Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)

by Rebecca Yarros

“You…skipped? You, out of all people, didn’t read a book from start to finish?” The flash of a smile he tries to hide hits me somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach, reminding me of the days when he’d been my best friend, and suddenly this is too much. I scramble to my feet, dust my leathers off, and walk toward the stone. “Vi,” he says quietly, but the cavernous space amplifies it so he may as well be shouting.

“Other than being able to track you through the bond? You told me in a letter that you’d sit up here waiting for your father to come home.” I reach for the plate, then hold it in front of him. “I know chocolate cake isn’t going to fix this, but in my defense, I got it for you when I’d just thought you’d had a shit day, before I knew what really happened.” He glances at the slice, then leans in and brushes his mouth over mine before grabbing it. “I’m not used to people taking care of me. Thank you.” “Get used to it.”

The blood of life is actually the breath of life, and setting the stone ablaze in an iron flame… I close the journals and sit back in my chair. The six doesn’t refer to riders.

The breath of life of the six and the one combined and set the stone ablaze in an iron flame.

“That you’re about to kill our ability to channel? Our gryphons are still struggling to adjust to altitude, and now you’re going to make us powerless?” “Protective wards were our goal long before you came here.” Imogen pushes off the wall and casually sets her hand on her hip, near her favorite dagger, angling her body toward Cat, and Quinn sidesteps to flank the angry flier.

“Violet!” Sloane shouts, but Kira’s beak closes softly around her pack, and she hoists her into the air as Cat scrambles to mount. They rush by on the left, making it through just before Solas’s claws come out swinging, his talons raking furrows into the stone of the cave. I hit the floor, pain flaring up my shoulders. There’s no pop as talons swipe over us, but something bites

Solas roars in pain, his head swiveling back toward his shoulder, and through the opening, I see Cat poised in the dim light, nocking another arrow. There’s no time to ruminate on her sticking around to save me. I’m already moving, grabbing hold of the dying torch in my empty hand, then running toward the soft spot under Solas’s foreleg, where his scales separate a few inches at a time to allow the movement of the joint.

Solas roars, swinging his hind end around. A shape comes swinging for me, and I make out the thicker part of his tail in the dim light a second before it slams into my stomach, sending me flying and breaking the stream of lightning. I’m airborne, nothing more than a projectile as I fly backward, hitting my ass, then my back, and lastly my head against the ground with a crack. But I hold my power tight instead of striking, letting it burn me from the inside out.

Andarna walks into the light, but it’s not the blood covering her mouth that catches my attention—it’s the blood dripping from the poisoned barb on her tail. “You killed him.” My shoulders dip in relief. “You killed Solas.” Pride and worry assault me at the same time, but I can’t force my shields up before Tairn’s voice fills my very existence. “Slayer.”

“She saved my life. Making sure she was seen by a healer was the least I could do,” Cat answers. “She what?” Xaden moves forward as the healer stands upright. “You heard me. She put herself between that giant orange dragon and me.” She rises from her seat—the same chair Xaden sat in while I slept in here for days after Resson, poisoned by the venin’s blade. “Thank you, Sorrengail.” She chokes on the words a little before passing by Xaden on her way out. “Solas—” I start to explain. “Oh, I already know,” he seethes. “Sgaeyl told me.”

“Because it wasn’t just me who shattered your trust last year. Because you were too pissed about my refusal to answer the superficial questions about the revolution to ask the real ones about us. Because you didn’t have a chance to find your feet before you were tortured. Because I came for you, told you that I love you, and you decided you could admit to loving me, even be with me, but we skipped over the step where you admit to fully trusting me. Take your pick. It’s like we’re still on that parapet last year, but I’m not the one worried you’ll find something unlikable if you dig a little deeper. You are.”

“I know you have one,” I whisper as the pounding continues. “You told me that Sgaeyl was bonded to your grandfather, which makes you a direct descendant. If a dragon bonds a family member, it can strengthen a signet, but a direct descendant will either produce a second signet…or madness, and you seem pretty sane to me.” He inhales sharply and forces his features into a mask.

“And it took reading the entire beginning to know that once a dragon fires a wardstone, their fire can’t be used on any other, and reading the entire end to know they created two wardstones. But it doesn’t say why they never activated this one. It’s dragonfire that triggers the imbedded runes, and they obviously had enough dragons, so why wouldn’t they protect more of Navarre if they could?”

