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)
Every muscle in my body tenses, but I do as he asks and don’t cut the stream of power. Tendrils of that same white-blue energy stretch the inch of airspace between my fingers and the orb.
“What…” My heart starts to pound so hard I can feel it in my ears, and the five separate filaments of power pulse in time with its beat.
“That’s you,” Felix says softly, gentler than he’s ever been with me as he draws the orb away another inch, then another. Then again, I’d be careful with me right now, too, if I were him. “Increase slowly.”
The doors to my Archives open just another foot or so, and the power stretches with no pain and only moderate heat, evaporating any unlucky snowflakes in its path.
“You’re starting to get it now, aren’t you?” Felix retreats a full step, and my hand begins to tremble as I fight to amplify the power just enough to reach the conduit but not strike.
“Get. What?” My arm is full-on shaking now.
“Control.” He grins, and I startle, my gaze swinging back to his.
Power bursts through the doorway and rips through me in a streak of scalding heat, and I throw my hands up—and away from Felix—a second before the strike splits the clouded sky, singeing the mountain on impact less than thirty feet up the ridge.
Felix’s Red Swordtail puffs steam in agitation, but all I feel from Tairn is pride.
“Well, you had control.” Felix hands the conduit back to me. “But at least that means you’re capable. For a while there, I wasn’t sure.”
“I wasn’t, either.” I study the orb as if I’ve never seen it.
“You wield your power like a battle-ax, and sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed. But you of all people”—he gestures to the daggers sheathed in my flight jacket—“should understand when a dagger is called for, when only the precise cut will do.” He lifts his pack from the ground and slings it over his shoulder. “We’re done for today. By Monday you’ll be able to keep that power flowing from—shall we say ten feet?”
“Ten feet?” There’s no fucking way.
“You’re right.” He nods, turning toward his antsy dragon. “Make it fifteen.” His head tilts to the side, and he pauses as if he’s talking to his dragon. “When you get back to the house, tell Riorson we’ll need both of you in the Assembly chamber at five o’clock.”
“But Xaden isn’t—” I lower my shields and sure enough, there he is. The shadowy pathway between our minds is strong with proximity and heavy with… weariness?
“You’re home early. Everything all right?”
“No.” He doesn’t give any details, and his tone doesn’t invite further questions.
“Is Sgaeyl all right?” I ask Tairn as I walk up the forearm he’s dipped for me.
“She’s unharmed.” Frustration and anger simmer, then quickly scald our bond, and I swiftly shield him out to keep from losing control over my own emotions.
A half hour later, after flying back to the valley and watching Andarna show off her developing ability to extend her wing while counting to thirty with enthusiastic applause, I walk into the chaotic halls of Riorson House and head straight for the kitchen.
Once I have a plate of what I need, I start up the sweeping staircase and find Garrick, Bodhi, and Heaton talking on the second-floor landing. The look on Garrick’s soot-covered face matches the ominous weight of Xaden’s mood, and when Heaton turns their head, I nearly fumble the plate.
The right side of their face is one giant contusion, and their right arm is splinted from the elbow down.
“What happened?”
Garrick and Bodhi exchange a glance that makes my stomach sink, even knowing that Xaden is alive—and not in our bedroom on this floor, but four stories above me.
“They took Pavis,” Heaton tells me quietly, looking to see that we’re not overheard.
I blink. That can’t be right. “That town is only an hour’s flight east of Draithus.”
Heaton nods slowly. “Took seven of them and a hoard of wyvern. Town was overrun before we even got there. Your sister—she’s all right, just taking Emery to the healers for a shattered leg. She ordered us out after—” Their voice breaks, and they look away.
“After Nyra Voldaren fell during our mission today,” Garrick finishes.
“Nyra?” She was the quadrant’s senior wingleader last year and was damn near invincible.
“Yeah. She went in to defend a group of civilians that had taken shelter near the armory, and…” His jaw works. “And there was nothing left of her or Malla. It was just like Soleil and Fuil, completely drained. I’m sure they’ll update everyone in Battle Brief tomorrow, but they recalled all first and second lieutenants to Aretia to regroup.”
“I think they’re going to change the wing structure,” Heaton adds.
“They have to,” Garrick agrees. “Leaving the less experienced riders back from the front doesn’t do a damn thing when the front is this fucking fluid.”