More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Communication is not your strength, is it? Don’t worry. We’ll work on it along with your shielding.”
“Full. Disclosure,” I demand like any rational woman staring down the man who kept her brother’s life a secret from her, let alone an entire war.
Mmmm. Not rational
“The Empyrean remains divided on whether or not we should get involved,” Tairn grumbles. “Humans aren’t the only ones keeping secrets.”
In this room, I will instruct you in navigation, survival techniques, and how to withstand interrogation in case of capture.” My stomach turns over, and my heartbeat goes double-time. Torture. He’s talking about being tortured. And now I carry information worth being tortured over.
He sits, muttering something about losing every fight today.
“Secrets die with the people who keep them,” he whispers, bringing his nose an inch from mine. His eyes are light brown but rimmed in red as though he’s on some kind of drug. Aetos. Fear floods my mind, breaking past my shields, but it’s not mine.
“It’s ironic, don’t you think?” Varrish asks, retreating one step at a time. “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.” “Coincidental,” I correct him. “The word you meant to say is ‘coincidental.’” “Is it?” He seems to ponder, backing away and passing by Bodhi. My stomach turns. “Is it?” “I know nothing of your father’s research,” Tairn promises. But Andarna has gone silent.
My gaze catches momentarily on a palm-size gray stone with a decorative black rune on his nightstand before I spot a piece of grass that made the journey here from the flight field and flick it off my arm.
We all uncork our skins and drink. The water is crisp and cold…but there’s something else there, too. Pungent. Earthy. And something bitterly floral that I can’t quite place. I close the skin, cringing at the aftertaste. Professor Grady really needs to take better care of his skins.
Poison? Some other sabotage?
Keeping secrets from her is going to shred our friendship. Already, I feel it pulling at the seams. She might be trying to be patient, but it’s her nature to solve problems and I’m a huge one.
“Ridoc said that Nolon couldn’t even see them until after dinner, and there were only a handful of other cadets in the infirmary.” “And when he walked out of that secretive room he’s got with Varrish in the back of the infirmary, he was with an air wielder who looked just as haggard,” Ridoc chimes in as he sidles up between us. “So clearly Nolon isn’t doing his best work. Guy needs a month off.”
Wards could protect so many more people, but I’m no closer to an answer than I was when we got back to Basgiath from Aretia. Every book I’ve read mentions the glorious accomplishment, but none say how it was accomplished. If the answer is in the Archives, then it’s well hidden.
Will it be a rider/dragon pair sacrifice?
“Waiting for someone.” Nolon scratches a few days’ growth of beard on his jaw. “And I suppose I could use some rest. It’s hard work, mending a soul. Been at it for months now.” His smile lifts on one side, but I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
Curing venin? Or her dad?
“I don’t—” Heat prickles along my ribs. It’s the same feeling I get when I walk through the wards on my door. I look down and stare. The dagger closest to the door handle is hot and…tingling. I pull it from the sheath, bumping against the door handle as I brush my thumb over the decorative pommel. Metal clicks against metal, and we all turn to look at the lock.
“Think about that later,” Tairn commands. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” “Of course you are. I chose well.”
ZOLYA FALLS TO DRAGON FIRE The third largest city in the braevick province has fallen to the blue fire dragons and their riders. Though the city and its drifts fought valiantly, the two-day battle ended in poromish defeat.
“I’ll face my punishment,” I respond, scratching the dull scales of his chin. “You need to hydrate. You’re all dried out from the flight.” “Our departure was more my fault than yours. I will not stand for you to bear my punishment.” “Stop being sweet. It’s disturbing.” I pat his scales one more time and heft my bag higher on my shoulder.
Hmm. “I’ll tell you if my punishment includes death or inconvenience.” “I will already know, as I am continuously with you,” he grumbles. “Forced to bear witness to the awkwardness that is twenty-one-year-old humans.” “I’ll strive to make it less awkward.” “Could you do so, I would think you would have done it already.”
“Come now,” Kaori says as if he’s talking to a child. “We can hardly expect a second-year to shield out the overpowering emotions of her dragon when even we struggle as officers, let alone one as strong as Tairn.” “Maybe you struggle,” Varrish snips, losing his customary slick indifference. “Some of us do not bow to the whims of our dragons. In fact, we influence them.”
His sognet?
Gods save us from the ambitions of second-years. They think they’ve experienced everything because they’ve survived their first year, but in reality, they only know enough to get themselves killed.
Sophomore syndrome
But she’s not a direct descendant, so I don’t have to worry about going mad like those whose dragons bond in the direct familial line. Dragons aren’t supposed to even get close to family lines for that exact reason—like they listen to human rules.” She glances at Imogen. “I still can’t quite get the right shade of pink for your hair.”
Didnt sgaeyl bond with xadenz grandfather?
“I can walk. I think.” But the second I try, the room tilts. And for the first time in my life, I feel weak. That’s what that monster did to me in this room. He took my strength.
“Bullshit. The love of my life was a scribe.” Steadily, we climb, twisting along the staircase. “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.”
Oh shit
Don’t give me that look,” she chastises, pulling me up another step. “It worked. You’re alive, aren’t you? Though I’ll admit I didn’t foresee the mated dragons or whatever emotional entanglement you’ve involved yourself in. That was disappointing.”
