Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I open my eyes to complete darkness. I can’t really call it waking up since I don’t consider the short and fitful bouts of unconsciousness that I sometimes manage at night to be legitimate sleep. I’m not even sure I even slipped into that last night.

As if being responsible for the hundred and seven marked ones wasn’t stressful enough, at least it’s been merely heartrending when any of them have died. As of today I’ll probably have yet another person I’m responsible for, and if she dies on my watch then General Sorrengail will have me killed. 

I wouldn’t be overly concerned about that if it weren’t for the fact that the revolution would likely die with me as well. And if Brennan is to be believed then it would probably result in the entire continent falling to dark wielders in less than a few years. Otherwise death would almost be a welcome reprieve, since my life has been one long nightmare ever since Sorrengail came crashing through it…

“Cadet Riorson, I’m calling in the favor you owe me for allowing your marked ones a chance in the Rider’s Quadrant.” I remember the orders General Sorrengail gave me six months ago perfectly. “My youngest daughter, Violet, will be joining you all in the Quadrant on the next Conscription Day, and it will be your responsibility to ensure that she survives.”

Why does she keep her mental shields up even in her office? As far as she’s aware there should be no possible way that an inntinnsic like me could have escaped execution to be able to read her thoughts. Or… intentions, whatever. I rarely come across someone that I can’t read and even when I do they’ll at least let their guard down in private some of the time. General Sorrengail is the only person who’s had her shields up every single time I’ve ever seen her since developing my second signet, with the exception of Melgren and a couple of others that I’ve only interacted with once or twice since then.

“What? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” I accuse.

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“You expect me to step in if she’s losing a challenge?” I scoff. “I’d be executed for breaking the Codex, and if I were going to be killed anyway I would obviously talk which would put both her and even you in danger.”

General Sorrengail sighs, “I didn’t think I’d need to explain that you can’t violate the Rider’s Codex in any obvious way for that exact reason. If I have to spell out the details that should be clear then how about this… As long as Violet crosses the parapet on her own, then, outside of challenges , you’re not to let anyone kill her, or allow her to die of her own naivete. She’s spent her entire life up until now training to be a scribe, she’ll only have six months to prepare for the Rider’s Quadrant, so she’ll be woefully underprepared.”

“And you expect me to provide all of the preparation most candidates get over a decade or more in the one year I’ll have left in the Quadrant?” I ask sardonically.

“She’s a fast learner.”

“And how am I supposed to ensure she survives the rest of her time at the Quadrant after I’ve graduated?” I challenge.

“You should know by now that I’m not an unreasonable commander, Cadet Riorson,” her tone suggesting that this conversation bores her. “As long as Violet survives to become a second year rider, I’ll consider your debt to me to be repaid. And as this is the favor you owe me, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that if you fail and she dies, so do you. You’re dismissed.”

And now Conscription Day has come, so in all likelihood for the next year, my life will be tied to that of Violet-fucking-Sorrengail, the daughter of the woman who was responsible for the death of my father and his rebellion to try to save the continent. 

Granted her son turned out to be a decent guy, but based on what I’ve dug up about Violet, Colonel Markham had hand picked her to be his star pupil and eventual successor as the head of the scribes, responsible for keeping everyone in Navarre ignorant to the fact that dark wielding Venin even exist. If that absolute piece of filth thinks that she’s the best person to follow in his footsteps then I have no hope that Violet is anything like Brennan, no matter what he might say about her. 

It’s not like he’s impartial, plus he hasn’t really known her since she was a child, so even if she was a decent person around age ten when he left for the Rider’s Quadrant, apparently over the second half of her life Markham has warped her into someone he wouldn’t recognize.

There’s no hint of light on the horizon yet, so considering that it’s the middle of summer it must be fucking early. There’s only one thing to do…

Being able to see others’ intentions, mostly in the form of pictures, gives me a half-second’s advantage over anyone else in a fight, but if the fliers are to be believed, Venin can adapt to an adversary’s fighting style in a matter of seconds, not to mention all of their other purported abilities, so other riders aren’t the important benchmark. If I hope to be able to beat the Venin that I’ll inevitably come up against one day, I need to be so much better than any rider that it should be no contest. I roll out of bed and head to Garrick’s room.

…

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dick?”

I level an incredulous look at Garrick in response as we walk toward the gym ten minutes later.

“Okay, has anyone else ever told you - obviously Imogen doesn’t count,” he clarifies.

“Most people are too scared to,” I shrug. “But if I’m not given a glare that communicates the same thing at least half a dozen times a day then I know I need to up my game.”

“I’m all for you fucking with Navarrian assholes, but why do you have to wake me up at four in the godsdamned morning?” Garrick asks, cracking a huge yawn.

“I’m fed up with just lifting weights whenever I can’t sleep, we need to start taking combat training more seriously,” I tell him.

“Yeah, you’ve really been slacking off in that department,” he gripes.

“We have been,” I assert. “We’ve done next to no sparring with our signets.”

Garrick lifts an eyebrow at me. “Okay, I guess I can see how being practiced at that will be good when… shit gets real. But with the extent to which you’ve already honed yours, it’d be pointless for me to even try to take on your shadows by wielding wind,” he says as we enter the sparring gym and I close and lock the doors behind us.

I quickly weave a soundproofing ward and then turn to him. “Then use your other signet too,” I say simply.

Garrick full-on gawks at me now. “Distance wielding is meant for covering… distance. I’ve pretty much only used it to ferry you or contraband around the continent.”

“If you can walk from here to Cordyn in a single step while dragging me along, you should have no problem walking yourself to the other side of the mat,” I challenge. “And having another combat strategy in your back pocket is bound to come in handy.”

Without warning I wrap shadows around his right foot locking it in place and draw one of my swords. I swiftly approach him aiming to slice into his torso, though I’m prepared to check my swing if I don’t see his intention to ‘walk’ out of the way. Fortunately it appears and my sword cuts through nothing but air in the spot where he stood a split second before.

I whip my head around trying to locate him but it only takes a couple of seconds to realize that he’s not anywhere in the gym. Did he walk to Cordyn out of pure reflex?

Without a lock on him or his intentions I get no forewarning besides a faint click before the doors burst open under the onslaught of wind that must be blowing at around a hundred miles per hour. I’m picked up off my feet and slammed into the wall twenty feet behind me. 

“Not cool asshole!” Garrick yells once he’s back on this side of the soundproof ward.

I pick myself up off the floor, rubbing the side of my head where it slammed into the wall with only minimal cushioning from a thin shadow that seemed to materialize there without my conscious direction. Huh, that’s new. “Have to disagree with you there, that was super fucking cool,” I grin at him. 

Garrick smirks. “Fair enough, I’m the shit. But you’re still an asshole.”

“Hate to reinforce that sentiment -” I start as I take a few seconds to regain my feet and then lift a hand, using lesser magic to close and lock the doors behind Garrick again. “But speaking of walking all over the continent, we’re going to have to start doing that kind of thing the old fashioned way this year.”

“You mean flying all over the continent?!” Garrick says incredulously. “We’re cadets in a war college, you don’t think they’d notice us being gone for days at a time?”

“You clearly haven’t given enough thought to how much being in third year now is about to change things. We’re going to have way more free time and be in charge of our own wing now. Obviously if we didn’t have your distance wielding as first years we wouldn’t have had the time to do any smuggling, but then what did we do during the first mission last year?” I prompt.

“We flew it over our first weekend off because you said you wanted to make sure we had a backup plan in case I was ever out of commission. Oh gods, are you saying we’re going to have to fly all of them from now on to get Bodhi and the second years ready to take over next year?”

“Not as dumb as he looks,” I tease. “Hey, at least now that I ended the betrothal with Cat we don’t need to worry about getting to Cordyn anymore.”

“But even the flights to Athebyne and Aretia could take multiple days roundtrip. When Bodhi and them take over the smuggling next year they can just handle the acquisition and I can still come to do the transport.” Garrick points out, clearly trying to get out of having to fly all of the missions this year.

“No, next year you’ll be a lieutenant. If you turn up missing in the middle of the night you won’t get a slap on the wrist for breaking curfew, you’ll be executed for desertion. And there will be a way higher risk of you being killed in battle, we need to start taking contingency planning much more seriously.”

“Oooohhh, fucking fine!” Garrick spits at me. “But I hope you’re ready to really get your ass kicked, because now I’m pissed.”

“You don’t think clearly when you’re pissed. Threatening me is never a good idea,” I chuckle.

“Yeah?” He smirks right back at me. “If we’re graduating to sparring with signets, how do you think you’re going to fare now that it’s two on one?”

I smirk at the thought that he has no idea I’ve been using the signet he doesn’t know about all along.

“How do you think you’re going to ‘walk’ when you can’t walk?” I retort.

“What?” He asks, confused for a moment until he looks down and finds shadows wrapped around both his feet this time.

…

Several hours later I’m stationed at the top of the turret that opens onto the parapet as a storm begins brewing. The first dozen or so candidates have already made their way up the tower and across the parapet into the quadrant, or …not, in the case of two of them so far. I do my best to keep from looking into their eyes or reading their intentions in an effort not to humanize them in my mind, half of them will be dead a year from now, and a decent fraction of those within just a couple minutes of passing me here. It’s easier if you can manage to feel zero attachment to any of them.

But then an image forms in my mind that clearly depicts that he intends to keep it together and restrain himself from giving me the biggest bone-crushing hug even though there’s nothing more he could want in this moment. I look up knowing immediately that it’s Liam and see my foster-brother, fuck that, my brother, looking at me with unadulterated joy. 

A smile begins to curve my lips before I exercise all my self control to put my emotionless mask back in place. But he must have noticed in that split second because I can see that he intends to give me shit about my emotional slip up later when we can talk in private. I give him the smallest of nods and sense that he’s surprised and grateful that I’d even give him that much acknowledgment with all of these other people around us.

After giving his name for the record and stepping up onto the parapet I can’t help myself from turning to watch him cross. I even hold the shadows under the parapet ready to give the slightest of nudges if he were to need it even though I know he won’t. He holds his arms out just to be prudent, though he doesn’t waver in the slightest as the wind howls around him, and he runs with sure, steady strides until he catches up to the candidate in front of him before she’s even reached the halfway point. He slows his pace to match hers and bends his elbows so that his forearms nearly extend under her swaying outstretched arms and the image of his intention shows that he plans to catch her if she falls.

I hope to gods that she doesn’t, if he was seen catching her leadership would execute them both. And yet they have no issue with a candidate touching another one on the parapet if the purpose is to knock them off. 

This fucking place. 

If our revolution succeeds in crushing the resurgence of dark wielders, or at least holding them off for more than a few years, maybe we’ll have to consider establishing a war college in Aretia that isn’t so gods-damned evil.

After I see Liam step down to safety off the far side of the parapet I turn back to the line of candidates winding their way up the stairs and attempt to resume ignoring them, but it’s harder now that Liam got me feeling all fucking sentimental. 

I’ve noticed through their subconscious motivations that at least half of the women, and even a decent fraction of the guys, have taken notice of my looks. But the vast majority of them quash their nascent crushes the moment they register my rebellion relic. It’s nothing I haven’t been dealing with on a daily basis for the last two years though.

But then I sense someone doing more than simply noticing my looks. I keep my gaze lowered but I can see an image in my mind showing that she’s examining my hair and brows, my jawline, skin and stubble. It’s like this woman has skipped over a crush and went straight to being infatuated with one look at me. I cross my arms in front of me to try to convey a sense of authority but that just makes her take notice of the muscles in my arms and torso. 

I finally decide to look up at this woman whose intentions betray that she really is practically still a teenager, and I find myself as struck by her appearance as she is by mine. My gods this woman is beautiful. Unlike the vast majority of other candidates, she already has the feel of a rider. Not just because she’s somehow gotten her hands on leathers already whereas the rest are still in civilian clothes, but because I can feel her utter determination. 

I can’t help spending a couple of moments luxuriating in her assessment of me and making a similar one of her before I hear, “Ready for the next one, Riorson?” 

Suddenly I feel her intentions do a complete about-face. She realizes who I am, has been warned about me, and I can see her absolute fear.

“You ready for this, Sorrengail?” the candidate in front of her asks.

I snap my gaze back to her in time to see her whisper, “Oh shit,” but I couldn’t care less.

“Sorrengail?” I say, stepping toward her. I instantly abandon my assessment of her attractiveness to gauge how big of a job I’ll have on my hands keeping her alive to finally be rid of the debt I owe her fucking mother. Good gods, she barely even reaches my sternum. She’s tiny. She has no hope of lasting a year in the Rider’s Quadrant. 

She nods once. Is this really the piece of filth that I’m supposed to keep alive for the next year so that she can eventually carry on the insidious work done by the likes of General Sorrengail and Colonel Markham? My loathing must be obvious on my face because I can see that she senses it.

“Voilet?” the candidate in front asks her.

There it is, total confirmation with the first name, not to mention the hair. No last ditch hope that this was some distant cousin with the same surname, who I would have known about from all of the research I’ve done into her over the last six months, or any other saving grace. 

“You’re General Sorrengail’s youngest,” I accuse.

“You’re Fen Riorson’s son,” she throws back at me.

How the fuck am I going to keep her alive? As far as I know, no one this short has ever made it up the gauntlet, and even if she did, she’s so petite that she clearly wouldn’t be capable of staying seated during flight maneuvers, so what dragon would choose her as their rider? Not to mention the hundred other ways she’s liable to get herself killed. 

It also doesn’t help that I’d love to watch her die simply because I know who it would hurt most... “Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution,” I say, the anger in my voice making it sound almost like a growl.

Her stare is pure rage as she counters with, “Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.”

“Hardly,” is all I can say, as I obviously can’t tell her that Brennan is alive and well. 

I look her over. Despite being sexy, her body will be nothing but a liability when it comes to trying to keep her alive. Her physique couldn’t be more different from what I’ve gleaned about Mira’s. “Your sister is a rider. Guess that explains the leathers.” 

“Guess so,” she retorts as we continue glaring at each other, but I can sense her focus returning to the parapet.

The parapet! I won’t have to follow through with this impossible mission if she doesn’t make it across. And not only do I not have to help , I actually can’t . General Sorrengail agreed that she’d have to do at least that much on her own. Maybe I could even get away with being … un helpful.

But would I actually do that? Punishing children for the crimes of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyrrish. I clench my fists in frustration.

She notices and I instantly see an image of her intention to fight back, thinking I’m going to throw her off the turret. Clearly she doesn’t really know anything about me, having only heard of the ruthless reputation I’ve so carefully cultivated.

“You all right?” the candidate in front of her asks, and I can feel the woman’s subconscious motivation to protect Sorrengail.

“You’re friends?” I ask, glancing at the other woman.

“We met on the stairs,” she responds confidently. I try to read into her attachment to Sorrengail and only come up with an image of shoes. Glancing down at both of their feet I note the mismatch, and I’m able to sense that Sorrengail switched a boot with the other woman to give her better grip …at the cost of her own.

I unclench my fists. “Interesting.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she accuses with entirely more bravado than she’s earned.

I consider her carefully as the rain that’s been threatening finally begins to fall, soaking everyone on the tower. Huh, apparently the General isn’t going to use her storm wielding signet to make it any easier for her daughter to cross the parapet. She’s really serious about Violet having to do at least that much on her own.

A scream rips through the rain from the parapet behind me and I watch Sorrengail intently to see how she’ll react to the man who I can sense has no chance of saving himself.

“Pull yourself up, Dylan!” the other woman yells.

“Oh gods!” Sorrengail gasps, covering her mouth and watching in abject terror as the man falls to his death.

Even if I’m not as twisted as her mother, she doesn’t need to know that. And even if I won’t cause it, I can at least hope that she’ll fall of her own accord so I can keep my focus on the marked ones and the revolution without the constant distraction of keeping her alive.

“Why would I waste my energy killing you when the parapet will do it for me?” I inquire, allowing my smile to spread menacingly. “Your turn.”

Chapter Text

Gods, this is going to be even harder than I thought. Not only because Sorrengail will be even more difficult to keep alive than I’d guessed, but also because I’m fucking attracted to her. And to top it all off, her intentions would suggest that she’s even a good person. That’ll make it that much harder to throw myself into protecting her knowing that if she manages to succeed in the Rider’s Quadrant, her mother and the rest of the leadership are going to corrupt her into becoming like them. 

FUCK!

She can sense my frustration but the picture of her instincts that forms in my mind shows that she’s interpreting it as hatred toward her. Fine, let’s go with that. If I can manage to hate her then it’ll be a good thing if she falls from the parapet, or at the very least having to watch her eventually be corrupted won’t hurt as badly if I despise her. Great, I’m making the conscious decision to hate her, that’ll make everything easier. 

“Good luck with that,” Sgaeyl says through our bond.

“Leave me alone, I’m trying to figure shit out,” I toss back.

“Your conscious mind has very little influence over your feelings towards others, trust me. And I could sense how you feel about her…”

“I said go away!” I slam my mental shields down on my bond with her.

I do my best to avoid reading any more admirable intentions as Violet and her friend encourage each other before the friend sets off along the parapet. 

What would Sgaeyl know about it? And even if she were right it doesn’t matter, I have to hate her to have any chance of coping with the idea of her living to go on to become her mother.

“Name?” she’s asked by the rider holding the roll.

“Violet Sorrengail,” she responds as lightning cracks in the clouds overhead as if to dramatically underscore the ruination her family name has wrought on mine. Despite trying not to read her, a picture forms in my mind illustrating crystal clearly that she’s comforted by the sound. What the hell? Most people are afraid of lightning and thunder, some are indifferent, but who the fuck is comforted by it. That’s actually kinda badass, the thought bubbles up from my subconscious.

No, gods-damn it! It’s fucked up, that’s what I have to think. It’s probably because of her fucking mother’s storm wielding signet. It’s not cool, it’s just one more in the endless list of reasons to hate her.

“Like I said, good luck with that…”

Shit, trying to process all this is fucking with my head, I hadn’t even realized I’d let my shield cutting off Sgaeyl slip. That really is a good reason to hate Sorrengail, if she’s so distracting that I let down my guard I might get exposed as an inntinnsic and be executed. I have to keep my shields up against other riders at all times, especially with someone like Dain Aetos around. I’ve never had a single slip up before now in the year and a half since learning to shield. I can’t let it happen again, if General Sorrengail can keep it up at every moment of every day then so can I. 

“How difficult was it for you to break back in?” I mentally ask Sgaeyl.

“Difficult?!” She almost laughs.

“Okay, you can fuck off again if you’re going to be -”

“Well well, look who’s horns are getting too big for his head since being made wingleader a few days ago,” Sgaeyl interrupts before I can say something she’ll really make me regret. “You weren’t even able to secure the rank of senior wingleader over Malla’s rider,” she teases.

I feel my anger beginning to rise and I slam my shield back in place between us.

Okay, I have to focus… I just need to find legitimate reasons to hate Sorrengail. I cling to the thought that by fucking with my head she’ll get me killed and manage not to empathise when the asshole behind Violet taunts her.

“You’d better get going, Sorrengail,” I order.

She glares over her shoulder at me.

“Unless you need a little motivation?” the asshole lunges and I barely have time to register her intention to do so before she darts onto the parapet avoiding his shove.

Damn, she’s fast. If she manages to make it across the parapet in this tempest, then that might help with the whole ‘keep her alive’ mission. But for now I just force myself to hope that she falls. 

I see an image of her intention to put into practice the advice she got from her sister and the muscle memory she developed training with Major Gillstead. Shit, apparently General Sorrengail at least made sure that others prepared her for the parapet, if not anything after that. I guess the rest is supposed to be my job.

I can sense her trying to calm her nerves and get a picture of an open fucking textbook along with the intention to distract herself by reciting from it. For gods’ sakes, she really does have the mind of a scribe doesn’t she?

To my disappointment the strategy seems to work for her and she makes slow but steady progress across the halfway mark. But shortly after that I feel a glimmer of morbid hope when a particularly strong gust knocks her off balance. 

This would all go away if she were to simply slip off. It would almost be merciful as she’d die instantly on impact two hundred feet below, it’d be much less painful than being torn apart in a challenge.

But she manages to save herself by flailing wildly before landing in a crouch. She remains hunched over continuing to recite facts long enough that I begin thinking there’s a chance that the little scribe finally froze and will give up. But eventually she rises and starts progressing again, though I can tell she’s been rattled because she wobbles again and looks backward multiple times to keep tabs on the candidate behind her. 

I catch an image of that candidate’s instinct, he’s taken notice of the scrawny kid behind him wobbling, and I sense his intention to attack an instant before he seizes the guy by the straps of his bag. He tosses the skinny candidate aside like it’s nothing, both physically thanks to his strong build, and emotionally. His only reaction to the screams of the person he just murdered is to smile menacingly and turn back around to yell, “You’re next, Sorrengail!”

“What was that asshole’s name?” I ask as he starts running across the parapet toward Violet.

“Jack Barlowe,” the rider keeping the roll responds.

Well, Barlowe is either going to make my life a lot easier by killing Violet right now, or a lot harder if she survives. I can see his exceptionally strong intention to eliminate such a weak candidate, so there’d be a good chance that in order to keep her safe from him I’d have to end up ‘dealing’ with Barlowe similarly to how I ‘dealt’ with King Tauri’s second son, Alic, during Threshing when we were both first-years.

I think it’s over when another gust knocks Violet off her feet and she starts falling, but she manages to slam her knee into the parapet at the right angle to keep her on the narrow span. 

Ouch. 

Then I hope she might be done for again as it doesn’t seem like she’ll be able to get back up and move fast enough to outrun Barlowe. 

She surprises me again, though, with a picture of pure determination as she forces herself back to feet and surges as fast as her limp will allow along the remainder of the parapet and off the other end.

Fucking hell, there it is. My life is now tied to hers for the next year. 

I wield shadows out from the underside of the parapet, ready to end Barlowe if he jumps off and proceeds to try to murder her. But she immediately spins, pulling a dagger and aiming it at Barlowe’s crotch. 

He’s still on the parapet, so she’d be within the rules of the codex to kill him where he stands, and I sincerely hope she’ll make my mission easier by doing so. Barlowe specifically wouldn’t be a threat to her anymore and any others that might look to target her would think twice if they know that she’s willing to preemptively kill any potential threats. Plus it would prove she’s not that good of a person and make it easier for me to hate her. 

But of course, she continues the Sorrengail tradition of making my life a living hell when she eventually allows him to step down into the Rider’s Quadrant.

Well, shit.

Chapter Text

A couple hours later the last of the candidates files past, and a minute or so after that I step up onto the parapet behind the other two riders that were stationed at this end with me and we begin to make our way back across.

I mentally prepare myself for what I have to do now. I need her advice but I don’t know whether she’s legitimately upset with me for once. Sorrengail just made me lose control in a way I’d never done with her before.

I lift my shield blocking out Sgaeyl. “We need to talk.”

“Humans do not dictate when dragons speak with them,” she huffs, throwing up her own mental shield between us.

In those few seconds I could feel that she’s very annoyed but not truly upset with me like I was worried about. I grin thinking that Tairn seems to be rubbing off on her more lately.

“I heard that,” she rumbles.

“What? You put your shields up!”

“To make a point. I’m always listening.”

“Why?” I ask incredulously.

“To make sure you don’t do anything idiotic.”

“See? You sound just like how you always describe that grumpy old mate of yours.” I accuse. “Next you’re going to be calling me Dark One like you say he does.”

“Actually, as of when you received your orders he’s been referring to you by your new rank.”

“He’s calling me ‘Wingleader Riorson’?”

“He never uses human names,” Sgaeyl scoffs. “Just the military rank if he respects it, otherwise he comes up with his own title.”

“Whatever,” I mentally shake my head, trying to get back on topic. “I need your advice about this new Sorrengail.“

“My advice is to not let her die.” Sgaeyl says simply. “It would be inconvenient to me if you were killed as retribution.”

“Any thoughts as to how to manage that? Did you not notice how small she is?” I respond, stepping down off the Quadrant-end the parapet and walking into the courtyard.

“I did, but I also saw how determined she is,” Sgaeyl states.

“Determination isn’t going to stop someone like Barlowe from cleaving her in half with a battle ax,” I observe.

“True, you’ll have to put her in your wing. Go check the new list and change it if you need to,” she tells me as I step up onto the dais with the other wingleaders, Commandant Panchek, and all of our executive officers.

“No time now, Panchek’s about to start.” I think about it for a moment. “It’s ok, if I need to I can make a show of it later, make it seem like I’m doing it so I’m better positioned to hurt her. That’ll throw people off the scent that I’m actually keeping her alive, plus it’ll make her fear and loathe me that much more and it’ll be easier to hate her if the feeling is mutual, it’s a win-win.”

“I knew I chose you for more than just your ruthlessness,” Sgaeyl says proudly as Panchek begins his little speech.

It’s hard to do through this crowd, but I focus as hard as I can on Sorrengail and attempt to use my inntinnsic ability on her and block out everyone else’s intentions.

What the hell? “I’m pretty sure she’s calculating percentages in her head over there,” I tell Sgaeyl.

“Maybe her intelligence is another asset that will help offset the liability of her body, like her speed and determination,” she muses.

I scoff. “Being smart will only get her so far in a fight if she can’t even lift a short sword. And even if she’s got those things working in her favor she’s got other liabilities besides her body too. She wouldn’t kill Barlowe when he was a direct threat to her life. If she doesn’t have the stomach to defend herself then I’ll have to be the one doing it constantly. Plus if she’d killed him, others would have admired the mercilessness and seen her as less of a liability that they need to target in the first place to weed out any weakness in the Wings. Now people will think she’s weak in more than just the physical sense and come after her that much more.”

“You’re doing an admirable job of coming up with reasons to hate this girl that you’re obviously attracted to,” Sgaely teases.

“That couldn’t matter less, she’s making it next to impossible to keep her alive and if I can’t, her mother will literally kill me.” I point out. “Who cares how pretty she is?”

“And how intelligent she is…”

“Fuck off.”

“And selfless…”

I slam my shields down on her again.

Soon Nyra takes over from Panchek and the new cadets begin being assigned to their squads. I do my best to read Sorrengail. I smile inwardly when I see her relief that I don’t step up as the wingleader for Second Wing. She’s really going to hate the change I’m about to instate.

Huh, I also see that apparently Aetos, who I already knew was her friend since childhood, beat me to the punch in having her specially assigned to his unit.

I focus my attention on him. An image forms in my mind detailing his intention to find a way to get Sorrengail transferred to the Scribe Quadrant before it’s too late. Interesting, I doubt he’ll actually be able to manage it, but it’s actually not a terrible idea. Worth trying at least.

