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)
My chest tightens. Xaden isn’t going to a mid-guard wing like most lieutenants. He’s being sent to the front?
“I’d say I’ll be back before you can miss me,” Xaden replies, his hands loose at his sides, “but word has it you pissed off General Sorrengail enough to be reassigned to a coastal outpost.”
The colonel’s face blotches. “I might not be here, but you won’t be as often, either. Only once every fortnight, according to your new orders.”
What? My stomach pitches, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to reach out and steady myself.
The major slides his hand into the breast pocket of his perfectly pressed dress uniform and pulls out two folded missives. His black hair is perfectly combed, his boots perfectly shined, his smile perfectly cruel.
Power rises within me, responding to the threat.
“Where are my manners?” Colonel Aetos says. “Violet, this is your new vice commandant, Major Varrish. He’s here to tighten the ship, as they say. We seem to have gotten a little lax with what we allow around here. Naturally the quadrant’s current executive commandant will still see to operations, but Varrish’s new position only answers to Panchek.”
“Cadet Sorrengail,” I correct the Colonel. Vice commandant? Fucking great. “The general’s daughter,” Varrish responds, looking me over in clear appraisal, his attention snagging on every dagger I have within reach. “Fascinating. I’d heard you were too fragile to survive a year in the quadrant.”
“My presence would suggest otherwise.” What a dick.
Xaden takes both missives, careful not to touch Varrish’s hands, then gives me the one that has my name scrawled across the front. We crack Melgren’s personal wax seals at the same moment, then unfold the official orders.
Cadet Violet Sorrengail is hereby given two days of leave once every fourteen days to be used only to fly with Tairn directly to and from Sgaeyl ’s current duty station or location. Any other absence from classes will be considered a punishable offense.
I grit my teeth to keep from giving the colonel the reaction he so obviously wants and carefully fold the orders, slipping them into the pocket at my hip. My guess is Xaden’s say the same, and rotating our leaves puts us at every seven days. Tairn and Sgaeyl are never apart for more than three days. A week? They’ll be in a near-constant state of pain. It’s unfathomable.
“Tairn?” I reach out for him.
He roars so loudly it rattles my brain.
“Dragons give their own orders,” Xaden says calmly, pocketing his papers.
“Guess we’ll see.” Colonel Aetos nods, then turns his gaze to mine. “You know, I was worried about our earlier conversation until I remembered something.”
“And what is that?” Xaden asks, clearly losing patience.
“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.”
What no one openly says is that while all four quadrants obey the Code of Conduct, a rider’s first responsibility is to the Codex, which often overrules the regulations other quadrants live by.
By definition: the riders make their own rules.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT (UNAUTHORIZED EDITION)
CHAPTER SIX
The churning in my stomach has nothing to do with the lemonade. I’m pretty sure Colonel Aetos just insinuated he’d kill us.
“Good thing we’re not keeping secrets,” Xaden retorts.
Aetos’s smile shifts to the softer one I’ve seen all my life, and the transformation is eerie. “Do be careful who you share your war stories with, Violet. I’d hate to see your mother lose either of her daughters.”
What the fuck? Energy crackles in my fingertips.
He stares at me for a moment, making sure I get his point, then turns and walks into commons without another word, Varrish following.
“He just threatened your life,” Xaden growls, shadows whipping out from behind the pillars.
“And Mira’s.” If I tell anyone what really happened, he’ll target her, too. Message delivered. Power burns through my veins, seeking an outlet. Anger only fuels the energy that swiftly surges to an overwhelming wave, threatening to rip me apart.
“Let’s get you outside before you bring the place down,” Xaden says, reaching for my hand.
I give it to him, focusing on keeping the lightning at bay as we walk into the courtyard, but the harder I fight to tame it, the hotter it becomes, and once we’re in the darkness of the courtyard, I rip my hand from Xaden’s as power tears from me, scalding every nerve on the way out.
Lightning illuminates the night sky, striking the courtyard about forty feet away. Gravel flies.
“Shit!”
Xaden throws up a shield of shadow, catching the rocks before they can hit any of the nearby cadets. “Guess alcohol doesn’t dampen your signet,” he says slowly. “Good news is it’s all stone out here.”
“Sorry!” I call out to the others as they scatter, grimacing at my utterly embarrassing lack of control. “Forget protecting me. The quadrant needs protection from me.” Taking a deep breath, I turn to face Xaden. “Southern Wing? Is that what you chose?” Wingleaders always get their choice of duty station.