Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

Second signet. My gaze darts toward Garrick,

Leash. That’s exactly what Jack called me. She knows about Xaden.

“Now tell me, which chose you first? The one who gifted you the power of the sky? Or the irid?”

“Yes, your irid.” Theophanie surveys the sky, then the landscape behind us as Garrick staggers to his feet, sword in hand. “Some do not believe, but I knew as soon as the cream-robed scholars whispered about the seventh breed in your war college. Pity I had to leave so abruptly. One hasn’t been seen in centuries, and I was so hoping to set…eyes on her.” She finishes the statement like the threat it is, bringing her crimson gaze to mine.

“Irid,” Andarna whispers. “Yes. I remember now. That is what my kind are called. I am an irid scorpiontail.”

“And when you come with him, you will remember that I let you live today and choose me, not Berwyn, as your teacher.”

“I’ll let you keep both your dragons while giving you what you want most in the world.”

“Control and knowledge.”

“Do not dehydrate on my account,” he lectures. “It takes more than weather to fell me.” His golden gaze drops to my knee. “Wish I could say the same for you.”

“She called you a walker.” He’d traveled a thousand miles in minutes, and there’s only one way I’ve read about to accomplish that, but no one has done it in centuries.

“Now would be preferable.” He crooks his fingers at me. “I would do the same for any wounded rider.”

“I somehow doubt that.” I slide down Tairn’s leg, and the shadows turn me sideways at the last second and lift me into Xaden’s waiting arms. “My, my.” I brush a lock of dark hair off his forehead, then hook my arms around his neck and settle against his chest, ignoring the throbbing protest of my knee as it bends. “What else can you do with those shadows, Lieutenant Riorson?”

“Never mind. I would not want to be you,” he says under his breath at me, then closes his eyes.

“I don’t need to be protected from him.” I shake my head at Garrick as heat envelops my knee, then glance Xaden’s way. “I own my decisions.” “Well-the-fuck-aware.” Xaden closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

“It’s Sorrengail,” Brennan says without opening his eyes. “And even if Article Two, Section Four of the Basgiath Code of Conduct didn’t allow for menders to be granted access to all areas of campus—which it does—well, I don’t answer to you.”

“You can’t seriously be angry with me,” I start as Xaden surges off the wall, coming at me with the force of a hurricane. “You’ve never once begrudged my autonomy”—he reaches over me, takes my hips in his hands, and yanks my ass to the edge of the table, turning me to face him—“and I’m not going to tolerate you starting now. What are you doing?” He grasps the back of my neck and slams his mouth against mine.

You might be angry when you realize I didn’t wake you to say goodbye. But it’s only because I no longer fully trust my ability to walk away. —Recovered Correspondence of His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor, to Cadet Violet Sorrengail

“No, I need you.” He brings his face to mine, and too many emotions to name flicker in the depths of his eyes.

“You have me,” I whisper,

“There was an hour where I wasn’t sure I did.” His fingers slip to the nape of my neck, and then he pulls away, retreating two precious steps that feel like miles as cool air rushes in to take his place, chilling my heated cheeks. “Sgaeyl didn’t even tell me. Chradh told Garrick.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t just angry, Violet. I was terrified.”

“I know that,” he repeats, softer this time. “But the thought of you being out there, beyond the wards, facing down a known attack of venin, triggered something in me I’ve never felt before. It was hotter than rage, and sharper than fear, and cut deeper than helplessness, all because I couldn’t get to you.”

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it. You are on orders to find Andarna’s kind, and I’m on orders to the front, and I can’t even trust myself enough to touch you.”

“I want whatever you’re able to give, Xaden.”

“You forget that I know your body as well as my own, Vi.” His thumb ghosts across my lips. “Your mouth is swollen, your face is flushed, and your eyes…” He skims his tongue over his lower lip. “They’re all hazy and leaning more toward green than blue. Your pulse is racing, and the way you keep shifting your weight tells me that if I were to strip these pants off you right now, I’d find you more than ready for me.”

“A kiss isn’t enough. It never is with us.” His fingers find the bottom of my coronet braid, and he tugs, tilting my face toward him. “You want me the same way that I want you. Wholly. Completely. With nothing but skin between us. Heart, mind, and body.” He brushes his mouth against mine, stuttering my breath. “All I want is to lose myself in you, and I can’t. You are the only person in the world with the power to strip me of every ounce of my control, and the only person I can’t fathom losing that control with.” He lifts his head. “And yet here I am, unable to keep three fucking feet away from you.”

“We always do. You’ll learn how to keep your control while I find a cure.”

“And if we have to draw the line at a kiss?”

“Then that’s the line. If it means I don’t get to have you in my bed until I find a way to cure you, then I guess that’s just extra incen...

“You really think you can, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I won’t lose you, not even to yourself.”

You. Garrick.” I tilt my head. “And I once thought I saw Liam…”

“Wield ice,” Xaden says,

“How often do second signets accompany these par...

“Often enough to be sure Kaori can’t possibly have accurate records, but not too completely that anyone questions why I only present with one,” he answers. “Our dragons came ...

“Am I talking to the man I love? Or the Duke of Tyrrendor? Either way, this could be really embarrassing.”

“Both,” Xaden replies. “I don’t want to be different people to you. Anyone else? Fine. Just not you. You’re stuck with all of me, and all of me is quite capable of keeping your confidence. I’ll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor.”

“Xaden, I think we’re wrong. I don’t think they’re limited to lesser magics. I think maybe…they have signets, too.”

It is with deepest regret that I delay my return in favor of rest.

Is it just me? Or does my pillow smell like you?

“Tairn removed a dozen of her neck scales, and Andarna left teeth marks in her tail.” “We’ll collect enough next time to make you new armor,” Andarna promises.

“Powdered orange peel. Simple, yet effective in your case, given how close your body is to giving out. Merciful, too, considering your actions resulted in my mother’s death. But I’m not so merciful as to leave you with a dagger.”

“Did you cry for Riorson when they strapped you to the chair and watched your blood fill the cracks between the stones on its way to the drain? I only ask because I swear I can feel it when I lie on the floor—all your pain singing to me like a lullaby.”

“And what’s to keep me from telling your favorite scribe that you’ve been feeding the enemy?” Jack’s smile widens. “Hard to talk about something you don’t remember.”

“And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“I don’t even know what we’re missing. I was reading General Cadao’s journal yesterday, and a whole section of pages is ripped out after he notes that there may have been an outside isle supporting the second Krovlan uprising.” She drops her arms in exasperation. “I can’t research what we don’t have.”

“I do, however, regret to inform you that a crucial piece of information surfaced during printing and therefore is not included. It has now been confirmed by three different sources that high-level venin—we believe Sage and Maven—can and do wield signets.”

Xaden stands next to Professor Kaori in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, with a tiny, yet undeniable tilt to his mouth as our eyes lock.

“I think our relationship just ended.”

“Absolutely not,” Xaden responds

“Wait. You two broke up?” Bodhi’s voice rises. “Yes,” I answer. “No,” Xaden says at the same time, glaring at his cousin, then jerking his gaze to mine. “No,” he repeats.