“You’ll condemn us all to death if you take down the only wards standing between the venin and the hatching grounds at Basgiath,” I say. “It’s our only forge for weaponry, and there’s enough raw magic in that range to feed them for a century. They’d be unstoppable.”
Every head lifts my direction.
“You’re drawing attention.” Tairn growls at the fliers, and they immediately look away.
“I never said I’d sit here silently.”
“Nice to meet you without Riorson’s face attached to yours, Sorrengail,”
Syrena says, her gaze diverted from Tairn. Smart woman. “Though I’m guessing he still doesn’t trust us completely if he’s got you on the back of that enormous dragon of yours.”
Xaden remains quiet.
“I’m glad you made it through Resson,” I respond with a smile. Not that she can see it.
But the younger flier does. She stares up at me in an unsettling mix of shock and…shit, I think that’s malice narrowing her eyes.
“My last name isn’t winning any friends to your left,” I say to Xaden.
“Ignore her.”
“We made it through thanks to you and that incredible lightning you wield,” Syrena says.
Another rumbling growl works up Tairn’s throat as his head pivots right and he bares his teeth.
Syrena glances at the younger flier and then blanches. “You know better than to stare at a dragon, Cat!”
Cat. It’s a fitting name for the way she’s sizing me up.
“Wasn’t staring at the dragon,” the woman replies just loud enough that I barely make out the words. But she shifts her glare, aiming it at Xaden. “She’s striking, I’ll give you that.”
What the fuck?
“Don’t,” Xaden replies, his tone dipping to that icy calm before addressing Syrena. “Sorrengail is right. You take down our wards, and there’s nothing stopping them from draining the hatching grounds. They’d be impossible to engage, let alone defeat.”
“So you’d rather we die while you sit protected behind the very weapon that could save our civilians?” the man asks like he’s requesting the weather report.
“Yes.” Xaden shrugs.
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
“This is a war,” Xaden continues. “People die in wars. So, if you’re asking if I’d rather your people die than mine, then obviously my answer is yes. It’s foolish to think we can save everyone. We can’t.”
I inhale sharply at the reminder that the man I get behind closed doors isn’t the one the rest of the world knows. It’s not the first time I’ve heard him express the sentiment. He feels the same way about the marked ones who won’t work to save themselves at Basgiath.
“Still an asshole, I see.” Cat folds her arms.
“We’ve lost riders to the venin, too,” he counters. “We’re fighting with you. But I’m not sacrificing the safety of our movement or our civilians for yours. If that makes me an asshole, then so be it. We’re not just sitting behind our wards,
either. I’m risking my life, risking the lives of the people I care about, to get you weaponry from Basgiath and to complete our own forge to keep providing that weaponry so we’re ready when both dark wielders and Navarre inevitably come for us. Which they will.”
“Completing a forge?” Cat chances another glare in my direction. “Viscount Tecarus would strongly argue with that statement. You’ve had not one but two chances to acquire the luminary, and it’s not like you haven’t had what he’s asked for both times.”
“Out of the question,” Xaden bites out.
“You’re willing to let our entire kingdom fall prey to these monsters because you’re what?” Cat asks, cocking her head at Xaden. “Smitten? Please. I know you better than that.”
“Cat!” Syrena snaps.
My stomach lurches. “What the hell is she talking about?” Ludicrous as it might be, I think…it’s me. What the hell would I have to do with a Poromish viscount?
“Nothing of any consequence.” Xaden’s tone is anything but comforting.
Tairn chuffs.
“We’ll be discussing this later,” I warn Xaden, adding it to a never-ending list.
“You know nothing where she’s concerned.” Xaden shakes his head once at Cat before turning back to Syrena. “The forge is our highest priority. As soon as we secure a luminary, we’ll be operational and able to supply you in full. We have the rest of the material we need to begin, and that’s all you get to know, because you’re right, Syrena. I don’t trust you. Until then, there are twenty-three daggers in these bags.” He points to the bags at his feet.
“Twenty-three?” Syrena asks, lifting a brow.
“I need one of them.” There’s no apology in his words or tone. “Take them or leave them. Either way, Garrick will see your next shipment is delivered at the appointed location.” He backs away, keeping his face toward them. “It’s near Athebyne. I’m not hiding it from you, just not repeating it in front of the rest of her drift.”
“I appreciate the honesty.” It’s surprising and refreshing.
“You have maybe a year until they’re on your border,” Syrena says.
My stomach sours as I remember that Brennan thinks we have way less than that. I need to delve deeper into researching the wards as soon as I’m back at Basgiath.
“We’re all that stands between them and you. You know that, right? Or are you still hiding your heads in the don’t-tell-us-too-much-in-case-we’reinterrogated sand like you were last year?”
“We know,” Xaden responds. “We’ll be ready.”
Syrena nods. “I’ll do what I can to lessen the attacks on the outposts, but until you can openly say you’re supplying us, it’s like asking our forces to believe in specters. They don’t trust you like I do.”
“How you stop them is your business. I meant what I said.” He tilts his head. “Come for our wards, and I’ll watch you die.”
We need to get them under wards of their own. It’s the most logical path. Sgaeyl huffs a blast of steam, and the male flier startles, then comes for the two bags and pivots, handing one to Syrena on his way back to the remainder of the drift.
“Thank you,” Syrena says to Xaden before glancing up at me. “Tell your dragon he’s still the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Sorrengail.”
“I would, but it would just inflate his ego,” I reply, settling back in the saddle as Xaden runs up Sgaeyl’s foreleg to mount. “Stay alive, Syrena. I’m starting to like you.”
She flashes me a smirk of a smile, then turns toward the other flier. “Let’s go, Catriona.”
Catriona. Cat.
The way my stomach hollows has nothing to do with Tairn’s sudden launch into the night sky and everything to do with remembering what Bodhi said weeks ago.
I’ve never seen him care like this, and that includes Catriona.
Oh gods. The way she’d looked at him wasn’t just longing—it was memory.
Cadets who are found absent without leave will be subject to court-martial by their chain of command, if they are not executed on sight.
—ARTICLE FOUR, SECTION ONE THE BASGIATH WAR COLLEGE CODE OF CONDUCT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Air steals the heat from my cheeks, and I pull my goggles into place as Tairn flies for the border with forceful wingbeats. “To avoid jumping to conclusions like last year, she’s your ex, isn’t she?” I ask Xaden, hoping my mental voice sounds a hell of a lot steadier than I feel.
“How do you— Never mind, that’s not important. Yes.” He speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words with the utmost care. “We were over before I met you.”
It shouldn’t matter. I have exes, too. It’s not like we’ve really discussed our sexual or romantic history, right? Of course, neither of them is a gryphon flier who looks like…that, but still. There’s no logical reason for me to feel this ugly twist of irrational—
Shit. What is this? Jealousy? Anxiety? Insecurity?
“All three,” Tairn responds in utter annoyance. “To which I will remind you that not a single dragon chose her. You were selected by two. Pull yourself together.”
His metric is sound but has little to do with what I’m feeling.
“But at one point Xaden chose her.” I lean into the right bank as Tairn hugs the face of the mountain, continuing to climb.