Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)

by Rebecca Yarros

“Because I warned you never to put your life at risk over something as trivial as talking to me, and yet you did just that. Again.” “I’m down with everything but the sparring.” Shit. That comes out breathless. “And it’s not up to you to punish me anymore. I’m no longer in your chain of command.”

Though gryphon riders are not capable of producing signets, they are not powerless. In fact, some would argue that they’ve honed lesser magic, especially mindwork, into the deadliest weapon of all. Underestimating them is an error.

“I still do not approve,” Tairn lectures as we cross the barrier of the wards a little after midnight. “And yet, we’re still flying,”

“Only because I vowed to let you make your own choices after Resson, not because I agree with you.”

“This is an unnecessary risk.” “One Xaden and Sgaeyl take all the time.”

“The shadow wielder is not my concern.” “Sgaeyl is.”

“Sgaeyl would never be taken down by something as puny as a gryphon.” He scoffs. “And as for losing the shadow wielder, she would be emotionally inconvenienced, that is true.”

“An emotional inconvenience? Is that what I am to you?” If so, then we don’t need to worry that my death would cause Tairn’s, or Sgaeyl’s and Xaden’s. “You’re currently a prize annoyance.”

They have the same straight noses, full mouths, lithe builds, and glossy black hair that contrasts their fair skin, though the younger one’s is plaited in a simple braid over her shoulder. Her eyes are slightly larger, and her cheekbones are a little higher than Syrena’s. She’s the kind of beautiful that would normally lead to positions in a king’s court or on stage in the theaters of Calldyr.

My chest tightens. The way she looks at Xaden isn’t just doe-eyed. There’s an unmistakable longing there, a hunger that has me blinking. It’s like she’s been trudging through a desert and he’s the oasis. She looks…like how I feel.

Xaden’s tone ventures into less-than-friendly territory. “Because one of your gryphons nearly took me out. If we didn’t have a mender nearby in the Eastern Wing, I’d be down an arm because I hesitated, thinking it might be one of you.” He glances at the other woman. “I thought we were on the same side, but I won’t hesitate if it happens again.”

There are enough daggers in that outpost to arm a hundred fliers—” “Those are powering our wards.” His hands curl into fists at his sides.

“The attacks have to stop, Syrena,” Xaden continues. “In your chain of command or not, the second I hear of fliers actually stealing daggers from outposts or any Navarrian wards being weakened by flier thievery, I’ll cut off what shipments we do have coming your way.”

“You’ll condemn us all to death if you take down the only wards standing between the venin and the hatching grounds at Basgiath,” I say. “It’s our only forge for weaponry, and there’s enough raw magic in that range to feed them for a century. They’d be unstoppable.”

“You’re drawing attention.” Tairn growls at the fliers, and they immediately look away. “I never said I’d sit here silently.”

But the younger flier does. She stares up at me in an unsettling mix of shock and…shit, I think that’s malice narrowing her eyes.

Another rumbling growl works up Tairn’s throat as his head pivots right and he bares his teeth.

“You know better than to stare at a dragon, Cat!” Cat. It’s a fitting name for the way she’s sizing me up. “Wasn’t staring at the dragon,” the woman replies just loud enough that I barely make out the words. But she shifts her glare, aiming it at Xaden. “She’s striking, I’ll give you that.”

“The forge is our highest priority. As soon as we secure a luminary, we’ll be operational and able to supply you in full. We have the rest of the material we need to begin, and that’s all you get to know, because you’re right, Syrena. I don’t trust you. Until then, there are twenty-three daggers in these bags.”

“Let’s go, Catriona.” Catriona. Cat. The way my stomach hollows has nothing to do with Tairn’s sudden launch into the night sky and everything to do with remembering what Bodhi said weeks ago. I’ve never seen him care like this, and that includes Catriona. Oh gods. The way she’d looked at him wasn’t just longing—it was memory.

Cadets who are found absent without leave will be subject to court-martial by their chain of command, if they are not executed on sight.

Shit. What is this? Jealousy? Anxiety? Insecurity? “All three,” Tairn responds in utter annoyance. “To which I will remind you that not a single dragon chose her. You were selected by two. Pull yourself together.” His metric is sound but has little to do with what I’m feeling. “But at one point Xaden chose her.”

“And at one point, you thought gruel was a satisfactory meal, until you grew some teeth and found the rest of the world’s food waiting. Now cease this line of thinking. It does not serve to make you stronger.” Easy

“So I’m asking you: what does Tecarus want for the luminary—the one device that could complete your forge—that you’re unwilling to give?”

