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“In a world of dragon riders, gryphon fliers, and dark wielders…” “It’s the scribes who hold all the power.”
“The First Six riders were desperate to save their people when they approached the dens over six hundred years ago. Those dragons formed the first Empyrean and bonded humans only to protect their hatching grounds from venin, who were the bigger threat. We don’t exactly have opposable thumbs for weaving wards or runes. Neither species has ever been entirely truthful, both using the other for their own reasons and nothing more.”
“Touch me and I swear to the gods, I’ll cut your fucking hands off and let the quadrant sort you out in the next round of challenges, Dain Aetos.”
“The first year is when some of us lose our lives,” he says softly, tucking my damp hair behind my ear. “The second year is when the rest of us lose our humanity. It’s all part of the process of turning us into effective weapons, and don’t forget for a second that’s the mission here.”
“And we aren’t friends?” I question. “We’re…” Her face scrunches. “Coconspirators with a vested interest in keeping each other alive.” That only makes me smile bigger. “Oh, don’t go getting soft on me now.”
“From what Colonel Aetos told me, your father was writing a book on feathertails—dragons which hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years—and then you ended up bonded to one.”
Home. Gods, he tastes like home.
He’s gravity, pulling me back to him by the force of his existence.
“When we were at the lake, before Resson, you said the only thing that can kill a venin is what powers the wards.”
“You don’t have to freeze out everyone you can’t be completely honest with just because Riorson thinks that works for him—it doesn’t, hence all of your issues, and it damn well looks like your friend needs you, so go.”
“Tell me to kiss you. Even if it’s just for show.”
“The day you can successfully block me all the way out is the day I’m dead.
“Dragon egg shells?” Well that’s…weird. “They’re metal and still carry magic long after the dragons hatch.”
“I found a text that said the First Six didn’t just establish the wards but personally carved the first wardstone.”
“Violence, remember it’s only the body that’s fragile. You are unbreakable.”
“Who the fuck’s flight jacket are you wearing?” “Really?” I throw my arms out, happily letting the warmth soak into me. “It has third-year rank, Fourth Wing insignia, and a section leader designation. Who the hell’s jacket do you think I’m wearing?”
“I’m not always calm or collected, and I’m never in control when it comes to you.”
“I would have done the same thing you did because I’m just as reckless for you as you are for me.”
“Even if it makes me a target to know all of this, you put your own life at risk and shared your boot with me at Parapet when we were complete strangers. How can you think I wouldn’t want to share this risk with you now that you’re my best friend?”
“There’s nowhere in existence you could go that I wouldn’t find you, remember?”
Why did you think I forced you into the Riders Quadrant?” “Because you think less of the scribes,” I answer. “Bullshit. The love of my life was a scribe.”
“I put you into the Riders Quadrant so you’d have a shot at surviving, and then I called in the favor Riorson owed me for putting the marked ones into the quadrant.”
“Regret letting me into the quadrant yet?” He keeps his voice deceptively calm, but there are shadows rising along the tunnel walls. “No.” Her gaze drops to me. “Stay alive, or this all will have been for nothing.”
“I’m not powerful just because he loves me.”
“No. You’re powerful and he loves you, which is even worse.
“Do you know why I’m such a successful collector?” the viscount asks, practically vibrating with excitement. “I have a gift for knowing what it is people want, what motivates them to give up their treasures.” Gods, he’s Varrish’s opposite.
“Runes aren’t just decorative. They’re strands of magic pulled from our power, woven into geometric patterns for specific uses, then placed into an object, either for immediate work or usage at a later date. We call the process ‘tempering.’”
Until it’s placed, it has no meaning, no purpose, and will fade quickly. It’s tempering the rune that makes it an active magic.”
You see, riders are naturally more powerful, given the amount of magic we channel and the signets we wield.” Trager rolls his eyes. “But runes are the great equalizer,”
Defeating a dark wielder begins with knowing where they rank in age and experience. Initiates have reddish rings to their eyes that come and go depending on how often they drain. Asims’ eyes fluctuate in degrees of red, and their veins distend when riled. Sages’—those responsible for initiates—eyes are permanently red, their veins perpetually distended toward their temples, expanding with age. Mavens—their generals—have never been captured for examination.
How dare she come after what’s mine. He isn’t a crown. He isn’t a stepping stool for power. He isn’t a tool to elevate her standing. He’s everything.