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“They revere him. He is strong, and loyal, and fierce.” “You are all those things, too.”
“If you didn’t figure it out, you weren’t worthy of knowing.” She huffs. “I waited six hundred and fifty years to hatch. Waited until your eighteenth summer, when I heard our elders talk of the weakling daughter of their general, the girl forecasted to become the head of the scribes, and I knew. You would have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You would be mine.” She leans into my hand. “You are as unique as I am. We want the same things.” “You couldn’t have known I would be a rider.” “And yet, here we are.”
so I give her exactly what I wanted—to be seen for who and what she is.
“You are not a black dragon, or any of the six that we know of. You’re a seventh breed.” “Yes.” Her eyes widen in excitement.
“Nice to see you, Cam. Your father’s been looking for you.” I hear Mom’s voice from the other side of the stone. “I’m a bonded rider. There’s nothing he can—” “Don’t really care. It holds power?”
LOLLL THATS ACTUALLY FUNNY
“You both have to live. Promise me you’ll choose to live.” Because I’m starting to realize the price of imbuing this wardstone in time to save everyone I love, and it’s my life.
“You can’t do this,” Andarna argues in a shriek. “You have your purpose.” Even my mental voice is a whisper. “Maybe this is mine.”
“You must save yourself,” Tairn demands. “I chose you not as my next, but as my last, and should you fall, then I will follow.”
“Let me go!” “I can’t,” he says apologetically. “She’s right. And if I have to choose between her life and yours, I choose yours.” My life or…hers? “Andarna!” I scream. “I’m so sorry. I choose your life, too. You are mine. I can’t let you die.”
“Xaden’s dying,” I whisper.
“Violet?” Sloane whispers. I drag my gaze to hers, but I’m not here. Not really. I’m dying on the battlefield, the last of my strength fading, burning, consuming my body. But it will be worth it to save the one I love. Violet.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe. Do you understand? Everything was to get you to this moment, when you’d be strong enough—”
I can’t breathe. She’s the tide, the storms, the very air, a force too big to be extinguished without ripping the world itself apart to the core. How can she just be gone?
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” I reach for his hand, but he tugs it away.
Oh naur
“She killed your father. Why would you be sorry?” I swipe at another tear that leaks out. “I didn’t want her dead,” he says softly. “I could never want anyone you love dead.”
“Aretia’s wards are already weakening, and these are intact. Which you’ll explain to me later, right?” His gaze flicks sideways at me but quickly leaves, like I’m painful to look at.
Hmm
“You love me,” he whispers. “You know I do.” I grab hold of his hand, and my stomach twists when he turns toward me but lowers his eyes. “What’s out there that I should be scared of, Xaden? What did he tell you? What did you see?” What could he know that has him this shaken?
Slowly, he drags his gaze up my body, and it feels like it takes years for him to just look at me. When he finally does, I gasp, my hand tightening on his in reflex. No. That single word is all I can think, feel, scream internally as I stare up at the man I’m hopelessly in love with. “Me,” he whispers, a faint, almost indistinguishable red ring emanating from his gold-flecked onyx irises. “You should be scared of me.”
He wore me down for fucking fun. I was never a match for him. None of us are.
“Magic does like everything in balance. Take too much and she’ll consume you for overstepping.”
Except the sweat dripping down the back of my neck reminds me that this is very much my reality. That Violet is beneath Basgiath, fighting to raise the wards; that Tairn is picking off the wyverns tearing at Sgaeyl above me to keep her from my side. What is it about me that fails the females in my life?
“Come on, shadow wielder. Turn. It’s the only way to save her.” “Fuck you.” I throw myself down the bond and feel Violet slipping, burning, intending to… My shadows slip, but the general doesn’t move. She’s going to sacrifice herself to save me. She intends to die.
“Hold him!” she demands. But I can’t. He’s too strong, and I have nothing left. But I’ll be damned if Violet suffers the consequences. He won’t get his hands on her. Not today. Not ever. The slush beneath my palm melts, and I feel… There’s something beneath me. A steady flow of unmistakable…power. “You cannot!” Sgaeyl shrieks. “I chose you!” But Violet chose me, too. I reach.
The last time I walked these stairs, I’d just murdered everyone who stood between me and Violet. It’s ironic that’s the cell I end up standing in front of now, peering through the barred window at Jack-fucking-Barlowe.
“Cures are for diseases. What we have is power, and that, dear Riorson, isn’t curable. It’s enviable.”
“All this time, you’ve been convincing everyone you’re the hero, and now you’ll be the villain…especially in her story.