“Besides weaponry and a private army?” He pauses, war waging in his eyes before he sighs. “You’re the first lightning wielder in over a century. He swears he’ll let us take it to Aretia if he can see you wield.”

Our first deal fell apart when I discovered he was only willing to let us use the luminary, not take it, which would have meant stationing dragons in Cordyn. And secondly, I don’t trust him to stop at seeing you. He’s known for collecting precious things and keeping them against their will.” His

“Or the fact that Nolon’s spent months saving Jack Barlowe’s life?” I turn out of his arms, and we start walking toward the outpost with its burning torches along the outer battlements. “Oh, and Varrish punched my shoulder out of its socket during interrogation after Dain refused to use his signet on me.”

“Are you accusing me of abusing my power where this cadet is concerned, Colonel Kaori?” Varrish moves to step toward us, but my bag is in the way. “Oh, no.” Kaori shakes his head. “I think you abuse your power in general.”

“Tairn says the Empyrean is split. Some of the dragons want to act, and others don’t. Without the Empyrean taking an official stance, none of the dragons are willing to put their riders in danger by telling them if they don’t already know.” “And people are dying beyond the wards. All that propaganda is real.”

“You want me to tell my parents to leave the business they worked their entire lives for and uproot my sister and her family without telling them why?” “You have to try,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“And the truth of it is that you still don’t know everything. There are things I can’t tell you, at least not until you’re all capable of shielding Dain out. And I know that sounds like a bunch of bullshit because I’ve basically been lying to you for the last few months. And you have every single right to be angry at me, or to hate me, or to feel however you want to feel…of course.”

“They kept journals,” he says with a shrug,

least two of them. War—” He catches us staring and quickly grabs the dagger by the handle. “Wait. Do I actually know something about the Archives that you don’t?” A grin flashes across his face. “I do, don’t I?”

“Lyra’s and Warrick’s journals are here. At least according to a classified ledger in your mom’s office, they are.” “My mom’s office?” My jaw hangs. “The ledger, not the journals.”

“But if I don’t even know about the vault, then they’re beyond classified. Retrieving them could definitely get us killed.”

“Oh, good. I was wondering when it was going to start getting dangerous around here again.”

“It’s like he met Malek and decided to come back a decent guy,” Rhiannon observes when we catch him tutoring first-years on the mat. “But I still don’t trust him.”

I’ll find time to get to temple if you could just be with her, I promise Dunne, the goddess of war.

Quinn took it a lot like Rhiannon, with grace and a sense of resolve. Xaden’s going to lose his shit when I tell him, but I’ll deal with that when he gets here on Saturday. If they actually let us see each other.

“Visia bonded a Brown Daggertail,” Rhi says, nodding across the field to where the first-year stands in front of her dragon. “Avalynn, Lynx, and Baylor all made it, too. But I don’t see Aaric or Mischa.” She glances at me. “She’s the one who’s always biting her nails.”

Wingbeats fill the air again, and we all look to the right as a Blue Clubtail approaches with sapphire-hued scales that contrast the changing colors of the sunset sky, and he is beautiful. “We’ve always been the better-looking species,” Tairn chimes in.

“Andarna?” I ask him every single day, and today, twice. “She still sleeps.” “That can’t be natural.” I shift my weight on the hillside. “It’s…longer than expected.” “So you keep saying. You have the Empyrean gathered.”

“A Red Daggertail,” I whisper, relief flooding my veins as Sloane clumsily dismounts, clutching her shoulder. “Just like her brother.” Sloane hugs Visia tight, and I smile. I’m glad she has friends, that their year has the chance to become just as tight as ours.

“Kill them all,” Tairn orders. “Go left,” Eya mutters. I nod and unsheathe another dagger. “Let me guess.” They take slow, coordinated steps toward us, and Eya and I pivot so we stand back-to-back. “Secrets die with the people who keep them?”

“It’s not as original as you’d think.”

Blades clash behind me, and I lose sight of my remaining attacker in the high flames as I grab two more daggers. Shit, shit, shit. Where is—

Fast. It’s happening too fast to do anything but react. Instinct takes over and my hands splay wide against the sides of the crenellations, releasing the daggers. Clawing for purchase, I sail backward, my skin grating against the rock to slow me down as I do, and the tips of my boots hit the edge of the turret…then slip right off.

“It’s just money,” he whispers from his knees and reaches for my hands. Oh gods, he’s going to— “No!” Power floods my veins, but there’s nothing

“Just money,” he repeats, lifting my hands from the stone. Xaden. Sgaeyl. Tairn. This will kill us all. The soldier lets go.

“Just let go,” the soldier urges, crawling forward again. “It will be over before you—”