“But as I said.” Markham claps his hands together and sighs. “We’ll return to this lesson when we’re ready. Right now, our first order of business is here, and celebration is in order.”
Deflection complete. Cue distraction.
“I wasn’t sure this day would come, which is why I hope that you’ll forgive us for keeping the months of Colonel Nolon’s hard work a secret. We didn’t want to disappoint you if he could not pull off what will arguably be the greatest achievement of any mender in our history.”
Didn’t want to disappoint us? I barely manage to keep from rolling my eyes.
Markham raises his hand toward the doorway and smiles. “He was crushed under the weight of a mountain a few months ago, but Nolon has mended bone after bone to return him to your quadrant.”
Crushed under the weight of a mountain? It can’t be. My stomach hollows, and the noise of the room muffles under the sound of my own blood rushing through my ears to the cadence of a drum.
“No fucking way,” Ridoc says, breaking through my panic.
“Tairn?” I can’t bring myself to look.
“Checking now.” The clipped, tense tone reminds me of Resson.
“Join me in welcoming back your fellow rider, Jack Barlowe!” Markham claps. The entire briefing room joins in, the loudest cheers coming from First Wing as two figures walk down the stairs.
Breathe. In. Out. I force air through my lungs as Rhiannon grasps my hand and holds tight.
“It’s him,” Rhiannon says. “It’s really him.”
“You brought down an entire cliff on his unhinged ass.” Sawyer claps slowly, but it’s only for show. “How the fuck was there anything left to mend?”
Dragging my gaze left, I finally work up the courage to look.
Same bulky frame. Same blond hair. Same profile. Same hands that nearly killed me during a challenge last year…before I killed him during War Games the first time my signet flared.
He turns a few rows down, walking past other second-years as Caroline Ashton escorts him back to his squad. It all makes sense now. The secrecy. Her visiting the infirmary. Nolon’s exhaustion.
Jack pivots as he reaches an empty seat, turning slowly and nodding as the applause carries on. The look on his face is almost humble, like a man who’s received a second chance he definitely doesn’t deserve, and then he pivots, looking up the rows to find me.
Glacial blue eyes meet mine. Any doubt I had dies a swift death. It’s him. My pounding heart jumps into my throat.
“Maybe he learned his lesson?” Rhiannon’s voice pitches high with empty hope.
“No,” Ridoc says, letting his hands fall to his lap. “He’s definitely going to try to kill you. Again.”
Menders are not healers. Healers are bound to the Code of Chricton, sworn to aide all in time of need and never to harm a beating heart. Menders are riders. They’re only sworn to the Codex. They can as easily bring harm as heal.
—MAJOR FREDERICK’S MODERN GUIDE FOR HEALERS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Not helping!” Rhiannon hisses as we all stare at Jack-fucking-Barlowe. A small, almost soft smile curves his mouth for an instant, and we fall silent as he nods at me then looks away quickly before he takes his seat.
“What the fuck was that?” Ridoc asks.
“I have no idea.” It’s the first time since Parapet he’s looked at me with anything but pure malice.
“It’s him,” Tairn growls. “Baide has kept the truth hidden for these months.”
“I can see him.” I’d ask how the fuck a dragon hides something in the Vale, but Andarna isn’t exactly common knowledge, either.
“Be aware of him at all times,” Tairn warns.
Rhiannon squeezes my hand as she shifts in her seat. “Maybe a few months of being dead has changed him.”
“Maybe.” Sawyer’s eyes narrow as he stares holes in the back of Jack’s head. “But I think we’re better off killing him again.”
“I’m down with that plan,” Ridoc agrees.
“Let’s focus on keeping an eye on him,” I suggest, forcing my voice past the knot in my throat as the applause finally dies down, allowing me to put my thoughts in order.
Jack is alive. Fine. He’s hardly the worst thing I faced last year. I brought down not only one but two venin. I destroyed an entire horde of wyvern with Xaden. Maybe Jack’s changed. Maybe he hasn’t. Either way, my signet and hand-to-hand skills have only improved, and I doubt he’s been sparring in the infirmary.
Ridoc, Sawyer, and Rhiannon all stare at me like there’s a chance I might grow a tail and start breathing fire at any second. “I’m all right,” I tell them. “Seriously. Stop staring.” I don’t have the option of not being all right.
They shoot me skeptical looks of varying degrees, then face forward.
Markham clears his throat. “Now, to our second matter of business for the hour.” He looks over at Professor Devera.
“Yesterday evening, there was an unprecedented attack on one of our largest outposts,” she says, her shoulders straightening as she scans the room.
“Again?” Rhiannon mutters. “What the hell is going on out there?” She releases my hand and starts to take notes.
A murmur rises among the cadets.
Focus. I have to focus.
“And this, cadets, is no conjecture. No propaganda. No game.” That last word is said with a sideways glance at Markham. “It’s unprecedented not only in its proximity—we’ve never had outposts attacked this close together before—but also because it involved three drifts.” She lifts her pointed chin.
I glance up at the map, forcing my mind to work. Pelham near the Cygni border is my first guess, but Keldavi—along the Braevick border—is a close second after it nearly fell last week. Maybe the fliers are recognizing our weaknesses.
“They attacked Samara a little after sundown, while most of the riot was wrapping up the day’s patrol.”
The breath freezes in my lungs and my heart stutters. She has my full, undivided attention. Who cares if Jack Barlowe is seated beneath me or if papers are flying around with Poromish news? None of that matters more than whatever Professor Devera is about to say.
They’re alive. They have to be.
I can’t begin to fathom a world without Mira…and Xaden? My heart can’t comprehend the possibility.
Oh gods, Sgaeyl’s anger. I drop my shields completely, searching for a bond I wouldn’t be able to feel from this far anyway. Still, I search.
“Tairn?” I reach out, but anxiety floods my bloodstream, overpowering every logical thought. It’s not mine, but it may as well be. My heart begins to pound, and my ribs close in on my lungs.
“The outpost was successfully defended by the three riders who were not on patrol. Their victory is nothing short of astonishing. While no riders were killed in the assault”—her gaze snaps to mine—“there was one rider severely wounded.”
No. The denial is sharp and fast.
Rage and terror pump through my veins.
Professor Devera lifts her hand and scratches the left side of her neck before looking away. “What questions would you ask?”
The left side of her neck.
Right where Xaden’s relic is.
Mira’s all right, but Xaden… I can’t be here. It’s impossible to be here when I have to be there. There’s no reality outside of me being there. Here doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t exist.
“I have to go.” I grab my bag from the floor and shove the strap over my shoulder.
“Was the outpost breached?” someone in front of me asks.
“Vi?” Rhi reaches for me, but I’m already standing, moving down the row toward the staircase.
“Cadet Sorrengail!” Professor Markham calls out.
There’s no time to answer him as I climb the stairs. No world outside the impossible-to-ignore drive that propels me up. My body isn’t even my own because I’m not here.
“Cadet Sorrengail!” Markham yells as I leave the briefing room. “You do not have leave!”
“Get to the courtyard,” Tairn rumbles through my mind.
We’re on the same page, neither of us willing to wait for me to walk to the flight field. It doesn’t matter if the uncontrollable urge is coming from me or Tairn, not when we both need the same thing.
“Violet!” someone shouts after me. Bootsteps race down the hall.