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“Sgaeyl is a Blue Daggertail,
Sgayel = blue daggertail. pronounced SKAH-il means shadow.
Cath
Cath = red Swordtail belongs to Dain annd means battle
signet is the unique ability that stands out, the strongest skill that results from each unique bond between dragon and rider.
“I can read a person’s recent memories,” Dain admits
He points to the compass patch beneath his Fourth Wing one on his shoulder. Wearing that sigil indicates that a signet is too classified.
“This place can warp almost everything about a person, Vi. It cuts away the bullshit and the niceties, revealing whoever you are at your core. They want it that way. They want it to sever your previous bonds so your loyalty is to your wing. It’s one of the many reasons that first-years aren’t allowed to correspond with their family and friends, otherwise you know I would have written you. But a year doesn’t change that I still think of you as my best friend. I’m still Dain, and this time next year, you will still be Violet. We will still be us.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a chill races down my spine as I cross the center of the rotunda, then my steps halt. Cadets move around me, but my eyes are drawn upward, toward the top of the steps that lead to the gathering hall. Oh shit. Xaden Riorson
She can sense him
“I already knew your parents are tight,” Xaden calls out, a cruel smile tilting his lips. “But do you two have to be so fucking obvious?”
“Let me guess,” Xaden continues, glancing between Dain and me. “Childhood friends? First loves, even?”
Knowing I am in direct disagreement with General Melgren’s orders, I am officially objecting to the plan set forth in today’s briefing. It is not this general’s opinion that the children of the rebellion’s leaders should be forced to witness their parents’ executions. No child should watch their parent put to death. —The Tyrrish Rebellion, an official brief for King Tauri by General Lilith Sorrengail
It shows Lilith is not so cold hearted
“In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation,”
“Third-years have only been sent to midland posts as reinforcements, never the front.”
Professor Markham,
A scribe professor
“It is the duty of the scribes not only to study and master the past but to relay and record the present,”
“Without accurate depictions of our front lines, reliable information with which to make strategic decisions, and—most importantly—veracious details to document our history for the good of future generations, we’re doomed, not only as a kingdom but as a society.”
Gryphons from Poromiel also share the ability, but dragons are the only ones capable of powering the wards that make all other magic but their own impossible within our borders. They’re the reason Navarre’s borders are somewhat circular—their power radiates from the Vale and can only extend so
far, even with squads stationed at every outpost. Without those wards, we’re fucked. It would be open season on Navarrian villages when the raiding parties from Poromiel inevitably descend.
why the hell the wards faltered,
Pryor, the meekest first-year in our squad,
Dunne—the goddess of war—that
4. Dunne goddess of war
“What was the condition of the village?” a deep voice asks from the back of the lecture hall. The hairs on my neck rise, my body recognizing the imminent threat behind me. “Riorson?”
“The buildings they’d already gone through were burned, and the rest were being looted when the wing arrived.” “They were looking for something,”
Which begs the question, what do we have that they want so badly?”
Something in her tone tells me it’s not just third-years who might be called into service this year,
“How was I supposed to know his neck was that weak?” Jack argues.
Jack's third kill
Emetterio points to the pink-haired second-year with the rebellion relic. “And you.” His finger swings to me.
Marked ones, as I’d heard some people this morning refer to those carrying rebellion relics on their arms, blame my mother for the execution of their parents.
It is my opinion that of all the signet powers riders provide, mending is the most precious, but we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent when in the company of such a signet. For menders are rare, and the wounded are not. —Major Frederick’s Modern Guide for Healers
“Everyone saw you lose it,” I whisper, doing my best to mentally block the pain like I have countless times before. It’s usually as easy as building a mental wall around the pulsing torment in my body, then telling myself the pain only exists in that box so I can’t feel it, but it isn’t working so well this time. “I didn’t lose it.” He kicks the door three times when we reach it. “You shouted and carried me out of there like I mean something to you.”
My brother, Brennan, was a mender—and
“Imogen—she’s a second-year—dislocated Violet’s shoulder and broke her arm.”
“He died five years ago.”
In the best interest of preserving peace within Navarre, no more than three cadets carrying rebellion relics may be assigned to any squad of any quadrant. —Addendum 5.2, Basgiath War College Code of Conduct
In addition to last year’s changes, marked ones assembling in groups of three or more will now be considered an act of seditious conspiracy and is hereby a capital offense. —Addendum 5.3, Basgiath War College Code of Conduct
our squad is the only one in the quadrant not to lose anyone,
to reveal a half-shaved head of pink hair I know all too well. Imogen,
There are almost two dozen of them, a few third-years and a couple of seconds, but the rest are all firsts. I know the rules. Marked ones can’t gather in groups larger than three. They’re committing a capital offense simply by being together.
sticking to the shadows that wrap around me,
I wonder if they are Xadens shadows
a tall, dark-haired man with pale skin, whose shoulders take up twice the space of any first-year, standing opposite Xaden’s position and wearing the rank of a third-year.
“They’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell, I’ll know.”
Right like who's gonna tell. He is saying it for Vi sake
only forty-one of us
in the Riders Quadrant,
I don’t want to find a single thing about Xaden Riorson admirable, and yet here he is, being all annoyingly admirable. Asshole.
Liam Mairi.
Liam = strong-willed warrior
Mario = Of the Sea and Bitter.
top cadet in our year.
Garrick—sighs. “I’ll teach them.” I recognize him now. He’s the Flame Section leader in Fourth Wing. My direct superior above Dain.
“That was a little harsh, cousin,” the second-year who looks a little like Xaden says, lifting his eyebrows. “What do you want me to say, Bodhi?”
“Keep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to.” My brow furrows. What the hell does he mean by that?
All the marked ones know about venin
“Her mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents,” Garrick counters, folding his arms over his wide chest. “Not her daughter. Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyrrish.”
“She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.”