“How is Andarna?” I ask him, taking my place between his forelegs and peeking over the stone-rimmed edge into the chamber where the wardstone sits a hundred feet below. “She’s not responding when I reach out.” “She’s been questioned by the elders, and her actions were found justifiable,” he answers. “But to slay another dragon is a heavy mark upon the soul, even when in defense of yourself or your rider.” “That’s why you only took his eye instead of killing him.” I stiffen as Xaden approaches, refusing to look his way as he moves into position with Sgaeyl.

“I should have ended him then. I will not hesitate when faced with a similar predicament in the future. She now suffers with a burden that should have been mine.”

“I don’t take the lieutenant anywhere.” He chuffs. “As if I have nothing better to do than listen to your romantic issues.” “Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.” I navigate his spikes, and he dips his shoulder. “Though I do take offense at your insult,” he notes as I slide down his leg.

“You doubt your judgment as if I did not choose you for it.” “But you weren’t listening. Right.” Rolling my shoulders, I walk toward the edge of the cliff and summon just enough of my power that my skin warms even though my breath puffs out in clouds of steam.

“You need to question everyone to make your own impressions. You need to be a quick judge of character in order to know who to trust and who not to in order to have run those smuggling missions at Basgiath for years. More than anything, you need control. It’s woven into every aspect of your personality.”

He has to have full control. He has to make snap character judgments. He has to intrinsically know who to trust and who not to. In order for the movement to have been as successful as it was within the walls of Basgiath, he has to know…everything. Xaden’s most pressing need is information. Tairn shifts, angling his body toward Sgaeyl instead of beside her. Oh gods. There’s only one signet riders are killed for having. Fear churns in my stomach and threatens to bring up what little I’ve had to eat today. “Yes.” He nods, his gaze boring into mine.

“It’s why I didn’t kill Dain in the interrogation chamber, why I let him come with us, because the second his shields wavered, I knew he’d had a true epiphany. How would I know that, Violet?” He’d read Dain’s mind. Xaden is more dangerous than I ever imagined.

“I’m a type of inntinnsic,” he repeats slowly, like it’s the first time he’s ever said the words. “I can read intentions. Maybe I would know what to call it if they didn’t kill everyone with even a hint of the signet.” My eyebrows jolt upward. “Can you read thoughts or not?”

“Less than a minute,” Xaden whispers as Sgaeyl moves toward him—toward us. “That’s how long it took for you to fall out of love with me.” My gaze flashes to his. “Don’t read my…whatever!” Tairn stalks toward me, his head low and his teeth bared as he places himself at my back. “I didn’t.” The saddest smile I’ve ever seen tugs at Xaden’s mouth. “First, because your shields are up, and secondly because I didn’t have to. It’s all over your face.”

“You knew I wanted to kiss you that night by the wall…” Gods, I can’t even finish the question. The tops of the trees begin to sway. They’ve brought dragons. “Yes.” He glances at me. “And you have my most sincere apology. Had I known what we would become”—he shakes his head—“fuck, I probably still would have done it.”

“I want to be you when I grow up.” A smile tugs at my lips despite the anxiety quickening my breaths. “You’ll be better than me,” she counters, then looks over the top of my head to talk to Xaden. “By the way, you couldn’t convince him to stay in Aretia?”

The dragons follow, led out of the forest by Melgren’s dragon, Codagh. The utter nightmare of a black dragon immediately lowers his head as he stalks forward, and his golden eyes narrow at me—no, at Tairn standing behind me. Fuck, I’d almost forgotten just how big he is, easily five feet taller than Tairn, numerous battle scars marking his chest scales and wings.

“And here I was thinking you were dead, Ulices,” Melgren starts, forcing a smile that’s mostly bared teeth. “And here I was hoping you were,” Ulices counters, using his height to look down his nose at Melgren. “No such luck,” Melgren replies. “What happened to meeting at the outpost?”

“We don’t,” Xaden interrupts. “Speak your piece, Melgren.” Melgren’s gaze jumps to Xaden. “We never should have let you into the quadrant.” “Regrets are truly a bitch, aren’t they?” Xaden cocks his head. “Let’s get to it. You may have nothing better to do with your day, but we’re busy fighting for our Continent.”

