A woman on the infantry side gawks.
“It is,” Professor Grady agrees. “It’s not something we do lightly, either, and your dragons loathe it just as much as you do. You’ve all been dosed with a particular mixture of herbs that dulls not only your connections but your signet as well. As frustrating as it is, we’re actually pretty proud of the concoction, so let us know if you feel any side effects.”
“Besides you cutting off the most important bond we have?” Rhi argues.
“Precisely,” Professor Grady replies.
I reach for my power, but only a tingle fills my fingers. Gods, I feel… vulnerable, and it really fucking sucks. My mind flies over what the mixture could possibly be as the two professors walk between our groups.
When Grady reaches the end of our section, he turns, moving backward. “Oh, and did I mention that there are two groups of you out here? The other is on the far side of the forest, and while your dragons will be hunting them, their dragons are hunting you. A few unbondeds joined, too.”
The fuck? My stomach hollows.
Almost every infantry cadet looks faint, and one wobbles where he stands.
“Infantry, the riders are going to need to lean on your land nav expertise, but you won’t live without them should you encounter a dragon.” Grady looks the eight of us in the eye as he backs away. “Try and see that most of them make it out of here, will you?” He flashes a grin and turns around, walking into the forest with the infantry professor, leaving us in the middle of the fucking woods without supplies or our dragons.
We stare at the infantry squad.
The infantry squad stares at us.
The healers look comically uncomfortable, and the scribe already has a notebook out, pencil at the ready.
“Well, this should be a good time had by all,” Ridoc mutters.
“Did he insinuate that we could die?” the smaller of the healers asks, his olive skin paling.
“Piss off the dragons and find out,” Sawyer replies.
“You’ll be all right”—I look for his name tag—“Dyre.” I offer him a smile as I pass on my way to the scribe. Soft red hair frames a creamy white face almost overcome with freckles as the short woman blinks up at me with even shorter brown lashes. “Aoife? They drag scribes into RSC?”
“Hi, Violet. I’m currently the first in my year training for the field and not to be an adept,” she says. “You’re the most powerful rider in yours. Dyre and Calvin are the best in their years.” She shrugs. “Naturally they built the strongest team first.”
Ridoc grins. “So you’re saying we’re the team to beat?”
“Something like that.” The scribe fights back a smile.
“Then let’s make sure we don’t get beat,” Rhiannon says before turning her attention to the map. “Tomas, what do you think?”
He hands a map to Brisa and consults on Rhi’s.
Two hours and several arguments with the infantry later, we’re four miles from our starting location with another six to go. Rhiannon and Ridoc examined our map—which marked where we’d been dropped and our extraction point but didn’t label our location—discussed a route with Tomas, made sure we all saw it, and then handed it over to the infantry to agree on a route before we started walking.
“I’m telling you, we’re in the Parchille Forest,” Cadet Asshole—otherwise known as Calvin—argues with Rhiannon a few steps ahead. He’s actually gone about fifteen minutes without reminding us that he’s their ranking officer, so I’m sure we’re due any minute now. “That map doesn’t resemble any I’ve ever seen for Shedrick, which means we could be headed the opposite direction we should be. None of these landmarks match.”
“And I think you’re wrong,” Rhiannon counters, keeping her tone even.
I think we’re in the Hadden Woods,” Aoife says, holding her journal closely. She already has three pages of notes taken. “It’s the only forest close enough to bring us all by horse, since I doubt your dragons flew us in.”
I add, “It’s also the only forest close enough for Tairn to stay behind and see Sgaeyl without causing either of us pain from the separation.”
“Their squad leader is the infantry equivalent of Aetos,” Ridoc mutters from my right side.
I nod but keep from chuckling.
Cohen throws his head back on Ridoc’s right and doesn’t bother suppressing his laugh. Guess Dain’s reputation carries across the wings.
“Who is Aetos?” Cadet Quiet asks from Aoife’s left. It’s the first time the curvy brunette has spoken in hours, but her brown eyes are constantly moving, taking in our surroundings. I would bet that she’s tied with Brisa—who is covering our flank with Tomas and Sawyer—for most observant in our group.
“One of our wingleaders,” I answer. “Kind of like your battalion commander.”
“Oh.” She nods as Rhiannon and Asshole continue arguing ahead of us. “You guys function in sections, right?”
“Yep.” The landscape hasn’t changed. The forest is mostly flat, with a few rolling hills that have been easily scalable. But the heat? Damn, it’s stifling. I tied my uniform top around my waist about an hour ago, leaving me in my armor. I have no idea how Aoife is surviving with her hood up, but she hasn’t removed it. “Squad, then section, then wing.”
“What do we do if we come across a dragon?” she asks.
“First we choose a sacrifice,” Ridoc says. “And then we offer it and run.”
Her eyes flare wide.
“Don’t be an asshole.” I elbow him in the arm. “Depends on the color, but a good rule of thumb is to lower your eyes and back away,” I tell the infantry cadet. “But we can usually hear them coming.”
“Then prepare to be digested,” Cohen adds.
“Oh gods,” the brunette whispers.
“You are now my favorite year-mate.” Ridoc throws an arm over his shoulder.
“Can I see your map?” Brisa asks from the rear of the formation.
“Don’t you have your own?” Calvin retorts.
Rhi’s head whips toward him. “Give it to her or I cut it out of your hands.”
He glares at Rhi but passes it back so we can get it to Brisa.
Gods, this grass is high. It’s nearly up to my waist in the places where the trees don’t shade the ground. I step onto an uneven knob, and my ankle rolls. Ridoc grabs ahold of me before I can fall, then steadies me without a word as we continue the climb. “Thank you,” I say softly.
“Are your knees wrapped?” Ridoc asks, concern lining his forehead.
I nod. “Yep. Didn’t do the ankles, though, since I wasn’t exactly expecting a hike.”
“I have cloth if you need to wrap something,” Dyre calls out from behind us.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” I answer.
A guy behind me asks, “Are all scribes this quiet?”
“It’s my job to record, not participate,” she answers.
“Not participating will still get you eaten by a dragon,” he argues.
I assure her, my eyes never leaving his, “I’d never let a scribe get eaten by a dragon.”
Rhiannon’s voice rises as the argument ahead of us heats. “Because there’s no way in hell they hauled us out of our rooms and brought us that far away in four hours.”
“Because your dragons can’t fly that quickly?” Calvin is about an inch shorter than Rhi and has no problem glaring up at her.
“Because our dragons wouldn’t carry you, dumbass,” Ridoc responds.
Aoife snorts and Mirabel laughs, flanked by the rest of the infantry squad behind us.
Calvin turns and levels a look at Ridoc. “Have some respect for the rank.” He taps his shoulder, where there’s an open triangle embroidered beneath two oak leaves.
“Your rank means exactly jack and shit to me.”
“What, like you’re so above us infantry?” Calvin counters.
“I mean technically, when we’re flying we’re above everyone,” Ridoc argues. “But if you’re asking if I’m better than you, then the answer is obviously yes.”