Maybe I can help hasten Aetos’ plan along if I move his whole squad to my wing. That would also allow me to keep another enemy closer by having the memory reader under my command too. Plus it would probably be too obvious if I made a scene of reassigning a single cadet. Another win-win.

I feel Sgaeyl’s pride at my problem solving acumen and decide to lift my shield.

“You’re bitter today, you almost never block me from speaking to you,” she says.

“Well you almost never tease me about women,” I toss back.

“That’s not true, remember who you ended up sleeping with before you learned to shield me out when I’m with Tairn?”

“For gods’ sakes, will you give it a rest?” I demand.

“I couldn’t care less about your human gods.”

Eventually all of the new first years are assigned to their squads and it’s time to act. I try to read Sorrengail again and she seems to notice my gaze and returns it defiantly. I get a mental picture that shows that she hasn’t exactly squashed her crush on me despite thinking I’m terrifying. She lifts her chin at me almost as if in challenge.

I arch a brow in amusement. Challenge accepted. I lean over to Septon.

“I’m taking Aetos’ squad.”

“Excuse me?” Septon retorts.

“That squad is mine,” I say simply. “Which of my squads do you want for it?”

“You can’t do that!” Amber says obstinately.

“What’s happening?” Nyra demands. I can see her natural instinct, really leaning into the senior wingleader role for the first time. It suits her, in a way that I privately worry the top leadership position will never truly fit me.

“I’m trading a squad with Septon.” I tell Nyra. “Relax Amber, there’s nothing in the Codex that prohibits it.”

“Maybe not explicitly,” Amber begins, “but it’s clearly implied that-”

“Which squad do you want?” I interrupt to ask Septon who’s appraising Aetos’ squad and each of mine to see if there’s an advantage to be gained for War Games at the end of the year.

“I want Aura Beinhaven’s,” he replies excitedly. I grin inwardly. He only knows the second and third years, and while Aura’s squad is arguably the best based on that metric, I’m the only one that could know he would have been better off taking the squad of mine that Liam was randomly assigned to.

“That’s not-!” Amber starts.

“Everyone shut up!” Nyra hisses. “We look like squabbling children up here, it’s going to undermine our authority. If both of you are happy with the trade I don’t give a shit.”

“I’m good,” Septon says.

I nod with satisfaction, and Nyra looks relieved to turn back to the assembled Wings before us. “Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” she announces.

Sorrengail doesn’t realize what I’ve done at first, reading her only reveals confusion, until she notices which wing the squad they’re switching with is coming from. I smirk as she glares at me while analyzing what she thinks of as all of the horrifying implications of me being her superior officer. 

Nyra wraps up and gives me a meaningful look. I nod and step forward. 

It’s my job to put the fear of gods into the new cadets at this point, but I found the wingleaders that attempted to fill that role the past two years woefully inept at it. The first-years are practically expecting it, the commandant and senior wingleader always get the ball rolling in a way that signals where things are headed. I can read that, on the whole, they’re on edge and bracing for the hammer to fall, meaning its impact won’t be as powerful. But unlike my predecessors, I understand this, plus I have an ace up my sleeve.

“You’re all cadets now,” I begin encouragingly, but I need to make sure not oversell it. “Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t.” 

I can sense that the little threat began fulfilling most of their expectations to be intimidated. Perfect, time to start changing tack. 

“You want a dragon?” I ask with the hint of a promise. “Earn one.”

Most of the formation cheers and I know I have them right where I want them. I lock eyes with Sorrengail and am surprised to find that unlike most everyone else I’ve begun lulling into a false sense of security, she’s not taking the bait. Well then, let’s up the ante.

“And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don’t you, first-years?” I prompt, eliciting louder cheering. “You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?” I shout to a raucous response, willing her to give into the mob mentality, but reading her instincts only displays her suspicion. 

Come on!

“You think you’re untouchable!” I’m ranting at her specifically now, just making sure my choice of words can also be interpreted by everyone else in such a way as to complete my deception, placing them on pedestals in preparation for their fall.

“You’re on the way to becoming the elite! The few!” I take just an instant to find a word that might actually break through to her. Is she aware that the powers that be in Navarre know they’ll need their evil to be carried on by the next generation and that she is the torchbearer they’ve picked? 

“The chosen!” I proclaim to wild applause.

Well at least everyone else is perfectly primed. Let’s see if my secret weapon can finally crack her…

“Sgaeyl, focus on Sorrengail specifically.“ I tell her.

“Obviously,” she replies.

The formation is cheering so loudly that most of the new cadets don’t even hear the wingbeats before being shocked to actually spot the riot of dragons practically on top of them already.

Even without the proper build up, the physical presence of the dragons was impressive enough to achieve the desired effect my first two years, but neither of those riots contained a dragon as large or as terrifying as Sgaeyl.

The eight dragons crash down onto the outer wall of the courtyard and in an instant, the crowd’s jubilation transforms to dread.

The blast of steam that Sgaeyl unleashes is directed right at Aetos’ squad, but despite her instincts betraying great fear, Sorrengail stands firm.

The first cadet to break screams and bolts in an attempt to escape but one of the dragons opens its jaws and blasts a stream of flaming death at the man. He’s a pile of ash on the ground before he could even make it halfway to the opposite wall.

Somehow this inspires two more cadets to run, who are obviously too dumb to be allowed to live in the Riders Quadrant and twin eruptions of fire quickly solve that problem.

Sorrengail remains locked in place.

“What do you make of her?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“Her fear is definitely building,” Sgaeyl responds, inspecting her closely. “I'm not sure yet if she might be able to be broken with a bit more provocation.”

“We’ve got to go all out, we need to see what we’re dealing with, and I can always keep her in place with my shadows if her instincts betray an intention to try to make a break for it.”

Sgaeyl’s glare bores directly into her for a few moments before Sorrengail lifts her chin defiantly.

That’s a good sign so far, but let’s take one last try.

“Anyone else feel like changing their mind?” I give it a beat while scanning the formation. “No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer.” 

I hear a few sobs. 

“A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here.” I aim that comment at Sorrengail directly. “Even King Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing,” no sense shying away from addressing his death, others would suspect me more if I were evasive about it. 

“So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you’ve made it into the Rider’s Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?”

Silence reigns.

And finally, one last threat from the dragons… I wrap shadows around her ankles, preparing to lock Sorrengail in place if she falls for the bluff, thinking it’s fire. But when the dragons perform their simultaneous exhale of scorching steam, she remains motionless of her own accord.

“Because you’re not untouchable or special to them,” I say pointing to Sgaeyl. “To them, you’re just the prey.”

“What’s your verdict?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“She didn’t run.”

“But her instincts couldn’t be clearer, she’s terrified,” I observe.

“True,” Sgaeyl concedes. “But she’d be a fool not to be. She shows the appropriate level of deference.”

Chapter Text

I come up behind Garrick as he’s overseeing the distribution of the standard summer-weight uniforms to our new Flame Section first-year cadets that afternoon. I whisper, “Meeting at twenty-three hundred hours in my room tonight. Tell Bodhi to come.”

“No one else?” he murmurs.

I think for a moment, “Seeing as she’s in our wing now, and in the squad at issue, let’s bring Imogen in too.”

“She must be stoked about the transfer but you can bet that our little pink menace is pissed about the Sorrengail girl being in her squad,” Garrick warns.

“Good. That should actually work to our advantage,” I tell him. “But start spreading the word among the marked ones that Sorrengail is mine to handle. No one kills her. And have them start spreading a rumor throughout the rest of the quadrant that I plan to kill her, and if anyone else steals the opportunity for me to have my revenge, I’ll kill them.”

“Got it,” he confirms.

I’d timed my chat with Garrick so that I’m leaving him and passing by Tail Section just as Liam finishes collecting his uniform. I wait until he notices me and cock my head ever so slightly in the direction that I then turn and start walking.

He catches on and falls into step beside me but two paces behind.

“Come to my room at twenty-two thirty hours tonight,” I whisper, keeping my eyes forward. “Ask one of the marked second or third-years where to go.”

I turn my head enough to see him give a tiny nod in my peripheral vision before breaking off in another direction.

…

I leave my room ten minutes before Liam is supposed to get here and make my way down the set of circular steps that connects the different levels of the dorms. I descend past two floors and wait on the last flight where I know Liam should be coming shortly on his way from the first-year barracks. 

After a few minutes I can tell through my shadows that someone is walking into the entrance that’s just out of sight around the curve below, and I can see from his intentions that it’s Liam. As soon as he’s through the threshold into the stairway my shadows flood in and plunge the entire flight into darkness.

I hear Liam pause on the steps below. “Gods, Xaden, you weren’t kidding about your signet in those letters were you?”

I keep both ends of the stairway blacked out but allow my shadows to disperse along the middle, revealing us both. “I haven’t written to you about my signet in months, you’re going to love some of the newer developments I’ve honed with it,” I reply as he starts walking again, making his way up to me.

We embrace each other tightly for a few heartbeats. 

I visualize his next intention and roll my eyes but don’t fight it when he places his shoulder against my stomach, leans me over it and lifts. “Let’s get you back to your room,” he says before he starts jogging up the stairs. 

“Get off,” I say with exasperation, shoving at him and stepping back onto the floor.

“What? I thought we were showing off, your fun little shadow trick is cute but check out these crossbolt launchers,” he says flexing his arms, which are admittedly much larger than they were when I saw him last.

“Well another one of my fun little shadow tricks is that I can tell the stairway ahead is clear, so let’s go before anyone comes. But be quiet,” I say, starting to climb again.

I’ve missed his sense of humor over the last two years. I’m glad to see that it’s still intact, maybe it’s even been flourishing without my grumpy ass around to quash it with seriousness every other minute. 

It’s not the first time I’ve wondered if I’m bad for the emotional wellbeing of the people I’m closest to…

We ascend back up two levels, and I keep their thresholds blacked out as we pass. 

Then I feel someone walking through the natural shadows in the third-years’ corridor above, moving toward the stairs. “Get up against the wall and stay right behind me,” I whisper to Liam, obscuring him in shadow.

I see that she intends to sneak down to the second-year’s floor, heading for Aetos’ room. I need to distract her so she doesn’t take note of the unnaturally dark bit of stairway behind me. 

The moment she’s in sight I drawl, “I thought you were a stickler for the rules, Amber, did you forget about the one regarding curfew?” I continue ascending slowly.

“You’re one to talk, Riorson, you never stop bending the Codex itself, much less informal things like curfew.” She huffs disgustedly as she passes, keeping her eyes on the railingless inner edge of the spiral stairs that I force her to skirt by blocking most of the width of the steps along the wall.

“She seems like a real peach,” Liam remarks as we reach the top of the stairs, and start toward my room at the other end of the corridor.

“Yeah, well, the same could be said of most of us third-years who’ve managed to survive this long,” I concede.

“Guess I’ll have to be the exception in a couple of years.” he says brightly.

I smile. “Even with how I’ve seen this fucking place twist people, somehow I don’t doubt that,” I say without looking over at him.

I can sense that he's floored by the compliment but I’m still surprised when he voices, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Gods, Mairi, you have to at least act tough around here,” I admonish him, while envying his emotional maturity and freedom to speak his mind.

“Not when you're the only one around, and I know you would’ve told me if anyone else was coming,” he muses while I unlock my door using lesser magic with the flick of a finger.

We lay on my large bed chatting for the next half hour. At first I try and give him advice about how to survive in the Quadrant but he quickly insists that I’ve already more than prepared him and we end up simply reminiscing for the majority of the time.

Eventually I feel the other three in the shadows outside the door and get up to let them in. 

Imogen pushes through, trying to hide her excitement by looking bored. “You’ve never invited me to one of these private meetings before, Xaden, why the change of heart? Wait, it's just the five of us?”

I can see her subconscious motivation to still be bitter about the fact that last year she’d only been included in the larger meetings with all of the marked ones from her class. We’d only brought Bodhi and a couple of others from her year into the innermost circle. She doesn’t realize that we only did so to try to keep her safe as we were taking on ever-more dangerous missions. That’s fine though, if her being bitter towards me is the price of her safety, I’ll gladly pay it.

“Yeah, where are Soleil, Masen, and the others?” Bodhi inquires.

“This is going to have to be an extra-private meeting,” I say, closing the door behind Garrick and double checking my soundproof ward.

“And you brought a first- year to it?” Imogen asks, clearly taking offense to Liam’s presence.

“Good to see you too, Imogen!” Liam says so genuinely that she knows he actually means it and rolls her eyes.

“The only reason you’re here is because, knowing you,” I say to Imogen, “I’m sure you're planning on killing Violet-fucking-Sorrengail at the first opportunity you get.”

She scowls at me unabashedly.

“But, I need to make it absolutely clear that her life. Is. MINE. No one else gets to kill her. Is that clear?” I ask, addressing the question to Imogen specifically.

She looks stunned.

“You expect me not to take my revenge when her mother may as well have personally executed my mom and sister?” She spits furiously.

“All of us had family whose deaths Lilith Sorrengail was responsible for, not her daughter,” Liam says quietly.

“Yeah, so why should you get to be the one to have your revenge?” Bodhi adds.

There’s silence for a moment while Imogen fumes. I can see that she’s about to explode, so I offer, “And I just said that she’s not yours to kill , I never said that you couldn’t take some revenge, in fact, I hope you do.”

She’s clearly still pissed but there’s at least some interest in the death-glare she looks up at me with.

“I know that as soon as you get a decent excuse, you’ll attack her. Feel free to hurt her as badly as you want without any risk of killing her. Her joints are a particular weakness you might exploit,” I say, giving her a meaningful look.

“And if I get carried away while doing this?” She inquires, fixing me with her quintessential Imogen-glare that seems to say ‘whatever you think of me, an entire vial of laxatives couldn’t make me give a shit.’

“She’s in your squad, Imogen. If you kill her they’d execute you for breaking the Codex.” Garrick says.

Her face blotches and she practically shouts, “I’m more than willing to die to aven-”

“But what if we’re not willing to lose you?” Garrick counters, concern lacing his tone.

Imogen startles as if he slapped her, and fixes him with a searching stare.

“I don’t unders-”

“You don’t need to understand, Imogen,” I interrupt, “you just need to follow orders. You’re free to cause her as much pain as you can, but her life , is mine to handle. End of discussion. You can go now,” I say.

“Just me?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “There’s more I need to tell the other three.”

“Why can’t -”

“Like I said, you don’t need to understand. Compartmentalization. You’re only given the information you need to complete your mission. We don’t give you any more in case it’s tortured out of you, which you’re guaranteed to experience in the RSC class you’ll have to take this year. One of the third-years can tell you about it sometime, but for now, you’re dismissed.” I order, opening the door.

She leaves with one last scowl at me and a quick curious glance at Garrick.

“So what’s this really about? Reserving the right to revenge for yourself? Or even taking revenge in the first place on someone who doesn’t necessarily deserve it …yet. That’s not like you, cousin,” Bodhi observes.

“I’m not actually going to kill her, I just knew Imogen would never accept it if I didn’t imply that I would,” I sigh. “Okay, so you all know that the scars on my back are from the Tyrrish custom where I took a vow of responsibility before General Sorrengail for all of the marked ones. If any of us are caught betraying Navarre my life would be forfeit along with theirs.” I stall for a moment, rubbing my tired eyes with a hand and wishing I didn’t have to do this. “But I never told any of you that if I hadn’t, we would’ve been murdered along with our parents, rather than given at least a chance of survival in the Rider’s Quadrant.”

I can see all three of them about to say something but I put a hand up to stop them. “That’s not the important part here. What matters is that in exchange for that stay of execution, I had to promise that bitch a favor of her choosing, and she’s redeeming it now. I was forced to promise that I’d keep her daughter alive through her first year in the Rider’s Quadrant.”

“What the FUCK!?” Garrick says.

“AND,” I cut him off, “if I don’t, then General Sorrengail will have me killed.”

“Gods,” Bodhi sighs.

“That girl is bound to be killed during a challenge, how can the General expect you to-” Garrick starts.

“Fortunately she seems to accept that she would be exposed if I were to break the Codex in any obvious way, so challenges are excluded,” I explain.

“But even outside of challenges, she’s bound to be targeted by riders wanting to weed out such a weak cadet to strengthen the wings.” Bodhi observes.

“Which is why the first order of business is to try to get her out of the Rider’s Quadrant,” I tell them. “I don’t know why General Sorrengail wants Violet to follow in her footsteps now rather than Markham’s, which was apparently their first plan. But if it can be made clear to her soon that her daughter will surely be killed in a challenge, I assume she’d be convinced to return to that original plan and allow Violet to transfer to the Scribes while it still makes sense early in the year.”

“So that’s why you’re not stopping Imogen from attacking her altogether.” Garrick nods.

“Yes. We need someone to injure her grievously enough to make the point without killing her,” I clarify. “I knew Imogen would already be planning to attack her, and she’s well placed to do it soon before anyone else actually kills her. In the meantime, I can’t keep an eye on her at all times, so I need all of your help, especially yours, Liam. As a first-year in her same wing, you’ll be around her more than any of our schedules will allow. We can’t let anyone else get their hands on her outside of a challenge. ”

“Good plan. We’ve got your back, like always,” Bodhi promises and Garrick nods in agreement.

“Alright, you two get back to your rooms,” I tell them. “I need to sneak this little first-year back down to the barracks.”

Bodhi and Garrick leave. 

Liam and I steal back down the stairs in silence. When he reaches the last step he stops and looks back up at me for a few heart beats.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Hey, I was saving my own skin as much as anyone else’s,” I shrug.

Liam smirks knowingly. “Uh-huh. See you later, brother,” he says, stepping through my wall of shadows blocking out the doorway and disappearing.

…

As formation ends the next morning, I motion Garrick over.

“All of our people know to leave Sorrengail to me?” I ask.

He nods in confirmation.

“Good,” I nod. “They’re the most likely to try to kill her, but in case Imogen doesn’t get a good opportunity to put her out of commission for a few days, we need to make a big show of making sure the rest of the Quadrant knows it too.” 

I keep my eyes on Sorrengail and see an image of a childhood instinct kick in when she hears a bird whistle. I follow her gaze and see Aetos nod subtly toward the rotunda. 

“Well this could be helpful,” I say, slowly leading the way but keeping a significant following distance behind her as she goes to meet him. “Maybe we can get Aetos to do some of our work for us.”

We enter the rotunda a minute after she does and I can feel through the shadows that they’re behind the column carved into a red dragon. Garrick follows as I quietly make my way to the top of the steps and turn to wait for them to emerge.

“You think they’re fucking back there?” Garrick asks.

“No, I can hear that they’re just talking, the good news is that Aetos is driven to protect her, apparently they’re close friends from childhood,” I say. I can feel things through shadows, but I can’t actually hear through them, I’ve just spread the rumor that I can in order to cover for knowing more than I should as an inntinnsic. Nobody can know that, not even Garrick.

“Perfect, making a big show about us wanting to kill her will make Aetos that much more vigilant about keeping her safe.” Garrick says as the rotunda begins filling with other cadets.

“Exactly,” I answer.

After a couple of minutes Garrick observes, “They’re taking a while.”

“It’s ok as long as there’s a decent number of unmarked cadets to witness this and start spreading the word too,” I say. “We don't want it looking like the rumor is only being spread by marked ones, that might look too intentional and suspicious.”

I assume an intimidating posture with my arms folded across my chest as she finally emerges and I watch as she orients herself and starts making her way through the crowd. My eyes never waver from her and others begin to take notice, following my gaze. Awareness seems to spread through the people in a wave until it reaches her and her eyes are drawn upward to me.

“Better do it soon, seems like the crowd is starting to thin out.” Garrick whispers in my ear, but I pretend to ignore him as if I’m unwilling to remove any focus from her. 

Fuck, why does she have to be so pretty?

I visualize her instinct wondering if I’m about to kill her right here. I tilt my head as if to communicate that her instinct is spot on. 

I glance at Aetos emerging from behind the column a moment later then look back to her and cock an eyebrow. She hisses something to him as he approaches her and his gaze snaps up to me. He steps closer to her protectively .

Good.

While the two of them have a quick whispered exchange, some of the other people around seem to have the same instinct she did and begin scurrying from the rotunda, not wanting to be around if I were to murder her right here. That’s fine, they’ll still get the idea, but I want at least a few people to actually hear.

“I already knew your parents were tight,” I call out, fixing a malicious smile to my face. “But do you two have to be so fucking obvious?” I say, drawing the attention of all the remaining cadets around.

“Let me guess,” I glance meaningfully between the two of them, “Childhood friends? First loves, even?” I sense from their instincts that my second guess is off, even though Aetos at least, clearly wishes they were together.

They continue whispering to each other without taking their eyes off me. 

I begin sauntering slowly down the steps. “I expected you to do a better job of hiding where your affections lie, Aetos.”

“Run, Violet.” I hear him tell her. “ Now .”

She bolts, and is out of the rotunda a moment later.

“Sorrengail is mine to kill!” I shout, continuing down the stairs. “Everyone hear that?” I ask, looking around. Everyone my gaze falls on quickly lowers their own and hurries away.

I’m directly in front of Aetos now. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He returns my glare defiantly for a few moments.

“Dismissed.” I say with contempt, and he slowly turns and walks away.

Chapter Text

Garrick walks into Battle Brief just before Devera is about to begin from the stage at the bottom of the auditorium. It shouldn’t take more than a month or two before enough first-years have died to free up enough seats for everyone, but for the time being I’ve forgone my right to a seat to allow others the luxury, and Garrick leans up against the back wall next to me.

“Seem like the word is spreading?” I ask quietly, ignoring Devera’s greeting to the new cadets.

“Yeah, you definitely got your point across but I have intel suggesting that not everyone is necessarily going to heed the warning. There’s one specific situation we’ll need to monitor at least,” Garrick’s quiet growl is laced with frustration

“What’s that?”

“Eya said she heard a girl telling some big brute of a first-year about the scene you made this morning,” he replies, “and apparently he responded that he’s still going to kill Sorrengail himself anyway.”

“Was his name Jack Barlowe?” I ask him.

“Eya didn’t know his name, just said he’s huge, blonde, light blue eyes, personality like Malek’s butthole…”

“That’s Barlowe,” I confirm. “Well tell everyone to keep an ear out for anyone else that doesn’t intend to back off, but I guess I should’ve expected that he wouldn’t considering that she came within an inch of castrating him yesterday.”

“Seriously?! That girl doesn’t think she has enough enemies already?” Garrick gawks.

I shrug as Devera introduces Markham, taking note that she whispers something to him as he’s about to give his own welcome to the new first-years.

His eyes fly wide in shock and I focus on him intently, seeing an image of his instinct to find Violet in the crowd. When he does, his disappointment couldn’t be more clear.

Fascinating . He’s surprised to learn that the woman he thought was going to be his successor was snatched out from under him, so it couldn’t have been a coordinated decision to put her in the Rider’s Quadrant. General Sorrengail must have decreed it unilaterally. But why?

I ponder the question rather than listening to Markham’s hypocritical bullshit about the noble duties of the scribes. I’ve learned to simply invert the meaning of everything he preaches about as he’s guilty of all the crimes he accuses Navarre’s enemies of, while, for the most part, those ‘enemies’ actually embody the virtues he claims to live by.

Devera takes over again and begins detailing a supposed gryphon attack on a border village. I focus my power on Sorrengail to see her reaction. I’m not particularly surprised to find that she’s dumbfounded, virtually nobody outside active military is aware that wards have been faltering and that drifts of Gryphons have been raiding border villages and outposts. It is somewhat disappointing though, it would be that much easier to loathe her if she were already in on the secret of the venin, or were at least being groomed toward it by being clued into these kinds of things before now.

“Do you think it’s time to let Imogen all the way in?” Garrick whispers. 

I keep just enough attention on Devera to be able to respond intelligently, but shift the rest back to Garrick, arching an eyebrow at him as an invitation to continue.

“I know last year she was unbonded at first,” he says, "and then after Threshing we didn’t want her getting mixed up in our… dangerous stuff. But she’s a second-year rider now and one of the best fighters we’ve got, we can’t protect her forever just because of who she is to us.”

I consider him carefully. Even though they wouldn’t know I was doing so, I try not to use my inntinnsic ability on my closest friends when it comes to personal matters, in an effort to not violate their privacy. This is the exact kind of situation where I have to know though. I could always ask, my trust in him is absolutely unconditional when it comes to any other subject, but this is the one topic I think he might be evasive about…

“Are you saying this just because she’s a second-year now, or is there…” I have to find a tactful way of phrasing this, “any other reason you’d be advocating to give her exactly what she wants?” I ask.

Garrick’s jaw ticks. “Half the marked first-years already look up to her as a mentor, and I have no doubt the other half will too when they really get to know her. Even all the second-years respect her as an unofficial leader. After we graduate, she ought to be heading up that ‘dangerous stuff’ with Bodhi next year.”

I sigh. While all of that is arguably true, I’m also all too aware of the fact that he didn’t answer my question. “‘Who she is to us’ isn’t just an issue in terms of us being too protective of her. It also means she’s too familiar with us. She’s willful to the point of disobedience because she knows she can get away with it.” 

“That’s who she is, she’s defiant with everyone, not just us,” he counters.

“Yes, but if she wants to participate in missions then she has to respect us as her commanders .” I emphasize. “In that context it wouldn’t just be disobedience, it’d be insubordination. That won’t work, she could get herself or someone else killed.”

Garrick lowers his eyes. 

I sigh again. “Let’s see if she actually embraces that mentor role. If it’s looking like things are progressing the way that you’re predicting after a month or two, then I’ll consider it.”

My attention snaps back to Devera when I hear her say “Why don’t you tell me why that’s bothersome, Cadet Sorrengail? And maybe you’d like to ask your own questions from here on out.”

I listen as she analyzes the attack, utilizing geographic information that even I’m only aware of because of my vested interests which the vast majority of the other riders in this room don't share. She even stands her ground when most of the assembled masses laugh at a counterintuitive conclusion that she draws and Jack Barlowe openly mocks her. But in the end she makes a convincing case and Devera confirms that she’s correct. I can feel it as the collective instinct of most of the audience shifts a little, recognizing that her exceptional cognitive prowess might make her less of a liability than they’d assumed simply because of her size.

I focus my power on her again as the second and third-years take over the line of questioning, and see her intention to take notes in the form of a report that a scribe attached to the wing would have filed after witnessing the event.

Damn . If she does succeed in becoming a rider, that in combination with the mind of an especially brilliant scribe, she truly would be formidable. Maybe that’s why the General threw her in here, she could be so much more than just the next Markham. 

