“Relax, Violet.” Ridoc takes the seat next to Sawyer. “It’s not like the fate of our world rests on you finding whatever’s left of the irids.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Do you guys think it’s short for iridescent?” “Yes,” the three of us simultaneously reply. “Damn. Let’s go back to picking on Sawyer.” Ridoc leans in his chair as Jesinia walks our way, her arms full of leather-bound tomes.
