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 love her. That is the emotion I cling to, the fire of pure power burning at the feeling’s edges, and I know if I take it any further, it will be the next and final piece to float away. I bare my teeth and yank my hand from the ground, gasping for a full breath as my heart thunders.
I’ve never felt so strong and so defeated at the same time. This was the only way. I rise to my feet and release the shadows, and the canyon comes into view.
Sgaeyl struggles to stand upright ahead of me, blood dripping from the bite marks in her shoulder. The net falls in tatters and she expands her wings to their full width, taking nearly every foot in the canyon. She glances over the destruction, the bodies, and narrows her golden eyes in silent rebuke.
“Will you forsake me now?” I ask, walking over Berwyn’s unconscious body. I’d kill him if I could. Fuck, I thought I had. I wonder how many initiates feel the same about their Sage? At least one that I know of. But beyond the physical impossibility of it, he has something I need.
And I’m no longer an initiate.
“What is there left of you to forsake?” Sgaeyl lowers her head and steam gusts down the canyon, reminding me of the moment she found me in the forest at Threshing.
“You tell me.” I lower the ice and let her in.
Her next breath is laced with sulfur, and her eyes widen. “You cannot mean to—”
“You saw what happened. It is the only way.”
She glances over her shoulder. “And you think she’ll help?”
“She loves me.”
“Tairn does not, and you haven’t looked in a mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning.”
“She’ll help.” It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. “She promised.”
“Even if she agrees, no one will—”
“Someone owes me a favor.”
“He’ll never let you near her.” Her tail flicks. “Especially while she lies in a vulnerable state.”
“Is she hurt?” The beating organ behind my ribs stumbles, and I reach down the bond that connects my mind to hers, but it’s muddled with unconsciousness.
“Yes,” Sgaeyl says slowly, her head moving in a serpentine motion. “But she will survive.” She pauses. “They have completed the wards, but they extend no farther than Draithus.”
That’s good. Bad. Fuck, I don’t know. What even am I?
Hers.
“Persuade Tairn,” I beg.
Everything depends on it.
“We will ask,” Sgaeyl finally says, flexing her claws in the rocky soil. “And her decision will determine our fate.”
Those are terms I can agree to.
We’re airborne in less than a minute.
While cadets are strongly encouraged not to form romantic attachments while studying in the quadrant, lieutenants are permitted to marry whomever they choose upon graduation.
—Article Five, Section Seven The Dragon Rider’s Codex
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
VIOLET
“Violet!” Brennan shouts, racing down the steps of Riorson House and into the moonlit courtyard.
Sounds of celebration stream through the open doors.
I groggily rise to my feet beside Imogen, and a shape moves in the shadows to the right.
“I will not let them burn you,” Andarna vows.
“What?” My head whips her way. “Why would my brother burn me?” And why in Dunne’s name would I be sitting on gravel in the courtyard? My thoughts are…slow. Something’s off.
Something’s wrong.
“Are you all right?” I ask Brennan as he reaches us.
“Am I all right?” His eyes bulge, and he looks me over for injury. “It’s three o’clock in the morning! Where have you been?” His voice rises, and a group of riders I don’t recognize comes through the gate at our left. “Weilsen?” Brennan asks, and the taller one walks our way. “Report.” He glances over his shoulder. “Quietly.”
My mouth opens, then shuts. Where have I been?
“We’ve—” The officer’s gaze darts over me.
“It’s fine,” Brennan assures him.
“Official numbers are four riders, their dragons, and three elders murdered in the valley in what we’re estimating is the last few hours,” Weilsen says. “And we still have five riders missing—four now,” he adds, looking at me. His mouth tenses. “But after that display, we all know Riorson did this. I bet the other three are already dead.”
My stomach lurches, and Imogen tenses so hard she might as well be stone.
Wait. Is this a dream? I clench my right fist and prick my palm with my fingernails just enough to feel pain, but I don’t wake.
“The wards are holding in Draithus as of the last report, but who knows how many of those desiccations during the battle were actually him,” Weilsen continues. “And so far, the tally is at six missing eggs from the hatching ground, but they’re double-checking.”
Missing eggs? I reach for Tairn, but the bond feels foggy, like he’s asleep.
“He needs a cycle of rest to recover,” Andarna clarifies.
“Recover from what?” He was fine when I saw him last, which was about five minutes ago, in the woods at the edge of the field—