Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Serum and Antidote.
“Thanks.” I quickly pocket them before anyone can see. “I’m not planning on using them on—”
“I’m just glad you recognize you might have to,” he interrupts.
“We’ll find a cure,” I promise with far more certainty than I feel.
Bodhi’s mouth tightens. “I’d kill to go, but you need to take Garrick with you.”
Neither of us say what he means.
Take Garrick in case you don’t.
Someone shouts on the mat, and both our heads jerk in that direction.
Kagiso shoots another blast of fire, sending a shrieking second-year scrambling backward, but Carr doesn’t intervene as the flames creep closer and closer to the terrified brunette.
“Help her,” I whisper.
“I’ve been ordered to stand down.” Bodhi tenses as her screams intensify and she drops to her hands and knees.
The next blast of flames comes within inches of her.
“Wield!” Carr shouts. “Defend yourself!”
The second-year out of Claw Section splays her hand wide on the mat and screams. Color drains in a circle around her hand, leaving the mat gray.
Oh shit. My stomach clenches and I stare, stunned.
She’s turning right in front of us. Or has she been one of them all along? Xaden would have sensed her, right? He was just here. Or would she have sensed him? I palm my dagger.
Gasps and shrieks sound in the stands behind us.
“Carr!” Panchek orders.
The professor moves faster than I’ve ever seen him, brandishing an alloy-hilted dagger and driving it straight through the cadet’s back, into her heart.
Just like that. She’s dead. Executed. No questions, no chance to cure her, nothing.
Bodhi shudders. “Take. Garrick.”
In a culture that worships the goddess of war exclusively, blood is the preferred sacrifice and cowardice is the ultimate sin.
—Unnbriel: Isle of Dunne by Second Lieutenant Asher Daxton
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It takes ten days to put plans in motion and get everything together, and the time wears on me like the steady drip of water in the interrogation chamber, grating on my very last nerve. I sit through every class as instructed and practice wielding until my arms drop from exhaustion, but I can’t quit watching Xaden’s eyes in case their flecks change back to gold whenever I see him during Signet Sparring.
They never do.
By the time most of us have gathered on the flight field in the foggy predawn hours of the first Saturday of March, my anxiety to get moving feels like insects under my skin. I hate that we’ve lied to Halden that this is only the Unnbriel trip, but there’s a growing part of me that just doesn’t care.
He’s a fucking liability.
After a surprisingly easy discussion with Cat, our squad has grown to include Trager and Maren—partially because of Trager’s healing training, but more so we can split if we need to. Given the look on Mira’s face as those in our squad approach the lines of waiting gryphons and dragons, she’s not too pleased about the development. Guess I forgot to mention that part in my missive.
“Where have you been?” I ask, breaking away from the group in hopes of getting any form of privacy. They quickly disappear into the thick fog.
“On leave,” she answers. “While you’ve been back here making plans to disobey direct orders from the Senarium, which of course is your prerogative as mission commander.” She glances at the oversize pack currently murdering my spine, then the one sitting at her feet. “The missives were clever. Subtle, even. The packs? Not so much.”
“The fact that you were on leave was all Panchek would tell me when I asked how to get a letter to you. You disappeared.” My eyes narrow and I exhale a puff of steam into the freezing air. “And we can’t help the size of our packs when we have to carry—”
“Are you worried about not getting enough supplies in Deverelli?” Halden asks from behind me.
Mira quirks an eyebrow upward, managing to say I told you so without moving her mouth.
“More worried you’re going to fuck something up again,” Xaden remarks, and I pivot to see him walking toward us with Garrick out of the mist.
Halden’s spine stiffens. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Riorson.”
“Oh, good. I was wondering when you two would start arguing.” Mira folds her arms in front of her chest.
“Or you’ll what? Get yourself banned from another isle? Sit off the coast on Tecarus’s ship? You’re already dead weight, Your Highness. Are you really going to be a detriment, too?” Xaden stops at my side but keeps his hands to himself, just like he’s done since he returned. “Everyone here?”
“Dain is on his way.”
“I’m not going to apologize for conducting Navarrian business while in Deverelli—” Halden starts.
“How about apologizing for keeping mission-essential information from those of us responsible for the fucking mission?” Xaden counters, stepping into Halden’s space, shadows swelling around his feet. “If it wasn’t for us, you’d be dead.”