A chill runs down my spine. 

Well, at least that’s another really legitimate reason to hate her.

The questions the other cadets are asking are becoming superfluous now, they’re all missing the point.

“What was the condition of the village?” I speak up.

“Riorson?” Markham asks, looking like the cowardly rat that he is, squinting up at me through the bright mage lights. His instinct shows that he’s surprised I’m actually participating in this charade for once.

“The village,” I say again. “Professor Devera said the damage would have been worse, but what was the actual condition? Was it burned? Destroyed?” I’m trying to inject an ounce of humanity into everyone else around me, the vast majority of whom have lost all sight of it. But I’d better shift to a military justification before I’m accused of being motivated by protecting defenseless civilians - the same motivation that drove my father’s rebellion before that was swept under the rug. “They wouldn’t demolish it if they were trying to establish a foothold, so the condition of the village matters when trying to determine a motive for the attack.”

  Devera smiles. “The buildings they’d already gone through were burned, and the rest were being looted when the wing arrived.”

“They were looking for something.” I say with certainty, again trying to clue everyone in to an important fact. I obviously can’t even hint that I know it’s the imbued alloy that the gryphon fliers need to kill venin, but there’s enough evidence to make plain that they weren’t simply raiding for the sake of being dicks. “And it wasn’t riches. That’s not a gem mining district. Which begs the question, what do we have that they want so badly?” I conclude.

“Exactly. That’s the question.” Devera says while I focus my power on her. It turns out that she actually doesn’t know. Apparently being a Captain hasn’t given her the clearance to be told the truth yet, but I know she’s a rising star. If they hope to make her a major soon, as her assignment here would suggest is the plan, they’ll have to let her in on the secret of the venin soon. I wonder how she’ll take it…

…

I enter the gathering hall for dinner and spot Garrick looking pissed and escorting Imogen toward me. I turn around again and we all walk back out the doors and find a secluded spot to talk against a wall in the commons.

“Tell him,” Garrick orders.

“I fucked Sorrengail up like you wanted,” Imogen says simply.

“Already? How’d -” I start

“I convinced Emmeterio to let me test her out during Assessment,” Imogen interrupts.

“Huh. Good plan,” I nod thoughtfully. “How fucked up are we talking?”

“Tore her arm out of its socket and then snapped it,” she shrugs casually.

“Nice work.” That should be perfect to convince her mother to transfer her out of here , I think. “So why do you look like a dragon shit in your soup?” I ask Garrick.

“Do you want to tell him yourself, or should I?” Garrick glowers at Imogen folding his arms across his chest.

Imogen sighs, annoyed. “I also learned something that you should know about before you go to kill her…”

I fix an expectant glare on her.

“Apparently she has some fancy-ass armor,” Imogen groans as if she’s still an angsty teenager. “It must be lightweight and flexible because she was still fast as hell in it, but somehow it’s also impenetrable.”

“And how, exactly, do you know this?” My tone is ice.

She gives me that patented Imogen-glare for several seconds. Finally she rolls her eyes and sighs. 

“Because my dagger couldn’t get through it,” she says lazily. 

I ball my fists and turn around to not allow them to see the composure slip on my face.

I take a few moments to gather myself and then turn back again.

I lean down into her face. “This ends now, Imogen. My room. Twenty-three hundred hours.” 

I turn and stalk back off to the gathering hall.

Chapter Text

A knock sounds on my door shortly before curfew that night and I open it to find Soleil. I step back to let her in.

Once I’ve closed the door, I ask, “You do remember that the first inner circle meeting of the year isn’t until tomorrow night, right?”

“Of course, I have something to report,” she says.

“Okay…” I look at her expectantly.

“Garrick told me to hang around near the infirmary after dinner and try to gather any updates I could get about Sorrengail,” Soleil explains. “She just left there with her arm in a sling and headed back toward the barracks a few minutes ago.”

“I need to go,” I say, making for the door. “Good work,” I tell her as I leave.

Back to the barracks? Surely just to collect her belongings before transferring to the Scribe Quadrant, right?

“You don’t think they would have assigned someone else to do that for her?” Sgaeyl prompts.

“Maybe not if she wanted to say goodbye to that friend of hers?” I hypothesize.

“You're grasping. She said the arm was in a sling, not a cast,” Sgaeyl reminds me. 

“So? That just means Nolon mended her, he’s done it countless times before,” I reason.

“It’s Assessment Day,” Sgaeyl states. “Mending an injury that severe would have required a significant amount of time and half his energy. If she were bound for the Scribe Quadrant they would have forced her to make due with Healers and Leigheas Serum for a day or two until the Mender could work through the backlog of rider cadets.”

“FUCK!” I rage inwardly.

“Indeed,” Sgaeyl agrees.

I reach the ground floor of the dorms and continue on into the first-year barracks in no time. I don’t bother hiding as I walk through the men’s chamber, simply moving with authority. I cloak myself in shadow as I enter the women’s chamber and keep to the naturally darker areas along the walls. I quickly spot Sorrengail looking at a letter and focus my power on her.

An image of her sister, Mira, and an overwhelming instinct of gratitude fills my mind. She’s thankful that her sister armed her with what she'd need to survive in the Rider’s Quadrant, in more ways than one. 

She sets down the note and says something to the friend she traded boots with before parapet. Then she picks up a journal and I see a picture in my mind's eye depicting ‘The Book of Brennan’. There’s a subconscious motivation so powerful I find it staggering, a fierce intention to survive against any odds and a momentary general sense of peace and confidence.

Well… shit.

I make my way back up to my room.

…

“We’ve been going about things the wrong way with Imogen,” I tell Bodhi and Garrick in my room about ten minutes before she’s supposed to report.

“You think?” Garrick says.

I sigh. “Okay, I’ve been going about things the wrong way. It’s just hard for me… even before the Apostasy failed, I already thought of her almost like a little sister. And then after what we all went through together at that point… I never wanted to let her anywhere near that kind of danger or heartache again.”

“You’re gonna have to get over that. She’s stuck in the godsdamned Rider’s Quadrant, she’s going to be fucking tortured this year. But she can take it.” Garrick says confidently.

“I know. I still wish she didn't have to, but it's not like she hasn't already endured far worse,” I admit. “I'd thought that maybe I could protect her from the very worst of what's coming, but frankly she'll be one of our best assets to save everyone from it. So from now on I'll do my best to prepare her for it instead.”

“And what about your general demeanor towards her?” Bodhi inquires. “You should know by now that she doesn't exactly respond to the harsh disciplinarian approach.”

“Well, we'll still need to lay down the law whenever she inevitably goes rogue. But generally, yeah, that's good advice we could probably all benefit from keeping in mind,” I say, glancing at Garrick, who responds with a look that is skeptical to say the least. 

To kill time until she arrives we begin making plans for the meeting in ten days with all of the marked first-years. Debating the boring logistics of getting all the new cadets to the specific tree and so on. Eventually I feel Imogen approaching through the shadows outside the room.

I open the door and she comes in with her arms crossed, clearly prepared for a fight. Let's see if I can head that off right now…

“I was wrong, Imogen. I'm sorry,” I say with all sincerity.

The look on her face clearly shows that she wasn't expecting that and she's on the back foot for a moment before reassembling her snarky expression and asking skeptically, “You're going to let me kill Sorrengail?”

Gods, she's not going to make this easy, is she?

“No, not about that. Her life is still mine to handle and we'll get to the fact that you deliberately disobeyed my order about that in a bit, but first I need to open up to you about a couple of things…” I begin.

“I was probably wrong to have kept you out of the private meetings and what we're doing in that regard, but I was definitely wrong not to tell you that it wasn't because I don't think you were up to the task or good enough to be a part of the inner circle… it was because I was trying to protect you from what we’re doing.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Imogen demands.

“Because I don't know if I could handle seeing you get hurt too badly again,” I say simply.

That actually shuts her up for once.

“I know now that was a bad instinct because we're going to need you,” I tell her sincerely, “but you're also going to have to meet me halfway.”

She immediately hits me with the Imogen-glare again.

“That right there,” I say, pointing at her face, “that's what I'm talking about. None of our other people would ever dare give me that kind of look. How close we've been in the past is causing problems from both directions in this new scenario we're in now, Imogen. I'm basically the leader of this revolution, at the very least I'm in charge of the stuff that's going on here at Basgiath. I know you're smart enough to have caught on to the fact that we're doing things to advance the cause around here, and if you want in on it, you have to respect me as your superior officer and obey my fucking orders.”

“You didn't even ask if I was trying to disobey them! For your information, I wasn't actually planning to kill her with my dagger.”

I fix her with my own skeptical look, as does Garrick from the edge of the bed where he’s sitting.

“What?” she says defensively. “People can live without half their intestines.”

“Gods, Imogen, he said you were free to hurt her as badly as you wanted without ANY RISK of killing her!” Garrick says reproachfully, staring at the floor with his head in his hands.

Imogen rolls her eyes.

“Do you see how I'm making an effort here and you're just being as stubborn as ever?” I ask. “That's why I'm still not comfortable letting you in on the classified stuff yet.”

She opens her mouth furiously to argue but I cut her off.

“Which is not to say that I won't, IF -” I say, putting a finger up, “you prove you're willing to make an effort too. I know that I'll never be able to tame that tongue of yours but actions speak louder than words… Garrick pointed out that a lot of the new first-years look up to you already and that you’re one of our best fighters. You could be an invaluable asset in keeping them alive if you'd be a mentor to them.”

“Pssh, easy. I would've done that anyway.” She says dismissively, but I notice her lightning-quick glance at Garrick who’s shaking his head at the ceiling now. The look on her face in that instant contains something besides snark.

“Good.” I say trying to remove the frustration from my tone. “I know you have zero respect for authority, so I don’t expect you to express deference to us or anything, but you will at least follow orders from now on. And I’ve seen how you show incredible patience with younger ones, so with those that look up to you as an authority, I expect you to behave accordingly. If you start acting like you belong in the leadership ranks, and keep it up for more than a few days just to get what you want, then I’ll consider letting you in on the classified stuff in a month or two.”

“Done,” she agrees with a sincere expression on her face for once.

“Ok then. Garrick and Bodhi, you’re both dismissed,” I tell them.

They leave without a word.

“You need to tell me something too classified for them to hear this time?” Imogen asks sarcastically after the door closes.

“Well ‘classified’ isn’t exactly the right word, but otherwise, yeah, kinda.” I respond.

She looks at me skeptically.

“I saw something earlier that made me realize that being a bad commander isn’t the only thing I need to apologize for,” I tell her. “As I’m sure you’d agree.”

I pause for a few beats to give her the opportunity to take over but she just crosses her arms and waits expectantly.

“You know I’m not good at this kind of thing, and it might make you feel better to just let me fucking have it,” I try to prompt her. “This room is soundproofed…”

I wait another beat and when she still doesn’t respond I begin preparing to make an absolute ass of myself. But then -

“I missed you, so, fucking, much.” I can barely even hear her whisper.

“I was sixteen when they sent us off to be fostered. I appreciated your letters so much, but they just made me that much more excited to see you again when we finally got here together. But once I did, you weren’t… YOU!”

Her eyes are shining like she’s about to cry, and I lower my own.

“It’s like you’ve disappeared behind your fucking commander mask. This, right now, is the first real conversation we’ve had in five years , Xaden!” she says, throwing her arms up, “I thought I’d finally have you back, but even once you were finally, physically present again, I’ve still just… missed you! ”

I look up again and she lets her arms fall in exasperation.

I walk towards her. She looks confused and keeps her eyes on me while turning her head slightly and pulling it back uncomfortably as I approach her. 

I hug her. She remains frozen in shock for several heartbeats.

Finally her arms clutch me fiercely in return.

I turn my head and place my cheek on the top of her head.

“I’ve missed you too, Immy.” I whisper.

Chapter Text

“We should have taken the lunar phases into account when we were scheduling this meeting,” Masen whispers. The moon is full and much too bright for comfort considering how many of us are sneaking out after curfew and the lethal consequences if we’re caught. 

The other six members of the inner circle and I cautiously make our way from the mouth of the steps that climb up through the citadel’s foundations, down the slope toward the river that separates the Rider’s Quadrant from the rest of the war college. 

“We would’ve needed to shift it by at least a week for it to have made much difference,” I respond quietly. “There’s a decent chance that what we talk about and the plans we make tonight could end up saving one of the first-years’ lives in the next week.”

“We could have done it last week though,” Ciaran says.

Garrick scoffs. “We learned our lesson about that from your class last year. When we met during the first few days of the year you all pestered us with so many pointless questions, which you would have figured out for yourselves within a few days, that it ended up lasting over an hour. And there’s way more of them this year. Plus, don’t you remember the September meeting where Xaden had to tell you all to grow the fuck up and stop coming to us to solve every little problem? Hopefully having to mostly fend for themselves for almost two weeks helped instill some self-reliance in them so they won’t become so dependent on us in the first place.”

We reach the bottom of the slope, just a few dozen paces from the river. We’re so far below the citadel now and the rushing water is loud enough that we don’t need to worry about keeping our voices low any more. “Alright, let’s spread out and make sure we gather them all up as they get here,” I order. 

There’s so many first-years that we thought it would be infeasible to walk them all through detailed directions to an ambiguous tree. Plus as a further lesson in self-reliance and an exercise in learning the local terrain, we’d simply told them to get themselves to this flat strip adjacent to the river. 

Considering that most of them are probably unaware or too scared to try to sneak into the stairs through the cliff, they could be coming from anywhere, many likely taking circuitous routes down from the citadel to avoid having to descend a sheer cliff face. We’ll teach them about the stairs on the way back.

“Bodhi you take Eya and Ciaran downstream. Soleil and Masen, you two head upstream a bit, and Garrick, go way up there in case any of them snuck out on the Gathering-Hall side of the citadel.” They all disperse and I continue down to the tree. 

I feel someone approaching from my left. I crouch low in the tall grass and cover myself in shadows until I realize that it’s Imogen. Before I can stand again a thought crosses my mind and I grin.

I wait until she’s practically on top of me before rising, still cloaked in shadow. I let her fear build for just a moment before letting my shadows drop. “Boo.”

“I swear to Dunne, Riorson, I will fucking kill you!” She says, clutching at her chest.

I chuckle under my breath and we both start walking again.

“You showed up to a meeting early?” I inquire.

“You told me I needed ‘act like a stick in the mud’ around the impressionable little first-years. Or something to that effect at least,” she responds.

“Pretty sure my actual word choice was ‘act like you belong in leadership,’ but I take your point. Apparently I’m not fully forgiven for being such an ass?” I ask.

  “You figure that out all by yourself? You should work in military intelligence,” she says sarcastically as we reach the cover of the ancient oak’s branches. “If you think one hug and an ‘I’m sorry,’” she does a mocking but surprisingly accurate impression of my deep voice, “is going to make up for an entire year of being a complete ass, then you need to work on your social skills even more than I thought.”

She leans back against the lowest limb and removes her black hood. Now that the tree branches block the view from above and we’re out of the direct moonlight I feel safe enough and pull off my hood as well.

“Huh, no kidding. Social skills, I guess I’d forgotten those were even a thing,” I say, trying to pass it off like a joke, but she seems to pick up on how much truth there really is in the statement.

“Hey, c’mon, I was just giving you shit. I get that you were just trying to be a good leader, and you are. If you take up your father’s mantle and lead a successful revolution, nobody’s gonna give a fuck if you had to act like a dick to get it done.”

“Yeah, because what people think of me is what I’m really worried about,” I drawl.

“Then what is it?” she asks.

“I think it’s just disorienting whenever I’m suddenly reminded… what things used to be like. Everything we’ve already lost.” I shrug.

I tense as I feel something slip into the shadows in the tree above. 

Oh fuck. I think it’s a person, and I might have to silence them if they end up hearing anything that would compromise the revolution. I pretend not to notice, I don’t want them to know that I’m aware of their presence so that I can have the element of surprise when I confront them after the meeting. For now, I can at least choose my words carefully and hope they don’t hear anything I’d have to kill them over.

I turn away from the river when I feel lots of movement in the shadows in the other direction. The other six have apparently already rounded up all the first-years and brought them to the tree.

The large group approaches then gathers in front of me under the branches of the tree. 

“Good job making it here,” I greet them. I can sense that the person up in the tree can’t hear and intends to climb down a ways to be able to listen in. I only have another minute to speak freely before I’ll have to watch what I say or commit to killing them. 

“Many of you will already know a decent number of the rest of the group, but most people won’t know at least a few of the others. I certainly hope this isn’t the case but depending on where your loyalties lie after the Apostasy, it’s at least possible that some of you may even be what most of us would consider an enemy,” I say, trying to get through this part quickly. “But no matter what dynamics are at play, the one thing you all have in common is that I am personally responsible for you. No matter what we may come to think of each other, I will do my best to keep you alive as long as you don’t betray the rest of us. To that end, my first piece of advice is to accept the fact that everything about this place is designed to kill you and always act accordingly.”

“We’ve already lost Sutherland and Luperco,” Garrick booms to drive home the point and I take note of the hidden person’s intention to find a place to settle in just a little bit lower as they’re beginning to be able to make out what’s being said.

“And if we don’t trust you? If we think you’re putting us all at risk just by having meetings like this much less anything else you might be up to?” a nervous first-year girl asks.

“I don’t care. This meeting isn’t about anything like that, it’s just about keeping as many of you alive as possible, which I’ll do whether you trust me or not,” I respond in a low voice, making everyone lean in to hear. My father taught me many such tricks for manipulating groups of people: nod slightly while trying to convince people of something and many people mimic you and nod along too, stand in a confident pose and you’ll literally feel and sound more confident, and if you make them physically lean in they’re more likely to ‘lean in’ to what you’re saying figuratively as well.

Gods, it’s going to be hard trying to be conscientious of all of that kind of thing while also trying to keep tabs on the lurker in the tree, who I can sense intends to stay put now that they’re close enough to overhear everything we’re saying.

“Like it or not, we’re going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation,” Imogen says from beside me.

“And if they find out we’re meeting?” the same girl asks, looking around for any support, fortunately I can tell from everyone’s instincts that there’s very little for her to find, most everyone is largely grateful to be here.

“We’ve done this for two years and they’ve never found out,” I say as I lean back against a limb and fold my arms to convey the impression of being perfectly at ease even as I internally scramble to read whether the hidden person intends to rat us out to leadership simply for meeting. As it’s considered a capital offense, I might have to kill the person just for that even if they don’t end up hearing anything about the revolution. “They’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell I’ll know,” I say, threatening the person behind me as much as the girl and everyone else in front of me. 

Fortunately it appears that the person’s intention is not to condemn us simply for meeting, though they’re still reserving judgment based on what they overhear. Huh, I might not have to kill someone tonight if they can be persuaded that our reason for being here is justifiable. Let’s see if I can convince them…

“Like Garrick said, we’ve already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don’t want to lose any of you,” I say, giving the nervous girl a quick, sincere look, “but we will if you don’t help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail.”

I reach out to gauge the instincts of everyone around and am pleasantly surprised to see a general assent coming from both in front and behind me. The rift that was present between a few of the first-years and the rest of us is narrowing, the group as a whole becoming more unified. And the instinct of the person hidden behind is to agree with my point as well. I see their intention to admire what I’m doing here despite thinking I’m an asshole.

Huh, if I don’t have to kill them tonight, I wonder if there’s any chance that whoever this is could eventually become the first non-separatist to be brought into the fold. We learned from my father’s mistakes and don’t intend to go to war with Navarre, but even to expose their secret and begin fighting the Venin scourge openly, at some point that will require attempting to recruit any Navarrians willing to listen to reason. This could be a useful proof of concept.

“How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?” I ask the group.

Four hands go up.

“Shit,” I lift my hand to my face, pausing in hopes that Imogen will step up of her own accord.

“I’ll teach them,” Garrick speaks up.

I shake my head, trying to communicate to him that I want Imogen to do it, “you’re our best fighter-”

“ You’re our best fighter,” Bodhi interrupts, directing the comment at me. 

“Dirtiest fighter, maybe,” Imogen jokes.

That elicits laughs or at least smiles from practically everyone. She’s doing a good job of acting like she belongs in leadership and bringing everyone together even if she’s not going to offer to train underprepared cadets voluntarily. That’s a good first step, but I think about the advice that I gave her regarding actions speaking louder than words as Garrick makes some comment about my ruthlessness. I’ll have to assign her the duty. But I can’t allocate all of them to her or the group would be larger than three and they couldn’t meet openly.

“Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she’s a hell of a lot more patient,” I say, giving her a meaningful look as a reminder. “So the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won’t draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?”

“I can’t do this,” a scrawny first-year whines, covering his face. I can see his intention to metaphorically cling to others to keep his own head above water, even if it ends up drowning them instead.

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice betraying a bit of the disgust I feel towards him.

“I can’t do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it!” he says, becoming panicked even here, surrounded by allies that would willingly help him as long as he took any self-responsibility. “A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day! I want to go home! Can you help me with that !”

A tiny stab of pity forces its way through the revulsion I feel towards his intentions. 

“No, he’s beyond helping,” Sgaeyl says in my mind. “ No dragon will ever bond this coward. The most you can hope to make him into at this point is an example for the others to learn from.”

“No,” I say bluntly with a shrug. “You’re not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time.”

Some of the other first-years gasp. Good , even if it makes them think I’m a callous dick, at least they’re taking the lesson to heart. 

“That was a little harsh, cousin,” Bodhi says, his intention to try to convince me to have some mercy on the guy. But he has no way of knowing that it’s a lost cause like I do.

“What do you want me to say, Bodhi? I can’t save everyone,” I say truthfully, keeping my voice perfectly level and controlled, “especially not someone that isn’t willing to work to save themselves.”

“Damn, Xaden. Way to give a pep talk,” Garrick says, his body language showing as clearly as his instincts that he thinks I’ve gone too dark.

Gods, him too? Even if it’s a dark place, I have the first-years right where I want them, with their guards all the way up and beginning to understand that that’s where they’ll need to keep them at all times from now on. I couldn’t give a shit if they think I’m morbid or even hate me, at least a few more of them might end up surviving this way.

“If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they’re not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day,” I say to Garrick loudly since the message is for the entire group. “Let’s get real, I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.” 

I fix my gaze on the coward again, “In war, people die. It’s not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It’s snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There’s nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur. This -” I gesture towards the Riders Quadrant, “isn’t some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It’s hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home… to whatever’s left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant. So if you won’t get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You’re not going to make it.” 

Silence reigns.

“Now someone give me a problem I can actually solve,” I demand.

“Battle Brief,” a first-year girl speaks up quietly. “It’s not that I can’t keep up, but the information…” she trails off.

“That’s a tough one,” Imogen begins before looking to me. Thank gods she didn’t say anything more, if anyone says the wrong thing right now I’ll have to kill the person hidden behind me regardless. How can I phrase this?

“You learn what they teach you,” I say carefully, speaking with finality in hopes that no one else follows up. “Keep what you know, but recite whatever they tell you to.”

A bit cryptic, but it should get the point across to all of our people. I check in on the instincts of the lurker and am pleased to find that they have no idea what I’m referring to.

“Anyone else?” I ask, trying to shift away from dangerous topics. “You’d better ask now, we don’t have all night.” 

“When do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail?” a guy near the rear of the group pipes up.

“Yeah, Xaden,” Imogen says in a tone that probably only I recognize as teasing. She knows better than to bring it up to me again herself, but she’s reveling in the fact that someone else did it for her. “When do we get to finally have our revenge?” she smirks, her emphasis clearly referring to the fact I told her she could take some revenge but implied that I was reserving the right to kill Sorrengail myself.

Shit, I can sense that most of the group intends to kill Sorrengail if given the go ahead, I need to head this off right now.

“I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine . And I’ll handle her when the time is right,” I say, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“Didn’t you already learn that lesson, Imogen?” Bodhi responds reproachfully, clearly alluding to the meeting we had after Imogen attacked her, but he does an admirable job of pivoting to a different implication, “what I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat.” 

Shit, good pivot, but trying to get her to comply by embarrassing her is going to backfire.

“Her mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder!” Imogen spits, her tone venomous.

Gods, it’s the same as the debate we had in the first meeting with Imogen all over again. At least having it in front of the rest of the group, whose instincts mostly seem to side with Imogen, should hopefully put the matter to bed once and for all.

“Her mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents.” Garrick chides, assuming an intimidating posture. “Not her daughter. Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyrrish.”

Nice delivery. I can sense the point quash most people’s instinct to kill Sorrengail.

“So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college -” apparently Imogen isn’t so easily pacified…

“In case you didn’t notice, she’s in the same death sentence of a college,” Garrick retorts. “Seems like she’s already suffering the same fate,” he huffs in frustration. No one can get under Garrick’s skin the way Imogen does. They really need to just get over it and shack up.

“Don’t forget her brother was Brennan Sorrengail,” I jump in, not all of the first-years would know he’s still alive, and the ones that do, know to shut the fuck up about it. “She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.”

I level a death-glare at Imogen and the first-year that brought it up. “And I’m not going to tell you again. She’s mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?”

Apparently not.

“Good. Then get back to bed and go in threes,” I say, cocking my head toward the citadel, and they begin leaving. 

Now to deal with the lurker.

I follow the rest of the group back up the slope for a minute before turning again and cloaking myself in shadow. I steal back to the tree making sure to remain completely covered. I can feel them still in the exact same spot where they were during the meeting and simply wait for them to climb down from the tree. It’s already been a few minutes and I see their intention to wait several more despite many of their muscles cramping. Whoever this is, is impressively cautious. 

They finally begin descending, and the moment their feet hit the ground, I pounce. 

I put them in a headlock to prevent them from being able to call out. It’s a woman, and gods, she’s tiny.

“Scream and you die,” I whisper as I remove my elbow from her throat and replace it with a dagger.

I see her primal instinct to flee the moment she recognizes my voice. It’s someone who thinks I plan to kill her. Zihnal damn it, this is just my luck. 

“Fucking Sorrengail,” I accuse, jerking down the hood of her cloak. Even if this doesn’t end up going my way and I should kill her to keep all of the marked ones safe, I can’t. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“How did you know?” she demands. I’m impressed that despite battling a very strong fear instinct, outwardly the only emotion she gives is indignation. And why can I not just ignore how fucking attractive she is!

“ Use that. You’re very skilled at manipulation, you’re going to have to charm her,” Sgaeyl suggests.

“Let me guess, you could smell my perfume. Isn’t that what always gives the heroine away in books?”

