescents are like.” He tucks his wings and dives, leaving my stomach behind as we drop a thousand feet in altitude in a matter of breaths, then levels out once we’re only a hundred feet above the tall oak trees that line the river, approaching Basgiath from the south.
Everything looks as it should in the dying evening light, identical to when we left six weeks ago, simply covered in a fresh coat of snow. I look over my shoulder to see half the riot—First, Second, and Third Wings—break off, heading toward the flight field.
As long as everyone sticks to the plan, the next quarter will land in the courtyard of the quadrant while the rest of us continue onto the main campus.
“Can you sense anything off?” I ask as the walls of the Riders Quadrant come into view. Only half the windows in the dormitory are lit from within. An ache settles in my chest. No matter what cruelty transpired here, there’s an enormous part of me that considers this place home.
It’s where I studied, where I climbed trees with Dain, and where my father taught me the wonder of the Archives. It’s where I fell in love with Xaden and learned just how much had been omitted from those very Archives.
“The wards are still up. We’ve made our presence known to the Empyrean, and I can definitely sense their displeasure, if that’s what you mean.” We cross over the courtyard, and Tail and Claw Sections peel off the formation with Devera in the lead, causing untold damage to the masonry as they land wherever they’ll fit along the walls. “But Greim is in residence, and she’s reaching out to her mate, who is at Samara to contact Codagh.”
“At what point will you and Sgaeyl be able to cover distances like that?” We pass the parapet in nothing more than a heartbeat, and then Tairn banks left.
“Years. Greim and Maise have been mated for many decades.” He races over the bell tower of the main college of Basgiath, then flares his wings and beats them backward, halting our momentum to the sound of alarmed cries from the watchmen in the four towers, shouting down their warnings.
“There are people down there,” I tell him as he sinks gracefully into the main campus’s courtyard.
“They’ll move.”
Sure enough, people scurry, scattering out of his way as he lands. “Should you change your mind, I’ll simply claw through the roof to reach you.”
I unbuckle quickly, unstrap the bag of daggers I was assigned to carry—each of us has one—and climb out of the saddle. “I’ll be all right,” I promise, working to his shoulder without so much as removing my flight goggles or tightening the straps on my pack. Speed matters, since only one dragon can land here at a time. I’ll be alone until Sgaeyl follows.
My muscles protest the sudden movement after hours of riding, but I make it to his shoulder, then slide down the familiar ridges of his scales until my feet touch ground at Basgiath.
The second I’m clear, slipping the strap of my bag to my shoulder, Tairn launches skyward. He’s strong but also heavy, and his talons barely clear the roofline of the infantry quadrant as he flies off.
Officers stand in stunned silence against the walls, staring at me with blatant shock, and I open the Archives doors just a crack to fill my body with enough energy to wield just in case one of them decides to make a move. Hands up, I scan the threats around me, taking note of the one captain in navy blue reaching for his sword. I retreat toward the wall beside the stairs leading up to the administration building until I feel frozen stone against my back.
Sgaeyl lands an instant later, momentarily obscuring my view of my would-be enemies, and Xaden dismounts, shadows in one hand and a sword in the other as he echoes my previous movements, giving only me his back as he retreats to my side. When Sgaeyl launches from the courtyard, Teine sweeps down, taking her place in perfectly timed coordination.
Movement up the stairs catches my attention, and I pivot, putting myself between Xaden and my mother as she descends with slow, deliberate steps, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed shortsword, Nolon a few steps behind her.
Here we go.
Shadows stream around me, racing across the cobblestones and stopping at the first step just as my mother reaches it. Her sigh is pure annoyance, and twin bruises lie in half circles beneath the eyes she narrows at us.
“Mom.” Power crackles, lifting the loose tendrils of my hair as I glance back at the man who helped hold me prisoner.
“Really, Violet? You couldn’t use the front door?” She glances at Mira, and then her gaze turns upward as Cath descends. Her face falls, but she holds her posture rigid as ever.
“He’s not with us,” Mira says, holding her sword pointed at the captain who’s been working his way out. “In fact, he’s pretty pissed we came.”
Mom’s head tilts slightly in a movement I know means she’s talking to Aimsir. “Seems we’ve been fully invaded.”
“We’re not here to fight you. We’re here to fight for you,” I tell her. “You might not believe me, but your wards are in danger.”
“Our wards are perfectly fine, as I’m sure you can feel.” Mom crosses her arms as Dain joins us. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She calls across the courtyard,
“Hollyn, open the damned gates before one of these dragons takes off the roof.” She looks pointedly at the shadows blocking her path.