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)
“Cool. Calm. Collected.” Xaden scans every building we pass.
“New mantra since becoming duke?” Mira asks, surveying the remains of what looks to have been a marketplace on our right.
“Just trying not to explode on Grady and ruin our little trial run here,” Xaden replies.
The village is silent as we walk the abandoned streets, passing the desiccated remains of people every block or so. It reminds me of a sandcastle. The structure is there, but so delicate that even a harsh breeze might crumble the colorless structure.
We turn at the next intersection, entering narrow columns of residential rowhouses with barely enough room for wagons to pass each other in the street. Some of the houses connect to ones across the way with covered bridges, creating a tunnel effect every twenty feet or so.
“Ironic that they built these so tight to keep dragons from fitting between them, and yet it’s dragons that might save us,” I remark, studying what’s left of the architecture.
“A gryphon would fit with no problem as long as its wings were tucked,” Mira notes.
“This is the one.” Grady stops in front of an expansive house.
“Was it the plaque that says Home of Amelia, First of the Drifts that gave it away?” Xaden asks, nodding toward the right side of the door.
Grady’s mouth tightens. “You know your places. Let’s go.” The front door creaks loudly enough to wake the dead as he swings it open, and everyone freezes.
My stomach does its best to displace my lungs, and I clench my fists when power immediately rises in my veins, responding to my fear.
“They can’t hear us,” Mira repeats, then clasps my shoulder as she walks by, heading to Grady and Henson.
“Be right back,” Xaden says, but there’s no usual brush of his hand or shadow along my lower back because Aura is watching like we might just start making out at any second.
The four officers disappear into the creaky house, leaving Aura and me in the middle of the street.
“I’ll take south,” I tell her, moving toward the doorway, then facing in that direction.
“Fine.” She puts her back to me, and we begin watch.
Rumblings sound from within the house, and moonlight illuminates the cobblestone street.
I look to see the clouds breaking as the wind picks up.
Shit.
“Stay out of sight,” I tell Tairn.
“I am as the night.” He sounds more than a little offended. “It is Dagolh you should worry about.”
Aura’s Red Clubtail.
“Any luck?” I ask Xaden.
“This whole place is a museum, and Cat only remembers that it was on display upstairs in a protective case. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s a lot of upstairs,” he answers.
I glance up at the five stories that look ready to topple at any second. “We’re going to be out here awhile.” This is exactly why we should have brought Cat. Maybe being here would have triggered the memory of exactly where it was displayed.
“Great.” Aura shifts nervously behind me, her shadow swaying near my feet.
“You scared?” I ask as nicely as possible.
“We’re hundreds of miles from the wards, standing in a fucking cemetery,” she snaps. “What do you think?”
“As someone who has spent my share of time beyond the wards, it’s healthy to be nervous.” Something rattles up ahead, and I tilt my head, focusing in that direction. A glass bottle rolls down the gently sloped hill of a street, propelled by a gust of wind before lodging itself in a doorway four houses over. “See? That’s—” I glance over my shoulder, then whip my entire body around to face Aura. “What the fuck?”
“Just being prepared.” She stands with her hands raised, a flintstrike device between thumb and forefinger, fear pinching her face.
“That”—I motion to her hands—“is an unhealthy, mission-dangerous amount of fear. Put them down. Away. Gloves on. You need to remind yourself that wielding is the worst possible thing we could do.”
“No.” She lifts her chin. “Getting drained is far worse. I’m not about to be caught off guard. In fact, you should stand ready, too.”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head and turn my back on her. “My orders are not to wield unless there’s an imminent threat of death, and I hardly think that bottle constitutes such.”
“As your senior wingleader, I’m ordering you to stand ready,” Aura seethes. “What use are you as our ‘greatest weapon’ if you can’t wield at a moment’s notice?”
“The only rank that matters out here is cadet, so with all due respect, fuck off.” I shrug and roll my shoulders, trying to dispel the tide of energy pushing against my Archives door. At least that means Tairn has located some undrained land.
“Found it!” Mira calls through an open window.
I blow out a sigh of relief.
The door across the street swings open with an ear-screeching creak, and my head whips toward the sound, fear launching my heart into my throat as a figure steps out of the shadows—