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)
“What happens if they don’t manifest on your timeline?” Trager asks.
“The magic builds up and we kind of…explode.” Ridoc makes the correlating motion with his hands. “But it’s the end of January. We have months before it gets dangerous. Vi didn’t manifest until what? May?” Ridoc asks me.
I blink, remembering the first time Xaden kissed me against the foundation walls. “It was actually December. I just didn’t realize it.”
“That doesn’t comfort me,” Rhi says, frowning over her mug. “The last thing we need is Lynx or Aaric exploding on us.”
My chest tightens.
“Remind me not to stand next to either of them in formation,” Cat drawls.
“Better than one of them manifesting as an inntinnsic,” Ridoc mutters. “Could you imagine executing—”
“No,” Rhi snaps, then shudders. “I can’t. And neither should you.” She glances at Maren. “So. How was temple?”
“Our offerings were received,” Maren answers with an easy smile. “I believe Amari will watch over my brothers in Aretia. I really can’t thank your family enough for taking them in, Rhi.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rhi waves her off. “My mother loves kids, and my dad is thrilled to have two little boys running around the house. I’m really sorry that they couldn’t stay here with you, though.”
Maren drops her gaze. “Me too, but Basgiath isn’t exactly friendly for raising kids.”
Cat rubs her shoulder.
“Your temples to Malek and Dunne are disproportionately large compared to the other gods’ here,” Trager notes, leaning back in his chair. “Except Amari, of course.”
“It’s a regional thing,” Sawyer answers, pushing up on the arms of his chair and readjusting his weight. He seems more comfortable wearing the new wood-and-metal prosthesis he’s been working on but hasn’t been up for discussing it, so we haven’t pushed. “This close to Basgiath, war and death are on most minds.”
“So true,” Ridoc agrees.
“Your scribes don’t pray to Hedeon for wisdom?” Trager asks me, leaving his ale untouched long enough for Cat to reach over and steal it with a sly smile.
“Knowledge and wisdom are two different things,” I answer. “Scribes are careful not to ask for what should be earned.”
“So you weren’t a frequent patron when studying to enter that quadrant?” He scoots his chair in when some drunk cadets try to squeeze past behind him and side-eyes Cat for stealing his drink, but there’s a tilt to his lips.
“My mother was never temple-minded, which is odd, considering you’d think she’d favor Dunne. And I preferred to spend what worship time I had in Amari’s temple.” I glance down at my nearly empty mug. “And then once my father died, I frequented Malek’s, though I probably spent more time yelling at him than praising.”
“I personally prefer Zihnal,” Ridoc adds. “You can get through any situation with luck.”
“And ours must have run out, because here comes the wingleader,” Rhi notes with a quick glance my way.
The fliers look over their shoulders, and we all quiet as Dain waits for a group of cadets to walk by before reaching the corner of our table.
“Vi.” He still has that flat, tortured look in his eyes, and I hate that I can’t take it away.
“Dain?” My hands tighten on my mug. I’d rather he be a dick again, even obnoxious in his certainty, over this hollow version of himself.
“Can I talk to you?” His attention sweeps over the others at the table. “Alone?”
“All right.” I push away from the table, leaving behind my lemonade, and follow Dain into the dim, deserted hallway that leads to the pub’s private rooms. My stomach clenches as he pivots to face me.
“I’ve spent the last few days reconning the security on Dad’s quarters, and there’s no way to sneak other people in without getting caught.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his flight jacket.
My heart sinks. “You won’t help me.”
“I told you I would, and I will.” His mouth tightens. “It’s just going to require you to trust me enough to let me retrieve the research and bring it out myself. Preferably tomorrow night, since my father will be gone.”
Shit. All he’d have to do is hand that research over to his father and Dain would be back in his good graces. My only assurance that wouldn’t happen had been going with him. The history between us, both good and bad, thickens the air.
“It’s up to you,” he says with a hint of a shrug. “Either you trust me or you don’t.”
“It’s not just that,” I rush. There are so many ways this could go wrong. “If they catch you with it, or the cadets who constantly follow Xaden and me spot you handing something over secretively—”
“I’ve got that figured out,” he interrupts like I’ve insulted him. “What’s your choice?”
I weigh the pros and cons in less than a heartbeat, then sigh. “There’s a secret compartment under my father’s desk in the study. The latch is in the far back of the center drawer of my mother’s.”