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 take the opportunity and spin, putting my forearm at Cat’s collarbone and forcing her back into the safety of our squad.
“I’ll fight!” she shrieks.
“You can’t.” I grasp Cat’s forearm with my empty hand. “Cat, you can’t. If you fall—”
“You’d be so sad to lose your rival, wouldn’t you?” Her dark eyes narrow on mine. “Or are you more intimidated by the thought that I could win and once again prove why I’m the better match for—”
“Oh, shut up.” It takes everything I have not to shake her. “You can’t wield behind the wards, so stop trying to manipulate my emotions. There’s no winning here. If you bleed, we have no chance at an alliance, and I’m not willing to lose a squadmate over Second Wing’s assholery. You win and harm a rider, you’ll confirm everything they fear about you.”
Her expression softens, and for a second, she looks just like her older sister. “They’re never going to accept us.”
“They don’t have to,” I assure her. “We already have.”
“Challenge! Challenge! Challenge!” The chant comes from the left and quickly catches along the row of Navarrian riders.
Shit. Nothing like mob mentality.
“This coward won’t accept the challenge of a senior wingleader!” Aura shouts over the crowd, using lesser magic to amplify her voice. “But I’ll be merciful and accept another. Pick your champion or watch him die.”
“This goes against the Codex!” Dain elbows a Navarrian cadet from Third Wing in the head and pushes through the line. “Challenges are only issued in the presence of a combat master.”
“On what authority do you object, Aetos?” Aura snarls.
The crowd quiets, but the silence feels more dangerous than the chanting had been as everyone turns to watch the interaction.
“Stay here,” I order Cat, then shove my way between Imogen and Quinn.
“Article Four, Section Four.” Dain approaches Aura with his hands up, exposing his palms. “‘A wingleader has the authority and duty to maintain—’”
“Article Two, Section One,” Aura shouts, raking the edge of her dagger along the flier’s throat. “‘Riders outside quadrant chain of command can’t interfere with cadet matters.’ You are no longer in the chain of command.”
The Navarrian riders mutter in agreement, and tension rises like the bubbles in a simmering pot, one degree away from boiling. The quadrant has made us far too comfortable shedding each other’s blood.
My grip tightens on my dagger as color fills my peripheral vision. I look up to see both gryphons and dragons landing along the thick stone walls of the courtyard.
Great, just what we need in this situation: fire and talons.
“Are you here?” I ask. There are no black scales among the dragons, but I spot Cath behind the dais.
“Are you in danger?” Tairn asks, and I feel Andarna’s presence, but she remains silent.
“Not exactly, but—”
“Then I trust you can handle it.”
“Injuring a flier will jeopardize this alliance,” Dain argues, and I nod like he needs the encouragement.
“Who said we want it?” Aura drags the edge of her blade under the flier’s chin, and he winces but doesn’t move. “They haven’t crossed the parapet. They haven’t climbed the Gauntlet. They won’t even accept a challenge. We do not tolerate cowards!”
The Navarrian riders cheer, and I use the opportunity to dart between the two standing guard in front of us, finding myself quickly flanked by Ridoc on my left and, surprisingly, Aaric on my right. The first-year is almost as tall as Xaden, and his menacing glare keeps Kaveh and Hedley silent as they stand with Quinn’s and Imogen’s weapons at their backs.
“I’ll accept!” Kai shouts, the first-year flier charging through the line on the right, and every head turns as Rhi and Baylor quickly drag him back.
Bone crunches ahead of us, and my focus whips to Dain, who shoves Tail Section’s flier toward the line as Aura stumbles backward, disarmed, blood streaming through her fingers as she covers her nose.
“This ends now!” Dain’s shout echoes off the stone walls.
“We don’t answer to deserters!” Aura spits blood into the snow and straightens. “You no longer speak for Fourth Wing, Aetos. You’re nothing here.”
Dain takes the insult with a lift of his chin, and I crack open the door to Tairn’s power, welcoming the heat that floods my veins, warming my cold-cramped muscles and exposed hands.
“Fourth Wing!” Ewan Faber steps out of the crowd near the steps. “Prepare to defend your senior wingleader!”
“Fuck me,” Aaric mutters, drawing his sword as Ridoc does the same at my left.
Weapons rise at the edges of my vision, but I keep my gaze locked on Aura and adjust my grip around my dagger. I may have some very mixed feelings when it comes to Dain, but there’s no way under Amari’s sky that I’m going to let Aura harm any Aretian rider, let alone my oldest friend.
“We answer to Aetos,” Ridoc shouts down the line, pointing his sword in Faber’s direction. “And there’s more of us than there are of you.”