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 shoot a look at Cat’s smug face. “Don’t.”
“What? I was just testing things out.” She smothers a smirk. “You said we couldn’t tell anyone, not that we couldn’t play.”
Maren snort-laughs, and I can’t help but fight my own smile. At least she’s not fucking with me, and the Navarrians do kind of deserve it.
“Welcome to Battle Brief,” Devera announces as she descends the steps to our left, and the room falls quiet. “I understand you’ve been led by Colonel Markham in my absence, but that ends today.” She reaches the raised stage at the base of the room and leans against the table. “Even if we only have one day with our flier colleagues, we will be proceeding—”
“Professor Devera!” The auburn-haired professor of the fliers, Kiandra, all but runs down the steps, and our squad shares quick glances as she conveys something to Devera behind her hand.
“Excellent,” Devera says, smiling wide. “For everyone who doesn’t know, this is Professor Kiandra, and she’ll be leading Battle Brief with me from now on, given the news that our nobles are back in active negotiation for an alliance.”
A roar of approval overpowers the disgruntled Navarrians.
“When did you tell your uncle?” I ask Cat.
“About twenty minutes ago, just like you asked,” she answers. “He works fast.”
Which means we have a matter of minutes. I drum my fingers on the desk and stare up at the inaccurate map of Navarre. Everything’s about to change.
“With that in mind”—Devera raises her voice, and we quiet down—“let’s discuss structure. To keep it easy, you stay where you have always been. If you find it awkward to serve in a squad with those who made a different choice this fall, then feel free to lodge your complaint with Malek.”
“That’s not fair!” a third-year yells out behind us. “With the addition of the fliers, Third and Fourth Wings are considerably larger, which gives them an advantage during War Games.”
“Yes.” Devera tilts her head. “Get over it. We’re not playing games anymore; we’re preparing you for war.”
“Do you think they forgot what happened two weeks ago?” Ridoc whispers.
“I think it’s possible they forgot what they had for breakfast,” Rhi replies.
“First and Second Wings will only be smaller until the rest of the flier cadets arrive from Cygnisen,” Devera continues. “At which time you will welcome them.”
“Fuck.” The guy ahead of us sinks lower in his chair.
“Next issue: we have too many wingleaders among us,” Devera continues, and I glance over my shoulder at Dain, who stiffens in his seat a few rows back with the third-years. “It has been determined that leadership shall align with the wing’s…population.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Therefore, Iris Drue, you retain leadership of First Wing, Aura Beinhaven retains Second Wing, while Third Wing remains with Lyell Stirling, and Fourth Wing will be led by Dain Aetos.”
Thank gods.
The room explodes in applause and shouts of disagreement.
“This matter is not up for discussion!” Devera’s magically amplified voice shakes the desktop, quieting the room before she continues. “If you are unsure who you report to or if you’re still in command, a full list of cadet leadership will be posted in commons this afternoon.”
The briefing room door flies open and slams into the wall so hard I hear stone crack as we all turn to face yet another commotion.
“Violet Sorrengail!” Colonel Aetos shouts from the doorway, his face a mottled shade of red as his narrowed eyes search the briefing room.
“Here.” Bracing my hands on the edges of my seat to fight a sudden wave of dizziness, I rise to stand as four riders follow Aetos in.
“Vi,” Rhiannon whispers.
“No one say a damned thing,” I reply under my breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“You are hereby charged with high treason against the kingdom of Navarre!”
Maybe not.
While many preach loyalty to Hedeon above all others, especially in Calldyr Province, I find that favoring Zihnal has universal appeal. Everyone wants wisdom but needs luck.
—Major Rorilee’s Guide to Appeasing the Gods, Second Edition
CHAPTER EIGHT
Being arrested for treason doesn’t exactly come as a shock, but Colonel Aetos delivering the accusation is a blow I didn’t see coming.
“Dad?” Dain stands.
Aetos’s head swivels toward Dain, and his mouth twists into a sneer. “I have no son.”
I gasp, and hurt flashes across Dain’s face before he schools his features and straightens his shoulders. “As Cadet Sorrengail’s wingleader—”
“Request denied,” Colonel Aetos snaps.
“We can’t just sit here,” Ridoc argues quietly.
“You can and you will.” I make my way down the row and glance up at Dain. “I’m all right.”
“You’re far from all right!” Aetos growls.
The world rocks beneath my feet, and I curse my lack of sleep as I climb the steps to Aetos and the four lieutenants posted at his side. One of the women gestures toward the door, and I hold my head high as I walk by Aetos, somehow managing not to vomit when I see his rank has been raised to general.