Onyx Storm (The Empyrean, #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

“I swear to Amari, you two get one inch closer and I’m going to throw a bucket of water on you,” Mira warns, breaking the spell.

Hahahahahahhaha

“Do riders get nicknames once they earn their wings?” Drake questions Mira. “Because I’m pretty sure yours would be Killjoy.”

“And you must be Asher Sorrengail’s daughter, here to collect the books he wrote for you.” My heart stops.

“I’ve never sought a crown, and besides, it’s not in Halden’s nature to beg forgiveness of anyone. I closed the door and didn’t bother speaking to him until a few weeks ago. He didn’t love me, not in the way I deserve to be loved, and no amount of power is worth staying with someone who doesn’t love you.”

“A messenger came,” Dain says. “King Courtlyn has decided to keep Halden.” My stomach pitches. “Too fucking bad for Halden.” Xaden shrugs.

Xaden looks my way, and too many emotions to count cross his beautiful face. Want. Desperation. Pleading. Frustration. Anger. Resignation. “Fuck. Fine.” He slams the door in their faces. “We have to go.”

Your king kidnapped our asshole of a prince, and there’s a large part of me that wouldn’t mind him staying here and annoying the shit out of you for the rest of his miserable life, but that would make things difficult back home for someone I have…complicated loyalty toward, so I’m going to need the prick back.”

“I’m Xaden Riorson, the Duke of Tyrrendor.” Xaden inclines his head. “He’s probably expecting me.” Blue Sash blinks, then looks in my direction. “And you are?” Well, shit. My mouth opens— “My consort,” Xaden replies casually. “Violet Sorrengail.”

Hahahahahah might as well say that she is 'my queen'

“Say what I mean. Don’t lie. Act like a rich, entitled dick. Got it.” He nods.

Xaden tilts his head, studying the king. “Violet.” My heart skips into double time. “My loyalty is to Violet first above everything, everyone else,” Xaden says. “Then Tyrrendor. Then Navarre in the moments it’s worthy—usually when Violet is in residence.”

“Is Halden complicit under their laws?” “Their system isn’t like ours. Their decrees can contradict each other, and Courtlyn sits on their tribunal, so…” My words trip over themselves. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Andarna stands with her front claws atop the bodies of the guards, her wings tucked in tight, her black tail flicking back and forth as she holds Shira delicately between her front four teeth, the snarling cat’s claws safely tucked outside so she can’t cause any damage. Andarna even has her lips puckered so the little cat doesn’t get drenched in dragon saliva. How thoughtful.

I lift my brows at the look she shoots him, mostly because I can’t tell if she wants to stab him in his seat or—

Dain and sloane??????

Guardians are no longer permitted to dedicate children in service to their favored deity. The decision to serve the gods for life must be made after the age of majority and of one’s free will.

Of course my parents didn’t dedicate me. That practice was outlawed in the two hundreds, and even earlier in Poromiel.

Did violet's parents dedicate her to Dunne?

Xaden reaches across me and wraps his hand over my hip like I need protection. “Mom.”

“How does she”—he points to the door—“deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night?

My hearttttt

“Ah, there we go!” Faris claps twice. “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 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.”

“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 like aaric

“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.”

Aaric’s gaze swings wildly toward Xaden. “He isn’t breathing!”

No no no no not garrick!!!!!!

“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!”

Its the 'i hate sewing' part that makes me laugh so hard hahahah

“What is the wisdom in a kitchen cook attacking two trained killers?”

Three minutes later, Garrick groans and opens his eyes. “This is my least favorite isle.”

Oh baby you almost died

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here.

Aaric the linguistic genius

“I’m more worried about the implications of that hit,” he answers without losing his professionally bored expression. “And a little jealous of the woman who delivered it.”

“Give me that.” To my surprise, Mira takes the kitten, not the map, cradling it against her chest with one hand. “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters. She looks at him like he’s sprouted whiskers. “You named a kitten Broccoli?”

“Why not Carrots?” Mira asks, scratching under the kitten’s chin. “She’s orange.” “Just to frustrate you, Sorrengail,” Drake answers, glancing up from the map.

