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)
“You flew to Deaconshire?” I mean, that’s a choice, I guess.
“You think I took personal leave to visit a burial ground?” She side-eyes me.
My eyebrows try their damnedest to reach my hairline. “You went to see Grandma Niara?” I end on a whisper.
Mira rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to whisper. Our parents can’t hear you.”
I’m tempted to check our surroundings just to be sure. “She stopped talking to Mom and Dad…” I shake my head. “It must have been before I was born because I don’t even remember her. Something to do with Dad marrying Mom, right?”
Mira shakes her head. “You were a toddler,” she says. “Right around the age where your hair was coming in thick enough to pull into a little ponytail.” She smiles at the memory, but it slips. “And it wasn’t Grandma Niara who ended communication. Turns out it was the other way around.”
“You know what happened, don’t you?” Envy stabs quick and deep. Mom and Dad almost never spoke of his family. Is that where the bracelet came from?
“You should go up to Luceras.” She looks at me with the oddest combination of worry and dread, her mouth tightening. “Talk to her yourself.”
“With all the leave I get before graduation?”
“Excellent point.” She scours the field for another rock.
Just not excellent enough for her to tell me. Fine. If the last year has taught me anything, it’s that we’re all entitled to our secrets. But it’s my family, too.
“I brought Dad’s books in case you want to read them.” I offer another subject change and start looking for firepit rocks again. The ground is firm below our feet, so at least we won’t be sleeping in mud.
Mira’s brow knits.
“They mostly cover customs,” I blurt. “But he devotes an entire chapter in every book to the unique flora and fauna of every isle. Very thorough.” My own forehead puckers. I’m babbling, but I can’t help trying to find something that bridges the space I can feel expanding between us. “Did Grandma Niara say how he found time to study things like the migratory patterns of terns and errisbirds? Or Fallorinia moths? He spends three pages talking about companion planting breeson root and kellenweed, then goes off about zakia berries and how if the birds migrate to Hedotis too late, they’re overripe and the flock drops dead, their little yellow beaks stained blue.”
“Thank you, but no. That sounds awful.” She stiffens and shifts so both rocks are in her arms.
I clutch my rock. “Did Grandma Niara know he studied the isles?”
Her lips part, but then she looks away. “She knew. And he left the books for you alone, remember? I certainly don’t need to know about bird migration or moths.”
“Mira—” Fuck.
She quickens her pace, leaving me behind, and I blow out a slow sigh.
“That was embarrassing to listen to. Could you make it any more awkward?” Andarna chides.
“Go hunt something.”
We set up camp with one eye on the forest at all times, cooking the rabbits Trager and Cat bring back, laying out bedrolls around the fire, and assigning watches before getting to sleep, encircled by two dragons and a matching number of gryphons at all times while the others accompany their riders and fliers on watch.
I take first with Maren and Drake, who I learn has a sarcastic sense of humor to rival Ridoc’s.
Xaden takes second with Mira and Garrick.
The stars shine bright when Xaden finally slides under the blankets, fully clothed all the way to his boots just like I am. He wraps his arm around my waist, then tugs my back against his chest. I smile, half asleep, then burrow closer. Wood crashes, and I blink my eyes open as Dain throws another piece of timber onto the dying blaze, stoking the fire.
“Anything?” I whisper.
“Not yet,” Xaden says against my ear, curling his body around mine, and any chill he’s picked up on patrol is quickly warmed away. “They have to go.”
I nod and fight the dread taking root in my stomach. Being bait settles like curdled milk.
He presses a kiss behind my ear, and his breathing evens out behind me.
“Wait for sunrise to disappear,” I tell Tairn, already sinking into sleep. “He needs as much rest as we can give him.” Unnbriel is all about trial by combat, and he’s the best among us.
Tairn grumbles his assent.
“Rise!” Tairn shouts what feels like an instant later, and my eyes spring open to see a line of pink and orange gracing the horizon.
I suck in a startled breath, and Xaden’s hand splays over my hip, holding me in place. Grass rustles rhythmically behind us, and my heart starts to pound. This would be a great time to access that bond we share. My right hand fists the blankets that cover us, and Xaden’s hand slips to my upper thigh sheath.