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“Andarna, when those boys leave the house, I need you to follow as invisibly as you can,” I say down the bond. “Are we scheming? I do enjoy scheming.” “We’re planning.”
“Don’t be a head. Don’t be a head. Don’t be a head,” I chant under my breath, but from the sideways glance Aaric sends from my right, I’m guessing I’m not as quiet as I think.
“My reticence about tonight is due to my own shame, in that I asked Faris for a personal favor so that you might be more comfortable during the conversation. I don’t worry about your intelligence, Xaden. You were always a bright boy.”
“It would show great wisdom and dedication to their respective titles were they to contract for three…say four years?” Roslyn nods. “Long enough to secure an heir for Tyrrendor and put Poromish blood in the line.”
“We could have the legalities performed in the morning at temple, and then hear what will, no doubt, be a plea for our assistance in their war tomorrow afternoon.”
“Draw up the papers,” Xaden says,
“What an excellent decision. Shall we go with three or four years?”
“Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable.” Xaden slides his hand to the back of my neck. “And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two Rs.”
“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”
“You may question our knowledge, test our honor or dedication as riders and fliers. Serve up riddles, fake scenarios, chess games for all I care. But if you think I’m going to leave the only woman I’ve ever loved to contract marriage with a woman I do not get along with, then the lack of wisdom is yours, not mine.”
“You cannot contemplate the things I have sacrificed for Tyrrendor. I lost my father, my freedom, my very—” He cuts himself off and I glance at the floor, half expecting to see shadows swirling at his feet. “Violet is the only choice I’ve made for myself. I won’t sacrifice her for three years. Not for a single day. You would know that if you hadn’t abandoned me, if you knew me at all.”
“Do not speak of my father. I am the one who watched him die.” Xaden points to the relic that stretches up his neck. “You left a child to face down a war you knew was coming, on a continent you knew was infested with dark wielders.”
“You could have stayed,” he retorts, and my heart aches at the ice in his tone that I know masks his true hurt. “You could have been my mother.”
“You don’t care that Violet is the smartest person in this room. Or that Xaden tore apart Basgiath to save her, then returned to fight for Navarre because it was the right thing to do. Or that Cat lives in the most hostile environment possible to help her kingdom. You don’t care that Aaric had to step into the light he hates so we’d have a royal representative, or that Garrick has stood by Xaden’s side no matter the cost. We proved our lack of wisdom by coming here in the first place. You were never going to share your knowledge or ally yourself with us.”
Amaralis.
“I prefer keeping my mouth shut until I understand the rules of whatever game is aiming for my throat. Helps me judge the character and acumen of my opponent.” He looks at each of them in turn. “Honestly, I find you lacking, and I’m not sure I want you for an ally. You have no army and you’re stingy with the very thing that should be free to all—knowledge.”
“Nobility doesn’t play into rank, at least not for me.” Aaric glances my way. “Andarna chose Violet, and though there are four superiorly ranked officers with us, it’s Violet’s mission. She’s in command. And with the exception of her rather questionable taste in men, I’ve trusted Violet’s wisdom since childhood.”
“I was taught that wisdom is never to be prayed for, but earned, and as much as I would revel in your library, I’m not interested unless it contains information on the venin.” I shrug. “I’m not going to hide on an isle while the people I love are condemned to death by draining.”
“Please tell me you’ve done something with all that chocolate Talia has been stockpiling for weeks. I swear, she’s bought every shipment that’s come in, and you know how rare it is,” Nairi teases, but a second later, her mouth purses and she adjusts in her chair. “Though I’m not sure I’m feeling up for sweets tonight.”
Oh…shit. A silver fork rests beside a perfectly sliced piece of chocolate cake. Xaden’s hand goes lax on top of mine.
“Please, don’t wait on our account.” Faris waves at us. “Chocolate’s an uncommon treat this far from Deverelli.”
“I’ll make you a deal. I was saving this for the unlikely event we failed your test and needed leverage, but you give me your antidote and I’ll give you mine.” “You don’t get to beat me.” He shakes his head.
“Your friend will be dead in the next twenty minutes, and I will still have forty to see you slaughtered by my guards. You think we won’t find the antidote in your room?” His voice rises.
“I wish you the best of luck.” I manage to keep my voice level. “You have mediocre guards. I have ten lethally trained riders and fliers, four gryphons, and seven pissed-off dragons. The odds are in my favor.”
“That’s…unfortunate,” Ridoc says quietly, staring down at the knife that protrudes from his side.
Not Ridoc. Not anyone, but especially not Ridoc.
