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)
In fact, I can’t figure out why any of them have. There are at least three older riders I’ve just met for the first time sitting across from me, and the one I already know—Aura—is as far away as possible on the right side, closest to the map. But at least Halden isn’t here, and he wasn’t on the draft roster, either, which is a relief. Maybe they’ve decided against a royal representative after all.
Grady’s still arguing with his team. “North is—”
The door swings open at my left, and Xaden steps in.
Every head turns in his direction, but mine whips fastest. The last four days have felt like an eternity. Being close to him without having the kind of access I’m used to is frustrating as hell. I’m constantly aware of where he is when his shields are down, and even when they’re up, I find myself looking around every corner in hopes there’s something more to the shadows.
With Xaden sleeping in the professors’ quarters, turns out that sneaking around isn’t just hard, it’s impossible. There’s a Navarrian rider watching everywhere I go.
The library? Ewan Faber has one convenient eye on the squad.
The dormitory? Aura finds a sudden interest in late-night hall patrols.
Going to visit Sawyer? Caroline Ashton and her minions trail along behind.
“This is a closed meeting,” Lieutenant Forgot-his-name says, drawing his dimpled chin back in indignation.
“I forgive you for failing to invite me,” Xaden replies, sinking into the chair on my left.
I bite back a smile. He might think he’s changed, but that comment is undeniably him.
“We’re not taking a separatist—” the lieutenant starts to argue, his hands moving almost violently as he signs.
“You already are,” I interrupt with a sweet smile.
Jesinia tucks her chin into her robes, and I know she’s muffling a laugh.
“We can waste time arguing,” Xaden says, “or we can just agree that Tairn isn’t going anywhere without Sgaeyl and move on.”
Quill scratches across parchment as Jesinia quickly takes notes, but there’s a definite smirk on her mouth still.
Captain Grady’s jaw flexes, but I have to respect that it’s his only outward display of annoyance. Anyone with a set of bars on their shoulders should have predicted this, but I’m curious to see how he’ll handle it considering how illogically our squad has been formed. “Fine,” he finally says. “Cadet Neilwart, please add his name to our roster.” He glances down the table. “Everyone here has been chosen for this mission because I trust them. Make your introductions if you haven’t,” he orders the others, then turns to look at the map.
“Captain Henson,” the woman with tightly woven black braids to his right replies, nodding. “Air wielder.”
“Lieutenant Pugh.” The next man narrows his pale blue eyes. “Farsight.”
“Lieutenant Foley.” Ah, that’s his name. “Agrarian.”
“Cadet Beinhaven.” Aura lifts her chin. “Fire wielder.”
“Lieutenant Winshire.” Anna smiles. “Infantry liaison.”
“Lieutenant Riorson,” Xaden replies. “It’s like he pulled a list of the most common signets and started choosing names.”
“And there are no fliers or Aretian riders.” I fiddle with my pen. “Doesn’t exactly speak to the spirit of alliance.”
“Why no shield signets?” Xaden asks. “Clearly we’ll be out beyond the wards, unless you think there’s an entire den hiding within Navarre’s borders that the Empyrean doesn’t know about.”
“You were able to hide one,” Foley snaps.
“Thinking the Empyrean wasn’t aware for six years tells me all I need to know about where your and your dragon’s priorities are.” Xaden shrugs.
“Stop,” Grady orders. “And I’ve asked General Tinery for a particular shield wielder. Just waiting on a response.”
Xaden’s brow knits for a millisecond, just long enough to let me know he’s digging around people’s intentions. “You could just ask me. Mira Sorrengail is the only rider proven beyond the wards, and she’s stationed in Aretia.”
I grip the pen. Mira had been my first choice in this mission to begin with…if they’d asked me.
“Which is the Southern Wing and clearly under the command of General Tinery.” Pugh glowers at Xaden.
“Except for Tyrrendor,” Xaden replies, “which as of the Second Aretia Accord now falls to the reigning house.” He cocks his head to the side. “Well, really Ulices and Kylynn, but they answer to me.”
Quill rasping against parchment is the only sound as some jaws are picked up off the floor and others lock.
I sit back in my chair and fight the urge to smile. “Have to say, the casual flex of power is pretty hot.”
“Don’t,” he warns. “I’m barely keeping my hands to myself as it is. If you knew how often I think about sneaking into your room…”
My pulse quickens.
“Is this what I can expect, Lieutenant Riorson?” Grady asks, color rising in his neck. “You pulling title into military matters? There’s a reason aristocrats don’t wear black.”
“Happens more often than you think,” I mutter, signing it discreetly to my friend.
Jesinia lifts the quill and doesn’t record my smart-ass remark, but she definitely fights off a laugh.