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)
“This came to Treifelz last night,” Imogen says, stifling a yawn and handing me a folded, sealed missive when we meet at the bridge to the Healer Quadrant. Can’t blame her—she’s been up all night at the midland post.
Dawn breaks through the windows, but the mage lights give more than enough brightness to make out her name as the addressee. “I don’t think this is meant for me.” My eyebrows rise as I read the name of the sender. “Especially coming from Garrick.”
“Right, because Garrick writes to me.” She rolls her eyes and stretches her shoulders before pulling open the door into the tunnel. “Everyone knows Aetos is going to read anything with your name on it.”
I break the seal and smile at Xaden’s handwriting, but it quickly slips.
V—
We fought in Fervan last night, called by an attack upon civilians. It is with deepest regret that I delay my return in favor of rest. I walked the edge of burnout, but the lives we saved were worth the cost, and Garrick has informed the healers I’ll be in quarters, recovering, until further notice. Lewellen is standing in as proxy in case the Senarium orders any emergency meetings.
It is worse than we imagined beyond the wards, but I have a solution in mind to prevent future burnouts. Is it just me? Or does my pillow smell like you?
Yours,
—X
My steps slow as we make our way down the tunnel, dread thickening my throat, and I pause at the top of the staircase that leads to the interrogation chamber and stuff the letter into the breast pocket inside my uniform. “He slipped.”
Imogen tenses. “He said that?”
I shake my head. “He was careful with his wording, but I’m sure. There’s no other reason he’d need to lock himself away in his quarters to recover from a near burnout unless he’s waiting for his eyes to return to their normal color.”
“Fuck.” She starts down the steps, and I follow. “We need to get him off the border.”
“I know. And I need to find a cure.”
“You’re sure this is how you want to go about it?” Imogen stifles another yawn.
“Every possible path,” I tell her, running my hands down my sheaths to make sure each dagger is in place, as well as a vial or two. “He’s the only direct source of information we have. You sure you’re up for this? I completely understand if you’re too tired.” They’re running the third-years into the ground.
“I could do this shit in my sleep.” She unbuttons her flight jacket. “You meet with Grady yet?”
“Next week.” I sigh. “He’s still researching before he’ll deign to meet with me, but he sent a first draft of the squad yesterday, and the only rider I know on it is Aura-fucking-Beinhaven, because—get this—she’s a trustable companion of my own age and the most powerful fire wielder in the quadrant.”
“Does he know you’ve already almost killed her this month?” She lifts her brows.
“Don’t think he cares. He has no idea where to start, either, which I only know because he tried to get his dragon to question Andarna. And that’s after reading my report stating everything she remembered about her first hundred years in shell, which—like most dragons late to hatch—is nothing.”
“How did that go for him?” Imogen asks, her brow scrunching.
“Tairn removed a dozen of her neck scales, and Andarna left teeth marks in her tail.”
“We’ll collect enough next time to make you new armor,” Andarna promises.
“From his dragon? Thank you, but no,” I reply.
A smile tugs at Imogen’s lips. “Got exactly what she deserves.” Her smile falls. “I agree you need experienced riders on the squad, but it’s hard to trust judgment like that.”
Emery and Heaton both look up from their card game as we come around the last turn. “You brought Sorrengail with you this time?” Emery asks, lifting his brows.
“Clearly,” Imogen replies.
We cross the stone floor, and I look away from the bloodstained table as we approach.
“Why do I feel like you only visit when we’re on guard?” Heaton sets their cards on the table. “Also, I win.”
Emery looks at what Heaton’s laid down and sighs. “You have unnaturally good luck with cards.”
“Zihnal is with me.” Heaton grins and scratches the magenta flames dyed into their hair. “Both of you going in?” They glance over our weaponry. “He probably has twenty-four hours left at this rate, but I can’t vouch for what he’s capable of.”
“I’ve got this.” I pat the vials strapped to my upper biceps.
“I do not doubt that. Nolon and Markham usually arrive at seven to start their daily questioning, so be quick. And I wouldn’t expect much. He’s usually silent.” Heaton unlocks the cell door, then steps out of the way. “You have visitors.”
I walk into the doorway but stop abruptly, causing Imogen to curse behind me.