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)
“One of our wingleaders,” I answer. “Kind of like your battalion commander.”
“Oh.” She nods as Rhiannon and Asshole continue arguing ahead of us. “You guys function in sections, right?”
“Yep.” The landscape hasn’t changed. The forest is mostly flat, with a few rolling hills that have been easily scalable. But the heat? Damn, it’s stifling. I tied my uniform top around my waist about an hour ago, leaving me in my armor. I have no idea how Aoife is surviving with her hood up, but she hasn’t removed it. “Squad, then section, then wing.”
“What do we do if we come across a dragon?” she asks.
“First we choose a sacrifice,” Ridoc says. “And then we offer it and run.”
Her eyes flare wide.
“Don’t be an asshole.” I elbow him in the arm. “Depends on the color, but a good rule of thumb is to lower your eyes and back away,” I tell the infantry cadet. “But we can usually hear them coming.”
“Then prepare to be digested,” Cohen adds.
“Oh gods,” the brunette whispers.
“You are now my favorite year-mate.” Ridoc throws an arm over his shoulder.
“Can I see your map?” Brisa asks from the rear of the formation.
“Don’t you have your own?” Calvin retorts.
Rhi’s head whips toward him. “Give it to her or I cut it out of your hands.”
He glares at Rhi but passes it back so we can get it to Brisa.
Gods, this grass is high. It’s nearly up to my waist in the places where the trees don’t shade the ground. I step onto an uneven knob, and my ankle rolls. Ridoc grabs ahold of me before I can fall, then steadies me without a word as we continue the climb. “Thank you,” I say softly.
“Are your knees wrapped?” Ridoc asks, concern lining his forehead.
I nod. “Yep. Didn’t do the ankles, though, since I wasn’t exactly expecting a hike.”
“I have cloth if you need to wrap something,” Dyre calls out from behind us.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” I answer.
A guy behind me asks, “Are all scribes this quiet?”
“It’s my job to record, not participate,” she answers.
“Not participating will still get you eaten by a dragon,” he argues.
I assure her, my eyes never leaving his, “I’d never let a scribe get eaten by a dragon.”
Rhiannon’s voice rises as the argument ahead of us heats. “Because there’s no way in hell they hauled us out of our rooms and brought us that far away in four hours.”
“Because your dragons can’t fly that quickly?” Calvin is about an inch shorter than Rhi and has no problem glaring up at her.
“Because our dragons wouldn’t carry you, dumbass,” Ridoc responds.
Aoife snorts and Mirabel laughs, flanked by the rest of the infantry squad behind us.
Calvin turns and levels a look at Ridoc. “Have some respect for the rank.” He taps his shoulder, where there’s an open triangle embroidered beneath two oak leaves.
“Your rank means exactly jack and shit to me.”
“What, like you’re so above us infantry?” Calvin counters.
“I mean technically, when we’re flying we’re above everyone,” Ridoc argues. “But if you’re asking if I’m better than you, then the answer is obviously yes.”
I sigh and watch Calvin’s hands just in case he decides to go for the shortsword sheathed at his side. It’s not a bad weapon, but they all carry them. There’s no variation for height or specialization. It’s all so…uniform.
Then again, we were pulled straight out of the hallway, so it’s not like Ridoc is carrying his preferred bow. Sawyer and Rhiannon are missing their favorite swords, too.
“Stop pissing him off on purpose,” Rhiannon says, glancing back at Ridoc as we start trudging up another hill. Maybe this one will give us a better vantage point than the last. “We’re going to need fresh water, or this is going to get ugly fast.”
Ridoc grins. “But it’s so much fun!”
She arches a brow.
“Fine.” He puts his hands up. “I’ll let him maintain his delusion of grandeur.”
“Oh, so you’ll listen to her—”
“She’s my squad leader. You’re not.”
“So, you only respect rider squad leaders,” Calvin prods.
Aoife furiously writes in her notebook.
“Shut it, Calvin,” a cadet from behind me says with more than a little exasperation.
“You want my respect? Earn it.” Ridoc shrugs. “Cross the parapet, climb the Gauntlet, survive Threshing, and then we’ll be on equal footing.”
“What, like we don’t go through some shit in the Infantry Quadrant?” someone behind us challenges.
“See her?” Sawyer says, and I swear I can feel him pointing at me. “She bonded not only one of the biggest fucking dragons on the Continent, but a second dragon, and then went into combat against the gryphons a couple of months ago and came out alive. You go through that kind of shit in your quadrant?”
The cadets around us fall silent. Even Aoife’s pencil remains poised above her notebook as she stares at me.
Awkward. And wrong. No one in our little group knows what we’re really against out there. And my silence? It’s starting to feel a lot less like self-preservation and more like I’m complicit.