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)
“We’ve decided you need to rethink your sleeping arrangements.”
My grip tightens on the handle and I contemplate slamming the door in her face. “I’ve decided you can all go fuck yourselves. I’m not running from him. Even in the moments he’s lost control, he’s never hurt me. He never will.”
“That’s what I told them you’d say, but don’t be surprised if they keep asking. Good to know you’re still predictable even if Riorson isn’t.”
“How was he this morning?” Heat rushes over my face as we walk into the empty rotunda, and I push back my hood. Without classes, formation, or any sense of order, the academic wing might sit abandoned, but commons and the gathering hall are congested with aimless, worried, agitated cadets hoping to survive the next patrol and looking to take their frustrations out on someone else. Every single one of us would kill for a Battle Brief.
“Surly and stubborn as always,” Imogen answers when we cross into the dormitory, quieting as we pass a group of glaring second-years from First Wing, including Caroline Ashton, which means the truth-sayers cleared her. Lucky for us, the steps leading down to the Healer Quadrant are blessedly empty. “You consider telling him what we’re up to?”
“He’s aware we’ll be sent to find Andarna’s kind. As for the rest? He doesn’t want to know.” I nod at a pair of approaching Aretian riders out of Third Wing when we reach the tunnels but wait to speak until we’re out of earshot. “He’s worried about being an unintentional leak—which is ridiculous, but I’m respecting his wishes.”
“I can’t wait for him to discover you’re leading your own rebellion.” She grins as we walk across the enclosed bridge to the Healer Quadrant.
“It’s not a rebellion, and I’m not…leading.” Xaden, Dain, Rhi—they’re leaders. They inspire and command for the good of the unit. I’m just doing whatever it takes to save Xaden.
“Including the mission to find Andarna’s kind?” She throws open the door to the Healer Quadrant, and I follow her in.
“That’s different, and I’m not leading as much as I am selecting a leader. Hopefully.” I glance down the cluttered tunnel, past the quietly sleeping patients dressed mostly in infantry blue, and spot a group of hooded scribes moving among them, no doubt still working to get accurate accounts of the battle. “Sounds the same, but it’s not.”
“Right.” The word drips with sarcasm. “Well, message delivered, so I’m done with this conversation. Let me know when Mira gets back.” She walks off toward main campus. “Give Sawyer my best, and good luck this afternoon!”
“Thanks,” I call after her, then turn toward the infirmary. The scents of herbs and metal hit my lungs as I enter through the double doors. I wave at Trager on my right, who’s among the healing-trained fliers doing their best to help where they can.
He nods back from a patient’s bedside, then reaches for a needle and thread.
I continue quickly to the nearest corner, moving from the healers’ paths as they scurry in and out of the curtain-lined bays where rows of the injured rest.
Ridoc’s laugh sounds from the last bay as I approach. The pale blue curtains are tied back, revealing a pile of discarded winter flight jackets in the corner and every other second-year in our squad crammed around Sawyer’s bed.
“Stop exaggerating,” Rhiannon says from the wooden chair near Sawyer’s head, shaking her finger at Ridoc, who’s sitting on the bed, right where our squadmate’s lower leg used to be. “I simply told them that it was our squad’s table and they needed to—”
“Take their cowardly asses back to the First Wing section where they belonged,” Ridoc finishes for her with another laugh.
“You didn’t really say that.” A corner of Sawyer’s mouth quirks upward, but it’s far from a true smile.
“She did.” I’m careful not to step on Cat’s outstretched legs on the floor beside Maren as I move into the cramped space, unbuttoning my flight jacket and tossing it onto the pile.
“Riders get offended by the weirdest things.” Cat arches a dark brow and flips through Markham’s history textbook. “We have far bigger issues than tables.”
“True.” Maren nods, plaiting her dark-brown hair into a four-strand braid.
“How was patrol, anyway?” Sawyer scoots to a more upright position without any help.
“Quiet,” Ridoc answers. “I’m starting to think we’ve gotten them all.”
“Or they’ve managed to flee,” Sawyer muses, the light fading from his eyes. “You’ll be chasing them down soon.”
“Not until we graduate.” Rhi crosses her legs. “They’re not sending cadets beyond the borders.”
“Except Violet, of course, who will be off seeking the seventh breed so we can win this war.” Ridoc glances my way with a shit-eating grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe.”
I can’t quite tell if he’s teasing or serious.
Cat snorts and flips another page. “Like they’re going to let you go? Guarantee it’ll be officers only.”