“ Do you really think a woman who’s such a nerd that she considers that to be shit talking is dumb enough to fall for it if I start trying to smooth talk her now?” I scoff at Sgaeyl.

“I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.” I remove the knife from her throat and take a step back.

“Your signet is shadow wielding?” she gasps.

“ I said you were ‘skilled’ and to ‘charm her’, not ‘idiotic’ and ‘fail to bed her.’ You can be charming while still being an ass, I would know,” Sgaeyl observes. “It should be especially easy with someone who already has a crush on you.”

“ I doubt that’s still true, not to mention she fucking hates and is terrified of me. But I guess I don’t have a better plan…”

“What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?” I say with the slightest hint of a tease, to see how she’ll respond.

She visibly shivers and I can tell that it’s from the sound of my voice rather than cold or fear, but she still pulls a dagger on me, lightning fast. Well, fuck if both of things aren't hot as all hell. Damn it!

“Is this how you plan to handle me?” She inquires acidly, her intention is clearly to defend herself to the death.

“Eavesdropping were we?” I tease wholeheartedly this time, sheathing my own dagger. “Now I might actually have to kill you.” Not that I actually can, but if she were anyone else or it weren’t for my favor to her fucking mother, it’d be absolutely true.

“Then go ahead and get it over with,” she says, drawing another dagger from its sheath at her ribs. She backs up a step and is poised to fling them at me.

I fold my arms in front of me and examine her daggers and posture. She really needs more training. “That stance is really the best defense you can muster?” I ask scornfully. “No wonder Imogen nearly ripped your arm off.”

“I’m more dangerous than you think,” she retorts. Her instincts betray that she doesn’t believe it, but this isn’t the first time I’ve wondered whether she actually could be.

 “So I see. I’m quaking in my boots,” I say sarcastically, and it’s all too easy to let my lips curve in a genuine smile.

Her movement follows the flash I see of her intention so quickly that I almost wouldn’t have had time to dodge if she actually meant to harm me. But I see that she merely intends to intimidate me in return so I remain perfectly still and hope she has decent aim as her daggers fly over my shoulders and lodge themselves in the tree trunk behind me.

“You missed.”

“Did I?” she demands, pulling her last two daggers from their sheaths. “Why don’t you back up a couple of steps and test that theory?”

Maybe I took the teasing too far considering that she intends to actually hit me next time if this is drawn out much longer. Huh, I didn’t think she had it in her. 

Does this woman I thought was no more than a pretty bookworm really have what it takes to become a rider?

Abiding by her suggestion should help to diffuse things a bit, plus I’m curious how close her first pair of daggers really got, so I slowly step backward until I feel the tree against my back. Her blades obscure my vision on either side. Damn, I’m surprised they didn’t nick my ears. 

“Tell me again that I missed,” she seethes, flipping one of her daggers in preparation to throw again. I can see that she’d hate to have to, but that she really would kill to defend herself if it were absolutely unavoidable. 

“Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing aren’t you?” 

I’d prefer if that self preservation instinct would kick in earlier, but the fact that it exists at all makes me more comfortable. I smile with relief that keeping her alive should be somewhat easier, and that the situation has diffused again. Her intentions show that my comment disarmed her somewhat and she’s admiring my lips rather than planning to bury a blade in my chest now. Time to be a charming asshole again.

I use shadows to pull the daggers out of the tree and place them in my hands. 

That throws her intentions into chaos. She realizes that my powers put her completely at my mercy, thinks I’m beautiful, and hates both of those first two instincts, all within a flash.

I walk toward her, allowing myself a couple moments to enjoy her continued flattering intentions toward me while I admire her in return, both her beauty and her instinct to fight back as I approach, even despite her awareness that it would be hopeless.

“You should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe,” I suggest softly, offering her the daggers back as I pause just two steps from her.

“I’m sorry?” she asks, confused that I’m not attacking her, and not taking the daggers from me.

I take a step closer, my pulse quickening at the thought that this is the closest I’ve come to her sexy body. I’ve never gotten to see her eyes so clearly either, they’re astonishing. I would call them hazel but on people that I’ve seen with hazel eyes they tend to be green and brown mixed together pretty thoroughly, and hers are almost like blue and amber paints were splashed onto a canvas at random, coexisting without truly mixing. I’ve never met another person that has two drastically different and distinct colors in their eyes like mine that are so dark they’re practically onyx colored but with flecks of gold scattered throughout. It almost feels like it… means something. 

Gods, how does she make me lose focus like that.

“The neck-snapping first-year who’s very publicly vowed to slaughter you,” I say, only pausing my approach when the dagger she won’t lower impales my cloak against the leathers covering my torso. Moving very slowly so she can’t misunderstand my own intentions, I brush her cloak aside and insert one of the daggers in the sheath on her thigh.

The other blade came from a sheath at her ribs. I gently sweep aside the other edge of her cloak to replace it there but pause at the amazing view that provides. That armored corset simply isn’t fair, and I can’t keep myself from imagining what’s underneath. And her long, full braid… almost none of the women in the quadrant wear their hair long, and no other woman has hair that transitions to a stunning metallic silver at the ends.

I realize that I’m not breathing and shake myself mentally as I slide the other blade into its sheath at her ribs. But I make the mistake of breathing again without stepping away. 

Fuck. Of course she smells intoxicating too.

“He’d probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head,” I muse.

“Because the honor of my murder belongs to you?” she accuses. “You wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine you’ve all but buried me in your mind by now.”

I glance down at her blade pressed against my abs, apparently this is where the charm offensive has gotten me. Time to see if it did any good. “Do you plan on telling anyone about my little club ?” I ask, meeting her gaze with my own, searching for her next intention.

“No,” she says, and I can see that she really doesn’t intend to.

“Why not?” I demand, needing her answer both to confirm that my people are safe, as well start figuring out who the fuck this woman is. Why would any Navarrian, much less a Sorrengail and Markham’s chosen successor, not rat us out in this circumstance? “It’s illegal for the children of separatist to assemble in -”

“Groups larger than three,” she interrupts, “I’m well aware. I’ve lived at Basgiath longer than you,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly.

“And you’re not going to run off to Mommy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them we’ve been assembling ?” I ask, studying her closely. She’d obviously say anything to extract herself from danger but why would she mean it, or could I be misreading her intentions somehow? 

“You were helping them, I don’t see why that should be punished.” Her intention to ensure that innocent first-years in particular aren’t executed for a minor offense of an unjust policy, is perfectly clear. “I’m not going to tell.”

The rationale obviously matches my own, but it’s baffling. Her willingness to overlook our violation of the Codex is one thing, but violating it herself by keeping our secret… she could be executed for doing that. But the intention is so clear, I doubt that even a gryphon flier who’s exceptionally strong at mindwork could fake an intention that convincingly, not that it would even occur to anyone to try. There’s absolutely no way this unbonded first-year could do it.

“Interesting,” I muse, still scrutinizing her closely. “We’ll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor,” I sigh. Another fucking favor to a Sorrengail. At least they keep sparing the lives of my people, I guess.

I turn and start walking back toward the citadel. 

“You’re not going to handle me?” she yells, shocked.

“Not tonight!” I call loudly without turning around.

“What are you waiting for?”

“It’s no fun if you expect it,” I tease, “now get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.”

There’s a pause.

“ You’re my wingleader!” I barely hear her yell from below.

I scoff. Gods, has the pretty little scribe never even read about banter?

“ That girl is going to spell trouble for you…” Sgaeyl says.

“I’ll admit, it’s getting harder to hate her. But her attractiveness shouldn’t be an issue,” I respond.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Seriously? You’re more familiar with my self control than anyone!” I accuse.

“I am, and I think it will be an issue,” Sgaeyl states.

“We’ll see…”

“Indeed we will.”

Chapter Text

As I walk past the library the next morning, I notice Masen lounging in a chair way at the back with his nose in a book as usual, and I pause. A thought occurs to me and I turn and walk through the threshold.

I stride across the library which is otherwise empty. “Hey Masen, what are you reading about today?” 

“Hey, Xaden, I’m researching heat,” he says simply, his voice is as friendly as always as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s a surprisingly weird concept, apparently there’s an emerging consensus among most scribes that specialize in experimental physics that at its core heat is essentially just kinetic energy but on a infinitesimal scale.”

“Mm-hmm. I understood just enough of that to know that it should be right up your alley, so have fun,” I reply, reminding myself to summon the patience that’s usually required with Masen. “Listen, I know it’s not your favorite thing, but is there any way I could convince you to join me for a sparring session tonight?”

“C’mon man, you know I don’t need the practice, my signet’s almost as useful as yours in hand-to-hand,” Masen says, moving his glasses back down his nose to continue reading. “Well, okay, not since you developed it to the point that your shadows can tangibly interact with objects, which I still maintain makes absolutely no sense from a physics sta-”

“ Masen… ” I interrupt gesturing toward my face to bring his attention back to me. “It’s not for you, I would appreciate the practice.”

“You’re already better than anyone else even without your signet!” he protests.

“I’m better than anyone besides you, with your signet.”

I notice Sorrengail and Aetos walk past the library toward the gathering hall. “I need an answer, Masen, I have to go…”

“Fine,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’ll be at the gym at nineteen-hundred.”

“You’re the best!” I call back toward him as I leave the library.

I pull a random book out of my bag and pretend to be reading it as I locate Sorrengail.

I see her and Aetos pause just before the gathering hall.

I turn and walk a few steps in the opposite direction before leaning against the wall with my back to them and begin reaching out with my second signet.

I see a subconscious motivation to shield the other person from any harm. That must be Aetos, worried about Sorrengail’s first challenge today.

I shift my focus to her and see her instinct to reassure him, along with an image of a list of cadets’ names posted in what appears to be a discreet corner of the room that serves as the professors’ lounge. 

Well, I’ll have to look into that. I’m sure I can gain entry if I tell Kaori that I have a dragon-related question. He can never get enough of talking about Sgaeyl.

My attention tunes back in to Sorrengail when I see a flash of myself in her instincts. This is exactly what I was worried about. This must be the first time she’s seen Aetos since overhearing the meeting of what she called our ‘club’ of separatists’ kids last night. I need to make sure she keeps her promise not to tell anyone about it.

When I sense a guilty instinct I worry it’s because she feels obligated to report it to Aetos and I start snaking shadows up her ankles, ready to literally trip her up. I feel nervous as I wait for her next intention, convinced it’s more likely than not that she’s about to sell us out. 

A moment later though, the same crystal clear intention from last night shines through - she won’t tell him.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

…

I approach the professors’ lounge at lunchtime. Shortly before I reach the door it opens and Professor Devera walks out. 

“Hello, Cadet Riorson,” she says with surprise, “is there something I can help you with?”

“Maybe, I’m trying to track down Professor Kaori, I was hoping he might be able to give me some guidance on a dragon-related matter,” I respond politely.

“Of course, he’s here, I’ll show you in momentarily, but may I first say that I was very pleased with the way you spoke up during Battle Brief a couple of weeks ago, and with the points that you made.”

I virtually never contribute during the daily propaganda parade so it doesn’t surprise me that she’d go out of her way to praise it, clearly hoping that positive reinforcement might inspire me to continue doing so.

“Thank you ma’am,” I say simply.

“I was impressed with how quickly you deduced that the purpose of the attack must have been that the gryphon riders were looking for something. You don’t happen to have any theories as to what that might be, do you?”

I had just been trying to talk my way past her but now she has my full attention. I don’t know what her signet is, but on the off-chance that it allows her to detect lies I could be in serious trouble here.

“Selective truths,” Sgaeyl reminds me.

“I couldn’t say, ma’am,” I respond carefully.

I reach out with my signet sense and see that her intention is indeed to test whether I know.

“I assume leadership doesn’t know? I understand of course if the actual information is classified, but it would be nice to at least know that they have the answer,” now I’m testing her specifically as well as leadership and whether they’ve let her in on the secret yet.

“It would seem that they do not,” her response is as careful as mine, and her instincts show that she’s trying to learn the answer herself.

So leadership hasn’t brought her into the fold yet. I wonder if it’s because she hasn’t advanced high enough in rank or whether they might sense the same suspicion I do coming from her.

She might be too shrewd for her own good. If she manages to dig up the answer and has the ‘wrong’ reaction to it, leadership will silence her like they have so many others.

We study each other for a final moment before she says, “Well, let me show you in to see Kaori.”

She opens the door again and I follow her inside.

“Professor Kaori, Cadet Riorson is here with a question for you, are you ok to speak with him in here?”

“Yes, of course, come in, come in,” Kaori gestures me toward him.

“I’ll be off then,” Devera excuses herself.

I hold the door for her.

“Thank you,” she says, slightly surprised.

“Ma’am,” I nod as she passes and I close the door behind her.

There are a couple of other professors here but as Kaori invited me in and seems so eager to talk to me they don’t object to my presence.

“I was just telling a class of first-years about Sgaeyl and Tairn today. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Tairn, how is he?”

“I wouldn’t really know, Sgaeyl and I don’t talk about him, which is actually kind of what I wanted to speak with you about,” I lead off.

“Excuse me?” Sgaeyl says.

“I need what seems like a valid reason to be in here ,” I tell her through our mental bond.

“Oh?” Kaori prompts.

“Yes, she’s not very open about these things, so I was wondering whether you would be able to give me any insight as to whether mated dragons in Sgaeyl’s circumstances always abstain from having offspring while in service or if that’s something I could potentially need to be thinking about?”

“You are going to pay for this insolence ,” Sgaeyl seethes.

“That’s fair,” I admit.

“Oh,” Kaori says, clearly uncomfortable. “You haven’t tried talking Sgaeyl about this?”

“I have, and she …hasn’t been forthcoming on the subject.”

“Well in that case, I’m not sure I’d have anything to add, except perhaps that, as you well know, Sgaeyl is likely to do whatever the hell she wants regardless of what is generally considered customary.”

“And I assume you won’t explain what is customary because you don’t want to be on her bad side?” I ask.

“Well hers, and Tairn’s of course… though hers especially, yes.”

“Smart man,” Sgaeyl chimes in.

“I do hope that Tairn has recovered from Naolin’s death. We so nearly lost him. This conversation actually reminds me of similar ones I had in this very room with both Naolin and Brennan, they were always inseparable,” Kaori says with a sad smile.

“Sgaeyl did actually mention that Tairn has been doing much better over the last year or so,” I say truthfully. I obviously can’t tell him that Naolin wasn’t lost in vain and Brennan lives, but want to be able to give him something.

“That’s good to hear. I hope you won’t take offense but I was slightly disappointed that Sgaeyl bonded before Tairn was fully recovered. Since they didn’t bond in the same year it’ll now be infeasible for Tairn to re-enter service in the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah well, I’ve gathered that her communication skills with him could use some work too,” I feel her anger build. “Even if he had asked her to wait, as you said, Sgaeyl does whatever the hell she wants,” I smirk.

“Nice save, charming asshole,” Sgaeyl huffs.

I refocus on the task at hand and sweep my gaze around the room looking for the list. There’s an armoire near the corner and based on the flash I saw of Sorrengail’s instinct, I think the list is probably pinned to its far side.

“This is a very nice lounge you all have here,” I say, giving myself an excuse to walk and look around. “I might have to angle for a professorship rotation after a few years of deployment.”

I lean up against the far wall giving me an oblique view of the list which is right where I expected. I surreptitiously scan it and quickly find Sorrengail’s name posted next to the name ‘Oren Seifert’.

“Yes, well until such a time, I must ask that you leave the Professors’ lounge to those of us that are currently professors, Riorson,” Emetterio says from an armchair against the adjacent wall. “ And express my opinion that you are too wrapped up in dragon politics, Kaori, and as a result too lenient with allowing cadets who might have ulterior motives in here.”

He’s eyeing me closely and I can see his suspicious instinct to wonder whether I saw the list.

“Time to charm, asshole,” Sgaeyl says.

“Well it’s my opinion that you’re too wrapped up in your subject, Emetterio, and needlessly paranoid about students who are clearly more interested in the subject of their dragons than hand-to-hand combat, and rightly so,” Kaori butts in.

I swear Emetterio begins to swell with rage.

“Oh come now, Professor Kaori,” I say slyly, “Professor Emetterio is clearly just nervous that it’s his job I’d be coming for, as he can surely tell that, one day, the student will eventually surpass his master,” I say inclining my head to Emetterio in a slight bow.

There’s a short pause, and then Emetterio gives a small chuckle, which causes Kaori to snort, and soon both professors are laughing together.

“But I can take a hint, and my leave,” I say with a smile as I move toward the door. “Thank you for your insights Professor Kaori. Professor Emetterio, I look forward to seeing you in the gym for challenges after lunch.”

“I’m actually done here, I’ll walk there with you,” Emetterio says, still chuckling a little. He rises from his chair and accompanies me out the door.

Twenty minutes later I’m still standing next to him. Maybe I overdid it with the backhanded flattery because he’s seemed reluctant to let me leave his side. Unbonded first-year challenges are as boring as ever and I stifle a yawn as we watch a guy get his ass absolutely handed to him by Sorrengail’s shoe-friend from parapet, apparently her name is Rhiannon. 

My attention is actually aimed at Aetos and Sorrengail on the other side of the mat though I keep my gaze focused on the fight because Aetos is glaring at me and I’d rather not acknowledge his existence with eye contact. 

I’m trying to read their intentions and take note of one of his when I see that he means to warn Sorrengail that her opponent intends to try to kill her. Her responding instinct is to reassure him, again, and I see a flash showing that she’s not intending to fight her opponent at his full strength. 

It’s a good idea as Seifert is over a foot taller and immeasurably stronger. It also makes sense considering she knew who she’d be fighting in advance, and it would be interesting to see what she did or plans to do with that information, but I don’t plan on watching. Per my agreement with her mother, not to mention Codex, I won’t interfere in a challenge. Assuming Aetos’ intel is correct, I’d rather not witness what is likely to be her murder, even if it would make my life a lot simpler.

I focus my ability on her again as Barlowe attempts to provoke her, his instinct torn between trying to throw her off before a challenge to make it more likely that his friend kills her, and the actual truth in his words about hoping he gets to be the one to do it himself. In response, her instincts are also split, first toward laying low as Aetos apparently dictated, but then I see a flash of myself from her perspective under the oak last night and my contrasting suggestion. 

Suddenly I’m taken off guard just like last night by how quickly her movement follows the decision to act and daggers are flying at Barlowe. They slam into the wall he’s leaning against, one right next to his head, just like she treated me to, but the other one finds home just below his crotch. I should probably tell her to stop picking that particular target if she hopes to get him to back off.

Granted there’s no chance of that anyway and I can see from his instinct, not to mention his shocked expression, that it at least had the desired effect of driving home the fact that she won’t be as easy of prey as he’d hoped. I’m barely able to contain my smirk when she gives him a sardonic little wave.

After she retrieves her blades and returns to the mat she seems to feel my gaze and looks up at me. I give her an approving look that probably ends up containing a hint of amusement as I see Aetos’ frustration that she won’t listen to him. 

I walk off to pretend to watch another challenge, willing myself to hope that she loses, or at least to be fine with it as it would free me and be better for the revolution by extension. 

I manage to not look by keeping my back to the fight. But when she shouts “Yield!” a couple minutes later I turn to find her kneeling on the back of the big guy who is face down on the mat and she holds a dagger to his throat. 

“No!” he yells, but a moment later he vomits profusely.

Huh, poison. The more I see of her the more I start to believe Brennan’s claim that her actions prove, at her core, she’s her mother’s daughter to a much lesser extent than she’s his sister.

…

I return to the gym at 19-hundred that evening to find about a dozen cadets training. I give an approving nod to Imogen who’s coaching her two first-year wards from last night’s meeting while they spar, and Masen is chatting with Soleil. Ah, now his choice of timing makes sense. 

It’s fortunate that there are a handful of non-marked ones around as well so this can’t be misconstrued as us assembling .

I walk over to Masen and Soleil. “Good evening, Soleil, are you normally here around this time?” I ask, subtly raising an eyebrow at Masen. 

“Yeah, I’ll usually stop by to see if there’s anyone interested in sparring. Eya comes about half the time but is apparently preoccupied tonight,” she says.

“Well, I dragged Masen here in order to take advantage of the unique workout he provides, but you’re more than welcome to rotate in with us.”

“Rotate in with him,” Masen clarifies, “fighting without my signet is pointless and I won’t fight a fire wielder if you’re using yours. So unless you’re willing to bottle the flames and fight without your signet just for a brutal workout like the masochist over here…”

“It’s been forever since I’ve seen you fight, Masen. Maybe I’ll see how tough it is for Xaden and then I’ll consider it,” Soleil tells him.

“I can make it as hard or as easy as you want. Well, as easy as you want at least, I can only slow you down to a certain extent,” Masen says.

“Oh I don’t know, for you, I bet Masen could make it as hard as you could hope for,” I say to Soleil with a surreptitious wink at Masen, who flushes visibly despite his dark skin. “I, for one, want you to make it as difficult for me as you can.”

I take off the top half of my fighting leathers since I’d rather not have to wring them out after Masen’s done with me, and gesture him onto the mat. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Masen mutters under his breath as he squares up against me.

“Yeah? Let’s see what you’ve got,” I challenge.

I spring towards him but when I’m at the peak of my arc the odd sensation strikes. My forward momentum slows making it almost feels as if gravity has been somewhat reduced except my body is no less heavy, and any movement feels like I’m trying to push through water. As a result Masen is able to sidestep and my fist shoves through the empty space where his chest was a moment before. He gets a jab in on my right kidney as I stumble past him in semi-slow motion.

I’m already feeling hot, like we’re fighting in a sauna and I pivot as quickly as I can manage to face him again. “Don’t take it easy on me now Masen, I know you can hit harder than that,” I say. I’m able to keep my voice at its regular cadence by trying to speak a little more quickly, but the register is lower as even my vocal cords vibrate a bit slower.

“Yeah, but I don’t need to beat you physically, so why should I hurt my hand when I can just keep avoiding you and wait for you to overheat?” he inquires calmly.

“That’s not going to be good enough when we’re fighting the real enemy, you’ll have to go on offense if you hope to defeat them,” I counter, launching myself at him just before I finish speaking, hoping to catch him off guard.

But the faster I move the more resistance I encounter, giving him enough time to raise his leg and kick me in the stomach. I do manage to land a half-decent punch on the outside of his thigh but it’s not nearly as powerful as it would have been at full speed and the only reason I was able to react quickly enough to manage it is because I saw his intention a split second before he lifted his leg. He also does a good job of pivoting to allow most of the power I did manage to put behind the punch to spin him rather than just absorbing it all. 

“Ah, but I’ve been developing it, now my ability is only defensive on the ground, it’s just about the best offensive weapon you could hope for to sideline anything that flies. I can convert enough of their kinetic energy into radiant thermal that they can’t flap their wings fast enough to stay airborne and they’re forced to glide down to land,” Masen says, deftly avoiding my next attack as I start sweating in earnest. “I grounded an entire flock of geese last month, granted I could probably only manage one gryphon or dragon at a time, but still.”

Masen’s signet is an odd version of the more traditional siphon. Rather than being able to absorb and use or redistribute magical power, he can transform different types of energy into other forms. His go-to approach for fighting is to siphon the energy in his opponent’s motion and turn it into heat, slowing them down and making them significantly hotter. 

“If all you’re doing is grounding one opponent at a time temporarily I’d say that’s still pretty defensive,” I comment as I start formulating a new strategy while panting to try to cool off.

“But I have other tactics I can use too -” Masen begins as I spring towards him again, using lesser magic that would usually make me extra fast to compensate for the speed that he’s draining from me. But suddenly the oppressive heat abates and I find myself careening toward him much faster than I intended as he bends down. I crash into his hip and go head over heels, slamming heavily onto the mat on my back which completely knocks wind out of me. The heat settles back in while I try in vain to draw breath.

“Like suddenly switching to draining the chemical potential energy in your body to increase your kinetic energy instead of slowing it down,” Masen says as he straightens up to stand over me and draws his sword from the scabbard at his side. “Haven’t actually tried it on a bird or anything but I’m relatively sure that as something is expecting to glide in for a gentle landing, I could make it crash pretty hard instead.” He points the sword at my chest as I continue struggling to breathe.

“I yield… for now,” I gasp, rolling onto my side and propping myself on my elbow while trying to regain control of my diaphragm. 

“Damn, no wonder nobody has challenged you in almost a year, Masen, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Xaden yield,” Soleil tells him.

“Eh, doesn’t really count, he could still destroy me if he was using his signet too,” Masen shrugs as he offers me his hand, which I take and he helps pull me to my feet, leaving the mat covered in sweat wherever my skin was touching it. I slump over with my hands on my knees and continue trying to regulate my breathing and temperature.

“The real upside to no challenges has been that it’s left me more time for research and experimentation. Like check this out, can you heat up the tip of my sword for a minute, Soleil?” Masen asks.

“You should choose your words more carefully or I might think you’re flirting with me, Sanborn,” Soleil teases him, and Masen’s face flushes again. “But I’d be happy to… “ 

She lifts her hand and aims a thin jet of flames at the end of the blade he has held out and after about ten seconds it begins glowing red.

“That’s fine there,” he says, and Soleil stops.

Masen takes a few steadying breaths and holds his thumb and forefinger out in an ‘L’ shape. He slowly moves the pad of his thumb toward the red hot steel. I worry that he’s about to burn himself but as the thumb gets uncomfortably close to the searing blade a spark shoots from his forefinger.

“Whoa,” Soleil says, as his thumb moves slowly closer to the glowing metal and sparks continue issuing from his other finger faster and faster. Finally he makes contact and a continuous stream of electricity flows from his finger, dancing a few inches out like a tiny sustained lightning bolt. 

The spot where his thumb contacts the blade stops glowing and the dull patch spreads quickly until the ongoing buzz of electricity slows to discernable individual sparks again and Masen and I trade postures, he drops his hands to his knees breathing heavily and sweating as I straighten up again, at full attention. 

“You ok, Masen?” Soleil asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Masen says dismissively. “It’s easy to convert other forms of energy into radiant heat, probably because that’s the direction entropy is trying to make it flow anyway. Converting to any other forms of energy is harder, and converting heat to a more ordered type of energy like electricity is extremely difficult since I’m having to fight against entropy.”

“So this is why you’ve been researching heat,” I muse.

“That’s impressive as hell and it’s always good to develop your signet in general, but, I mean, is there any practical use for this?” Soleil asks.

