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)
Not to mention, Xaden insists we stay.
“He remains because Navarre’s wards protect you from him.” Tairn blasts another stream of fire when I ignore him, heating his left wing, then crouches before launching skyward with the others.
The courtyard is nearly empty when we enter through the tunnel that runs under the ridgeline separating it from the training grounds. In front of us, snow tops the dormitory wing, the centered rotunda that links the quadrant’s structures, and all but the southernmost roofline of the academic wing ahead to our left, where Malek’s fire burns bright in the highest turret, consuming the belongings of our dead as he requires.
Maybe the god of death will curse me for keeping my mother’s personal journals, but it’s not like I wouldn’t have a few choice words for him should we meet, anyway.
“Report,” Aura Beinhaven orders from the dais at our left, where she stands with Ewan Faber—the stocky, sour-faced wingleader of what little remains of Navarre’s Fourth Wing.
“Oh, good, you all made it back.” Ewan’s voice drips with sarcasm as he folds his arms, snow falling on his broad shoulders. “We were so worried.”
“Prick was barely a squad leader in Claw when we left,” Ridoc mutters.
“Nothing this morning,” Rhiannon replies, and Aura nods but doesn’t deign to say anything. “Any news from the front?”
My stomach knots. The lack of information is agonizing.
“Nothing I’d be willing to share with a bunch of deserters,” Aura answers.
Oh, screw her.
“A bunch of deserters who saved your ass!” Quinn offers a middle finger as we continue past, our boots crunching on the snow-covered gravel. “Navarrian riders, Aretian riders… We can’t function like this,” she says to the group quietly. “If they won’t accept us, the fliers don’t have a prayer.”
I nod in agreement. Mira’s working on that particular issue—not that leadership knows or will allow the use of whatever she’s learned, even if it saves the negotiations. Pompous assholes.
“Devera and Kaori will be back any day. They’ll sort out command structure as soon as the royals ink a treaty that hopefully pardons us for leaving in the first place.” Rhi cocks her head as Imogen walks out of the rotunda in front of us, her pink hair skimming her cheekbone as she descends the stone steps. “Cardulo, you missed patrol.”
“I was assigned elsewhere by Lieutenant Tavis,” Imogen explains, not missing a beat as she comes our way. Her gaze jumps toward me. “Sorrengail, I need a word.”
I nod. She was on Xaden duty.
“See that you’re present tomorrow.” Rhi walks past Imogen with the other two, then pauses halfway up the steps and glances over her shoulder as the others head inside. “Wait. Is Mira due back today?”
“Tomorrow.” Anxiety ties a pretty little bow around my throat and tugs. It’s one thing to form a plan and quite another to carry it out, especially when the consequences could involve the people I love becoming traitors…again.
“Every possible path,” Andarna reminds me.
“Every possible path,” I repeat like a mantra and straighten my shoulders.
“Good.” A slow smile spreads across Rhi’s face. “We’ll be in the infirmary when you’re done,” she promises, then walks up the remaining steps to the rotunda.
“You told the second-years what Mira’s up to?” Imogen whispers with a sharp bite of accusation.
“Only the riders,” I retort just as quietly. “If we get caught, it’s treason, but if the fliers do—”
“It’s war,” Imogen finishes.
“Ridoc, did you freeze this door shut?” Rhi shouts from the top of the steps, yanking on the door handle of the rotunda with her full body weight before marching through its counterpart to her left. “Get back here and fix it, now!”
“Right. Telling them was a solid choice.” Imogen rubs the bridge of her nose as Ridoc laughs hysterically from inside the rotunda. “The four of you are a fucking nuisance. It’s going to be a miracle if we pull this off without getting ourselves executed.”
“You don’t have to be involved.” I stare her down in a way I never would have dreamed of eighteen months ago. “I’ll do it with or without your help.”
“Feeling snarky, are we?” A corner of her mouth tugs upward. “Relax. As long as Mira figures out a plan, of course I’m in.”
“She doesn’t know how to fail.”
“I can see that.” Snow blows across our faces as Imogen’s eyes harden. “But please say you didn’t tell your fearsome foursome everything about why we’re doing this.”
“Of course not.” I shove my gloves into my pocket. “He’s still pissed at me for ‘burdening you’ with the knowledge.”
“Then he should stop doing stupid shit that needs to be covered up.” She rubs her hands together in the cold and follows me up the steps. “Look, I needed you alone because Garrick, Bodhi, and I talked—”
“Without me?” My spine stiffens.
“About you,” she clarifies unapologetically.
“Even better.” I reach for the door.