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 brought some arinmint with me. I’ll have it steeped in milk to help speed the deep healing.” He nods to himself. “It helped after you were poisoned.”
“You brought arinmint out of Aretia?” Xaden glowers at my brother.
“Breaking the law in front of the duke,” I try to tease my brother, but the pain makes my words pitchy and it falls flat. Fuck, that hurts. My leg throbs twice as hard without the wrap.
“I’m well versed in how to use it. You know they don’t take too kindly to walking out of negotiations when you speak for your province, right?” Brennan spreads his hands over the joint and looks over his shoulder at Xaden. “You’re not just a rider anymore and should probably get back—” He blinks as Xaden delivers a withering glare. “Never mind. I would not want to be you,” he says under his breath at me, then closes his eyes.
“It’s not her fault!” Garrick shouts as he races through the doorway, all but skidding to a stop at the foot of the table.
“Oh?” Xaden asks.
“Crossing into Poromiel was definitely a choice.” Garrick shucks off his flight jacket and drops it on the nearest chair. “But the tornado? A regional hazard. The dark wielder—”
“You’ve already pled her case. Twice.” Xaden’s tone is almost bored as he folds his arms.
“I don’t need to be protected from him.” I shake my head at Garrick as heat envelops my knee, then glance Xaden’s way. “I own my decisions.”
“Well-the-fuck-aware.” Xaden closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.
“She’s here!” Rhiannon calls out from the doorway.
Second-years flood into the room, including Maren and her two little brothers, who seem glued to her side.
“You two sit,” Maren says gently to the boys, and Trager pulls out two chairs across the table for them. The twin boys are seven, with her ochre complexion, dark hair, and honey-brown, grief-stricken eyes, which must be why the two feel so familiar to me. They were also silent every time we stopped on the flight here. She crouches in front of them. “We’ll get it all sorted out. I promise.”
“Sit down,” Trager says to Cat, pulling out another seat.
“I’m fine.” She wobbles and rubs the back of her neck.
“You’re swaying where you stand.” He gestures to the chair. “Sit.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, all but falling into the chair. “Maren, you too.”
Every single one of us is exhausted.
“You disobeyed a direct order?” General Aetos storms into the room, then startles at the sight of Brennan and Xaden.
The heat intensifies at my knee, and the pain lessens slowly as Brennan mends the stressed ligament and swollen tissue.
“We were ordered to make ourselves useful, and did so”—Rhiannon steps between Aetos and the rest of the squad—“sir.” The title doesn’t come out like a compliment. “Our early return was signed off on by Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi, given that they did not have a mender at the outpost and are already overwhelmed with wounded. Surely you’re satisfied now that Cadet Sorrengail is wounded. We completed your punishment.”
“And we’ll do it again.” Ridoc kicks back in his seat, throwing his feet up on the table. “And again, and again.”
Aetos’s face flushes. “I’m sorry, cadet?”
“He said we’ll do it again.” I lift my chin and note the shadows creeping across the stone floor toward Aetos. “We make decisions as a squad. We’ll take whatever punishment you want to give us as a squad. What we won’t do is stand by while civilians die, regardless of what citizenship they hold. And before you ask, every single dragon and gryphon agreed.”
Hatred flares in Aetos’s eyes, but he quickly glances at Brennan. “You have no right to be here, Aisereigh. This is a quadrant matter.”
“It’s Sorrengail,” Brennan says without opening his eyes. “And even if Article Two, Section Four of the Basgiath Code of Conduct didn’t allow for menders to be granted access to all areas of campus—which it does—well, I don’t answer to you.”
My throat clogs when I spot the newly sewn name tag on his uniform.
“And who answers for them?” Aetos points to the boys. “King Tauri has refused to open our borders.”
Even now? I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. How is that not part of the negotiations?
A corner of Aetos’s mouth rises, as if he knows he’s won. “They’ll have to be returned home. Immediately.”
My gaze swings to Xaden, and I find him already watching me. I lift my brows and he sighs, then turns his head toward Aetos.
“As we’re concluding this round of negotiations this afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel Sorrengail will happily take the boys home—” Xaden starts, and Maren gasps. “To Tyrrendor, seeing as they are now Tyrrish citizens.”
“Since when?” Aetos stiffens, and the heat in my knee dissipates as Brennan lifts his hands.
“Since I said so,” Xaden answers with icy authority.