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“I’m glad you made it.” “Glad” isn’t even the right word. Thrilled, relieved, grateful. “But maybe you should fly off the next time someone suggests you save yourself, eh?” She blinks. “Maybe I was saving you.” Her voice is higher, sweeter in my mind. My lips part, and the muscles in my face go slack with shock. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re not supposed to speak to humans who aren’t your rider? Don’t go getting yourself in trouble, Goldie,” I whisper. “From what I hear, dragons are pretty strict about breaking that rule.”
Does she have 2 dragons? Is that normal?
“Don’t say it,” Mom hisses, her eyes on Tairn, not me. “Not until she does.” Because only a rider and the roll-keeper know a dragon’s full name and she’s not certain I’m really his. That’s exactly what she’s implying. Like I’d be able to hijack Tairn. Anger simmers in my veins, overtaking the pain coursing through my body as I move forward in the line so there’s only one other rider ahead of me. Mom forced me into the Riders Quadrant. She didn’t care if I lived or died as I crossed the parapet. The only thing she cares about now is how my flaws might mar her sterling reputation or how my
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“Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head. “Hey, at least I remembered,” I think back in his general direction, wondering if he’ll hear me across the field. “At least I didn’t let you fall to your death.” He sounds utterly bored, but he definitely heard me.
“Andarnaurram.” The sweet, high voice of the golden fills my mind. “Andarna for short.”
“Tell her,” the golden insists. “Tairn. What am I supposed to—” I think at him. “Tell the roll-keeper her name,” Tairn echoes. “Violet?” the roll-keeper repeats. “Do you need a mender?” I turn back to the woman and clear my throat. “And Andarnaurram,” I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. “Both dragons?” she squawks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose.
Though this officer considers himself to be an expert on all matters dragonkind, there is a great deal we don’t know about the way dragons govern themselves. There is a clear hierarchy among the most powerful, and deference is paid to elders, but I have not been able to discern how it is they make laws for themselves or at what point a dragon decided to bond only one rider, rather than go for better odds with two. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind
Two dragons. I have…two dragons.
Jack is getting his shoulder examined about a dozen feet away. He strutted over from the back of an Orange Scorpiontail to record his bond with the roll-keeper, who’d kept doing her job regardless of the generals arguing on the dais behind her.
“Hiding behind our instructors now, Sorrengail?” Jack’s uninjured fist curls. “I didn’t hide out there, and I’m not hiding here.” I raise my chin. “I’m not the one who ran.” “She doesn’t need to hide behind me when she’s bonded to the most powerful dragon of your year,” Professor Kaori warns Jack, whose eyes narrow on me. “Your orange is a good choice, Barlowe. Baide, right? He’s had four other riders before you.”
“I don’t know what she told you about what happened out there—” “Nothing.” The instructor folds his arms across his chest. “Is there something I need to know?” Jack pales, going white as a sheet in the mage light as another injured first-year hobbles over, blood streaming from his thigh and torso. “Everyone who needs to know already knows.” I lock eyes with Jack. “Guess we’re done for the night,”
“Professor Kaori, has anyone ever bonded two dragons?” If anyone knows, it’s the professor of Dragonkind. He turns with me to face the arguing leadership. “You would be the first. Not sure why they’re fighting about it, though. The decision won’t be up to them.” “It won’t?” Wind gusts as dozens of dragons land on the opposite side of the first-years, rows of mage lights hanging between them. “Nothing about who dragons choose is up to humans,” Kaori assures me. “We only like to maintain the illusion that we’re in control. Something tells me they’ve just been waiting for the others to make it
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“It’s up to the Empyrean to decide,” Tairn says, but there’s an edge of tension in his tone. “Don’t leave the field. This might take a while.” “What might—”
“Is that…” “Codagh,” Tairn answers. General Melgren’s dragon. I make out the patchy holes in his battle-scarred wings as he comes closer, his golden gaze focused on Tairn in a way that makes me nauseous. He growls, low in his throat, turning those sinister eyes on me. Tairn rumbles his own growl, stepping forward so I’m between his massive claws. There’s zero doubt I’m the subject of both disgruntled snarls. “Yep! We’re talking about you!” Andarna says as the line passes by, and she joins. “Stay close to the wingleader until we return,” Tairn orders. Surely he meant to say squad leader. “You
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“Damn it. Violet. Just…damn.” He squeezes me tight, then pushes me to arm’s length. “You’re hurt.”
