Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Xaden nods. “Each of the children of the officers were given them before our parents left for the Battle of Aretia. We were told to carry them at all times, and we did, even to the execution.” His fingers brush mine as he takes the stone.
I damn near stop breathing, keeping my eyes on his.
“It was designed to counter the signet of the rider whose dragon would kill them.” He swallows. “But it could only activate when killed by dragonfire.”
“Which is the primary method of execution for traitors,” I whisper.
He nods. “I kept it closed in my fist—we all did—as we stood there, watching our parents put into lines for execution. And the second they were…” His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. “…burned, heat raced up my arm. The next time I felt anything like that was after Threshing.”
My eyes widen, and I close my hand over his. “The rebellion relics?” That must be why the swirling marks always start on the marked ones’ arms.
He nods. “Our parents knew they’d die one way or another, and the last thing they did was make sure we were protected. I keep it purely for sentimental reasons.” Leaning toward me, he kisses my forehead, then turns away, putting the stone on his bedside table. “I like it when you ask me questions,” he says, leaning over to grab his uniform shirt. “Anything else you want to know?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to question why he didn’t tell me about the deal he made with my mother and ask if it influenced his feelings for me. But then he stands, and my gaze catches on those silver scars on his back—the scars she put there—and I just can’t ask. He told me that he’s loved me since the first time we kissed. That should be enough. I shouldn’t need to know anything more about the deal than what she said to me… Or maybe I don’t want to, not if there’s any chance it could shake our relationship.
“Violence?” He tugs his shirt on and turns.
“Nothing else to ask.” I force a smile.
“Everything all right?” Two lines appear between his brows. “Bodhi mentioned that Cat isn’t making it easy on you, and you’ve had a couple of lightning strikes—”
“Bodhi needs to butt out.” There’s no chance I’m letting Xaden worry about me before heading out for multiple days. Rising up on my toes, I kiss him softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Disappointment flashes through his eyes right before he cups the back of my neck and slants his mouth over mine for another blissful second, then pulls back. “You’re close, but you need a directional cue for that rune.”
“My rune is great, and I’ll ask for help if I need it.” I kiss him quickly just because I can, then rush out the door so I can make it to class in time. The second I’m in the hallway, I lift the disk to my ear.
Noise rushes in. Bootsteps pounding above me, doors closing ahead of me, people shouting beneath me—there’s too much input to make any sense of it.
“I hate it when he’s right,” I mutter as I skid into class.
Naturally, Cat has tempered her rune perfectly when I get there, which makes me almost want to ask for Xaden’s help, but he’s already gone before I’m done with my classes for the day.
…
“We’ve given you two weeks to figure out how to integrate peacefully, and you have yet to do so, much to our disappointment,” Devera lectures us the next week from the side of the center mat, Emetterio and one of the flier professors by her side. The sparring gym is only a fraction of the size of Basgiath’s—fitting nine mats total—and it’s packed with every cadet in Aretia standing shoulder to shoulder.
Including the fliers.
Until now, we’ve only been put together for rune lessons in very small increments and mealtimes, which usually end with at least one thrown punch.
“What the hell do they expect?” Rhiannon folds her arms next to me. “We’ve been killing each other for centuries, and we’re supposed to what…weave flowers into each other’s hair and confess our deepest, darkest secrets all because they gave us a luminary and hiked a cliff?”
“It’s a little tense,” I agree, holding the conduit in my right hand and rolling my aching shoulder, hoping it will forgive me for daring to sleep on it wrong. I have a lesson with Felix in two days, and I’m cramming as much power into the little glass orb as I can.
My power’s been flaring all too frequently, with the fliers hurling insults every chance they get, insinuating that I dropped Luella to her death instead of Visia.
There’s a clear divide in our ranks: a sea of black on my right and a swath of tan on the left, with a wide strip of bare floor between us. More than a dozen cadets wear bruises from the brawl that erupted yesterday in the great hall between Third Wing and two drifts.