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“Are you calling me weak?” “No.” Mira squeezes my hand. “Just…fragile.”
“I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and I’ll handle her when the time is right.”
Dain’s hands pause on my skin. “Because you know what his way is?” The guilt of keeping Xaden’s secret makes my stomach drop.
Isn’t there a chance, no matter how small, that I might just be enough to make it through Threshing? That I might just belong here?
Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person.
“That’s different.” His hand squeezes mine, and I can feel the tension in his fingers, his arm. “I’m a rider.” “Well, maybe I am, too,” I whisper
My scalp prickles
“You can’t interfere!” Tynan shouts at Xaden, but I don’t dare look away from my opponent long enough to see how the wingleader reacts. “No, but I can narrate,” Xaden retorts.
And rules be damned, he steps forward as though he intends to stop Tynan from killing me.
Oh. Shit. I hadn’t spoken those words. I’d thought them. He can read my thoughts. “See? Smartest of your year.” So much for privacy. “You’ll never be alone again.”
Andarnaurram,” I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. “Both dragons?” she squawks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose.
“Stay close to the wingleader until we return,” Tairn orders. Surely he meant to say squad leader. “You heard what I said.”
“They’re a mated pair, Tairn and Sgaeyl. The strongest bonded pair in centuries.”
Xaden scoffs. Dain immediately jerks his head toward mine. “It would have killed me to watch something happen to you, Vi, but the rules—” “It’s all right,” I force out, touching his shoulder, but it isn’t.
“Annoys you?” Tairn chuckles above me, the sound like a chuffing cat. “Is that what you call it when your heart rate—” “Don’t even start with me.”
I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. I repeat the mantra in my head as Xaden wipes the blood from my dagger on the back of Oren’s tunic. “Yes. You’re alive.” Xaden
I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden. He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention. Except, apparently, he is.

