“There’s only one pass for lieutenants this weekend,” she says, moving a little closer. “Jarrett has it, and Riorson wants it.” “So they’re fighting for it?” I peel my eyes from Xaden long enough to glance sideways at the rider beside me. She has short brown hair, sharp, birdlike features, and a thumbprint-size scar on her jawline. “Leave and pride. Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi’s rules. You want it? You fight for it. You want to keep it? You’d better be good enough to defend it.” “They have to fight for passes? Isn’t that brutal?” And wrong. Extreme. Horrible. “And detrimental to wing morale?”
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