“Yeah, well,” Masen lowers his voice conspiratorially and we step closer to be able to hear and ensure that nobody else in the gym can. “The reason I started researching this is because Professor Carr was able to get me clearance to ‘learn’ about the alloy from command. The hope was that as a type of siphon I would be good at imbuing it, but I can’t do it the way regular siphons can. Sometimes fire wielders can be trained to become decent at imbuing, which makes sense because if you just blast the alloy with fire, some small percentage of the power does imbue it a bit. So I figured if fire can do it a little, maybe a more concentrated form of energy like electricity could do it better.”

“Have you tried?” I ask him.

“A few times, my experiments so far haven’t been hugely successful, but they seem promising. I can imbue the alloy to a certain extent, seems like electricity does work a little better than fire, but apparently the alloy isn’t a very good electrical conductor like most metals. My guess is that the dragon eggshells in there aren’t conductive at all so that the hatchlings can’t be fried by a lightning bolt when they’re still inside. So even if I touch it directly the electricity just buzzes around randomly most of the time. It’s impossible to control and even when it does jump to the alloy it’s clear that not all of the energy that makes contact ends up imbued in it.”

“Any plans for further experiments to try to improve things?” I ask.

“I’ve got a couple of ideas, but no clue how well they’ll work, if at all,” Masen shrugs.

“Anything we can do to help?” Soleil asks.

“Actually, now that you mention it… for one of my ideas I thought I’d need to find some way to get help from a glass blower, but it’s nothing fancy so I wonder if a fire wielder might be able to do what I’m thinking of,” Masen says excitedly.

“Great, we can arrange a time after this, but first, that looked like an amazing workout, I want to have a go with you,” Soleil says to Masen.

“Bring it on,” Masen smiles.

“One minute,” I look at Soleil and cock my head indicating that I want a private word.

She walks over to the wall with me as Masen taunts, “Any tips you're giving her aren’t going to work, Xaden, I already took you down!”

“Go ahead and get your workout in first, but before you get too overheated I want you to blast a fireball at him,” I say with my back to Masen.

“What?! Masen’s our friend,” Soleil argues.

“I know but he hasn’t been fighting. We need to jolt him out of his complacency,” I say quickly, “it doesn’t have to be anything too crazy, just enough to singe him if he actually is hit by it, but I don’t think he will be, you saw what he just did…”

“But I told him I wouldn’t use my signet,” Soleil protests.

“I’ll take the blame, I promise. We need to remind him that in a real fight the enemy isn’t going to take it easy on him. I’m doing this for his own good, and even if he hates me for it, he would never hate you, trust me.”

“Yeah, but that’s why I don’t want to do it! He’s …Masen,” she almost pleads.

“I know, he’s the nicest guy ever, but he’s also a hell of a fighter that isn’t even willing to spar with a friend that’s fire wielding, how do you think that’s going to serve him if we end up fighting other dragons? And you’re both part of our inner-circle, he can handle it, and so can you. Consider it an order if that helps.”

She glares at me for a moment then collects herself and nods with resolve before walking back to Masen.

“You’re going down, Telery,” Masen taunts Soleil.

“Oh, we’re shit talking now are we, Sanborn?” she inquires playfully, and then attacks.

It goes on for several minutes, Masen mostly just draining her speed and waiting for her to overheat rather than attacking. The few times he does make contact he aims for less sensitive areas like her shoulder and he puts even less power behind the hits than he did with his first jab to my kidney. But eventually it’s clear that she’s getting worn down anyway.

I walk around the perimeter of the mat until I’m behind Masen and Soleil is facing me. I arch an eyebrow at her and nod.

Soleil grimaces, sweat pouring down her face. She takes a deep breath, splays her arms and then draws them in as if physically gathering power, then throws her hands toward Masen, a sizable fireball emanating from them and growing ever larger as it speeds toward him. I can tell that it’s actually diffusing over a larger area rather than actually growing in power or intensity but it’s still intimidating as all hell.

“Holy fu-” Masen begins, but then I see his survival instinct kick in and he throws his own hands forward. The leading edge of the fireball begins crackling, blue-white sparks snapping the flames out. It’s like there’s a wall that the flames can’t penetrate and as more and more of the ball of fire reaches the wall, the sparks appear to spread outward in a wave transforming the fireball into a cloud of electrical sparks that quickly dissipate.

Masen rounds on me, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. “You told her to do that didn’t you?”

“Masen, I -” Soleil begins.

“You were following my orders,” I interrupt calmly.

“What the fuck, Xaden!?” Masen demands.

“If nobody is going to challenge you, then you need to challenge yourself, Masen. If you don’t keep practicing you won’t improve and you won’t even know what you’re capable of. Did you know you could do that?” I demand in return.

“No, but I’m already better than -”

“Than anyone else without their signets. But do you think the enemy is going to keep their best abilities sheathed in a real fight?” I start advancing on him and use a rope of shadow to pull his sword from its sheath and deliver it to my own hand.

“Hey I didn’t even know we were -” Masen starts raising his hands and I feel the heat again as my approach is slowed.

I wrap shadows around his wrists and use them to drag him backward all the way off the mat and pin his hands against the wall. The heat relents again.

“Do you think the enemy will give you a heads up before they begin attacking, or stay inside of some arbitrary boundaries?” 

“Ok, I get your point, I’ll start training again. But your analogy is flawed. In a real fight against the enemy I’d be prepared for anything, but you can’t expect me to foresee that kind of betrayal from people that are supposed to be on my side.”

I sigh and unwind the shadows from his wrists. “Unfortunately, you never know,” I say sadly, offering him his sword back again.

He takes the sword by the hilt, turns and starts making for the exit without another word.

“Masen, wait up!” Soleil calls, jogging to catch up with him.

I sigh again and look around. I find Imogen looking at me from a couple of mats over, her eyebrow arched at me.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one you’re a total dick to when we’re just trying to be your friend,” she calls.

I shake my head and head for the exit too.

…

The next week I sneak into the Professor’s lounge at night rather than trying to talk my way in. During her challenge the next day, the opponent that we both knew Sorrengail would face shows me through her intentions that she’s more interested in the fun hallucinations she’s experiencing than doing too much damage to Sorrengail.

The same general pattern continues with differing symptoms for the next three weeks. I end up figuring out that in most cases she’s dosing her opponents at breakfast, courtesy of her morning cafeteria duty. 

Finally I decide that while the subterfuge and poison mastery are impressive, they shouldn’t mean she’s never truly challenged. She’s becoming complacent just like Masen was. So on the sixth week of challenges, I resolve to shake things up. 

I find the name Rayma Corrie on the list next to Sorrengail two nights before challenges, and the following day I learn who she is from Professor Kaori.

After breakfast on the morning of the challenge, I pull Corrie aside. “You’re going to start feeling ill in some way shortly before challenges today,” I tell her using my wingleader voice so that she doesn’t question why or how I’d know this. “You should go to the healers to get checked out when you start experiencing symptoms, you have my permission to miss challenges today.” And with that I walk off, sensing that her instinct is to be very concerned about such a strange warning.

I stand next to Professor Emetterio in the gym a few hours later when he tells Sorrengail, “you were supposed to challenge Rayma, but she’s been taken to the healers because she can’t seem to walk in a straight line.”

“That’s …too bad,” she says and I can see that she’s kicking herself internally assuming that she administered the poison too early. “Should I just -”

“I’m happy to step in,” I interrupt.

“You sure?” Emetterio asks me.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

I’m so completely screwed.

Violet steps onto the mat and I realize I’m never going to be able to get over how fucking captivating this woman is - dressed in that midnight black armored corset with her hair woven into a crown that only seems to make the shimmering bright silver in her hair, reminiscent of her mother, seem like an even bigger warning. It’s ridiculous that I’m attracted to her, but somehow I know it will always be true.

My heartbeat starts flying at full speed, as if my body knows the truth my mind hasn’t quite accepted yet. It’s not just a physical thing, I’m starting to legitimately like this girl …or worse.

“You are all in for a treat,” Emeterrio claps to get everyone’s attention. “Xaden’s one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn.”

“Of course you are,” she mutters almost silently. I can see that her instinct still tells her that I’m trying to kill her, but somehow the ferocity that brings out, only makes her that much more alluring. Which is just another reason not to disabuse her of the idea, the primary one being that it makes her more guarded and therefore helpful in the pursuit of keeping her alive.

One side of my mouth curves in a grin as I see that she intends to make me regret taking enjoyment in supposedly menacing her. She may be book smart, but the fact that she still has no inkling whatsoever that I’d never enjoy terrorizing anyone that way, or that I’m actually doing the opposite with respect to her, shows that she doesn’t know anything about who I really am yet.

“A little out of her league, don’t you think?” Aetos protests from the sidelines of my attention.

“Relax, Aetos.” I pin him a disgusted glare. He’s a perfect reminder of the mistake I’d made for over a year with Imogen, who approaches the mat now. How could I have been so dumb as to think that the best approach to take in preparing her for unavoidable adversity was to try to shield her from it? “She’ll be in one piece when I’m finished teaching her.”

“I hardly think it’s fair -” Aetos starts to retort.

“No one asked you to think, squad leader,” I flare, beginning to remove my weapons, handing them to Imogen one by one. She’s clearly here in the hope that I’m about to exact ‘our revenge’ on Sorrengail.

I’m really going to have to find a way to address this obsession she has, but there’s no time to dwell on that particular issue, not when I need to figure out how I’m going to drive home the lesson that Violet needs to take developing her fighting skills seriously rather than simply relying on poisons.

“You don’t think you’ll need those?” Violet asks, looking at all the weapons I’ve discarded and gripping the hilts of two of her daggers. We are the epitome of polar opposites at this moment, she couldn’t be more confident in the superiority of her mental game while knowing she’s completely outmatched physically, whereas I couldn’t be less concerned about the physical aspect of the fight but have no idea how to make her take to heart the information that will be critical to her survival.

“Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us,” I grin again, seeing her intention, well in advance for once, to throw her dagger at me if she can work up the nerve. “Let’s go.”

I see her wrestle with conflicting instincts for a moment before she decides it’s necessary since I would be within Codex to kill her during a challenge. One hundred percent of my attention focuses on the dagger in her right hand as she flings it straight at me.

Having enough forewarning and being so attuned to the attack, allows me sufficient time to react and catch the weapon by its hilt just before the blade is about to plunge into my chest.

I cluck my tongue as if in disappointment. “Already seen that move.”

She gapes at me for a moment before I see her intention to put into practice a swipe and kick move that she’s been drilling with her friend. It’s too easy, usually the only fighters that give me any trouble are those that are skilled enough to truly improvise on the spot, not revealing their intentions until the last possible instant. Anyone that uses practiced combinations doesn’t stand a chance.

I easily dodge as she lashes out with the other dagger and then grab her leg when she kicks. I lift and torque it, making her slam onto the floor in a disorienting whirl.

I let the dagger I caught fall to the mat and then kick it off, giving her enough time to catch her breath for a moment. Her instinct shows her awareness that she’s completely outmatched and any hesitation to do real damage evaporates as she surges toward me along the ground intending to bury her blade in my leg.

I block her forearm with my own and tear the dagger from her grip. “Going for blood today, are we, Violence?” I ask quietly, bending down to her position on the floor close enough that only she can hear me. I drop the blade and kick that one off the mat as well. 

“My name is Violet ,” she flares

“I think my version fits you better.” I stand. “We’re not done yet,” I say, extending a hand to her as if offering to help her up to see what she’ll do. It baffles me that most everyone seems to think of sparring as simply training with honorable peers. What we’re training for is deadly combat and too many of the cadets in this fucking place lack even an iota of honor. I do my best to instill in all of the other separatists’ kids that, shy of inflicting serious injury on each other, when they’re on the mat they should behave as if they are fighting venin, as that’s what will best prepare us for it when we inevitably have to do so for real one day. Many of them hate me for driving them so hard but at least they’ll be better prepared when the time comes.

I’m disappointed when she takes my hand. If she really believes I’m out to kill her, or even if she doesn’t frankly, what would give her any faith that I won’t take advantage? I pull her to her feet and immediately spin her, wrenching our hands behind her back, lifting slightly and pulling her back against me, effectively immobilizing her as any movement would be excruciating with her arm in this position.

“Damn it!” she bites out.

I pull another dagger from a sheath at her thigh and raise it to her throat. “Don’t trust a single person who faces you on this mat,” I whisper, though there’s still an edge to my tone. 

Fuck, I spoke right next to her ear, putting my face practically in her hair which envelops me in her intoxicating fragrance. She smells like leather, soap, and either her natural scent or something she’s wearing is almost citrusy, the closest comparison I can think of is lemon, but it’s also somehow so much more and better at than just that.

“Even someone who owes me a favor?” her responding whisper has just as much of an edge as mine.

I drop the third dagger and kick it off the mat as well. “I’m the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you.” I learned my lesson there from the last favor I owed a Sorrengail.

I let her go and she immediately spins and tries to jab me in the throat, but I see the intention in advance and am able to parry the strike easily enough. “Good, going for the throat is your best option, as long as it’s exposed,” I instruct while easily deflecting her next blow as well.

Her instinct is pure rage, apparently under the impression that I’m toying with her rather than attempting to teach her. She falls back on the practiced swipe and kick combo again, so I simply grab her leg a second time, removing another dagger sheathed at that thigh and let it fall as a rebuke before I release her leg again.

“I expect you to learn from your mistakes,” I chastise and kick the fallen dagger from the mat to join the others that Aetos is collecting on the sideline.

She starts to circle me, pulling another dagger from a sheath at her ribs. She might be fast but she broadcasts her moves so much that I’d have no trouble countering anything besides a dagger throw even without my second signet and I’ve already convinced her that that won’t work on me. To try to highlight this point so that she’ll learn from it, I don’t even bother to turn and keep her in front of me as she tries to flank me. 

“You going to prance or are you going to strike?” I inquire.

She swings at me again but makes the mistake of aiming for the middle of my torso rather than quickly slicing a tendon in my leg or some smaller move that would keep her profile more compact and further from me. As it is, I simply duck and her arm flies well above my head, leaving her exposed so I grab her arm and flip her over to land heavily on the mat again. I take note of how much her swing was slowed by the weight of the large dagger and a thought begins to form in the back of my mind…

She’s face down, so I wrench her arm holding the dagger behind her back and force her hand open, dropping the blade to the mat. Then I put enough pressure on her ribs with my knee to pin her in place, grab another dagger from a rib sheath and fling it toward Aetos.

I pull one more dagger from her corset, leaving her with just two left, and hold it to the top of her throat. I lean down until my mouth is almost touching her ear so that nobody else will be able to hear my words. “Taking your enemy out before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to you. Problem is, if you aren’t testing yourself in here, then you’re not going to get any better,” I say, gently scraping the blade down her neck to drive the point home. 

I can see her fear instinct, she thought she had everyone fooled, and considering that she counts me as her most dangerous enemy, she’s terrified to realize that I know. 

“You’d rather I die, no doubt,” she spits back. 

“And be denied the pleasure of your company?” I tease.

“I fucking hate you,” she seethes, and it’s obvious from her intentions that despite still being attracted to me physically, she’s telling the truth. 

I mentally shove away the sudden ache in my chest that I’d rather not examine too closely. It doesn’t matter, not only do I have to keep her alive, I’m starting to want to. In that respect she might as well be one of the marked ones now, and I’ve long since had to set aside what they think of me since the shit I have to put them through to prepare them to survive understandably makes a lot of them loathe me.

“That doesn’t make you special,” is all I can manage.

I remove the knee I was pinning her down with and stand. I kick the two daggers on the floor next to us toward Aetos then offer her my hand again to test whether she’s at least learned that lesson.

She springs up without coming near my outstretched hand and I can’t help the smile that spreads on my face. “She can be taught.”

“She’s a quick learner,” Violet counters.

“That remains to be seen,” I say, retreating a few steps before curling my fingers in a gesture beckoning her forward.

“You’ve made your damn point,” she almost shouts. I hear the involuntary puff of Imogen’s breath, and I can’t tell if it was a gasp of surprise or a snort of appreciation that Violet would mouth off to me the way virtually only Imogen herself can get away with. Maybe a bit of both.

“Trust me, I’ve barely gotten started,” I say, folding my arms across my chest and rocking back as if inviting her to attack while I’m literally on my heels.

But suddenly I feel like the complacent one. I’d hoped that she might progress from using practiced combinations to stringing moves together in new ones with some forethought, but she apparently skips over that step entirely when she legitimately improvises, and is already moving to execute the strike by the time I see her intention. I’m taken by surprise when she kicks out the back of my knees, causing me to crash to the floor. 

She’s instantly on me, putting me in the weakest attempt I’ve ever felt at a headlock. I easily spin out of her grip, tumbling us into a quick grappling match on the ground. I pin her down with my body weight but find that she’s laid out on her back this time. Well this is quite a position to find myself in…

My face is only inches from hers. Gods, even from here she’s absolutely flawless. I’m so distracted by that light hazel of blue and amber shades in her eyes, that I’m almost taken by surprise again when she swiftly pulls her penultimate dagger and moves to drive it into my shoulder. It’s fast enough that she might have succeeded if not for my signet, but I see the intention with just enough time to snatch her wrist and pin it to the floor above her head. 

As if I wasn’t turned on enough by our position and the vision that is her face, her ferocity added on top threatens to make me hard.

I have to consciously think about Markham to get things under control before she feels anything through both our sets of leathers. I have enough self control to get through another minute or two to finish the lesson …I hope.

I force open the fist she grips the dagger with and knock it away, then release her arm.

“Get your dagger,” I demand.

“What?” Her eyes widen in surprise, apparently shocked that I’m not going for the kill with her in such a vulnerable spot.

“Get. Your. Dagger.” I order, guiding her hand with my own to the hilt of her last dagger. My fingers almost interlace with hers as we both clutch the weapon and I’m again conscious of her intoxicating citrusy scent, now starting to mix arousingly with the musky smell of her sweat which must be brimming with pheromones for me to find it this sexy. I have to mentally recenter myself again to prevent things from becoming… physically awkward. I can do this, she needs to learn.

“You’re tiny -” I begin in explanation.

“Well aware,” she interrupts angrily.

“So stop going for bigger moves that expose you.” I pull our joined hands to the outside of my chest. “A rib shot would have worked just fine.”

I take a moment to check her intentions to verify that she understands I’m not about to kill her, which she seems to accept at least for the moment. This gives me enough confidence to expose myself by guiding our hands to my back. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle, too,” I tell her, positioning the tip of the blade directly over my own so she knows exactly where to strike, hoping that the knowledge will come in handy one day.

I move our hands between us, placing the dagger at my waist just inside the crest of my pelvic bone. “Chances are, if your opponent is in armor, it’s weak here. Those are three easy places you could have struck before your opponent would have had time to stop you.”

I see her instinct to rebel against the idea of going for lethal blows.

“Did you hear me?” 

She gives a small reluctant nod.

“Good. Because you can’t poison every enemy you come across. You’re not going to have time to offer tea to some Braevi gryphon rider when they come at you.”

“How did you know?” she asks as her legs nervously clench around my hips.

My self control begins to slip and I know I’ll have to get up soon, but I should have enough restraint to enjoy the situation for a few more seconds before she would feel it. “Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.” 

Her mouth opens slightly and then she bites her lower lip to keep from responding in frustration.

Okay, I need to get off of her, now . I’m thankful to him for the first time in my life when Aetos says, “I think she’s been taught enough for the day,” which gives me a convenient excuse to push myself up a bit. 

“He always that overprotective?” I ask, annoyance leaking into my tone as my body immediately protests my brain’s refusal to give in to the carnal impulse.

“He cares about me,” she retorts.

“He’s holding you back. Don’t worry. Your little poisoning secret is safe with me.” I push our hands back to the side of her corset and slowly slip the blade into the sheath where it belongs. I swallow, refusing to think of other things that could be an innuendo for.

“You’re not going to disarm me?” she contends as I press up further, crouching to rise.

“Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. We’re done for today.” I stand and turn toward Imogen, walking over to collect all my weapons from her.

“I can’t help but notice that she’s not dead,” Imogen hisses quietly as I begin rearming myself. “What happened to taking ‘our’ revenge?” she demands.

“Come to the meeting of the inner circle at twenty-three-hundred tonight, my room. There’s one last thing I need to let you in on in the spirit of preparing you rather than just trying to keep you safe,” I mutter. Speaking of which…

“Aetos!” I bark at him on the opposite side of the mat. “She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction.”

I glare at him for several seconds until he finally nods his assent.

…

Ten minutes before the meeting of the inner circle I’m in the spiral stairwell waiting for Liam. A couple of minutes later he appears in the threshold below.

“You ready for this?” I ask.

“I guess. From my point of view it still doesn’t make a ton of sense to bring me in at this point as I assume I won’t be able to take part in whatever you all are up to until a dragon bonds with me,” Liam muses as we start to climb the stairs.

“It’ll be Imogen’s first time too, so I figured we could just get you both familiar with the operation now rather than having to do another orientation-style meeting after Threshing.”

“And here I thought you just liked me,” Liam pouts sarcastically.

“Yeah right,” I snort. “Plus you could also help with acquiring the stuff we fly out, be ready to help with that smuggling when the time comes, and I just want you to get as much experience as possible in your back pocket. Bodhi will be in charge next year after I graduate, and let’s just say I’d be surprised if anyone else in your year wins out, so in all likelihood you’ll be up the year after that.”

Liam smirks.

“What, you don’t think so?” I prod.

“No it’s not that, it’s just that you’ve clearly thought all of this through really thoroughly. Obviously I know better, but you do such a good job of presenting this facade here at Basgiath like you’re just a ruthless meathead, I don’t know why it surprised me to get such a stark reminder of who you really are.”

“There’s a reason I don’t wear most patches, Mairi. That reputation I have around here is exactly what I want people to think I am,” I tell him as we reach the third-years’ floor and start down the corridor toward my room. “The element of surprise can be a useful tool if people don’t know what you’re really capable of.”

“That must be exhausting,” he observes.

“What, acting like a douche? No, it’s not much of a stretch for me,” I quip.

“Obviously,” Liam rolls his eyes. “No, I mean constantly having to analyze every single thing from every possible angle.”

“Eh, I’ve gotten used to it,” I say as we reach my door where Imogen, Bodhi, Eya, and Ciaran are waiting for us. Apparently all of the second-years already snuck up here together.

I disarm my wards and allow them all to pass into my room. We only have to wait a minute or so before Garrick, Soleil and Masen walk down the hall from their own rooms to arrive exactly on the hour.

“Alright,” I say, closing the door behind them. “Obviously tonight is going to be a little different.”

“Yeah, we’re bringing a first-year in already?” Ciaran asks.

“I’ve already discussed this with him, and not that I need to justify anything to you,” I lift an eyebrow at Ciaran, “but Liam isn’t only the best marked one, he’s the best cadet out of the first-years. He’ll be in my position a couple of years from now, just like Bodhi will be in charge next year. Speaking of which, after one thing I need to get out of the way first, I’m going to have you take the lead tonight, Bodhi.”

“Me?” Bodhi asks. “I wouldn’t know what I’m doing…”

“Which is exactly why you need to start figuring it out while I’m still around to help, that way you’re good to go on your own next year. But first, Imogen, you’ve been doing a great job with the first-years you’re training and you’ve earned your spot here, so welcome. However…” I sigh, this is going to suck. “It would seem that you represent a stance that is pretty common among a lot of the other marked ones with regard to what we should do about Sorrengail. I’d hoped that allowing some time for tempers to cool, and perhaps getting to know her a little, would cause the situation to simmer down. But based on what you had to say at the first meeting with the new marked ones even after we talked to you about your attack on her, and what you said to me earlier today, I can see that my hope was naive and we’ll have to address it directly…

Only a few of you know this because I didn’t want anyone feeling indebted to me at all, much less even more so than some of you apparently do already,” I say with frustration, “but I don’t see any other way of settling this so… When the apostasy failed five years ago… the scars on my back and taking responsibility for you all… if I hadn’t done that they would have murdered all of the children of the separatists.”

Imogen’s gasp is one of several noises of surprise and disgust that come from all around the room.

“I thought they were just scared of you or any of us might take up our parents’ rebellion,” Imogen says. “It wasn’t just supposed to be a way to keep you in check? They were going to execute children too?”

“Yes. I made the deal with General Sorrengail, she performed the Tyrrish scarring ritual, and in exchange for the opportunity for us to potentially live by making it through the Rider’s Quadrant, I had to promise her a favor. And about eight months ago now she called it in when she decided to throw Violet into the quadrant too. I’m bound to make sure she lives through her first year. If she doesn’t, at the very least I’m dead. I also wouldn’t put it past the General to say that my failure to follow through on the favor nullifies the entire deal, so it’s possible that the life of every marked one is on the line too.”

“Not to mention, that we all know what the chances of our rebellion succeeding are if we lose you,” Garrick says before turning to the others. “So frankly it’s not infeasible that if Violet dies and her mother kills Xaden, it could end with the dark wielders taking over the entire continent.”

He lets that sink for a few moments.

“So it’s time to drop the petty revenge shit, got it?” Garrick asks Imogen point blank.

“Yeah of course, I just didn’t know,” Imogen says, mollified for once and glancing at Garrick with a hurt look.

“Also, I can tell that you truly do carry a lot of influence with many of the other marked ones that think along the same lines you have been, so it would be very helpful if you could try to sway their stance on this too,” I tell Imogen. “I’d prefer if you could do it without telling them all the details of my deal with the general, but whatever is necessary to make sure that none of them murder Sorrengail. As you can hopefully tell, I’m trying to get better about swallowing my pride, so I’ll make do with it if you have to play that ace up your sleeve.”

“Done. And I can do it without the details,” Imogen promises.

“Good, thank you.” There’s an awkward silence for a moment.

“Okay then. Bodhi, you’re up,” I prompt him.

“Alright. Well, I guess we have to get you two up to speed on the smuggling operation.” Bodhi says, addressing Imogen and Liam specifically. “So the biggest thing is that in order to kill venin, you need a weapon with special alloy that’s imbued with power. We know from our intelligence that they can’t be killed with any regular weapon, or even dragonfire. And that imbued alloy also happens to be what powers Navarre’s wards.”

“Oh shit ,” Liam’s curse seems almost involuntary.

“Exactly,” Bodhi responds. “So even if we can make the case, at least to ourselves, that it’s moral to arm the Poromish gryphon fliers with these weapons so that they can protect their civilians, needless to say, the fact that what we’re arming with is being stolen from our own wards… there’s absolutely no way to argue that this isn’t treason. Xaden, would it be prudent to pause at this point to confirm that they’re both cool with that?”

