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)
Oh. Fuck.
“Yeah.” He nods at me. “I saw his eyes turn red.”
“Ridoc—” Xaden starts.
“Not a single word from you, dark wielder,” Ridoc grits out, his eyes locked on mine. “Vi, you’ve got one chance to come clean and tell me what the actual fuck is going on.”
If possible, hunt the enemy during the day. Their markings are so easily hidden by the shadows of night that it would not surprise me to find they walk among us.
—Venin, A Compendium by Captain Drake Cordella, the Nightwing Drift
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Ridoc listens to the shortest possible version of the story before the others land, and I promise to tell him everything if he can just wait until we get some privacy as Mira dismounts. “We have to tell them about the irids first,” I finish in a hurried plea.
His mouth tenses and his brown eyes narrow on Xaden.
“Are the other four back yet?” Mira asks as she walks into camp with Aaric, her pack slung over one shoulder.
“Not yet,” Garrick answers from behind me. “But we still have a couple of hours until it’s fully dark.”
“Please,” I whisper to Ridoc as Mira drops her things near her bedroll.
“Everything all right?” Mira’s brow furrows when no one answers, and her gaze flickers between the four of us before settling on me with an intense once-over that ends with her studying my eyes. “Violet?”
My throat constricts. I don’t know what she’ll do if she learns the truth.
“The irids are a bunch of assholes who rejected Andarna,” Ridoc says. “So, it’s been a rather shit day.” He launches into the story, and my pulse slowly steadies.
“How’s Andarna?” Mira asks.
“Devastated.” I glance down the beach, but she and Tairn haven’t returned yet. “I know we came in hopes the irids would help, or at least fire the wardstone, but she really just wanted to know her family.”
Garrick’s jaw ticks, and Xaden folds his arms.
“The others should be back soon,” Ridoc says. “What do we do? Fly for Loysam tomorrow?”
“There’s no point.” I look to Xaden, but he keeps quiet. “Loysam has guards but no army. We can establish a diplomatic tie, but they won’t help us win a war.”
“So what do you want to do?” Xaden asks, the ocean breeze ruffling his hair as he looks over at me.
Gods, he really is beautiful, and not just on the outside. Everything about him—his loyalty, his intelligence, the softer edges no one else but me gets to see…even his casual ruthlessness holds me in thrall. And whatever parts are missing? Dead, according to the irids? We’ll live without them.
He’s still whole to me. As long as we can keep him from channeling from the earth, find a way for him to control that craving, we’ll be all right. We have to be.
“We should go home.” Saying the words brings a sense of finality, of failure that stabs hard and cuts deep. “Who knows what’s happened in our absence.” For all we know, the lines could have fallen and Theophanie herself could be waiting in my room.
“Court-martials for all,” Mira quips sarcastically.
Garrick nods and stares out over the water. “Technically, on the map, if you were to fly northeast for two days, you’d hit the Cliffs of Dralor.”
“The gryphons would absolutely love that.” Ridoc scoffs. “Can’t you see Kiralair snuggled up in Molvic’s claw?”
“Only the larger dragons can fly two straight days,” Xaden says. “Tairn. Sgaeyl. Molvic, maybe.”
“We go through the isles,” I decide. “It’s the safest route to get everyone home…as long as we camp on a deserted coast when it comes to Hedotis. Pretty sure I’m banned there.”
After the others arrive and our situation has been explained, Ridoc shoots me a look that says he’s done waiting to chat.
Xaden and Garrick are less than thrilled when I take off with Ridoc into the woods under the guise of hunting for dinner. Taking the agate sound-shield rune Ridoc carries, we hike about five minutes uphill into the jungle, staying close enough to find our way back but far enough to assure privacy thanks to Aotrom’s escort.
The Brown Swordtail isn’t just nosey; he’s pissed.
I’m nauseous telling Ridoc the full story about Xaden, remembering the entire time that Ridoc was the slowest to forgive when I kept my secrets at the beginning of the year. By the time I’m finished, the light has faded into dappled patches of color and he’s pacing in front of me, looking anywhere but in my direction.
“I thought we agreed to tell each other the truth.” His hands curl.
“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” I lean against a tree and watch Ridoc’s short treks back and forth in front of me. “I know that’s a shitty apology, but I’m not sorry for keeping Xaden safe.”
“That’s not an apology, Vi.” He pauses in front of me, a million emotions crossing over his face too quickly to name.