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To the ones who don’t run with the popular crowd, the ones who get caught reading under their desks, the ones who feel like they never get invited, included, or represented. Get your leathers. We have dragons to ride.
Goverson grunts, and his hands flex at his sides. “Ten minutes,” he says. “Five for your mother, and five for you. We know who saved us today.” He motions toward the stairwell with his head. But he doesn’t know. None of them realize the sacrifice Xaden made to kill the Sage…their general.
“I already know what Tairn thinks, and the possibility of fighting both of you is exhausting, so please, for the love of Amari, be on my side.” The bond directly between us shimmers. “All right.” “Really?” I pause on the stair, splaying my hand on the wall to catch my balance. “I am as unknown as he is, and you still trust me,” she says. “I will not be another battle you have to fight.”
Xaden is mine. My heart, my soul, my everything. He channeled from the earth to save me, and I’ll scour the world until I find a way to save him right back. Even if it takes bargaining with Tecarus for access to every book on the damned Continent or capturing dark wielders one by one to question, I’ll find a cure.
She’s right. “Every possible path may require breaking a few laws.” “Dragons do not answer to the laws of humans,” she counters in a tone that reminds me of Tairn. “And as my bonded, as Tairn’s rider, you no longer answer to them, either.” “Rebellious adolescent,” I mutter, forming half a dozen plans, half of which might work.
“It’s just a quick patrol,” Andarna whines, jarring me from my thoughts. “I need the practice. Who knows what weather we’ll encounter on the search for my kind?”
“Then practice evenly dispersing enough magic to keep all your extremities warm during flight, because your wings won’t hold the weight of this ice,” Tairn growls into the falling snow. “‘Your wings won’t hold the weight of this ice,’” Andarna blatantly mocks him. “And yet yours miraculously carry the burden of your ego.”
Steam rolls in billowing clouds from his nostrils. “But do not mistake my unflinching support of you, my mate, and Andarna for any form of faith in him
“Nothing this morning,” Rhiannon replies, and Aura nods but doesn’t deign to say anything. “Any news from the front?” My stomach knots. The lack of information is agonizing. “Nothing I’d be willing to share with a bunch of deserters,” Aura answers. Oh, screw her.
“I can’t wait for him to discover you’re leading your own rebellion.” She grins as we walk across the enclosed bridge to the Healer Quadrant.
“Pain isn’t a competition,” I assure him. “There’s always enough to go around.”
A shrill scream echoes throughout the infirmary in a knee-wavering pitch that’s reserved for something far worse than pain—terror. The silence that follows chills me to the bone, apprehension lifting the hair on the back of my neck as I unsheathe two of my daggers and turn to face the threat.
“She’s dead!” A cadet in infantry blue stumbles in and falls to his hands and knees. “They’re all dead!” There’s no mistaking the gray handprint marking the side of his neck. Venin. My heart seizes. We haven’t found them out on patrol—because they’re already inside
“Not the silver hair!” the dark wielder with the sword bellows, and I scramble to my feet, slipping on the blood-covered stone. “We need her!” To control Xaden? Fuck that. I’ll never be used against him again.
“Ah, the lightning wielder. You’re a long way from the sky, and we both know you can’t kill me with that knife,” he taunts, and the veins along his temples pulse as Rhi sneaks up behind him, her alloy-hilted dagger poised to strike.
Shadows quake at the edges of the chamber, and a corner of my mouth rises. “I won’t have to.” His eyes flare in confusion for all of a millisecond before shadows explode around us, immediately devouring every speck of light in a sea of endless black I instantly recognize as home. A band of darkness wraps around my hips and yanks me backward, then brushes my cheek gently, steadying my galloping heartbeat and quieting my power.
“Tell me something, Violence.” A muscle in his square jaw ticks as he stares down at me, rippling the tawny-brown skin of his stubbled cheek. “Why is it always you?”
“It’s not always me,” I whisper to Xaden, brushing my hand against his as we continue down the wide spiral staircase, approaching the second floor. Xaden scoffs, then laces his fingers with mine and brings the back of my hand to his perfectly sculpted mouth. “It is,” he replies just as quietly, punctuating the remark with a kiss.