“And I’m making sure Violet’s capable of killing me when the time comes. If it’s between her and me, I choose her. Kill the other guy I become.”

I think I started falling for you that night in the tree when I watched you with the marked ones, but I began tumbling the day you gave me Tairn’s saddle. You’ll give some self-serving excuse, but the truth is you’re kinder than you want people to know. Maybe kinder than you know. —Recovered Correspondence of Cadet Violet Sorrengail to His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor

Awwwwww pls don’t break my heart

“Unless you’re still brooding.” “It’s a full-time occupation at the moment.”

When this is over, we should take as much leave as they’ll give us and spend it all in Aretia. We can figure out what life is supposed to look like without the daily threat of death. You can govern the province you love during the day, then slide into bed with me at night. Or I can always join you in the Assembly chamber. You do some of your best work on that throne.

Manifesting? Shadows?

Is lynx a shadow wielder now? What?

“Not anymore. Magic knows.” Xaden’s shoulders dip as he turns slowly to face me, his brow scrunching in apology before he schools his features. “He’s the balance.”

“I told you—control is just prolonging the inevitable. Maybe stability is a fool’s hope.”

Tairn stalks forward and tilts his head at Sliseag in a way I never want to see aimed at me, and Andarna is quick to follow.

I love protective ass dragons

“You can grieve,” I repeat. “And when and if you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.” “You do not talk about your grief,” she counters. “Neither does he.” Her tail flicks in Tairn’s direction.

Ridoc puts Maren down, then reaches for Cat, who accepts his hug with straight arms and an annoyed eye roll.

I can see how good ridoc and cat would be as a couple

Ridoc spins and throws his arms around Dain, who lifts his brows, then slowly brings his hand up and pats Ridoc’s back twice in an awkward exchange. “Looking good, Sawyer!” Dain calls up, then continues on toward Cath.

I like this new Dain

“Of course not.” I shake my head slowly. “It’s just that I don’t have a room here, and I’m not sure where I should sleep.” He scoffs and gestures down the hall. “You have a room. It hasn’t moved.”

Awwwwww

He might be broody, but he hasn’t given up.

“If I loved you in the way you deserve to be loved, I’d ignore that you’re the only form of peace I’ve ever known and put a thousand miles between us because stable still isn’t whole.”

“If you only knew.” He shakes his head and slides his fingers up over my ribs to cup my breast. My breath stutters as he drags the silk of my nightdress over my sensitive nipple again and again. “My control when it comes to you is an illusion. You are the temple where I worship. I live for the clench of your thighs, your breathy little cries, the feel of you coming around my cock, and above all else, the sound of my favorite three words from this mouth.” His thumb skims my lips before he cradles the back of my head and looks into my eyes. “Keeping my hands off you has been the feat of my life, and you have the power to shred my discipline with a single fucking touch.”

“The complete awe I feel when I remember that you’re mine.” I stroke my hands over his shoulders and down his chest. “That by some miracle, I’m the one who gets to touch you.” “Hasn’t worn off for me yet, either. Don’t think it will.”

“You are ours.” The Sage’s eyes narrow with malice. “You will bring what I want”—his grip tightens with every word, allowing only a trickle of air into my lungs—“or she dies. I’m through waiting, and I will not allow her to win such a prize.”

What does he mean by this? Prize? Her? Andarna?

I can hear Andarna scream but I can’t get to her.” My throat tightens, and I lift my hand to his chest. “The Sage is there, and he always levitates me like I’m nothing heavier than a pocket watch. And I can’t kick, or scream, or move. I’m just stuck there as he threatens me.”

He sits up and I mirror the motion, holding the sheet to my chest. “It’s my hand,” he repeats. “You were in my dream.”

“There is if you’re a dream-walker.” He nods thoughtfully, and my heart pounds as I guess what he’s about to say. “It must be your second signet—the one being bonded to Andarna gives you. It would make sense. Her kind are peaceful, and the ability itself would be passive, even a gift in a culture like that.”

His army. My fingers stall in my hair as it hits me. Xaden isn’t the ranking officer here, but he’s in command. The weight of that responsibility would buckle my knees, but he simply nods at my brother’s catastrophic news.

Xaden fucking chief in command