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)
Aetos keeps pace at my side in the hallway. “You’re as good as dead for what you’ve done.”
“I will only speak to the Senarium.”
“Good thing they’re gathered. It will make for a quick trial.” After a silent procession through the quadrant and into the main campus, Aetos escorts me past a barrage of guards and cadets from other quadrants and into the great hall, entering the room just ahead of me. “I have brought the traitor!”
He steps aside to reveal the long table set for negotiations to resume. The members of the Senarium sit to the left side again, all dazzling in their choice of clothing this morning, with the exception of the one in rider black.
Xaden turns in his seat at the end of the table and lifts his scarred brow as shadows brush across my mind. “What happened to not getting into trouble?”
“I never promised that.” I hold his gaze, noting the circles under his eyes. “You look tired.”
“Just what every man wants to hear from the person he loves.” He drums his fingers on the table, drawing my attention to a scrap of fabric in front of him—my lightning-wielder patch. “I’ve decided I’m done not knowing what you’re up to.”
“Good choice.”
“You really fucked with the wards?”
“Someone once told me the right way isn’t the only way.” I use his own words from my first year against him, and his mouth tightens.
“As you can see, we have the evidence we need to place you at the stone,” Aetos declares as he reaches the table. “I ask that the Senarium quickly pass judgment.” He glances at Xaden. “Unless your newest addition needs to recuse himself for his proximity to the traitor.”
“Remove yourself if you can’t be silent, Aetos.” The Duke of Calldyr leans back in his chair and runs a hand over his short blond beard. “You have no purview here.”
Aetos stiffens at my side, then retreats with the other riders, leaving me to face the Senarium.
“Do you have a plan, Violence?” Xaden asks, and though a muscle in his jaw flexes, the shadows in the room stay put. “I’m assuming so, since this patch’s seams look cleanly cut.”
“Has anyone reported if the capabilities of the wards were damaged beyond allowing the fliers to wield?” the Duke of Calldyr asks.
“Did you sign the accord for the riot to stay?” I ask Xaden just to be sure.
“They’re intact against dark wielders.” Xaden’s fingers still. “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I hadn’t.”
“Then I have a perfect plan.”
“How would you know?” The Duchess of Morraine turns in her seat.
“Because I would know,” Xaden replies to me alone. “We haven’t been swarmed, and Barlowe remains in our interrogation chamber. The wards are holding.” He tilts his head and gives me the same look of anticipation he does when we step on the mat to spar. “I’m eager for the show.”
“I’ll save everyone the fuss of organizing a trial and execution.” I point to the patch I cut off my uniform last night. “That’s mine. I was the one who orchestrated altering the wardstone. I’m the reason that the fliers can wield and that you now have a clear path to negotiate an alliance. You’re welcome.”
The confession is met with six pairs of raised eyebrows and one sexy-as-hell smirk. “Guess we’re not going for subtlety.”
“No time for subtlety, and no evidence to convict anyone else in case it went awry.”
“I…” The Duchess of Morraine looks to her peers, her giant ruby earrings smacking her golden-brown jawline as she swings her head back and forth. “What do we even do with that?”
“Nothing,” Xaden answers, watching me like I’m the only one in the room. “Cadet Sorrengail, and whomever she acted with, committed the crime last night, and as of this morning, every single one of you and our king signed their pardons.”
I nod.
“Brilliant, reckless woman.” His gaze heats, and I fight a smile.
“So there’s nothing we can do?” The Duchess of Elsum leans forward, her long brown tresses brushing the table. “She alters our defenses and then, what? Goes back to class?”
“It would seem so.” The Duke of Calldyr nods slowly.
“Seems the young woman pulled off quite the feat,” a new voice says.
I glance to my right, then do a double take at the woman standing in the north doorway of the hall. The silver of her intricate, armored breastplate flashes in the morning light as she walks forward, her smile crinkling the light-brown skin at the edges of her dark eyes. She wears a pair of scarlet breeches with a shortsword sheathed at her hip and a sparkling tiara atop her riotous curls, its delicacy a striking contrast to her weaponry. Queen Maraya.
“Your Majesty.” I bow my head like my father taught me.
“Cadet Sorrengail,” she says, and I look up to find her mere feet away. “I’ve heard much about the Continent’s only lightning wielder, and I am pleased to see the compliments were not spoken in hyperbole.” She glances sideways at the Senarium. “I assume she’s free to return to her duties, as surely your king will arrive at any minute to continue our negotiations.”