“You’re a callous asshole,” she fires back. “Thank you.” “Are we here for a reason?” Xaden asks. “You know, besides the evil villain lecture?” Sunlight glints off the blade of his sword as he shifts his grip. “We let you go,” Melgren answers, glancing between Ulices and Xaden. “Let you take half the Riders Quadrant cadets without so much as a fight. Let her go”—his withering gaze slides over mine, and I lock my muscles to keep from shuddering—“after she brutally murdered the vice commandant.

“Do me a favor,” I say to Xaden. “Forget feeling guilty about reading my intentions and please read theirs.” “Everyone but the major on the right is shielded, but she’s scared shitless and intends to do whatever she needs to get us to agree,” he answers, shifting so his hand brushes the back of mine. “Oh, and she wants to eat after this meeting, and argue with your mother over her supposed affection for her daughters. Now put your shields up and block me—and everyone else—out.”

Holy shit. No wonder inntinnsics aren’t allowed to live. Xaden is both a jaw-dropping weapon and a frightening liability. I do as he suggests, only leaving space for Tairn and the opaque, glimmering bond I feel with Andarna, even at this

“Your mother is presumptuous to speak on behalf of dragonkind,” Tairn mutters. “If the hatching grounds are compromised. Losing one outpost won’t take down the entire system, and half your riot left with us,” I remind her.

“And you’re proud of that? What you caused may very well be the reason we lose this battle!” the box-framed captain beside Mom snarls, lifting his shortsword in my direction.

Mom sheathes a dagger I never saw her draw, her focus flicking between the captain and Xaden. “Tried that. He didn’t want me—or any of us, remember?” Xaden scratches his relic with his empty hand.

“I don’t expect you to ally yourself with us for nothing. Fight for us at Samara, and I have it on King Tauri’s word that we will respect the independence of your riot…and the city you’ve taken refuge in.” The breath freezes in my lungs. “Does he know about Aretia?” “I can’t tell.” “We will not conscript your citizens for our army, nor will we drag your people into a border war you have no chance of winning.”

The color drains from Mom’s face as she looks between Mira and me, past us, and for the first time in my life, I see her wobble, like someone has knocked her off her center. Bootsteps sound behind me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the emotions crossing Mom’s face in rapid succession long enough to look to see who it is, and honestly, I don’t need to. “We rule by committee,” Brennan announces, his arm brushing mine as he stops between Mira and me. “And I think I’m safe in speaking for the quorum when I say that we do not defend kingdoms who sacrifice neighboring civilians”—his

“let alone their own children so they can hide safely behind their wards. You will not escape the suffering you’ve forced the rest of the Continent to endure.” “Brennan?” Mom whispers, and the urge to cross the line and hold her upright is almost too strong to fight. “For fuck’s sake, Brennan,” Mira whispers. “When all three of your children stand against you, perhaps the time has come for self-reflection. This meeting is officially over,” Brennan states, his gaze locked on our mother. “Your hatching grounds are not in danger, and our riot has their own to protect now.” He places his hand over his heart. “I mean this with every fiber of my body. We deny your offer of peace and happily accept war, since it sounds like you won’t survive another two weeks to fight it.” He pivots and walks away, leaving our mother to stare slack-jawed at his retreating back. Is that all there is to it? With Suri and Kylynn in the woods behind us, the Assembly truly has a quorum, but Xaden hasn’t spoken.

“Right.” Xaden nods, tension straining the muscles of his neck. “If I were you, I’d try calling on the allies who helped win the Great War in the first place—oh, wait. You cut off contact with th...

“Brennan,” Mom whispers again, her shoulders folding inward as she covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes water, and the pain I see there makes me look away.

“Why did you want to see Violet and Mira?” Xaden asks, his tone devoid of sympathy. “He’s alive?” Mom asks Mira, her voice faint in what I think has to be shock. “Obviously,” she replies, folding her arms. Mom’s gaze shifts to me, like I’m going to give her a different answer. “He’s the one who mended me after I took a venin blade in my side.” Her eyes sharpen. “You’ve known for months?” “It’s appalling to be left in the dark, isn’t it, Mom?” Mira snaps. “To feel lied to, perhaps even betrayed, by your own family no less.” “Mira,” I chastise. “She sacrificed you, too, Violet,” Mira reminds me. “Maybe she put you into the Riders Quadrant to save you from being killed as a scribe once you learned the truth, or maybe she did it to kill you before you could learn the truth and tear her precious war college to the ground”—she glances sideways at me—“which you did, if you remember.”

