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)
“Figured.” Garrick turns a pleading look on me, and I smile back as we walk out of the academic wing and into the surprisingly empty rotunda, crossing between two dragon pillars. “Thought you’d at least be logical, Violet.”
“Me? You’re the ones acting based on feelings and with no evidence whatsoever. My decision to trust him is based purely on the facts of our proven history.”
“As much as I appreciate the concern,” Xaden drawls, his voice edging on icy, “you try to dictate the occupants of Violet’s bed again, and we’re going to have problems.”
Garrick shakes his head at his best friend but drops the subject as we make our way to main campus, passing through the chaotic cleanup near the infirmary.
The death roll in the Infantry Quadrant will be painfully long tomorrow.
“For someone who’s about to face the highest-ranking aristocracy in the kingdom, you seem pretty calm, Sorrengail,” Garrick remarks as we cross onto the thick red carpet of the administration building.
The hallway is cramped with people in tunics of various colors waiting for talks to resume, identified only by the heraldry embroidered on cross-body sashes that remind me of our dress uniforms. Our own provinces are easy to recognize, and I even spot Braevick’s as heads begin to turn in our direction.
“I’ve known this was coming and have a plan. Two weeks is a lot of time to overthink every possible scenario,” I reply as the crowd slowly parts to the side of the hall in what I’ve come to think of as the Xaden effect. I can’t blame them for staring. He’s gorgeous. I can’t blame them for backing up, either. He’s not only terrifyingly powerful, he’s known to be responsible for splitting Navarre’s riot and providing weapons to Poromiel.
Safe to say not every gaze trained on him—on any of the three of us—is friendly.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” Xaden asks as we approach the massive double doors of the great hall.
“It’s what she wants,” I tell him, and one of the guards adorned with the crest of Calldyr slips into the hall, no doubt to announce our arrival. “And it’s what we need. You still up for coming with?” I glance at him. “Even beyond the wards?”
The magical barrier is doing more than protecting us from him—it’s protecting him from himself.
His jaw flexes. “Even beyond the wards,” he confirms as we reach the doors and the remaining stone-faced guard in infantry blue.
“I assume you’re expecting me?” I ask the guard.
“You will wait to be escorted, Cadet Sorrengail,” she replies without looking my way.
Pleasant.
“I’m starting to think twice about this meeting,” Garrick says from Xaden’s other side, his gaze scanning the heavily armed crowd in the hallway. “She’s been invited to appear before the Senarium alone, and we haven’t exactly been pardoned for leaving Basgiath and taking a large portion of the riot. Brennan might be sitting in on the treaty negotiations on behalf of Aretia, but we don’t have a seat on the council. Anything could happen to Violet in there.”
“Already thought about that,” I assure him. “They need me alive for Andarna’s sake if not Tairn’s. I’ll be fine.”
“She has Lewellen in there representing Tyrrendor and can set the whole damned place on fire with a wave of her hand,” Xaden adds, folding his arms and glowering at the guard. “I’m more concerned for their safety than hers.”
The door on the right opens, and the other guard walks through.
My stomach twists when General Melgren appears in the doorway, his beady eyes narrowing as he looks down his beak of a nose at me. “Cadet Sorrengail, the Senarium is ready to receive you.” His gaze darts to Garrick, then Xaden. “Alone.”
“I’ll be right out here”—Xaden’s tone slips into menace—“deterred by these wooden doors that hang an inch off the ground.”
“Subtle.” I fight the tug at the corner of my mouth.
Melgren gestures me inside but doesn’t take his eyes off Xaden.
“Never going to be,” he replies as I walk into the hall. “I have every faith in your ability to protect yourself, but say the word and I’ll rip the doors off their hinges.”
“You’re such a romantic.” I quickly take in the new furniture arrangement of the familiar room, finding a long trestle table running the length of the hall with dozens of chairs, no doubt to accommodate the negotiations. Six nobles dressed in lushly embroidered tunics and gowns sit facing me at the closest end, representing each of Navarre’s six provinces. I know them all thanks to my mother, but only the one on the far left offers me a tired smile as I approach the center of their grouping and place my hands on the back of the chair.
Lewellen.
“Any last-minute additions?” I ask Andarna as Melgren walks around the table and sits to the right of the Duchess of Morraine.