“What the actual fuck happened out there? Because I’ve got Cath telling me that not only did Tairn choose you but so did the small one—Adarn?” His fingers lace with mine, panic swirling in his brown eyes. “Andarna,” I correct him, a smile playing on my lips at the thought of the small golden dragon. “They’re going to make you choose.” His expression hardens, and the certainty there makes me recoil. “I’m not choosing.” I shake my head, disengaging our hands. “No human has ever chosen, and I’m not about to be the first.” And who the hell is Dain to tell me that?
“You have to trust me. You do trust me, right?” “Of course I do—” “Then you have to choose Andarna.”
STFU! Geez.
“I’m not choosing,” I repeat, softer this time. What if I can’t have either of them? What if they’ve broken some sacred rule and now we’ll all be punished? “You are. And it has to be Andarna.”
I'm so over Dain!
“They’re a mated pair, Tairn and Sgaeyl. The strongest bonded pair in centuries.” My mind whirs. Mated pairs can’t be separated for long or their health diminishes, so they’re always stationed together. Always. Which means—oh gods.
Xaden’s not going to kill me. The realization makes my chest tighten, makes me reexamine everything that happened in that field, makes my sense of gravity shift beneath my feet.
“Did I see her outnumbered and already wounded? Did I think her bravery was as admirable as it was fucking reckless?” He turns that stare on me, and I feel the impact all the way to my toes. “And I would do it again.” I raise my chin. “Well-the-fuck-aware,” Xaden roars,
I love how grumpy he is!
“His mate told him,” I whisper. Sgaeyl called for Tairn. “She’s never been a fan of bullies,” Xaden says to me. “But don’t mistake it as an act of kindness toward you. She’s fond of the little dragon. Unfortunately, Tairn chose you all on his own.” “Fuck,” Dain mutters. “My thought exactly.”
“Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I’d ever want to be chained to me. I didn’t do this.”
“There are…rules.” Dain tilts his chin to look Xaden in the eyes. “And out of curiosity, would you have, let’s say, bent those rules to save your precious little Violet in that field?” His voice ices over as he studies Dain’s expression with rapt fascination. Xaden had taken a step. Right before Tairn landed, he’d moved…toward me. Dain’s jaw flexes, and I see the war in his eyes. “That’s unfair to ask him.” I move to Dain’s side as the sound of whipping wings interrupts the night. The dragons are flying back. They’ve made their decision. “I’m ordering you to answer, squad leader.” Xaden
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“Each time a dragon chooses a rider, that bond is stronger than the last, which means that if you die, Violence, it sets off a chain of events that potentially ends with me dying, too.” His expression is immovable marble, but the anger in his eyes leaves me breathless. It’s pure…rage. “So yeah, unfortunately for everyone involved, there’s now an us if the Empyrean lets Tairn’s choice stand.” Oh. Gods. I’m tethered to Xaden Riorson.
The tension is heating up!!
“He knows exactly how much I value my own life,” Xaden retorts, glancing down my body. “You’re freakishly calm for someone who just heard she’s about to be hunted.”
“Tell me it’s going to be all right,” I murmur toward Andarna and Tairn. “It is how it should be,” Tairn answers, his voice gruff and bored at the same time. “You didn’t answer before.” Fine, it sounds a little accusatory. “Humans can’t know what’s said within the Empyrean,” Andarna answers. “It’s a rule.”
“While tradition has shown us that there is one rider for every dragon, there has never been a case of two dragons selecting the same rider, and therefore there is no dragon law against it,” he declares. “While we riders may not feel as though this is…equitable”—his tone implies that he’s one of them—“dragons make their own laws. Both Tairn and…” He looks over his shoulder and his aide rushes forward to whisper in his ear. “Andarna have chosen Violet Sorrengail, and so their choice stands.”
“As it should be,” Tairn grumbles. “Humans have no say in the laws of dragons.”
Sounds resonable
“Holy shit. You have to see this.” “Tell the boy to move,” Tairn orders. “Tairn says you should move.” Dain steps out of the way. Suddenly, my vision isn’t mine. I’m looking at my own back through…Andarna’s eyes. A back that has a glistening black relic of a dragon mid-flight stretching from shoulder to shoulder and, in the center, the silhouette of a shimmering golden one. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. I’m marked by their magic as a rider now, as their rider. “We know,” Andarna answers.
“You have to know that I would do anything to save you, Violet, to keep you safe,” he blurts, panic in his eyes. “What Riorson said…” He shakes his head. “I know,” I say reassuringly, nodding even as something cracks in my heart. “You always want me safe.” He’d do anything. Except break the rules.
