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“I kept it closed in my fist—we all did—as we stood there, watching our parents put into lines for execution. And the second they were…” His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. “…burned, heat raced up my arm. The next time I felt anything like that was after Threshing.” My eyes widen, and I close my hand over his. “The rebellion relics?” That must be why the swirling marks always start on the marked ones’ arms.
“Without killing your opponent,” Emetterio continues, talking directly at Aaric before moving on, “for the next six hours, every request—between cadets of the same year—for challenge will be granted. You will address your grievances once on these mats, and then you will put them behind you.”
“Scratch her eyes out,” Andarna suggests. “Really. The eyes are the softest tissue. Just jab your thumbs in there—” “Andarna! Use some common sense,” Tairn snaps. “The kneecaps are a much easier target.” “Quiet time, now.” I slam my shields up, muting Tairn and Andarna as much as possible.
Gods, do you even know why he didn’t kill you that first year? I do. Because he trusted me to look ahead with him.” She knows about the deal with my mother. He told her. My fingers tingle, and I know I’ll lose feeling in the entire limb soon, but that doesn’t stop my body from trembling with fury…with rising power. Think. I have to think. She knows all my moves, at least the ones Xaden taught me. “Look at where we are. Riorson House.” Her mouth is close enough to my ear that I can feel how hard she’s breathing. “Who wouldn’t love all that power and the case it comes in? But I’m sure as hell
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Shimmering onyx wraps around my mind and everything intensifies. A driving, pounding, uncontrollable need courses through me with every beat of my pulse, demanding an outlet, demanding I rip through the confines of the leather and trade her sweet taste for the incomparable perfection of sinking into her when she comes. Xaden. I gasp for breath, gripping the conduit so tightly I prepare for the sound of breaking glass. It’s his desire flooding our bond, compounding my own. His desperation. His power brushing against mine.
“Sorry to inconvenience you, but this year the role of Violet Sorrengail”—he points to me—“will be played by Xaden Riorson”—he taps his chest—“who will drag her, kicking and screaming if he has to, into a real relationship with real discussions, because he refuses to lose her again. If I have to evolve, you do, too.” He folds his arms across his chest.
“Did you steal my memories every time you touched my face last year?” I blurt out, letting the cold seep into my palm. Silence fills the chamber for a long moment before he finally responds softly. “No.” I nod and pivot to face him. “So just when you needed information you couldn’t ask me for.”
“I know that now.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I fucked up.” A deep breath later, he opens them. “I fucked up and trusted my dad when I should have trusted your judgment. And there’s nothing I can say or do that’s going to bring them back—bring Liam back.”
“I love watching it do that.” It’s the only time my power is beauty without destruction—without violence. “You’re not watching it, Violet. You’re doing it. And you’re supposed to love it. It’s better to find joy in your power than it is to fear it.” “I don’t fear the power.” How could I when it’s so beautiful? So varied? I’m afraid of myself.
“Good to see you, Vi,” Garrick says as he walks by, tapping me on the shoulder. “You definitely need to make him tell you about the venin he took down just outside Draithus.” “You what?” My stomach pitches sideways. “Thanks for that, asshole.” Xaden glares at Garrick. “Just doing my part to help your communication skills thrive in a stable relationship.” Garrick turns and walks backward, lifting his hands in a shrug.
“Because I promised him I’d take care of her. So, you can aim all that hatred right here.” I tap my gloved hand to my chest. “He was wrong to ask that of you.” Sloane catches up, Visia close behind. “Because Imogen would have been a more capable protector?” I ask, only able to hold her too familiar blue gaze for a heartbeat before looking away. “No. Because you already carry the weight of protecting Xaden’s life. It was unfair of him to burden you with mine, too.” She huffs a breath into her cupped, gloved hands to warm them.
“No. They smell of stolen magic when you get close enough.” She lifts her head, taking up three-quarters of the tunnel. “This smells of…dragons.”
I shove the prongs of the conduit into the soft joint between his scales as Andarna sinks her teeth between his neck and shoulder, distracting him, and then I wield. Energy sizzles up my arm and into my fingertips where they meet the metal. Control. This is all about control. With one hand raised, wielding the delicate strain of energy, I back away from Solas as quickly as I dare, feeding more and more power into the stream, and then I pour everything—
“She is as Naolin was,” Tairn says. “You’re not turning.” I take her hands from my shoulders and stare into the darkness as footsteps sound, talons clicking along the rock. “I’m not?” “Your signet manifested,” I whisper, my eyes straining to see into the cave opening. “You’re a siphon.”

