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)
“Just to frustrate you, Sorrengail,” Drake answers, glancing up from the map.
She scoffs. “I’d guess we’re somewhere around here”—Mira taps an area of open ocean farther south—“and the map just doesn’t show it. We haven’t exactly been sending cartographers out this far.”
“I can see another isle from the edge of the point.” Aaric nods up the beach. “Molvic can make out two past it.”
“Tairn?” I ask down our singular bond, letting Andarna sleep. She’s utterly exhausted, and her wing trembled more than usual on the flight here.
“We are at the southern tip of an island chain of volcanic formations,” he answers from high above us. “It does not match anything on the map, though there is another mass of land an hour’s flight due west with what appears to be sizable cliffs.”
I squeeze in next to Mira and examine the map, then locate the isle fitting Tairn’s description, noting the mapmaker’s symbol for cliffs. Then I track east with my finger and find only open water. “Pretty sure we’re here, from what Tairn can see.” I lift my head and look past Maren’s shoulder out over the open water. “I’m guessing there are hundreds of islands out this way, not just the couple dozen the mapmakers recorded.”
“And you think we should search them all?” Drake asks, incredulity puckering his forehead.
I look to Mira, but she just shrugs. “Not my call.”
Xaden watches me just like he did last year, like he knows the answer but wants me to find it on my own.
“As many as we can today.” I straighten my shoulders, and his mouth twitches upward. “We break into five groups. Maren and Cat take the unmapped islands to the north. Drake and Dain take this quadrant.” I point to the nearest isles to our west, taking the gryphons’ exhaustion into account. “Aaric and Mira, you go here; Xaden and Garrick, you take these; and Ridoc and I will take this section.” I drag my finger to an eastern chain about two hours away. When I look up, everyone is staring at me. “What? I kept the gryphons close and paired dragons with similar flight strengths”—my gaze finds Xaden’s, and he’s not amused with my group pairings—“except for ours. Tairn and Sgaeyl have the best chance of staying in contact when separated if the rest of these islands have the same level of magic. It’s better for the group if they split for the day.”
He arches his scarred brow.
“Just you and me today, honey bear.” Garrick swings his arm over Xaden’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he leans in and whispers. “I’ll take good care of you.” He flashes a dimple.
“Sun should set a little after six, which gives us nine hours.” I nod, pretty damned satisfied with this. “Meet back here before nightfall. If we find nothing, we go as a group toward the southeast isles tomorrow, then make the flight to Loysam.” Where we’ll have to resupply.
“Solid plan,” Mira says.
“We can’t go until the fire is out,” Maren says. “No one leaves an offering to Malek unattended.”
Cat shifts her weight restlessly, giving the impression that she needs to be anywhere but here.
“Ridoc and I will stay until it burns out.” I glance back at Andarna. Her breaths are deep and even as she sleeps at the edge of the jungle, her scales a shade blacker than the sand. “That will give Andarna another hour or so to rest. Any other questions? Comments? Concerns?”
“Good to me.” Drake folds the map, and the group breaks apart to ready their packs, leaving Xaden staring at me.
Ridoc glances between us. “I’m going…somewhere else.” He walks off toward the dying fire.
“You can’t tell me to lead and then get pissed at how I do it.” I shrug.
He crosses the distance between us, leans down, and kisses me, hard and quick. “Be back by nightfall, love.”
I grasp for his wrist, keeping him a second longer as I search his eyes. The flecks are still amber. “Are you all right?” I whisper. “There’s magic and no wards.”
“It’s…” He grimaces. “It’s tempting, and I don’t even need it. But I can feel the power beneath my feet, and while I can wield enough to do this—” A whisp of inky black shadow curls up my leg, around my torso, and caresses the side of my face. “It’s hard to know I could be at full strength if I just…” He swallows, and my grip tightens on his wrist. “But I won’t.”
“Not unless something triggers you.” Unease rides the heels of the retreating shadow, sliding down my body and leaving goose bumps in its wake. “That’s the other reason I sent you with Garrick.”
Xaden tenses. “In case I channel?”
I shake my head. “So you don’t. The last time you did, it was because of me. I’m a trigger.”
He flinches. “You’re not a trigger. You’re the only thing I can’t fathom losing. Wielding to protect you has always been an instinct, but now it’s…uncontrollable.”