I nod. If what Melgren says is true and she’s called to the front lines, this might be the last time I see her. The thought sickens my stomach. It’s one thing to leave her, to cut any and all contact, and quite another to leave her to her death. Xaden backs away without another word, only offering his back once he passes by Tairn’s claw. “What do you want?” Mira asks. “I’m not sure that matters at the moment.” Mom unbuttons her flight jacket with trembling fingers. “But what I want most—what I’ve always wanted—is for my children to live. Whatever wards you’ve raised from the instructions in Warrick’s journal will fail.”

“They’re not.” Mom delivers a full lecture with a simple look. “Cut open the bodies of the wyvern who died crossing your border yesterday.” My lips part. “Whyever would you think I’d be ignorant of activities on your border, Violet? Ignorant of where my daught—children are?” She shakes her head and dresses me down with a quick, cutting glance that makes me instantly feel like I’m five again before turning to Mira. “You remember what the carcasses of the wyvern looked like at Samara? The ones Riorson so kindly delivered?”

“If you don’t believe me, then check the wyvern you killed yesterday.” “And then what?” I ask. “Fix your wards.” She pulls a leather notebook from her jacket, and my eyes widen with recognition. “If you don’t, they’ll decline over time to nothing. Your father told me once that his research showed that Warrick never wanted anyone else to hold the power of the wards. He wanted Navarre to eternally hold the upper hand. But Lyra thought the knowledge should be shared.” “Warrick lied,” I whisper. But about what?

“You have the heart of a rider but the mind of a scribe, Violet. I’m trusting you not only to protect yourself, but to protect Mira and”—she swallows hard—“Brennan.” I open the journal long enough to recognize the language as Morrainian. My heart sinks for a second, but I close the journal, undo the buttons of my jacket, and slide it into my inner pocket. Translating this one will be all on Jesinia. Morrainian is one of the dead languages I can’t read. She

“You don’t have to understand my choices. You simply have to survive. I love you enough to bear the weight of your disappointment.”

“You’re sure lightning kills them?” Mira asks after a few tense minutes. “Certain,” I answer. “Thank Dunne the dark wielders didn’t stick around longer to see that.” The cliffside would be littered with reanimating wyvern. She slowly turns her head to look at me, keeping an eye on the body. “No pressure, but if you don’t figure out what Warrick lied about, we’re all fucked.”

The combined hatching grounds at Basgiath is our generation’s greatest asset…and our greatest liability. —The Journal of Warrick of Luceras —Translated by Cadets Violet Sorrengail and Dain Aetos

“You’re capable of hurting me in ways I’m not sure you’ve even begun to fathom, Violet. I might be skilled enough to land a death blow, but you alone have the power to fucking destroy me.” His hand slides out from behind my back to help bolster his weight. “Now, we can talk here, or we can see if Sgaeyl and Tairn are done fighting and fly through this snowstorm to the nearest vacant peak, but make no mistake, we’re going to work this out.”

“I need you to know that no matter what information I hold, you trust me, love me enough to realize I’d never let it hurt you. I’m not the easiest person to know, but I’ve learned my lesson, believe me. Even if it’s classified, I won’t withhold any information that affects your agency.” He swallows, then balances his weight on one arm and runs the back of his hand down the side of my cheek. “I need to know you won’t run, that you know you’ll never have to.”

“You could throw my entire world into upheaval, and I would still love you. You could keep secrets, run a revolution, frustrate the shit out of me, probably ruin me, and I would still love you. I can’t make it stop. I don’t want to. You’re my gravity. Nothing in my world works without you.” “Gravity,”

“She left when I was young. Their marriage contract said an heir had to survive to the age of ten, and then she was free to go, which is what she did. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.” His voice sounds like he dragged it across broken glass. “Oh.” My hand splays wide on his chest. “I’m sorry.” Now I feel like shit for asking.