“Asshole!” Ridoc shouts, and I pivot to see him plow his fist into the cook’s face. “I have four uniforms, but only one fucking flight jacket, and I”—punch—“hate”—punch—“sewing!” Ridoc yanks my dagger from the cook’s hand, and the man slides down the doorframe, his eyes fluttering shut. “For fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to be the civilized isle!” He wipes my blade on the cook’s tunic, then turns and walks back toward me. “What is the wisdom in a kitchen cook attacking two trained killers?”
“Yeah. I just thought…but I’m fine. And you’re fine. And everything is…fine, except Garrick, so we should—”
“Yeah, I love you, too.”
“And I want a patch for this shit, Violet. A quest squad patch. Understand?”
“Why would I pray for him to wake and kill me?” “Not Garrick.” I shake my head. “Xaden. Sgaeyl is widely known as one of the most ruthless dragons in Navarre, and she chose him for a reason.”
Three minutes later, Garrick groans and opens his eyes. “This is my least favorite isle.”
“You poisoned him?” He slams him into the wall again. “You tried to poison her?” He draws a blade from his thigh and sets it at Faris’s neck.
“Get off the ice,” I whisper. “Pull your shit together and come back to me because I need you. Not this. You.”
“Ask why there are only six dragons outside.” I lift my brows and wait, but his breaths start coming alarmingly fast. “If you’re going to be dramatic, I’ll just give you the answer. It’s because the seventh currently sits next to the window at your parents’ house, where your boys sleep—where she’ll stay until she knows we’re out of range of any weapons you might be hiding.” Approval floods the bond, and I imagine Tairn’s chest puffing with pride. “That’s impossible.” Faris shakes his head. “Someone would have seen.” “Not when that dragon is an irid.”
“The eyes. I should have recognized your eyes. You’re Asher Daxton’s girl.”
“One of them, yes.” A slow smile spreads across my face. “And the other currently has command of your house. Make your choice.” He drinks.
“She’s yelling, but I’ll take it over silence any day.” A muscle in his jaw pops as he reaches my side, then turns to face the crowd. “Pretty sure she’s spent the last week or so cataloging every one of my missteps, given how quickly she listed them.”
“I need you to make me another promise, Violet.”
“That you’ll never do that again.” I blink. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” “You put yourself between Ridoc and me—” “It seemed like you might hit my friend.” I lift my brows. “And you weren’t exactly yourself.” “That’s my point.” Fear flashes across his face before he quickly masks it. “There’s no telling what I could have done to you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
“Me, without any restraint or reason.” Xaden lowers his brows. “How about I decide when I think you’re too dangerous to approach.” “I think I know when I’m too dangerous to approach.” He leans in.
“This from the same man who thinks I need to know how to kill him?” I lift my chin. “Which is it, Xaden? Am I too precious to get close? Or am I the one who needs to know which shadow is yours?” He gives me a look Sgaeyl would be proud of, and I hold his gaze. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.” The sun catches the amber flecks in his eyes, and I nearly relent at the plea in his tone.
“I love you.” “So fucking stubborn.” He sighs. “I love you.”
Dain replies slowly from my right, the words coming out like he’s in pain. Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.
wrote about playing games picked at random to gain entrance. “May we speak to your queen?” I ask. “We’ve brought a prince of Navarre to speak on our kingdom’s behalf.” “Of course!” Calixta replies. “But first—” “Here we go,” Ridoc mutters under his breath. My thought exactly.
“You didn’t think we should know you speak fluent everything?” I arch a brow. “And nullify Aetos’s reason for joining…what is it Ridoc calls us? Quest squad?” Aaric shakes his head.
don’t care if she hands you a steaming pile of goat shit,” Mira lectures down the line. “No one complains. Got it? Smile and thank her. This is our last real chance to secure an army.” “What if it’s cow shit?” Ridoc asks. “That’s considerably heavier.” “No complaining,” Drake snaps from the left. “Fuck, it’s like traveling with my parents,” Ridoc mutters.
Dain’s card reveals a hand, and when he offers his to the woman who walks over to him, she slaps him across the face so hard his head turns in our direction.
“Broken compass,” I tell Xaden as I fall back into line. “You can put it in my box of nothingness,” he replies. “We’ll keep them on the bedside table.”
Trager staggers backward. Time slows to a crawl as he turns toward us with three fumbling footsteps. His gaze lurches for Cat, and then he falls to his knees and sways. An arrow protrudes from his heart. He’s dead before Ridoc and I can catch him.
