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“They’re also the most cunning. There’s no such thing as outsmarting a black dragon. This one is a little over a hundred, which makes him about middle-aged. He’s revered as a battle dragon among their kind, and if not for him, we probably would have lost during the Tyrrish rebellion. Add to it that he’s a morningstartail, and he’s one of the deadliest dragons in Navarre.”
“Naolin’s signet was siphoning.” Professor Kaori’s shoulders fall. “He could absorb power from various sources, other dragons, other riders, and then use it or redistribute it.”
“He attempted to use that power to revive a fallen rider—which didn’t work, because there’s no signet capable of resurrection—and depleted himself in the process. To use a phrase you’ll become accustomed to after Threshing, he burned out and died next to that rider.”
“It was Brennan, wasn’t it?” I ask Professor Kaori. Sadness fills his gaze as he meets mine. “Yes. He died trying to save your brother, but Brennan was too far gone.”
There’s no ignoring the prickle at my scalp, and I let my gaze shift to meet Xaden’s. My heart does that damn stuttering thing again, as if he’d sent shadows straight through my ribs to squeeze the organ. He lifts his scarred brow, and I swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaves, walking over to observe the Fourth Wing cadets at the next mat.
Xaden steps forward—all six-foot-everything of him—dressed in midnight fighting leathers and a tight-fitted short-sleeve shirt that only seems to make the shimmering, dark rebellion relics on his skin seem like an even bigger warning, which I know is ridiculous but somehow true.
“Relax, Aetos.” Xaden looks over my shoulder, his gaze hardening toward where I know Dain is standing, where he always stands when I’m on the mat. The look Xaden gives him makes me realize he’s been taking it easy on me in the glaring department. “She’ll be in one piece when I’m finished teaching her.”
“Going for blood today, are we, Violence?” he whispers. Metal hits the mat again and he kicks it past my head and out of my reach. He’s not taking my daggers to use against me; he’s disarming me just to prove he can. My blood boils. “My name is Violet,” I seethe. “I think my version fits you better.” He releases my wrist and stands, offering me a hand. “We’re not done yet.” My
“Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”
Then he guides our hands back to my ribs and slides the ruby-hilted blade back into its sheath. The move is unnervingly…hot.
He lifts his other hand so he’s holding my face between both palms, tipping it up toward his.
Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.
“Knock it the fuck off,” Ridoc snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention. My eyebrows lift. I’ve never seen Ridoc lose his temper or use anything but humor to defuse a situation before.
Xaden would just beat the shit out of him.
Feathertail dragons are the breed we know the least about,
one. This is because feathertails reportedly abhor violence and are not suitable for bonding. I repeat
“Green dragons,” I mutter under my breath, “known for their keen intellect,
descend from the honorable Uaineloidsig line, and continue to be the most rational of dragonkind, making them the perfect siege weapons, especially in the case of clubtails.”
Orange dragons, coming in various shades of apricot to carrot, are the most—I throw myself to the next rail—unpredictable of dragonkind and therefore always a risk.
Who would be returning this late? Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction. Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do. “There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by me, their boots crunching on the gravel. “We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses. My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his
...more
My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist. I answer before I can think better
I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength.
Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek.
It is a grave offense against Malek to keep the belongings of a dead loved one. They belong in the beyond with the god of death and the departed. In the absence of a proper temple, any fire will do. He who does not burn for Malek will be burned by Malek.
Suspicious
“Change your mind.” It’s barely a whisper. “No.” I sound way more confident than I feel. “Change. Your. Mind.” His hand finds mine, concealed by our tight formation as we descend through the passage. “Please.”
“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”
“Back the hell up, Mavis,” Garrick threatens, the sun flashing off the two swords the curly-haired section leader keeps strapped to his back as he puts his body between Amber and Xaden.
No wonder she and Dain are so close—they’re both in love with the Codex.
Fuck them kids
“I don’t take kindly to calling anyone in my section a cheater,” Garrick warns, his massive shoulders blocking her from view as he turns. “And my wingleader will handle any rule-breaking in his own wing.”
“But in doing so, it gave any item carried across the parapet the status of being a part of the rider.” I unsheathe the chipped and battered blade with a sharp bite of pain in my palms. “This isn’t a challenge blade. It’s one I carried across and therefore considered part of myself.”
“Sorrengail,” Xaden says, and my eyes fly open. “You’re leaking.” His gaze drops pointedly to my hands.
He doesnt want to see her hurt <3
Never look a red in the eye. Never back down from a green. If you show trepidation to a brown…well, just don’t.
The fastest up the Gauntlet was Liam Mairi, of course, earning him the Gauntlet patch. Pretty sure that guy doesn’t know how to take second place,
There’s a correlation between bonded cadets and level of chatter.”
“Kind of like dragons but bigger, with two feet instead of four,
mane of razor-sharp feathers streaking down their necks, and a taste for humans. Unlike dragons, who think we’re a little gamey.”
“And I seriously asked him one time if Mom was going to turn into a venin because she could channel.”
“Did he tell you people supposedly only turn into venin if they channel directly from the source?” “He did, but it was after my mom had a really long night while we were stationed near the eastern border, and her eyes were bloodshot red, so I freaked out and started shrieking.”
Suspicious lillith activity
The golden eyes of not one but two greens meet mine, consuming my field of vision. Oh. Fuck. To approach a green dragon, lower your eyes in supplication and wait for their approval. That’s what I read, right? I drop my gaze as one chuffs another breath at me. It’s hot and appallingly wet, but I’m not dead yet, so that’s a plus.
The one on the right chortles deep in its throat. Wait, is that the sound of approval I’m looking for? Shit, I wish I’d asked Mira. Mira. She’s going to be devastated when she reads the rolls. I lift my head and suck in a sharp breath. They’re even closer. The one on the left nudges my hands with its giant nose, but I somehow stand my ground, rocking back on my heels to keep from falling over. Greens are the most reasonable. “I cut my hands climbing the obstacle course.” I lift my palms, like they can see through the black fabric binding my wounds.
The greens are interested in her
“I think I just shat myself,” Ridoc says, and my laughter only pitches higher as we move through the field.
“Guess the dragons think she’s insufferable, too,” Ridoc mutters.
October first is always Threshing.
“Be careful.” Rhiannon pulls me into a hug, her braids swinging over my shoulder as she tightens her arms around me. “You too.” I squeeze her back and am immediately swept into another pair of arms. “Don’t die,” Ridoc orders.
There’s a clearing to the north, and my eyes narrow as a flash, like a mirror, catches the sun. Or like a golden dragon. Guess the little feathertail is still out here appeasing its curiosity.
No one knows anything about feathertails, so I don’t know where Jack is getting his information, but I don’t have time to focus on his assumptions right now.
Who told jack to kill andarna? Is he already venin?
Its head pivots toward me, then tilts at an angle that makes my own neck hurt. “Yes!” I whisper loudly. “You! Goldie!” It blinks its golden eyes and swishes its tail.
The golden dragon’s head snaps in their direction, a low growl rumbling in its chest.
It’s going to die just because it’s smaller, weaker than the other dragons…just like me. My throat closes. The dragon backs up, its growl growing louder as it bares its teeth.
“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field to my right.
XADDY BABYYYY