“Are those your knife marks on his back?” “Yes.” Her tone is bland. “It’s a Tyrrish cust—” “Stop talking.” I don’t want to hear a single explanation for such an unforgivable act.
Cust? Violet listen!!
“Are you really okay?” I ask him again. The bond between us feels strange, like he’s holding back more than usual. “I lost Solas in a network of caves while I was hunting him, so I was unable to kill him and Varrish myself for their actions. When I do find him, I will prolong his suffering before death.”
For all that he says he isn’t soft, isn’t kind, he’s also the only man I know whose back is covered in promises made for other people.
we file into the rebuilt theater in the northwest wing of Riorson House. The sight is more than impressive. Not just that there’s enough seating for every cadet, but that of all the things they could have rebuilt in the last six years…they chose a theater.
Drained land, destroyed cities like Zolya. Red is old movement and orange is new.” Nearly all of the Krovlan province remains untouched, but the enemy is just a day’s flight from our border. The only movement I notice since viewing this map in midsummer is up the Stonewater River—toward Navarre.
The blood of life of the six and the one combined and set the stone ablaze in an iron rain. —The Journal of Warrick of Luceras —Translated by Cadet Violet Sorrengail
Iron....flame???
I pull Warrick’s journal from the protective leather pouch inside my flight jacket and flip to the translated parchment I left at the passage before glancing up at the stone to compare the drawings. The symbol Warrick drew isn’t identical, but it has the runes in the same positions, so that’s a good sign.
Hmmmmm
All the stone was quarried from Braevick, from east of the Dunness River. Isn’t that what Tecarus said?
They’d begun to take recruits, teaching those who never bonded a gryphon to channel what was not theirs to take, to upset the balance of magic by stealing it from the very source. The problem with mankind is we too often find our souls to be a fair price for power.
Maybe it’s Sliseag moving closer on her right, but there’s a reddish sheen to Andarna’s scales, and I can’t help but wonder when that shimmer will dull to a shade more like Tairn.
“I thought you were going to kill her,” he says quietly. Right. Back to Cat. “I almost did.” I lower one foot, then raise the other at his cue. “Would that have been unforgivable to you?” He finishes tying my boot, then lets go of my foot. “Nothing you could ever do would be unforgivable to me.”
That seems hard to back up. Or categorically state
“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.
“Have you noticed his phrasing is so much more casual in the rest of the journal compared to the one section we actually need to understand?” Dain rubs his eyes and sits back in his chair beside me. “Like he’s deliberately fucking with us from the grave.”
The breath of life of the six and the one combined and set the stone ablaze in an iron flame. —The Journal of Warrick of Luceras —Translated by Cadets Violet Sorrengail and Dain Aetos
recognize the scenario for what it is now—a recurring nightmare—and yet I’m still held powerless, still too slow to reach Tairn, still can’t force my consciousness to snap me awake. “I grow weary of this. Now wield,” the Sage whispers, his robes purple tonight. “Rip free. Show me the power you used to slay our forces above the trading post. Prove me right that you are a weapon worth watching, worth retrieving.” His hand hovers over mine but doesn’t touch me. “The one who watched thinks you’ll never yield, that we should kill you before you grow into your full abilities.”
Could be mindwork
“The rest turn for the power,” he whispers, coming so close I can smell a hint of something sweet on his breath. “But you will turn for something much more dangerous, much more volatile.” He wraps his hand around my throat loosely.
This is very varrish coded
“I still find this plan lacking,” he lectures. “Leaving you on one peak to explore another for a possible energy signature leaves you in unacceptable danger.” “From whom?” I tug my fur-lined hood closer to ward off the wind when it shifts, stinging the tips of my exposed ears. “Do you really think any wyvern could—” “I’m coming back.” “It’s entirely too easy to rile you.” I laugh, and the sound echoes off the snow-covered bowl, making us all take pause.
“Let me go!” Cat shouts. “You’re…you’re draining my power!” What the fuck? I chance a look backward, but all I see is Cat disengaging from Sloane’s panicked grip.
Sloane is the siphon
but the two I left in the cave with Solas’s body—and
Were the runes on those important?
“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.”
Ouch
Xaden confirms a moment later, and I glance down to see Felix arriving on his Red Swordtail.
Whats his signet? Did he hear?
after locating the pair of wyvern bodies, Mira draws back a polished chunk of what appears to be onyx marked with a complex rune I couldn’t even begin to replicate. And the damned thing is humming. Oh shit. Is this why wyvern have suddenly reappeared? Did someone give the venin runes?
“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.
“It helps that rider of record was thought to be a great uncle, not my grandfather.” “She’s really the only one who knows?” “She’s it. She made me promise not to tell anyone. She thinks anyone who knows will have me killed—or use me as a weapon.”
We may have left the first-years behind,
Whos protecting them?
The wardstone is twice as large as the one in Aretia, as is the chamber that houses it, but unlike Aretia’s, the rings and runes carved into it are interrupted by a diamond pattern. And unlike our wards in Aretia, this wardstone is on fire, lit on top by black flames that sputter and flare
