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)
I completely ignore the homework I have yet to finish. “Excellent plan.”
Your Majesty, Tyrrendor hereby officially declines your request for a Provincial Commitment of troops for our current conflict. Having resigned my professorship at Basgiath War College, I am now in rightful command of all Tyrrish citizens in military service.
—Official Correspondence of His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor, to His Majesty, King Tauri the Wise
CHAPTER FIFTY
Spring-green meadow grass bends under my boots as the first drops of rain fall. I shouldn’t be here. I know what happens here. And yet, this is where I’m called time and again.
This is the price of saving her life.
Lightning splinters the sky, illuminating the high walls of Draithus and its spiraling tower in the distance and outlining dozens of wings in the sky. If I move fast enough, I’ll get there this time.
But my legs won’t obey, and I stumble, just like I always do.
He steps out of nothingness, straight into my path, and my heart pounds, as though increasing the speed of its beats will cease it from sinking through my chest.
“I grow weary of waiting.” The Sage pulls back the hood of his robe, revealing red-rimmed eyes and scarlet veins branching at his temples like roots.
“I am not yours.” I flip my palms, summoning the power that’s come to define me, but nothing rises except my own panic. Before I can reach for my blades, I’m yanked into the air. Icy fingers wrap around my neck, too vaporous to fight yet substantial enough to nearly cut the flow of air. Pain sears my throat.
Asshole.
My magic never works here, but his always does.
“You are ours.” The Sage’s eyes narrow with malice. “You will bring what I want”—his grip tightens with every word, allowing only a trickle of air into my lungs—“or she dies. I’m through waiting, and I will not allow her to win such a prize.”
I sweep the sky for a familiar set of wings as I hear her scream but find none as the rain begins in earnest.
He’s bluffing.
“You.” I force the word out. “Do. Not. Have. Her.”
He drops his arms, and I fall to my knees on the grass, pulling breath after breath to replace what he’d denied me.
“But I will,” he vows. “Because you’ll bring her to me.”
The fuck I will. Anger cuts through the fear, and I slam my left hand to the ground. Rain runs off my flight jacket and courses over the edge of my relic in rivulets as I flex my fingers in the wet grass, splaying my fingers wide.
My hand…it doesn’t look like mine—
There it is. Power courses through the earth beneath me, ready and willing to annihilate their forces if I have the courage to let go of the impossible dreams I’ve clung to and accept the fate Zihnal has dealt me.
I only have to reach, and they’ll be safe. She’ll be safe.
No. This is wrong.
This is a dream. Only a dream. And yet he holds me here night after night. Fighting through the weight of the nightmare, I wrench my hand from the ground.
“Wake!” I scream, but no sound emerges.
“This city will fall. Yours will be next,” the Sage promises.
“Wake!”
I jerk my head up, only to find the Sword of Tyrrendor at my throat. The Sage draws his arm back—
My body jolts and my eyes fly open. There is no field. No Sage. No sword. Just gentle raindrops hitting our window, the warmth of the blankets tangled at my legs, and the weight of Xaden’s arm draped over my waist. The worst of the storm has passed.
Filling my lungs to capacity persuades the pounding in my chest to ease, but the breaths against my ear only come faster, growing more ragged with every second.
“Xaden?” I twist toward him and lift my hand to his face. His skin is damp with sweat, his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. I’m not the only one having nightmares tonight.
“Xaden.” I sit up and slide my hand to his bare shoulder, then tap gently. “Wake up.”
He flings himself onto his back, and his head begins to thrash.
“Xaden.” My chest tightens at the visible pain on his face, and I throw myself down the bond. “Xaden!”
His eyes open and he surges upright with a full-bodied gasp, then plants his hands beside his hips on the mattress.
“You’re all right,” I say gently, and his gaze snaps toward mine, wild and haunted. “You were having a nightmare.”
He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, then swings his head in a quick sweep of the space. “We’re in our room.”
“We’re in our room.” I draw my fingers across his shoulders, and the muscles soften.
“And you’re here.” His shoulders dip as he looks my way.
“I’m here.” I pick up his left hand and press it against my cheek.