“Do you still love me?” I hurl the inquiry at him like a weapon. His gaze snaps to mine. “What kind of question is that?” “Do. You. Still. Love. Me?” I enunciate every word and lean right into his space just to prove that I’m not intimidated by him.
“I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”
Sometimes I worry about Violet. She has your sharp wit, quick mind, and steadfast heart paired with my bullheaded tenacity. When she finally and truly gives that heart, I fear it will overrule the other gifts you’ve given her and logic will cede its voice to love. And if her first two liaisons are any indication of what we might expect… Gods help her, my love, I’m afraid our daughter has atrocious taste in men. —Recovered, Unsent Correspondence of General Lilith Sorrengail
He keeps looking at it, and I see the moment the truth hits him. The blood drains from his face, and his mouth slackens. “You want to—” “Yes. And you should find a mirror,” Mira interrupts, earning his attention. “Sacrificing members of our family for what’s considered the greater good is a weapon straight out of Mom’s arsenal.” She walks away without another word. I pat his shoulder. “Take it to the Senarium.”
“I’m just hoping it’s a peaceful bonding experience, since I’m fairly certain there’s some kind of love triangle going on between Avalynn, Baylor, and Kai. Which I normally wouldn’t stress about; it’s not like Aetos cared who any of us were fucking last year—” “So not true.” Ridoc snorts and shoulder bumps me.
“We answer to Aetos,” Ridoc shouts down the line, pointing his sword in Faber’s direction. “And there’s more of us than there are of you.” “Only in Fourth Wing!” Iris Drue announces, the leader of First Wing moving to Faber’s side. “First Wing stands strong! Stands loyal to Navarre!” A cheer rises from the left. “Not sure I’d brag about being in the wing that produced Jack Barlowe!” Ridoc counters.
Dain draws his dagger and drops it in the snow, facing Aura unarmed. “I’m not raising my blade against you, Beinhaven.” “That’s a…choice,” Aaric says quietly. “He’s going to talk her down?”
Power thrums through me, buzzing with readiness, and I slip my left hand into the pocket of my flight jacket and remove the conduit. “Violet,” Rhiannon warns softly from my right. “Shh, it’s more fun when she blows shit up,” Ridoc whispers.
The last time a shadow and lightning wielder fought side by side, they managed to drive the venin back into the Barrens for a few hundred years. We’ll figure out how to do it again.” I fumble the conduit and nearly drop it. Xaden and I are the first of our signets to live simultaneously since the Great War?
“Did you really just stand there and watch all that happen?” Rhi asks as our professors approach.
“Yes.” Devera wipes off her flight goggles, then stretches the leather band behind her head. “It was bound to happen at some point, and at least this was a controlled environment,” she finishes over her shoulder. “I feel so protected.” Ridoc puts his hand over his heart. “Nurtured, even. Wouldn’t you agree, Violet?” “You pretty much described how Violet was raised,” Dain says,
I’m going to be sick. “Why are you ill?” Andarna asks. “Halden?” Tairn muses slowly, and I swear I can feel his nonexistent eyebrows rise. “So, we kill him if he makes her uncomfortable,” Andarna suggests. “Problem solved.” “You cannot kill the heir to the throne.” Even though I’ve been tempted myself a time or two.
“Now, I love you like a brother, and I get that you lost your leg, and we respect however you’re feeling about that, but you’re still one of us. You’re still a rider, with all the benefits and shit that come with wearing black. So with all the love in my heart, put your fucking uniform on, because we need you.”
We start down the steps, Bodhi and me taking lead. “Xaden’s going to be pissed,” I whisper so the others don’t hear. “Which is why you’re going to be the one to tell him when we pull it off,” he answers with a grimace. “He won’t kill you.”
“We have a slight problem,” she says, her mouth tensing as she steps aside. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me knocking out this particular guard.” Mira walks into the center of the chamber and tilts her head at me in an uncanny imitation of our mother. My stomach hits the floor. “Shit,” I mutter. “Shit is about right.” Mira puts her hands on her hips.