I shrug and cock an amused eyebrow at Imogen and Liam, knowing what they’ll both decide.

Liam nods and Imogen says, “Well it’s definitely a step up in the treason game, but it’s not like they wouldn’t already execute us for what we’re doing in Aretia, so fuck ‘em.”

“Alright then, that’s really the crux of it, everything else is just logistics, so let’s get into it,” Bodhi says. “The first step is obviously stealing the alloy. It’s produced at the forge here at Basgiath which you can get to through the same tunnels where you enter the passage to the flight field. Some of the time it’s just being run the way any typical forge would, churning out normal weapons, but the alloy contains dragon eggshells which require a much higher temperature to melt, and that can only be achieved by combining the forge with a luminary, which they only do periodically, when they have enough eggshells…

Ideally we try to time the missions so that we can get the alloy after it’s already been embedded in one of the daggers that they’re always put into and imbued with power. If we get the timing wrong there have been occasions when it hasn’t been imbued yet, we call it ‘raw’ in that condition. In that case, either the fliers would have to imbue it themselves, which is apparently an issue for them, or we have to do it ourselves. Most of us know how to, in theory at least, but only Xaden and Soleil have much of a knack for it, and even for them it’s really difficult and time consuming. And then there have been times when we can only get the alloy itself as little medallions before they’ve been added to daggers -”

“Like this,” Masen offers, flipping what looks like a coin in the air.

“Real quick,” I say gesturing for Bodhi to pause, “have you had any more luck with your experiments trying to imbue those, Masen?”

“I mean, Soleil and I have figured some things out-”

“Yeah we have,” Soleil nudges him playfully, and he rolls his eyes but can’t keep from grinning as well.

 “...But we haven’t really had any more success with imbuing the alloy yet,” Masen finishes.

“Well, talk it out,” I suggest. “Maybe one of us will be able to offer something that might help.”

“Okay, well to catch everyone else up real quick, blasting the alloy with fire technically does imbue it a little, but it’s horribly inefficient. I thought that maybe it would work better to hit it with a more concentrated form of energy like electricity which I’ve recently learned to wield a bit with my signet. That does work, but there’s two problems… One, the electricity flies around through the air in every direction and only makes contact with the alloy randomly, and two, only something like half of the energy that touches the alloy actually ends up imbued in it.

To try and address the first problem, one thought I had was that even though air is an insulator, it can be ionized by electricity too easily and becomes very conductive which is why the sparks whip around everywhere. I thought if we embedded the alloy in a really stable electrical insulator like glass, then hopefully all of the energy would end up hitting the slightly more conductive alloy instead of just flailing around.” 

“But that didn’t work?” I ask.

“No,” Soleil jumps in. “I was able to melt some sand into glass and we got an alloy medallion embedded in a ball of it, after burning ourselves about a dozen times. But once it was in there the electricity couldn’t get to it at all. I couldn’t even imbue it the old fashioned way once it was encased in there.”

“It was stupid first attempt,” Masen admits. “I was only thinking about how the glass should keep the electricity contained to the alloy once the energy is inside, without thinking about how to get it in there initially. But it was just the first iteration, I think we should be able to get the electricity through the glass by adding strips of metal around the outside to conduct the electricity in toward the alloy. But that’s going to require much more intricacy, so right now we’re trying to improvise some rudimentary glass working tools to be able to do that.”

“Sounds like a good plan for that first problem, do you have any thoughts on how to improve that other issue with only half the energy that touches it getting imbued?” I ask.

Masen smirks, “I’ve been hoping to ask you that. My experiments are all about focusing the electricity onto the alloy, imbuing it is another thing entirely. I may be good at science but I’m terrible with the magic stuff.”

Masen sighs. “That being said, actually doing it would be way beyond me, but the only thought I’ve had is that I’ve seen people in Tyrrendor do some pretty crazy stuff with runes…”

“Ah, hence why you wanted to ask me,” I say, furrowing my brow in thought. “Well I have a bunch of the basic runes memorized, but actually designing more complex new ones to do super specific things like that used to be an entire artistic profession and I have little talent for it. Eya, I know you’re good with runes, and obviously your mom was the best of her generation, Liam,” I gesture to the rebellion relic on my arm. “Any thoughts, you two?”

“I won’t be of any help, apparently that talent isn’t genetic,” Liam jokes.

“I highly doubt I could do it myself without more training,” Eya says, “but if we could get a message to Felix or Trissa in Aretia, I bet one of them could manage it.”

“Perfect, you get with Masen and Soleil later to craft the message and Garrick and I will figure out delivering it,” I say. “Alright, sorry for the interruption, Bodhi, go ahead.”

Bodhi goes back to explaining the nuances of our smuggling operation and then we spend the rest of the meeting planning the next mission.

Chapter Text

“You’ve really done this dozens of times since Threshing when you were first-years?” Imogen asks.

“Of course,” Garrick replies simply.

I look over the array of weapons on the stand against the wall in my room, debating whether I want to bring anything besides my usual twin swords and the handful of daggers sheathed at various places around my body.

“You sure you’re up for this tonight?” Bodhi asks Liam. “Saturday is an actual weekend day for the rest of us in the morning, but it’ll be your first time on the gauntlet.”

“I’m not sure how to answer that without sounding like an overconfident ass…” Liam says, “but yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Bodhi responds, putting his hands up as if trying and convey the innocence of his question, “just trying to give you an out, sounds like over a dozen cadets died when half of the first-years had their initial try on the gauntlet earlier today, or I guess it would be yesterday now. I know I definitely wanted a good night’s sleep before my first attempt at it.”

“When I said you’d be in charge of this mission, I didn’t mean you should be an overprotective nanny about it, I expect you to learn from my mistakes,” I tell Bodhi, inclining my head meaningfully toward Imogen. “I also expect that you’ll have earned the Gauntlet Patch a few weeks from now,” I say to Liam.

Liam gives me a small determined nod.

“Fair enough,” Bodhi concedes, “In that case, it’s zero one hundred hours, so let’s head out.”

He leads the way out of my room and the other four of us follow.

We silently make our way down the corridor and the spiral staircase. Bodhi peeks out a side door of the academic wing to make sure the courtyard is clear and then motions for us to follow him out. 

As we make our way across the courtyard I check in with Sgaeyl.

“Everything looking clear on your end of things?”

“The four of us await your arrival, the only others we need concern ourselves with still sleep,” she reports.

We steal into the tunnels primarily used to access the flight field, but we continue past that particular offshoot and head deeper into the network of chambers carved out below the citadel.

Bodhi pauses at the last last turn before the entryway to the forge. “I know they always are, but you’re really not going to use your shadows to ensure that the guard’s asleep?” he asks me with a note of unease in his tone.

“You’re leading this mission now so that you’ll be ready to do everything when I’m not around next year,” I tell him. “I’m just here as a last resort, until then you should only be treating me as an extra pair of hands to sort through the equipment.”

“If you say so,” Bodhi says, shaking his head uncertainly before turning the corner.

“Hey! What are you doing down here?” an authoritative voice demands.

“Oh shit,” Bodhi hisses, diving back toward the rest of us as we hear footsteps running up the narrow passage. “If we run he’ll hear that there are several of us and they’ll suspect exactly the kind of treasonous plot we’re committing. Are we going to have to fucking kill this guy?” he asks desperately.

“Oh for Dunes’ sake, move!” Imogen orders, shoving Bodhi out of her way and taking the lead.

When the guard skids into view around the corner Imogen darts directly at him, taking him by surprise. She delivers a powerful kick straight to his balls that makes the other four of us flinch involuntarily.

The guard instantly doubles over, a pitiful squeak escaping his mouth. Imogen steps to his side and puts him into a headlock, expertly restricting the blood flow to his head. The man doesn’t even resist, his intentions revealing to me that he realizes passing out would be a welcome escape from the agony he’s in. Several seconds later he loses consciousness and his limp form crumples to the floor. 

Imogen crouches, putting a hand to his temple. The rest of us stare in shock for a couple moments.

“I can erase memories, remember?” she says. “I considered just knocking him out with my knee as he was bending over, it might have had the same effect, but it’d be a lot more suspicious. If he woke up with a head injury, he’d know he was attacked and check for anything amiss, hopefully this way he’ll just wonder why his boys are so sore in the morning.”

“Okay, well, apparently Imogen will be necessary on every mission to acquire alloy from now on,” I state.

“Alright then,” Bodhi says, doing his best to regain his composure. “Garrick, can you work on getting this guy back to his post and the rest of us will go collect the alloy?”

“I get that you’re practicing being in charge for after Xaden and I have graduated next year, but you better not get too comfortable giving me orders, Bodhi,” Garrick tells him.

“That’s why I phrased it as a question,” Bodhi calls back as he leads the rest of us down the hall and Garrick gets to work dragging the guard after us.

We walk through the entryway into the forging chamber. Bodhi leads us to the storage area where they stage the beginnings of shipments before they’re completed and sent to be flown out.

“Ok, these are organized by which outpost they’re bound for,” Bodhi begins explaining to Imogen and Liam. “Go through the ones headed for the outer edges of the wards, especially to the east. Those are the ones that are sent the alloy to boost the wards.”

We begin searching bags.

“Is this what we’re looking for?” Liam asks, holding up a dagger with an alloy medallion embedded in the hilt.

“Exactly,” Bodhi responds, “how many of those do you have there?”

Liam counts for a few seconds, “Looks like it’s between thirty and forty, do you need an exact number?”

“No, just go ahead and take four, we generally take ten percent, rounding up. Our intelligence suggests that leadership hasn’t noticed when we limit it to that level.”

After a few minutes of rifling through all of the relevant bags we end up collecting twenty-three daggers.

“So are these imbued?” Liam asks.

“Yes, you won’t be able to feel it until after you begin channeling,” I tell him. “Imogen, can you sense the power these have stored in them?”

“Yeah, it almost feels like it’s humming,” she says.

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Bodhi says, smiling. “If these were still raw they’d feel like normal daggers, or just hunks of metal if it were only the lone medallions. Anyway, let’s get out of here.”

We begin making our way out, but Bodhi quickly darts over to the area where we’ve learned they usually do most of the imbuing.

“There’s some medallions over here that haven’t been imbued yet. Should we grab any, Xaden?” asks Bodhi.

“Are there enough to take four?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, we could probably take six or seven,” he says.

“Four is fine, I’ll imbue one myself and try to teach Imogen how to on the flight, plus you and Garrick can practice if you want.”

Bodhi returns to us, flipping one of the coin-shaped pieces at each Imogen and me. We catch them and shove them into pockets on our flight leathers.

“ Cargo is secured, we’re on our way ,” I tell Sgaeyl.

“ I am privy to your entire consciousness except for when you act like a petulant adolescent and shield me out ,” she says.

“ What, did you forget to char your breakfast? Loosen up, it’s more fun to play up the covert mission angle ,” I snark.

A feeling of her impatience is all the response I get.

We make our way back out of the forge chambers and Garrick falls into step with us from where he was keeping watch next to the unconscious guard who is mostly flat on the ground but has been propped with his head and upper back slumped against the wall. I notice that his leathers are unbuttoned and his hand is down his pants.

“Uhh… what the fuck, Garrick?” Imogen asks looking back, clearly having noticed the same thing.

“They obviously don’t give a shit about these guys sleeping on their watch, but if they find him like that in the morning and he wakes up complaining about his balls then hopefully then they’ll decide not to assign him this duty anymore and we won’t have to deal with this insomniac again,” Garrick explains.

“Huh, fair enough,” Imogen says, clearly impressed with his reasoning.

We make our way back through the tunnels until we get to the one that leads to the flight field.

“Liam, you’re good to get yourself back from here?” I ask.

“Of course, have a fun flight,” he tells us.

“Good luck on the gauntlet tomorrow,” I say.

“No luck required when I grew up with you as my trainer,” Liam says with a wink, and he turns and continues up toward the citadel.

The rest of us jog along the other passage until we reach the flight field.

I emerge to find Sgaeyl at the head of the other three dragons. I may not have noticed the even larger dark shape off to the side that blends perfectly into the night if I didn’t feel his huge spiked morningstar tail twitch in the shadows that surround him.

I make an awkward gesture in his direction that’s somewhere between a wave and a salute. 

The other three take notice and peer toward where I’m looking.

“Is that Sgaeyl’s mate?” Garrick asks, as she turns her head toward the giant shadow and cocks it.

“Yep, that’s Tairn,” I tell them.

Sgaeyl shakes her head at him, clearly annoyed.

“Are they fighting, silently?” Imogen inquires.

“They do that,” I inform her.

“ Everything ok?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“ Tairn insists that I tell you that, as you are not bonded with him, you are not worthy of acknowledging him at all, much less drawing the attention of other humans to him when he is being inconspicuous.”

“Bit too big of a boy to be very inconspicuous there, guy,” I mutter to myself, averting my eyes.

A deep growl rumbles up from Tairn’s throat.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d be able to hear that!” I say louder, keeping my eyes lowered.

Tairn growls again and Sgaeyl snaps her jaws in his direction.

“ What was that?” I ask her

“ He says you are implying that he’s old and hard of hearing, so I told him he’s projecting,” she says, mentally rolling her eyes.

“How about we just get going?” I say, and then run up Sgaeyl’s foreleg.

All four of us settle in on the backs of our respective dragons, and then all five of them launch, Tairn immediately surging to the lead.

Sgaeyl flies up and falls into formation next to him and I glance over to see Tairn glaring at me menacingly.

After a few minutes I pull the alloy medallion out of the pocket of my flight leathers.

“ I told Imogen I’d try to teach her to imbue, can you relay my instructions to her through Glane?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“ Very well,” she agrees.

As we approach Athebyne around midday my own medallion is fully imbued and Garrick and Bodhi have managed to imbue some power into each of theirs, but they aren’t completely full. Imogen and I have decided that her lesson will have to wait until we can speak directly rather than trying to communicate when who knows how much is being lost in translation through two dragons and their archaic manner of speaking.

The dragons land in a clearing near the drop location that’s about fifteen minutes away from the outpost. I dismount and walk over to where Glane stands as Imogen jumps to the ground next to her. I cock my head toward the trees to the East and she follows in that direction.

“So over there is where we usually drop the alloy for the gryphon fliers,” I tell her as we near the cache hidden in the forest. “Most of the time we just stash them in the hollow behind this bush -”

“Unless they happen to be here at the right time for an in-person handoff,” a voice finishes from a couple dozen yards off in the trees.

I look up to find a flier emerging from behind a large trunk where she must have been standing perfectly still to prevent me from feeling any movement in the shadows.

“Syrena, good to see you,” I say, splaying my arms and turning my palms out in a non-confrontational gesture as she approaches.

“Wish I could say the same,” she drawls, glaring at me.

“Where’s your usual bodyguard?” I inquire, “I’m not sure whether to be honored or offended that you don’t seem to be concerned about me attacking you.”

“Maybe I just know you’re not dumb enough to piss me off any more after what you pulled a few months ago, or maybe I have someone else to stand at my side today…” as she says it another person steps out from behind a tree. I’m instantly filled with an odd mixture of feelings, it’s mostly annoyance but if I’m honest with myself there’s a hint of fear in there too.

“Catriona, what an unpleasant surprise,” Imogen snarks as she, Bodhi and Garrick step forward to assemble themselves at my sides.

“I definitely can say the same,” Cat says, leveling a look of contempt at Imogen. “My sister told me you’re never here as my future husband apparently deemed you unfit to take part in his missions.”

“She’s here because I can admit when I’ve been wrong, as you should know. Or do you not remember the mistake that I recently corrected to ensure that I am NOT your future husband?” I say, my tone making it clear that she’d better back off.

“Oh, I remember, dearest , but I know you’ll come around eventually because otherwise you will NEVER be getting your hands on my uncle’s luminary.”

“One of the reasons I ended the betrothal was because, evidently, we wouldn’t have gotten it either way -” I begin.

“But the main one was because you’re just such an insufferable bitch,” Imogen chimes in with a puckish smirk.

“Stop it Imogen,” I order. “I actually would like to discuss the luminary if you have the authority to act as the Viscount’s proxy, Syrena,” I say, turning back to her. “I know tempers were running a little high last time I saw him and I have some points that I wasn’t able to get across which he should really consider.”

“I can at least bring him the message if it’s one worth passing along, but frankly Cat is right, if you’re not willing to reinstate the marriage alliance then any further negotiations are a non-starter.”

“Poromiel has already lost untold numbers of fliers and civilians that could have been saved if we’d had the luminary all along,” I say, focussing my argument on the topic that I know Syrena, at least, is most concerned about. “If we had it at the forge in Aretia we could have produced hundreds, or maybe even thousands of alloy imbued daggers for you all by now. And it could be done easily just between Tyrrendor and Poromiel, rather than having to covertly smuggle them, at great risk to us, out of Basgiath just a couple dozen at a time,” I say in frustration, dumping the rucksack that’s less than half full at her feet to punctuate the point.

“I don’t disagree with that,” Syrena sighs, “but it’s not my call to make, and Tecarus won’t be swayed. IF you agreed to revive the betrothal then perhaps he could be convinced on the matter of relocating the luminary, I’d do my best to persuade him at least, but he won’t budge until then. Barring any unforeseeable developments, you really will have to reconsider marrying my sister to make all that happen.”

“I think you need to try harder to persuade him, it’s your country that’s actively under attack from dark wielders, not mine.” I retort, crossing my arms.

“Now, now, Xaden, you’re starting to sound like a real Navarrian,” Cat chides.

“Watch it, princess, I’ve never been able to test my signet to its limits, but I’ll gladly use you to find out just how much memory I can wipe,” Imogen snarls. “What are you even doing here anyway, do gryphons allow people that aren’t their fliers along for joy rides?”

“I have my own gryphon now,” Cat responds with a self-satisfied smile as it stalks out from the trees behind her, snapping its beak menacingly. “Meet Kiralair. And now that she’s started channeling, I’m beginning to develop my own abilities that I’ll also need a test subject for, and let’s just say that they’re proving to be much more dangerous than inducing forgetfulness,” she hisses.

Garrick takes a half step closer to Imogen. “Try it. You don’t even want to know what my signet is,” he says, the threat made that much more intimidating by his sheer size and the lethal expression that Cat managed to coax from him. “How are you already channeling anyway, you could have only been at Cliffsbane for a few months…”

“Our flight academy isn’t as idiotic as your war college, we don’t waste valuable time killing each other. After a brief orientation period we make the leap and let the gryphons choose those of us that are worthy of bonding, and then we get to work learning to become effective fliers,” Cat says with a belittling tone, as if she’s explaining a simple concept to an obstinate child.

“Seems to me that both sides have a lot to learn from each other here,” I step in diplomatically. “If you can talk some of our sense into your uncle, hopefully we can get back to applying your invaluable lessons to our revolution at the very least, if not Navarrian society as a whole.”

“Fat chance of that,” Syrena scoffs. “As long as their leadership is made up of the likes of Generals Melgren and Sorrengail, Navarre will always gladly sacrifice innocent Poromish lives, and even it’s own decent citizens like all of your parents to maintain the status quo.”

“And yet here we are, arming their enemies,” I say, spreading my arms wide. “Every dichotomy is a false one, Syrena. One day we’ll expose the truth within our borders and you’ll see that there are plenty of good people in Navarre that will choose to do the right thing, just like there’s plenty of pieces of shit in Poromiel, like your uncle, that choose to do the wrong one.”

“For the record, I honestly hope you're right, even though I doubt you are,” Syrena says while Cat rolls her eyes.

“And I honestly hope you can talk some sense into Tecarus, even though I doubt you can. I guess we just need our hopes to prove out ultimately. And maybe they can, after all, we really are on the same side even if it doesn’t feel like it at the moment. In the end it’ll be us against the venin, we just need to make good decisions now in order to give ourselves the best chance when that time comes.”

I turn and start walking back to our dragons, the other three falling into step behind me.

“There’s that talented tongue I remember,” Cat calls after us. “Who cares if we don’t like each other, the only other thing you need for your revolution to succeed is an equally powerful and compelling woman as your queen!” 

Damn, she’s almost as good as I am at fixating on the points that are most convincing to her audience. She only lost me with her last word, if she’d said “as your partner ” instead, she might have stopped me in my tracks. But as it is I don’t need my second signet to see her true intention, so instead I simply flip her off and keep walking.

“Who’s going to go to Aretia?” Bodhi asks as we regroup by the dragons. 

“Aretia?” Imogen almost yells in excitement.

“Yeah, I have messages for the Assembly, plus Masen’s for Felix and Trissa, and they’re sure to have messages for me as well. I take it you’re volunteering?” I ask, proffering the letters.

“Of course! It feels like forever since I’ve been back!” she exclaims.

“You won’t get any argument from us,” Garrick says. “With how long these days already are, that duty is usually regarded as a chore. Get a good night’s sleep there and then time your flight to make sure you get back to Basgiath well after dark on Sunday night.”

“Speaking of which, if we want a half decent night’s sleep, we better get a move on,” Bodhi says.

As we’re mounting our dragons I see five gryphons fly from the trees we just left and head away from us. Apparently Syrena did still bring more of her drift along as bodyguards, they must have just stayed further back out of sight. That oddly makes me feel slightly better, knowing that she still fears me and can’t simply bank on the fact that I’ll roll over in an effort to not anger her further.

I look over at Imogen who gives me a nod before Glane launches toward the Southwest. I turn to Garrick and Bodhi who are awaiting my signal. I nod and we launch almost directly West, back toward Basgiath.

…

I faintly hear the bells signaling curfew as we’re entering the tunnel to cross the ridgeline from the flight field back to the citadel, we must have made good time. 

“So we didn’t get a chance to debrief after all that …interesting conversation with the Cordella sisters,” Bodhi says, his voice echoing strangely in the tunnel.

“Keep it down, Durran, you don’t know that there isn’t anyone else further along here,” Garrick admonishes him.

“Xaden would have told us if there was, Tavis . He clearly retook command of the mission back at the drop location, so don’t tell me I’m supposed to be in charge of getting you tucked back in bed without Xaden checking that the coast is clear with his shadows,” Bodhi retorts.

“Maybe that’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing and you just didn’t bother to find out. Making assumptions can get you or the people under your command killed!”

“Gods, you’re such a stick in the mud, Garrick. Xaden, who’s right here?” Bodhi appeals to me.

“You’re both idiots,” I say definitively, “but the tunnel is clear, what did you want to ask about, Bodhi?”

Bodhi sighs, then says, “You were absolutely right back there about these smuggling missions being inefficient and dangerous. We have to get that luminary, so what the fuck are we going to do about it?”

“I assume you think that Xaden should just suck it up and marry that feline shrew-” Garrick starts.

“What was that you were saying about making assumptions, again?” Bodhi interrupts.

“For Amari’s sake, why are you two bickering like an old mated pair of dragons?” I ask.

“Maybe if your cousin wasn’t such a nosy little -”

“Garrick’s just been pissy ever since I asked him when he’s finally gonna make a move with Imogen,” Bodhi interrupts him again.

“Well, skipping right over that,” I say trying to get back on topic as Garrick pins Bodhi with a glare that intimidates even me, “at this point the ball is on their side of the border. They’ll eventually have to concede that more weapons and a stronger alliance are necessary, but having Catriona as the lynchpin is too dangerous. She’s so power hungry and vengeful that sometimes those interests even take priority over the war effort. I don’t doubt for a second that if she had the opportunity to leverage her position in our hypothetical marriage to stab Navarre in the back, as long as it didn’t endanger her own concerns, she wouldn’t hesitate to seize that chance. And even if we end up being able to expose the truth throughout the entirety of Navarre and half of them convert to our side, both of which are dubious prospects anyway, we’d eventually still need the other half of Navarre to ultimately defeat the dark wielders.”

“So we’re just supposed to wait until the situation in Poromiel gets so desperate that Tecarus, the most prideful fuck on the continent, is forced to come crawling back with his tail between his legs? You know it would be too late at that point, if he’d ever even do it at all.” Bodhi says as we reach the end of the tunnel.

“That’s why I tried to get Syrena to talk some sense into him,” I say opening the door into the courtyard and we all walk through.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi contends. 

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick whispers threateningly.

I see a flash of someone’s intention to figure out what we’ve been up to and freeze. Still facing forward I reach out to probe within the shadows to the side, in the direction I sensed the motivation coming from, and feel the shape of someone sitting against the adjacent wall. My sense of touch through the shadows is always improving, but I haven’t yet developed it to the extent that I can identify specific people by the shape of their face the way some blind people supposedly can do with their hands. The overall physique of this particular person is hard to mistake though, as it belongs to the smallest person in the Quadrant, not to mention that I’ve spent far too much time admiring that figure recently - Violence.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, looking around at a couple making out in the other direction.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” I tell them, still not looking toward Sorrengail so as to not give her away. They would follow my orders to leave her alone if they knew she was spying on us, but they wouldn’t be happy about it. That’s a fight I’d rather avoid.

“You sure?” Bodhi asks, looking around in every direction but unable to see her in the deep shadows.

“Go,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, they leave me and continue forward. I ground, mentally placing myself on the hillside in Aretia. When I’d first built this place in my mind, it was as if I’d simply discovered the chunk of blue sapphire representing my bond with Sgaeyl already waiting for me here. And since everyone always referred to the ‘flow’ of power from your dragon I instinctively came to picture it almost like a weightless fluid that emanates from the stone. In order to be able to regulate it I placed a cover over the sapphire with an opening that I can adjust the size of. I virtually always leave it slightly open, trickling enough to constantly power my signets at a baseline level. Now I open it further, allowing more of Sgaeyl’s power to wash over me in order to be able to ensure that I catch every subconscious motivation Sorrengail reveals.

“ If she suspects what we’ve been doing you may have to kill her now and figure out how to deal with the consequences later, otherwise the entire revolution could be compromised,” Sgaeyl tells me.

“ I know.”

I wait until Garrick and Bodhi pass through the threshold into the barracks and turn up the stairwell. Only then do I turn to face the spot where I can feel Sorrengail even if I still can’t see her.

“I know you know I’m here,” I hear her voice say with an accusatory edge. 

She rises and walks out of the shadows, her demeanor conveying nothing but bravado despite the fact that I can clearly see it’s merely an act intended to make me think she’s not scared. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“No questions about where I’ve been?” I test, crossing my arms.

“I honestly don’t care,” she says with a shrug. My second signet shows that she’s so emotionally exhausted that she can’t even muster the energy to fear me any more. I see an image of a woman who was clearly a friend falling from an obstacle on the gauntlet, and then the burn pit at the top of the tower we’re standing at the base of. She must have just come from incinerating her friends’ belongings there as an offering to Malek.