“You have to know how I feel about you.” His thumb strokes over my cheek, his eyes searching for something, and then his mouth is on mine. His lips are soft, but the kiss is firm, and delight races up my spine. After years, Dain is finally kissing me.
puke
The thrill is gone in less than a heartbeat. There’s no heat. No energy. No sharp slice of lust. Disappointment sours the moment, but not for Dain. He’s all smiles as he pulls away. It was over in an instant. It was everything I’ve ever wanted…except… Shit. I don’t want it anymore.
Thank Fuck!
It is therefore only natural that the more powerful the dragon, the more powerful the signet its rider manifests. One should beware of a strong rider who bonds a smaller dragon, but even warier of the unbonded cadet, who will stop at nothing to seize a chance to bond. —Major Afendra’s Guide to the Riders Quadrant
“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench across from us to sit, pushing up the sleeves of her tunic and revealing her rebellion relic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Sorrengail, are now about to be the most powerful rider in the quadrant. Anyone with common sense is going to be scared of you.”
“You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before,” Imogen responds, then bites into a muffin. “I usually sit with my girlfriend in Claw Section. Besides, no use getting to know you when most of you die,” Quinn adds, tucking her curls away again, just to have them spring forward. “No offense.” “None taken?”
“He tried to kill Andarna.” Shit. Maybe I should have kept that to myself. Every head at the table turns toward me. “My guess would be that Tairn told the others.” I shrug.
“But Barlowe bonded?” Ridoc questions. “Though from what I’ve heard, his Orange Scorpiontail is on the smaller side.”
But of course he did
“You can trust her,” Tairn says, and I startle, dropping the orange. “She hates me.” “Stop arguing with me and eat something.” There’s zero room for debate in his tone.
Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.
Honestly, if I had those teeth bared at me, I’d back away, too. “No you wouldn’t, because you didn’t. You stayed and defended Andarna.”
“…and at only ninety-two riders, you are our smallest class to date.” My shoulders dip. “I thought a hundred and one were willing to bond, plus you?” “Willing doesn’t mean they found worthy riders,” Tairn answers. “And yet two of you chose me?” With forty-one unbonded? That’s quite the insult. “You’re worthy. At least I think you are, but you apparently don’t pay attention in class.” He chuffs and a warm puff of steam blasts the back of my neck.
Tairn dips his shoulder and makes his leg into a ramp for me. Defeat just about swallows me whole. I’ve bonded the biggest—and certainly grumpiest—dragon in the quadrant, and yet he has to make accommodations for me.
“They’re accommodations for me. I’ve seen your memories. I’m not about to have you sticking daggers into my leg to climb up. Now let’s go.”
I love Tairn
There’s a disgusted roar of something I don’t understand in my head. “What the hell does that mean?” I scramble for the seat and get myself into position as he flies level. “The closest translation for humans is probably ‘for fuck’s sake.’ Now. Are you going to stay in your seat this time?” He dips back into formation, and I manage to stay on. “I have to be able to do this by myself. We both need me to do this,” I argue. “Stubborn silver human,”
Tairn is probably my favorite. This commentary!
I’m through the rotunda and crossing into the academic wing when I hear Dain calling my name, jogging to catch up with me. I wait for that familiar swell of happiness that we might have a minute alone, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a sea of awkwardness that I don’t know how to navigate. What the hell is wrong with me? Dain is gorgeous and kind and a really, really good man. He’s honorable and my very best friend. So why don’t we have any chemistry?
Red Fucking Flag!
“For your own good.” “Are you always around?” I snap back mentally. “Yes. Get used to it.” I fight the urge to growl at the intrusive, overbearing— “Still here.”
Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.” “I’ll…uh…do that.” I bite back a laugh. “Take it easy on him. He’s my best friend.” Tairn snorts.
Love that Tairn doesn't like him
“The kiss,” he admits, his voice lowering. “It…it never should have happened.” Relief courses through me. “Right?” I crack a smile. Thank gods he feels the same way. “And it doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” “The best of friends,” he agrees, but his eyes are heavy with a sadness I don’t understand. “And it’s not that I don’t want you—” “What?” My eyebrows rise. “What are you saying?” Are our wires somehow crossed? “I’m saying the same thing you are.” Two lines appear between his brows. “It’s incredibly frowned upon to have a physical relationship with anyone in our chain of command.” “Oh.”
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STFU. GOD!
There is nothing more sacred than the Archives. Even temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten. —Colonel Daxton’s Guide to Excelling in the Scribe Quadrant
Scribes come and go, some in groups as they train to become our kingdom’s historians, and I find myself staring at every hooded figure, searching for a face I know I can’t find—searching for my father.