“Dad?” Dain stands. Aetos’s head swivels toward Dain, and his mouth twists into a sneer. “I have no son.”
Xaden turns in his seat at the end of the table and lifts his scarred brow as shadows brush across my mind. “What happened to not getting into trouble?” “I never promised that.” I hold his gaze, noting the circles under his eyes. “You look tired.” “Just what every man wants to hear from the person he loves.” He drums his fingers on the table, drawing my attention to a scrap of fabric in front of him—my lightning-wielder patch. “I’ve decided I’m done not knowing what you’re up to.” “Good choice.” “You really fucked with the wards?” “Someone once told me the right way isn’t the only way.”
Smoke rises in thick plumes ahead of us, joining the storm clouds while simultaneously smothering the village beneath. My heart jolts with a rush of adrenaline and dread. “Ahead.” “Yes, I, too, have eyes. We’re five minutes out.” He tips right to fit through a bottleneck in the water-carved
Aotrom’s tail curves up, the poisonous barb jabbing into the belly of the wyvern— I blink. A scorpiontail? It’s not Aotrom. “Chradh,” Tairn explains as the wyvern falls from the dragon’s grip. “What the fuck is Garrick—” “Tornado!”
Oh Malek, I am not ready to meet you. “Violet!” Andarna shouts. “No!” Tairn bellows as we’re spun to a near vertical position. “Stay back!” I shriek, and fear burns through my bones like acid as we’re ripped outward by centrifugal motion.
“Tairn!” I try again, mentally grasping for him, but there’s…nothing. “Violet,” Andarna cries. “I can’t feel him!” “Stay back!” I repeat as we fall down and down and down. Is there a cliff beneath us?
“Choose to live,” I beg Andarna in a rush. “You’re the only one of your kind, you have to live. No matter what happens to us.” Oh gods, Xaden. “Stay with me,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “You both have to stay.”
His chest shudders and his breaths begin a deep, steady pattern. Thank you, gods. “He’s breathing,” I tell Andarna. “Sorrengail!” Footsteps race toward me.
“That’s why I’m here. You’re supposed to be with Xaden.” There’s no point confirming what he already knows. “Eight hours away.” “Yeah, well, the second he heard you were charging off into danger, he became…unreasonable.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.” Garrick shoots a worried look my way. “Ever. I don’t even want to think about what he would have done if he’d been out here beyond the wards, because I thought he was going to rip the stones from the wall. He’s always prided himself on control—he has to when he wields that much power—and I’m telling you, he lost it when he heard you were crossing the border, Violet. He’s…not himself.”
“Now tell me, which chose you first? The one who gifted you the power of the sky? Or the irid?”
more than aware he isn’t talking to me. Everyone stills. “Let me rephrase,” Xaden says slowly. “Everyone get out now. And close the door.” “Good luck, Violet,” Ridoc calls back over his shoulder as Rhi pushes him out the door with the others, Maren and Cat carrying the twins, and in under a minute, I hear the distinct click of the door shutting.
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
“You’d never kill civilians,” I counter with a hundred percent certainty. He takes another step backward. “If I’d been there, beyond the wards, I would have drained the very earth to its core to keep you safe.” “Xaden…” I whisper, every other word failing me.
Jack leans forward. “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.” I flinch. “There.” Jack’s smile sharpens and chills with sickening excitement. “That look right there is why I chose to answer your questions, for the satisfaction of us both knowing that I can still cut you and I don’t have to lift a blade.”
“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.
She sets six books down on the table and lifts her hands. “Is Violet in need of an ice wielder?” she signs. “She could be,” Ridoc says and signs. “Guess it all depends on your research.” “No pressure,” she signs and rolls her eyes, but they soften the second her gaze lands on Sawyer. “You didn’t have to walk all the way down here,” she signs, and Ridoc translates. “I would have come to you.” “I. Wanted. Here,” Sawyer signs slowly.