“You really don’t, do you?” I say, phrasing it as a question even though it’s more of an observation.

“Nope, it’s not like I’m not out after curfew myself,” she sighs heavily.

“ Well that was easier than anticipated,” Sgaeyl observes.

Relief floods through me, sharply contrasting with the tension that I’ve been filled with for the last twenty-something hours.

“What are you doing out after curfew, first-year?” I inquire as I lower my guard and allow the slightest hint of a tease into my tone now.

“Debating running away. How about you? Feel like sharing?” she asks, clearly teasing me in turn.

“The same,” I respond lightly.

“Look, are you going to kill me or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.”

Someone really must have put the fear of the gods into her with regard to me if she still hasn’t figured this out yet. Even if she couldn’t know I’m in fact doing the opposite, I’d think it would be obvious by now that I’m not actively trying to end her. Though, to be fair, I suppose I was just considering potentially needing to a minute ago. Okay, perhaps she’s not too paranoid, plus that’s how I want her so she always has her guard up.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I tell her in the same light tone, taking note of a deep scratch on her cheek,

“Well could you? It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

I almost laugh, imagining her penciling in ‘die by Xaden’s hand’ on a calendar.

“Am I affecting your schedule, Violence?” the sarcasm dripping from my tone as I’m struck by the irony, I don’t even want to know how much time I’ve devoted to thinking about or actively ensuring her survival.

“I just need to know what my chances are here,” she clenches her fists.

For a split second it seems like it might be a come-on, but her intention quickly reveals that it’s not. Man, I'm entirely too wrapped up in her. Oh well, at least it’ll be amusing to intentionally misinterpret what she’s saying. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on -”

“Not my chances with you , you conceited prick!” Her exasperation overflows and she attempts to storm past me but I snatch her wrist, not squeezing tight but refusing to let her pass since I can see that there is something else underlying the frustration that I might have to address.

“Chances at what?” I ask, pulling her slightly closer.

“Nothing,” her tone is annoyed.

“Chances at what ? Don’t make me ask three times,” I tell her, becoming slightly annoyed myself.

“At living through all of this! I can’t make it up the damned gauntlet.” She attempts to tug her wrist away but does so gently enough that I can tell she isn’t isn’t making a serious effort. I keep my grip loose in hopes of communicating that she could leave if she really wanted but I don’t release her arm.

I search with my signet and find an image of her inability to brace herself within the chimney obstacle because it’s too wide relative to her size.

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because I’ll fall to my death and you won’t have to go to the trouble of killing me,” she accuses.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

“Sorry to be a hassle,” she says sardonically. “You know the problem with this place?” She halfheartedly tries to pull her arm away again but her intention shows she’s still not terribly serious about it so I don’t let go. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?”

She’s glaring up at me and I have to admire her grit. I remember feeling the same way under the tree almost two months ago, and how just before that the empathy I saw from the person up in the oak toward the marked ones made me think that perhaps they could be the first non-separtist cadet to be brought into the fold. Of course that was before I’d realized it was her up there, and I’d abandoned the idea as soon as I found out. But that was simply because of her last name, and I of all people should understand the injustice of that.

“Imagine how powerful of a statement it would be to have a second of the General’s children on our side,” Sgaeyl observes.

“It would be worth exploring at least,” I acknowledge.

If I’m going to probe whether she could be brought to our side I should treat her as an ally. So rather than using my signet to figure out what she’s referring to, I decide to respect the privacy of her thoughts the way I would with one of my friends and simply find out by talking to her. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I say, and I release her wrist.

She doesn’t retreat. “Hope,” she answers simply.

I wasn’t expecting that. “Hope?” I clarify.

“Hope,” she confirms, nodding. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Scribe Quadrant; when General Sorrengail gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.”

“Sure you can,” I shrug, thinking of how I was steeling myself to potentially have to kill her a few minutes ago if she’d found out about our smuggling mission, despite my deal with her mother. “You just might not like the consequences.”

She rolls her eyes, but rather than walking away I’m surprised again when she leans in closer. I get a whiff of her intoxicating scent and all of my strategic thinking immediately abandons me.

“That makes her extremely dangerous,” Sgaeyl warns.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that I would live. And then I make it almost two months and I get… hopeful,” she admits, shaking her head.

I try to reengage my brain but it feels impossible when all I can think about is how she smells and how her shoulder has moved from where I’d pulled it against my arm to touching my chest now that she’s leaned in closer.

“You’re always carrying on about your self-control, pull it together!” Sgaeyl demands.

Ok, I can still reason, it truly is dangerous if I let her distract me to the point of complacency. I can just fall back on my constant default of weaving excuses to cover for the fact that I’m an inntinnsic. I usually do that by embellishing the extent of my shadow wielding abilities and network of marked ones passing me information. Let’s try this…

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you can’t quite get up the chimney, and you give up. I’m starting to see. It’s not a flattering picture, but if you want to run off to the Scribe Quadrant -”

She gasps, “How do you know about that?”

I don’t hold back my genuine smile. I’d learned more about Aetos’ plan to transfer her to the scribes when I’d tuned into his intentions while he was talking to Markham during the first few days of the year, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Shadows, remember? They hear everything, see everything, conceal everything,” I say and envelope us in darkness to drive home the point.

“My mother would definitely reward you if you told her about Dain’s plan,” she says.

“She’d definitely reward you for telling her about my little… what did you call it? Club ,” I counter.

“I’m not going to tell,” she says it as if I’ve insulted her.

“I know. It’s why you’re still alive. Here’s the thing, Sorrengail. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs - on the probabilities,” I say, starting to hint toward a solution to her problem with the chimney.

“So I’m supposed to what? Not hope that I live? Just plan for death?” she retorts.

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die. I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your mother or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” My shadows sometimes respond to my subconscious thoughts and I take note of how they’ve pulled in closer, physically cradling her the way I long to do with my arms. They even brush the cut on her cheek when I glance at it again. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment,” she snarks defiantly. “I’m going to bed.”

She turns and marches off to the barracks, but she still isn’t critically analyzing her problem, so I follow closely behind. I’ve seen how smart she is. What she pulled off with the poisonings were the actions of an exceptional tactician, all she has to do is apply that kind of thinking to this problem.

She reaches the door and tries to slam it behind her but I catch it before she can. “Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need to scale the gauntlet.”

“My self- what ?” she spins, gaping at me furiously. 

“People die,” I tell her simply. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person.” The best lies always contain a kernel of truth. 

“So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit,” I say, again tuning into the truth behind my words to make the performance feel genuine. “But if you want to do something, then do it!”

“I’m too short to span the distance!” she snarls, as if I’m the one being dumb. But if she can’t figure this out then perhaps she isn’t as brilliant as I thought and wouldn’t be as attractive of a target to be the first cadet to try to recruit to the revolution.

“The right way isn’t the only way,” I say it as an accusation. “Figure it out.”

Her intentions betray that she’s cursing me inwardly as I turn and walk in the opposite direction. Apparently that’s the thanks I get for trying to offer her some guidance.

Fuck her, I think to myself.

“I know you want to, but I beseech you, please don’t,” Sgaeyl sighs.

Chapter Text

“Fourth Wing! Move out!” I call.

Garrick falls in next to me as we move to follow Third Wing’s Tail Section through the gates toward the Gauntlet. 

“We need to talk,” he tells me quietly.

“Is it something we can talk about while we’re surrounded by half the quadrant?”

“As long as we’re smart about it,” he replies.

“Okay, I’m listening,” I assure him.

“Apparently Masen has been trying to get hold of you.”

Masen was eager to get his hands on the runes Felix and Trissa wove for him, so he’d offered to be the one to make the run to Aretia during our most recent smuggling mission two days ago, meaning he should have returned late last night.

“Did he bring important news?” I ask, nervous that there has been yet more dark wielder activity on the front.

“Not the kind you're probably thinking of…” Garrick says, slowing at the end of the statement in a clear attempt to choose his next words with great care. “Aisereigh sent you a personal message, and Masen seems to be under the impression he’s pissed about something.”

“Oh, great,” I sigh as the Gauntlet comes into view. “You don’t happen to have the message on you by any chance?”

“Of course not,” Garrick scoffs. “I left it in your room where it would be secure. Masen spent extra time there working on his own stuff and tried to deliver it to you right after he got back, just before dawn. But when you weren’t there he brought it to me. How early were you at the gym, by four again?”

“Three.”

“Damn, Xaden, you really need to try to get more sleep. Was something in particular keeping you up last night?”

I don’t respond, simply probing with my second signet behind me in hopes of figuring out what plan Sorrengail has come up with to ensure that she’ll still be alive a couple of hours from now. But there’s way too many people to try to focus on someone specific, especially when I can’t even see her back there.

We continue walking in silence until we reach the bottom of the Gauntlet.

“Want to take the stairs, or should we show the first-years how it’s done?” Garrick nods at the obstacle course, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“You know about our rule with this death maze,” I say, unwilling to be placated. “After what happened our first year we all agreed that none of us should be on this thing any more than is necessary. Times don’t matter for shit.”

“The only first-year fucked up enough to do what Alic Tauri did to Xenia back then is Jack Barlowe. And he’s so focussed on killing Sorrengail that he couldn’t care less about any of the marked ones. If anything, he probably thinks we’re on the same side in that respect,” Garrick tries to reassure me as we start up the steps. “And, where was that cautiousness when you practically ordered Liam to win the Gauntlet patch a couple of weeks ago?”

“Liam has already done all of his training for this in a much safer environment. He doesn’t need to spend any extra time practicing on this thing to be able to beat every other first-year to the top with time to spare,” I explain. “Those kinds of accomplishments that prove ourselves to the rest of the quadrant are the only things that put a dent in the prejudice that most of them have, and help persuade them to value and accept us. And that will obviously …be important eventually. Plus it’s not just murderous fucks like Alic that I’m worried about when it comes to spending time on there, it’s just dumb luck. Even Liam, if he were to run this course a thousand times, would eventually get unlucky and be fucked. Everyone should be running it as few times as necessary, while still making the most of those attempts.”

“Okay, I get it. I was just joking about showing the first years how it’s done anyway. You need to lighten up sometimes, Xaden,” Garrick says, shaking his head. “When was the last time you got laid?”

I pin him with a glare. “Are you sure that’s the topic you want to pivot to? Because I can tell you it’s been more recently than Threshing last year when it was clear that Imogen would survive and you seemed to take a vow of celibacy with regards to anyone else.”

Garrick glowers at me and we take the rest of the stairs in silence.

The Gauntlet is run in order by Wing. After the last cadets from Third Wing have either made it to the top or fallen to their deaths, I walk over to Amber. 

“None of yours managed to beat the time of that gymnast from Nyra’s wing, did they?” I ask her.

“Not even close, it looks like that one’s got the Gauntlet patch sewn up this year, I don’t know the records from previous years off the top of my head, but I think her time might be the fastest of any cadet still at Basgiath,” Amber says, handing me the stopwatch and roll.

I glance down at the time to beat. Damn, she even edged out my time from two years ago by a few seconds.

I make the conscious decision not to worry about whether Liam can make a good impression for all marked ones with the rest of the Quadrant by winning the Gauntlet patch, since there’s another first-year I need to worry about right now…

Sorrengail is facing an unprecedented problem. As far as I’m aware there’s never been a cadet that’s simply gotten stuck on the course before. The vast majority of obstacles you either complete or you fall off to your death. Even with the chimney there have been incidents where cadets have fallen once they were inside of it where there’s no floor below, but Violet can’t even get from the entry platform into the obstacle because she’s too short to be able to wedge herself between the walls.

And then there’s the ramp that she hasn’t even been able to attempt yet, where her height is bound to work against her again. It’s not uncommon for cadets to fail to reach the top on their first attempt, but they usually just slide or awkwardly run back down to try again. In doing some research I found record of a few freak accidents where cadets had tripped while descending and ended up careening off the end of the platform, but otherwise every cadet that was able to make it past the chimney and the rest of the obstacles was eventually able to make it up the ramp as well. 

I honestly don’t know for sure what leadership would do if a cadet neither fell nor was able to complete the course. They certainly wouldn’t be allowed to proceed to Presentation or Threshing, and since the only ways to leave the Rider’s Quadrant are by graduating or dying, I wouldn’t put it past this place to decree that a failure to complete the Gauntlet demonstrates that she’s a liability and execute her in the name of preventing her from weakening the wings.

In either case, the only option is for her to make it to the top. I would definitely be failing to uphold my end of the deal with General Sorrengail if her daughter ended up being executed, and I’m sure she’d claim that Violet falling from the Gauntlet would constitute ‘allowing her to die of her own naivete’. So if I want to live through this day she has to make it up here. Damn it, I should have been more explicit with my advice rather than just telling her to figure it out.

“Yes, and you would have if you hadn’t allowed your emotions to get in the way. This girl seems to have an unprecedented ability to undermine your notorious self-control,” Sgaeyl observes.

“It will be fine,” I tell her. “ She’s brilliant, surely she can reason that since saving herself with a rope simply costs a time penalty, their use isn’t prohibited. As for the ramp, hopefully she can do it on her own, but as long as she can get close enough I should be able to give her a bit of help with my shadows without anyone noticing.”

“That is an exceedingly risky plan,” Sgaeyl complains.

“Well if you care to offer any others, I’m all ears. Otherwise, that’s what we have.”

Sgaeyl’s only response is a mutinous grumble that ripples down our bond.

Thankfully, Flame Section is up first so I don’t have to stew in the apprehension for much longer. As the section leader, Garrick walks over to join me.

“Any cadets in your section I should take particular note of?” I ask.

“There’s a few standouts in First and Third Squads that I’ll point out,” he says, “but I’m assuming you’re more interested in Sorrengail’s squadmates?”

“You got it.”

I’d thought that there wasn’t any point getting to know other first-years before now considering how likely they are to die in the first few months, but to my surprise her entire squad except one has survived up to this point. Perhaps it’s still premature as they could easily be killed at Presentation or Threshing, but at least completing the Gauntlet is one big hurdle that suggests they might stick around. And I need to get a better idea of who Violet is surrounded by on a day-to-day basis to know whether any of them are potential threats, or might be helpful in keeping her alive.

One cadet from First Squad falls to his death below, but the rest manage to scale the entire course, and then it’s Second Squad’s Turn.

We watch the first cadet begin expertly making his way up. When he’s close enough for Garrick to be sure of who it is he informs me, “That’s Sawyer Henrick, he’s actually a repeat that didn’t bond at Threshing last year. Surprises me that he didn’t though, he’s smart, athletic, tough enough when necessary. Only thing I can guess is that at other times he seems a little too nice for his own good. Maybe the dragons thought he wasn't ruthless enough.”

It doesn’t surprise me that he’s a repeat as he seems a bit more physically mature than most of the other first-years, he’s already been honed by spending over a year in the quadrant. And having had double the practice on Gauntlet yields him a very fast time. 

“Impressive,” I observe. “With the number of dragons willing to bond declining in recent years it seems like sometimes the only reason a worthy cadet gets passed over is because there’s a shortage and no perfect match, but I’d be willing to bet he bonds this year. Do you have any gauge on how he and Sorrengail get along?”

“They seem friendly,” Garrick replies. “He’s understandably something of a leader among the first-years, most of them seem to look up to him. I expect he’d stand up for her if a situation arose. This next one is Pryor, haven’t caught his last name. Way too timid, I’ll be shocked if a dragon bonds him.”

“Nonentity that we don’t need to concern ourselves with then?”

“Definitely,” Garrick agrees.

Pryor does manage to make it all the way up, but with a slower than average time. A little after the next person starts Garrick leans over again. “This one is Trina. Very quiet but quite capable.”

“Do you know her opinion of Violet?” I inquire.

“Eh, they’re not especially close, at least yet. Assuming they both survive Threshing and some more trauma, seems like that usually creates stronger bonds between squadmates,” Garrick observes.

Trina finishes with an average time, but it’s respectable for someone her size, and then comes someone I recognize. “This is the one that’s really close with Sorrengail,” I state. “Rhianna was it?”

“Rhiannon,” Garrick corrects. “Last name Matthias. And yeah, those two are practically joined at the hip, and she’s fucking formidable too. Beast on the mat, top notch work ethic, also ambitious. If Aetos is to be believed it sounds like she’d have a good shot at making squad leader as a second-year.”

“I’m not sure a ringing endorsement from Aetos actually works in her favor,” I comment. “Does he like her because she’s a stickler for the rules, or does it seem like she’d bend them to do the right thing?” 

“Couldn’t say, don’t know her well enough. But she seems so loyal to Sorrengail that I’d bet she’d bend some rules for her at least,” Garrick shrugs.

Rhiannon’s time ends up being almost as fast as Sawyer’s. Next comes a guy with a stocky build. “Ridoc Gamlyn,” Garrick offers, “class clown, but he has decent skills. Also very close with Sorrengail, not quite to the same extent as Matthias, but they’re definitely tight.”

He ends up with a pretty average finish, and then it’s time. I can tell it’s Violence way down there before she even starts simply because she’s the smallest cadet by a decent margin. I hand Garrick the stopwatch and roll for the time being and attempt to mentally center myself, readying to provide help with shadows if necessary.

“If you do so, it must not be detectable, you’d be breaking your infernal human Codex,” Sgaeyl reminds me.

“I know.”

Her ascent of the first three sets of obstacles is uneventful, though her agility is impressive. But then she reaches the chimney.

I haven’t been this nervous since my own Threshing. I was an idiot for not giving her an explicit solution. If she hasn’t figured one out on her own there’s no way I could drag her up using shadows without it being ridiculously obvious. I’m helpless, both our lives and perhaps countless more depend on her being able to do this on her own.

“You can do it!” Rhiannon shouts down from twenty feet or so to my right.

“Or you can do us all a favor and fall!” Jack Barlowe calls from just beyond her.

To my utter relief Violet retreats a few steps back from the entrance into the chimney to grab a rope.

“What are you doing?” Rhiannon yells down to her.

Saving our asses, I think to myself as she begins to climb, walking up one side of the chimney with her feet while pulling herself up by the rope in her hands.

“Can she do that?” Amber demands nearby.

It always irks me when someone comments about if something ‘can’ be done, when they really mean whether it’s allowed. One can do literally anything they’re capable of.

“Never leave something that important up to dumb luck again,” Sgaeyl demands.

“Agreed. Though I’d argue what saved us here was the opposite of dumb,” I respond.

I think back to my own idiotic, emotional response in the courtyard that night a couple of weeks ago. I reflect on the fact that when I told her to figure it out, it was because I was frustrated with the emotional response she’d had to the death of her squadmate, and her subsequent inability to reason out a solution to the chimney. And that had provoked me because it made me doubt whether she was smart and logical enough to eventually be convinced to join our revolution. And now here she is, yet again proving her intelligence and cool rationality that I’d doubted…

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, she still needs to finish the Gauntlet. And then if she ends up bonding with a dragon that is against the revolution, it would be out of the question anyway,” Sgaeyl states.

As if Sgaeyl’s warning were a premonition, the rope suddenly slips and I’m about to take some of her weight with shadows that I snake surreptitiously beneath her, but she catches herself and continues progressing upward again on her own.

I start breathing again. 

“Do you have any intel on whether any of the hundred dragons might consider bonding her?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“Technically, yes. However, not only is this discussion still premature, but the only …rumor, I’ve heard, could not come to pass anyway. It is not worth relaying,” her tone is simultaneously indignant and maybe even a little… is that nervousness?

“You could not have done a worse job dispelling my interest. You can’t tease something that cryptic and then withhold it,” I say as Sorrengail reaches the top of the chimney.

“I told you, it is impossible, you need not concern yourself with it.” Sgaeyl chides. “What was it you told her? Don’t let hope steal your focus and aim it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs - on the current probability that she is too short to make it up the ramp.”

“Fair enough,” I concede, again readying myself to covertly assist with shadows if necessary as she sizes up the ramp.

But then she pulls a large dagger from a sheath and I get an image of her intention to stab it into the wood of the ramp and use it as a handhold.

“Well at least I shouldn’t need to assist unless she fucks this up. Now the risk is whether that’s defensible, Amber is going to lose her shit,” I predict.

Sure enough, she manages to will herself to the top of the cliff with her …unique strategy, of driving the dagger into the vertical portion of the ramp and then using it as both a hand and then a foothold. But as soon as she stands up on top of the cliff in front of me, Amber immediately protests, “She can’t do that!”

“Yeah, well, she just did!” Ridoc retorts. I’m liking this guy already.

I take the roll and stopwatch back from Garrick and note down her abysmal time while some semblance of relief washes over me, but I know this isn’t over yet. So I simply assemble my face into a bored mask and wait for the uproar.

“Cheating!” Amber practically screams and she begins stomping over to me.

“Back the hell up, Mavis!” Garrick warns, stepping in front of me to block her approach.

“The cheater clearly used foreign materials not once but twice . It’s not to be tolerated!” she protests. “We live by the rules or we die by them!”

I can see that Amber intends to fight this to the end. Sorrengail had better have a good defense.

“I don’t take kindly to calling anyone in my section a cheater,” Garrick threatens. “And my wingleader will handle any rule-breaking in his own wing.”

“Sorrengail?” I prompt, arching an eyebrow at her expectantly.

“I expect the thirty-second penalty for using the rope,” she says, still catching her breath. 

That’s bold, she didn’t just prevent herself from falling with the rope which is what that penalty is really meant for. If she wanted to appease Amber at all she could have at least offered to take a double penalty for actually using it to progress upward.

“I approve, there is no need to appease the whiney one,” Sgaeyl chuffs.

“And the knife? She’s disqualified,” Amber seethes at Sorrengail as if it’s her decision to make. I don’t bother acknowledging her. 

Amber rounds on me, “Surely she’s out!” she demands. “You can’t tolerate lawlessness within your own wing, Riorson!”

I continue ignoring her and simply maintain my expectant expression aimed at Sorrengail.

“A rider may only bring to the quadrant the items they can carry -” she begins.

“Are you quoting the Codex to me ?” Amber interrupts furiously.

“-and they shall not be separated from those items no matter what they may be,” Sorrengail persists. “For once carried across the parapet, they are considered part of their person. Article Three, Section Six, Addendum B.”

Fascinating, I think, seeing where she’s going with this.

“That is a convincing argument,” Sgaeyl agrees. “Maybe she is as intelligent as you keep prattling on about.”

“I don’t prattle,” I growl back.

“That addendum was written to make thievery an executional offense,” Amber retorts.

“Correct,” Violet concedes to Amber before returning her gaze to my own. “But in doing so, it gave an item carried across the parapet the status of being part of the rider.” She unsheathes the dagger she’d retrieved from the ramp before finishing and holds it out for our inspection. “This isn’t a challenge blade. It’s one that I carried across and therefore considered part of myself.”

Damn, well put, I think, the shadow of a grin infiltrating my mask of boredom.

“The right way isn’t the only way,” she concludes. My own quote is obviously meant as the final nail in the coffin in the case she’s making to me personally. It was a smart move based on her misguided assumption that I’m the one she needs to convince, but that sentiment will only serve to infuriate Amber further. Alas.

“She has you Amber,” I state without removing my eyes from Sorrengail’s.

“On a technicality!” Amber explodes.

“She still has you,” I declare, finally shifting my gaze from Sorrengail to fix Amber with a glare that leaves no room for misinterpretation that my decision is final.

Amber shrinks from the wrath in my expression before trying to save some face by turning to Sorrengail and biting out, “You think like a scribe!”

“I know,” Violence nods, clearly accepting the taunt as high praise. I can tell that this only serves to darken Amber’s motivations as she storms off. Now she intends retribution for what she considers to be this humiliation.

“A rider with the mind of a scribe, that could be a potent and valuable combination,” Sgaeyl muses.

“Now who’s the one getting ahead of themselves?” I tease.

As Violet resheathes her dagger I note that her hands are bleeding from their prolonged exposure to the splintery fibers of the weathered rope.

“Sorrengail,” I say, regaining her attention, “you’re leaking.” I use the term I know Sgaeyl favors to suggest that the dragons she’s about to face at Presentation will view it as a sign of weakness. “Do something about it.”

She nods her understanding and retreats to go celebrate with her squadmates.

Garrick provides commentary on the final two cadets from Second Squad as they make their ascents. The first is a guy named Tynan that Garrick thinks we may need to keep tabs on due to his familiarity with Jack Barlowe, and the other is a supposedly irritating woman named Luca that Garrick doubts will amount to much. But there’s only one first-year left that I’m legitimately interested in watching take on the Gauntlet.

Our wing’s Tail Section is the last to go out of the whole quadrant and Liam is the final cadet from Second Squad. 

I’m guessing that he watched the gymnast from First Wing and has a rough idea of the ridiculous time he’d need to beat to take the lead because he absolutely sprints up the first ascent. I remember taking it at pretty much a full run myself, but I know I wasn’t at my absolute top speed as if fleeing dragonfire like Liam is. I would worry if I weren’t familiar with how much time he’d spent on the practice course we built together at Duke Lindell’s estate where we were fostered. Plus I know that even if he does have a misstep it should only mean losing the top spot, not his life. He’s too fucking athletic for there to be any serious chance of him not managing to save himself with a rope.

When he begins the buoy balls, I’m not especially surprised to see him use the difficult but not entirely uncommon strategy of pulling himself up to stand on top of the first ball. But most others that use that approach proceed to perform a cautious two-footed jump to each subsequent ball where they desperately clutch the chain the balls hang from until the swinging dissipates and they can continue. Liam, on the other hand, leaps upward with full power to grab the next chain as high as he can, his feet more than a foot above the ball. And rather than waiting for the swinging to dampen he uses its momentum and his incredible upper body strength to propel him to the next chain. He only grabs that one with a single hand and then begins to perform continuous one-armed swings across the large gap between each chain as if he’s some giant monkey playing on vines in a jungle, seeming to almost defy gravity as he appears to practically float from one to the next. Those that are watching in the crowd around me comment excitedly which piques the interest of most of the rest of the crowd who come to the edge to see.

After the buoy balls Liam continues through the rest of the obstacles with more traditional, though exceptionally fast, techniques until he’s just a dozen or so feet below me at the bottom of the ramp. He spares a second to look up, find me, and wink before barreling up the curve with such force that at the top he only needs one hand for stability rather than to actually pull himself up, as he emerges onto the top of the cliff.

Almost all of the assembled first-years cheer wildly and Liam blushes and gives an overdramatic bow that elicits a gale of laughter.

I walk over and punch him on the shoulder genially. “Did you have to use your extra two years of practice to put this old man to shame quite that badly?” I call over the noise of the rest of his squad converging to embrace him. 

He simply shrugs at me amicably before turning to join the celebration with his squadmates.

Liam is among the loudest people cheering on the first-year cadets from Third Squad, Tail Section, the last one to go. None of them come anywhere near his record.

When the last cadet has summited the cliff and I finish recording her time, Nyra taps me on the shoulder and hands me the Gauntlet patch. She’s one of the only non-marked ones who’s aware that Liam is my foster brother, so her knowing nod of approval is a little extra meaningful.

I hand her the roll and stopwatch and walk over to Liam. He’s much better at getting people to like him than I am, so I decide to leave it up to him how to play this. I neither call attention to us, nor hide it as I give him the patch, but he predictably takes the path of humility and simply pockets it discreetly. But a few of his squadmates notice and begin cheering again and the awareness seems to spread, soon most of the assembled masses are applauding for Liam Mairi. It’s the first time I’ve seen such a public show of respect and admiration for a separatist’s child.

Chapter Text

As the senior wingleader, Nyra is responsible for seeing the first-years off down the training field for Presentation after the section leaders give them their instructions. So I don’t need to be there and decide to head back and read the letter from Brennan that's waiting for me in my room. The idea sounded more pleasant than the alternative of staying to see, and smell, the least worthy first-years being picked off by the dragons.

Though, if Masen was right about Brennan’s attitude regarding the message, I might end up having to reassess that.

I open my door and find the letter waiting for me on my desk. 

Pulling a dagger from a sheath at my hip, I sit at the chair, slice through the seal and unfold the parchment. 

The entire message consists of a four-word question, but I know exactly what he’s really telling me.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

I think back to a conversation that was about eight months ago now…

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I say, immediately realizing that my tone is way too defensive.

We’re standing in the five-story tall entryway just inside the massive double doors of Riorson House.

“Uh-huh,” Brennan raises a skeptical brow at me. “So you were planning to potentially lose a finger to frostbite rather than come see me …just for fun?”

I sigh. “Chradh accidentally stepped on my shit back at the drop location for the weapons smuggling and his claw took a finger off one of my riding gloves,” I explain.

“And yet you still offered to be the one to make the run to Aretia afterward, despite the fact that you almost always make one of the others do it even when you have two intact gloves?” Brennan pushes, taking my injured hand in both of his own.

“Coming here to get a new pair is a slightly shorter flight,” I improvise, as warmth and an easing of the pain begins flowing through my finger. “If I’d headed straight back to Basgiath, I really might have lost the finger.” 

Hey, that actually made sense, I think to myself.

“Congratulations,” I can practically feel Sgaeyl rolling her eyes through our bond.

“Why are you really here, Xaden?” Brennan’s tone makes it obvious that he’s just as impressed with my excuse as Sgaeyl.

“I… need someone’s advice,” I admit.

“And that someone isn’t me?” Brennan asks, seeming genuinely surprised and maybe even a little hurt. He releases my hand and I alternately clench my fist and splay my fingers. It feels as good as new.

“It’s just…” I don’t know what to say.

“Ahh, I think I see. It’s about a matter concerning me ,” Brennan says simply. “Or, at least, it arguably could.”

“Well, yeah. Exactly,” I wait for the other shoe to drop.

“Okay, no worries,” he shrugs, then starts turning to leave.

“Wait, you’re not pissed that I didn’t come tell you? And you’re not going to make me tell you now?” I ask, baffled.

“Of course not,” he frowns, looking slightly puzzled.

“Hang on, how are we both confused here?” I say, trying to get my bearings. “It’s like you don’t mind if I keep something from you, which is a whole thing on it’s own, but surely you can at least see how I’d find that super fucking weird. Are you like… a human?”

“Damn, emotional trauma really does fuck a kid up doesn’t it?” Brennan sighs. “Alright, look at me Xaden, it seems like this one might throw you for a loop… I. Trust. You.” He puts his hands up as if indicating that’s all there is to it.

“Okay?” I say, not following.

“For Amari’s sake! Xaden, is it something you think I’d be better off not knowing?” Brennan demands.

“I’m not sure, that’s what I need advice about,” I stammer.

“Then I can’t be the one to give you that advice,” Brennan says simply. “Go talk to Trissa, she’s patient enough to talk it out and help you decide. And if you two determine that it’s something I shouldn’t know, then I’m fine with that, because I trust you .”

“Wow, it’s like you really aren’t human,” I say with admiration. “I absolutely have to know about anything and everything that might concern me, or my friends, or the revolution, or -”

“Gods Riorson,” Brennan interrupts, chuckling and shaking his head, “you’re lucky you didn’t turn out to be an inntinnsic.”

I don’t think I could move a muscle if I tried.

“You know, sometimes you kind of remind me of my youngest sister, Violet,” Brennan muses. “She’s not always the best at navigating interpersonal shit either, and she’s obsessed with wanting to know everything too. She used to devour hundreds of books a year, I’m sure she still must. Dad’s perfect little scribe. Gods I miss her. Hey, if you’re ever in the archives next year keep an eye out for a tiny little first-year scribe cadet with hair that’s silver at the ends. Maybe we could… no she’d be terrified of you-”

“What is she really like though? Overall I mean. Do you still think she’s a good person even with those flaws?” I ask, needing to know who this person I’d just vowed to protect is.

“Xaden!” Brennan laughs. “Those are more like personality traits than flaws. And even with the legitimate flaws that we all have, they don’t make us bad people. We don’t have much control over what we think or how we feel about things, and it doesn’t matter because that stuff stays inside our heads and doesn’t affect anything until we take action on it. It’s our actions that make us good or bad. Just because …SOMEONE is obsessed with needing to know everything-” 

Oh gods he must think I was fishing for affirmation about whether he thinks I’m a good person. “How are you so bad at personal shit!?” Sgaeyl laughs.

“-and terrible at dealing with emotions, as long as they always do what they believe is the right thing, that’s all you could ask for.” Brennan continues, looking at me with such sincerity that it makes me squirm. “I honestly think Violet is the best person I’ve ever met.”

There’s almost nothing I’d rather do than run away from all this sentimentality, but as long as I’m already wading through the ick, there is one other thing I could really use advice about…

“Do you think it’s even ok to do that, to keep things from someone that’s… special. Like family, or your partner?” I’m thinking of Catriona who I’ve been formally betrothed to for a little over half a year now, and her failure to admit that rather than the strategic benefits of the alliance, what she really cares about is the power she’d gain through our marriage.

“Well I guess I can see how it could get a little stickier in a situation like that, so maybe it would depend a little more on the context and the specifics,” Brennan says, cocking his head and gazing at the windows above as he considers the question. “But generally, yes, I still think it’s ok. As long as you’re keeping it from them because you truly believe that’s what’s best for them . I would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if I didn’t believe that. I’m keeping the very fact that I’m alive from my sisters. But I have to for their own good, and for the good of the revolution. Some things are more important than full disclosure. And with a partner it shouldn’t matter anyway.”

“What? How so?” I say, not following again.

“Well the only thing that really matters between partners is love. Anyone’s bound to fuck up a bunch of times throughout their relationship, gods know I did,” Brennan says, sadness filling his face suddenly. “But in the end, their actions will prove that they love you anyway.”

“Brennan I…” I pause, finding that I can’t meet his eyes, so I lower my gaze to the floor. “I’m really sorry about Naolin.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder as if inviting me to look up again. I do, and find that there’s a sad smile on his face now. “Thanks, Xaden.”

“Okay, well I’d really like to tell you as long as Trissa thinks it’s the right thing to do, so do you know where she is?” I ask, desperate to extricate myself from this conversation.

“Yeah, she’s in the Assembly chambers. Good luck!” Brennan smacks me on the shoulder and smiles at my obvious discomfort, then turns, walking off in the other direction.

I find Trissa standing in front of the giant war map depicting venin movements, weaving what must be an extremely complicated rune based on the motion of her arms. “Hey, I need to talk to you,” I tell her. “Do you have a minute… or an hour?”

“Yeah, because I’m clearly not in the middle of anything import-” she spares a moment to glance over at me and pauses when she sees my expression. She sighs and drops her arms to her sides. “I can weave it again later, I doubt doing it that way would have worked in any case.”

She sits down in a chair at the end of the table and pulls out the adjacent one too, motioning for me to join her.

I tell her everything about General Sorrengail’s favor and the conversation I’d just had with Brennan. Well, everything but the irrelevant awkward parts.

“So do I tell him that his sister is being forced into the Rider’s Quadrant and that I’m being forced to act as her protector?” I ask.

“Absolutely not,” Trissa says with complete certainty.

“Really? It’s that simple?”

“Of course,” she replies. “As his reaction clearly demonstrates, Brennan is a gifted strategist that’s incredibly intelligent, both cognitively and emotionally. UNTIL an emotion powerful enough to override that rationality clouds his judgment. If he finds out what his mother is doing to Violet, I’m not sure there will be any stopping him from mounting Marbh and flying straight to Basgiath to rescue her from their mother which would jeopardize the entire revolution. Not to mention that in all likelihood he’d get himself and Violet killed in the process.”

“So I just don’t tell him… You don’t think he’ll find out?” I challenge.

“You don’t tell anyone,” Trissa stresses. “I hate to say it, but frankly the best case scenario I can imagine is that she dies early on in some way that General Sorrengail can’t possibly blame you for, like falling off the parapet or being killed by a dragon or in a challenge. Then it could be years before Brennan finds out, if both of you are still alive at that point, just act as if you didn’t know she’d be there until she’d already crossed the parapet at which point there was nothing anyone could do so you kept it from him to prevent him from worrying or doing something stupid.”

“And then it’s just you and I that have to take the truth to our graves,” I conclude. “But what if she does survive?”

Trissa sighs. “Then who knows what will happen, we’ll just have to cross that bridge if we come to it.”

I swim up out of my reverie back to the present moment and glance down at the message again.

Riorson,

What. The. FUCK!?

Chapter Text

“We have a problem,” Sgaeyl tells me.

It’s two in the morning and I’m already in the gym having been rejected by my bed and the prospect of sleep.

“Other than the fact that - Brennan’s going to - fucking kill me?” I ask between weighted lunges. “ And why are you - up at this hour?”

“The Empyrean just finished meeting,” she states.

I pause. “ Is it normal for a meeting to run that late the night before Threshing?”

“ Decidedly not,” she assures me. “ There is an unprecedented situation that had to be discussed at length. It concerns the hypothetical scenario I mentioned during the Gauntlet trials.”

“ The one that you said ‘could not come to pass’? If it’s impossible then why are you worried?” I can sense her tension through our bond and set the dumbbells down.

“ It should have been prohibited by the Empyrean, but they have just decided not to intervene,” Sgaeyl seethes.

My first instinct is to give her shit about a dragon being wrong for once, but I sense her anxiety building further and think better of it.

“ Thank you,” she says, responding to my thoughts.

“ Okay, so what’s going on?” I ask.

“ I cannot tell you everything, some secrets belong to all dragonkind and no human is permitted to know.” I’ve never heard her sound like this. I thought I might have detected a hint of nervousness when she first mentioned this during the Gauntlet a couple of days ago, but now it’s unmistakable, and I find it very unsettling.

“ Well, what CAN you tell me?”

“ There is a feathertail that is considering exercising her Right of Benefaction. I am doubtful that she really would bond, but if she did, it could be disastrous,” Sgaeyl explains.

“ Right, I heard about the little feathertail that was at Presentation.” If Sgaeyl can’t speak freely then I have to reason my way through this. “All I know about the feathertail breed is that they supposedly abhor violence so why would one want to bond a rider? She’d be entering military service.”

“ That’s why I’m still hopeful she won’t actually bond,” Sgaeyl replies, “ but this particular one is not as much of a pacifist as most.”

“I thought the eldest of each den got the final say in any disputed matters,” I say, trying to recall professor Kaori’s lessons from first-year. “Did the head of the feathertail den consent to letting this one bond?”

“That is not exactly how it works in this case, but I can say no more,” Sgaeyl’s tone is sounding anxious again.

“ Wait, I heard this one was tiny, as in, too small to bear a rider. It’s not a BABY feathertail, is it?” I ask, aghast.

“ All feathertails are small,” Sgaeyl says, sounding like she’s choosing her words very carefully, “ it’s one of many reasons they are unfit for bonding.”

“ Yeah, the inability to carry a rider would be right up there with hating violence in terms of making a terrible battle-dragon,” I muse. “And even if this one is more fierce than most, Liam said it had no claws and rather than having any weaponized version, its tail was literally feathered, so how much damage could she really do? Can she even breathe fire?”

“ NO,” Sgaeyl says emphatically.

“ For Dunne’s sake, what the hell is this dragon thinking?” I demand.

“ I have absolutely no idea,” Sgaeyl huffs, starting to sound more like her formidable self again.

“ Wait,” I say, an intriguing idea suddenly occurring to me. “ You first mentioned this, albeit evasively, after I asked if there were any dragons that were considering bonding with Sorrengail…”

Sgaeyl’s only response is a growl that suggests that she doesn’t like where I’m going with this.

“ Hang on, how would that not be a win-win?” I demand. “ You’re clearly concerned about this little dragon and I need Sorrengail to not die so that I can do the same. If they’re bonded to each other and unable to even practice flight maneuvers, much less participate in War Games or eventually be deployed, wouldn’t that solve both of our problems?”

“Perhaps that might work if Navarrian society valued innocent lives over military advantage, but as you should know all too well, that is not the case.” Sgaeyl chastises. “Other dragons at Presentation overheard some of the humans calling the feathertail a ‘mistake’ and threatening to kill her. Your charge is already being targeted as perhaps the weakest cadet in need of culling. As you alluded to yourself, together they would be by far the weakest bonded pair ever forged, and you think the other humans would simply allow them to live, let alone forgo participating in flight maneuvers, War Games, or deployment?”

I think about it for a moment and sigh. “You’re right. Sorrengail would be under such constant attack on so many fronts that even I might not be able to protect her, at the very least I wouldn’t be able to conceal the fact that that’s what I’m doing any more.”

“As I said,” Sgaeyl states, “we have a problem.”

…

“ You insolent little -”

“Whoa, are you scolding ME, or did you accidentally just let me hear you talking to another dragon?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“It was no accident. I tire of continuously having to relay my communications with her to you,” she explains, “ at least if I let you hear my side, then I only have to pass along what she says.”

I’m laying on top of the ridgeline surveying the activity in the valley below. Sgaeyl stands about thirty feet back with her neck extended so that only her eyes peek over the crest.

“ You are still nowhere near the general’s daughter, why do you continue wandering around there? ” Sgaeyl fumes.

“ What are you doing?” I demand. “If she’s considering not bonding Sorrengail you should encourage it! ”

“ She has very clearly expressed her intention to do so. Wait, she’s finally explaining, ” Sgaeyl tells me. “ WHAT?! NO! Stop trying to let the murderous ones see you, this instant! At least if you only interact with the silver one then you’ll be able to see why you should not bond with her, but if I’m forced to come rescue you, my own bonded could very well be executed for interfering with Threshing.”

“ She’s trying to let Barlowe and his cronies find her? ” I clarify with exasperation.

“ So it would seem, ” Sgaeyl smolders.

“ Damn, yesterday I thought dragons were practically infallible, or at least they’d never admit to making a mistake, ” I muse. “ But today I feel like I’m starting to get to know one who is…  ‘fallible’ doesn’t seem strong enough, is there a word for ALWAYS making the wrong decision? ”

“ No, but her name is Andarna, so I would propose ‘andarnic’, ” Sgaeyl sighs.

“ There are no other dragons that might consider bonding Sorrengail? ” I ask hopefully.

“ There are several that admire her intelligence, tenacity, honor; basically everything besides her physical limitations. ” Sgaeyl tells me. “ I considered trying to convince one of them that the advantages she offers outweigh that liability, but then Andarna announced her claim openly, and no other dragon wants any involvement with the drama between her and the Empyrean. ”

“ Well we clearly don’t understand why Andarna isn’t seeking out Sorrengail, but what about the other way around… If Andarna has ‘claimed’ her then shouldn’t Sorrengail be able to sense Andarna reaching out to her? ” I ask as I continue to monitor Violet who has begun climbing a tree.

“ Stating her claim among other dragons doesn’t have any effect on the human, ” Sgaeyl explains. “ Usually the timing does coincide with the dragon beginning to mentally call out to the cadet, but Andarna hasn’t started calling to the girl because she clearly has some other objective she’s trying to accomplish first. And there it is - ” I see Andarna launch into the air and fly toward our position level with Sorrengail, but she flies directly over Violet who is too preoccupied with climbing to notice, and continues further North. 

“ Andarna is sure that the smaller male in the murderous posse spotted her -”

“Tynan,” I offer. 

“I do not care,” Sgaeyl says dismissively. “He witnessed her fly North. ” 

She continues flying until she reaches a clearing and lands. I watch Sorrengail cease climbing now that she’s nearly reached the top of the tree and begin surveying the area around her.

“ Scorch it all to ashes! ” Sgaeyl exclaims. “ Andarna has begun reaching out to her. I am concerned that she truly might try to bond. ”

I look over toward the little dragon and see that she’s contorting her tail and a wing oddly. I refocus to the top of the tree where Violet is and notice an odd light is sweeping across it. I look back at what Andarna is doing again and realize that she’s angling her shiny golden wing to reflect the sun and holding her tail out in front of it to aim the reflection. I’m shocked that she presumably figured out how to do that on her own considering the only reason that I know how to do something similar is from going through the land navigation courses last year. They taught us that if you end up stranded on the ground you can signal another rider flying past by using a small mirror to shine a reflection at them. We learned to aim the reflection by holding two fingers out in a ‘V’ shape, positioning your fingers at arm’s-length such that the rider is between them from your perspective, and then placing the mirror in front of your face and pointing the reflection at your fingers. As a result, the portion of the reflection that passes between the ‘V’ shape of your fingers is pointed directly at the rider. Andarna is presumably utilizing the same principle by positioning her tail such that she can see the tree Violet is in through a gap between the feathers to draw her attention with the reflection.

“ Yes, that would appear to be exactly what she’s doing, ” Sgaeyl confirms, responding to my train of thought.

“ And it’s worked, ” I observe as Violet’s head clearly turns in that direction. “ I’m starting to wonder if we might be wrong about her foolishness in this whole endeavor. If she’s clever enough to figure something like that out on their own, can we be sure she doesn’t have some shrewd plan that we just haven’t figured out yet? ”

“ I’m sure she has a plan of some sort, but as long as its ultimate goal for those two to bond, it is still foolish, ” Sgaeyl declares, then clearly shifting the focus of her communication away from me she says, “ Andarna, you must not bond. If you do, it will get both you and the girl killed. Even if I cannot intervene personally for the sake of my rider, do not think I am unable to arrange for an intercession. If you force me to, I will summon Tairn to put an end to this madness. ”

I watch Sorrengail making her way back down from the tree, and a few moments later Sgaeyl huffs steam in outrage.

“ What did she say? ” I inquire.

“ She claims that I would not dare to do so, but she shall learn that there is no such trifle I dare not undertake, ” Sgaeyl responds. She again directs her line of communication away from me but still allows me to hear when she says, “ Tairn, I believe she truly does mean to bond, I shall position myself by her, you must come find me, monitor the situation, and intercede if necessary. ”

“ Sounds like it’s time to mount up then? ” I ask, but don’t bother waiting for a response before I sprint up Sgaeyl’s foreleg and moments later we launch into the sky.

She flies a circuitous route around to the clearing where Andarna waits and we land at its far edge. 

“ Andarnaurram, this absurdity ends now, ” Sgaeyl admonishes her. “ Tairn will be here within minutes and if he must, do not make the mistake of thinking he would hesitate to pick you up and fly you away in his claws. ”

I wait to feel another flare of fury through our bond, but Sgaeyl is silent for a surprisingly long time before I eventually feel her anxiety begin to turn to… is that hope?

“ What is she saying? ” I ask, unable to restrain myself any longer.

“ She does indeed have a shrewd plan, as you predicted, ” Sgaeyl confirms. “ I fear that its likelihood of succeeding cannot be high, but if it did… ”

“ What’s the plan? ” I demand.

“ She claims that she does not intend to bond herself, ” Sgaeyl explains. “ She manipulated me into summoning Tairn in order that he would witness the events that she has set in motion. She thinks that the girl is worthy of bonding Tairn, and that he’ll be convinced to do so if he has the opportunity watch her protect the defenseless. ”

“ Whoa, whoa, whoa, what in Malek’s name?! ” I mentally shout. “ You’re not eviscerating her for manipulating you? And the prospect of your mate bonding Sorrengail makes you hopeful? ”

“ The only true liability the girl possesses is the frailty of her body, and Tairn is more than powerful enough to compensate for that, ” I can feel her resolve crystalizing as she reasons it out. “ He will not admit it but I know he longs to reenter service and fight to protect dragonkind from the dark wielders, but he has been so despondent since he lost Naolin that he’s been unwilling to truly consider it. If, however, the perfect opportunity were to play itself out right before his eyes… ”

“ You two are mated! ” I exclaim. “ Losing Naolin practically killed him and each subsequent bond gets stronger. If he bonds to another rider it’s virtually guaranteed that their death would kill him, and you want that rider to be SORRENGAIL ?!”

“What you or I want could not matter less. A dragon’s decision to bond a rider is theirs alone to make.”

“But she could be killed so easily!” I exclaim. “You want your mate’s life dependent on the hope that she won’t be? Not to mention that if they die, you will also, and I guess the fact that I would too isn’t even an afterthought at this point.”

“I told you, what WE want matters not. It is Tairn’s decision to make, he understands all of the implications, and I trust him to make it correctly. Now, they are all approaching,” Sgaeyl warns. “The lethal dance that Andarna has set in motion is about to play out, we must retreat into the trees. There is nothing we can do at this point except to bear witness.”

I look up and see Tairn land just behind the ridgeline above, only the top of his head protruding over to give him a perfect vantage point of the clearing. I hear the sounds of people approaching from two different directions. 

“Well, fuck.” There’s nothing else for me to say.

I follow Sgaeyl into the trees away from the sound of the approaching cadets.

I spot Sorrengail first. She pokes her head out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the large clearing. While simultaneously trying to remain quiet enough that she won’t be noticed by the men, Violet also manages to attract Andarna’s attention and begins saying something to little feathertail who still sits in the center of the space, ready to play the part of conductor in what is sure to be the fatal performance that she’s orchestrated. 

Damn, it’s shocking to be confronted with evidence proving that despite the extent of Andarna’s physical disadvantages, her mind alone makes her formidable as fuck. Apparently we’re going to have to redefine ‘andarnic’ to mean that rather than what we were joking about before. And double damn if that isn’t also a perfect description of Violence herself. In a kinder world, they really would be a perfect match.

“ You’re not wrong, but it cannot be, ” Sgaeyl says sadly.

I can’t make out what Violet is saying, but it’s clear that the gist of the message is that she’s trying to tell the little dragon to flee for her life. Then, Jack Barlowe and his henchmen, Tynan and Oren, emerge from the trees about a quarter of the way around the clearing to my right.

Andarna whips her attention from Violet to them and growls menacingly.

Barlowe says something to the other two with him and as they continue to advance I see Violet hiss something at Andarna with almost desperate urgency.

“ This isn’t going to work, ” I begin with relief as Andarna’s growling intensifies and she begins backing away from the approaching men. “ Tairn will just have to come rescue the little dragon, Sorrengail is too smart to not realize that she’d be hopelessly outma-”

“You can’t do this!” Violet shouts as she steps into the clearing.

“ FUCK! ” I yell inwardly. “ If I intervene it’s very likely that I’d be caught and executed, but if I don’t then it’s all but guaranteed that she’ll get herself butchered and the General will have me killed in turn. ”

“Oh look!” I can hear Jack call as he stops and points his sword at Violet. “We can take out both the weakest links at the same time!”

“ She is also injured, ” Sgaeyl observes, watching as Violet moves to place herself in front of the little dragon. I don’t think I would have noticed if Sgaeyl hadn’t pointed it out but now that I look for it I can see that even though she’s bearing her weight on it with every other step, the awkward way she’s doing so betrays the fact that something is very wrong with her left leg.

“ Gods damn it, ” I curse. 

“Been waiting a long time for this, Sorrengail,” Jack says as he starts advancing again.

Violence draws two daggers from sheathes at her ribs and declares, “You can’t kill a dragon.”

“Sure we can,” Jack throws back.

“You can’t,” she insists. “It goes against everything we believe in!” I notice Oren flinch at this, and see that his intentions are wavering.

“Letting something so weak , so incapable of fighting, live is against our beliefs!” Jack spits, clearly intending the comment as a jab at both the dragon as well as Violet herself.

I’d hoped that she was simply trying to reason her way through this, using her brain to achieve her desired result like Andarna did, but when I search her intentions I see that she really is willing to fight, despite knowing it’s hopeless.

Right on cue, Violence declares, “You’re going to have to go through me then,” and flips one of the daggers in her hand, preparing to throw it.

“I don’t really consider that a problem,” Jack growls.

“ Well, especially with her being injured on top of everything else, not intervening at all is no longer an option at this point,” I tell Sgaeyl to give her a heads up as to what I’m about to do. “Let’s start by toeing the line of what is arguably allowable. ”

As the men raise their weapons and prepare to commit double murder, I walk around the tree I’ve been concealing myself behind and casually lean up against it as if to convey that I don’t have a care in the world.

“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” I call loudly in my wingleader voice. They all turn to look in my direction as Sgaeyl stalks menacingly behind me to drive home my point. 

Shock is etched on every one of their faces.

Chapter Text

I don’t see how this can possibly go well, short of me immediately ending Jack, Tynan and Oren, burying their bodies, and hoping against all reason that nobody ever finds out.

“And if we don’t want to rethink our actions ?” Jack yells at me.

I glance over at Sorrengail hoping that she’ll answer him in the form of a dagger to the jugular while I have him distracted, but her attention is focused squarely on me. Gods, it’s so inconvenient that she’s that fucking attractive when I want to throttle her most of the time. Keep your eyes on the threat, I try to communicate with my expression.

Fortunately she either gets the message or simply comes to her senses on her own and she fixates on Barlowe again just as he shouts, “There’s nothing you can do, right? Wingleader ?”

I need to keep his focus preoccupied and hopefully sow some confusion and worry in his mind. “It’s not me you need to worry about today,” I drawl.

“ You’re really going to need to clue her in to the concept of a preemptive strike, ” Sgaeyl comments as Violet starts arguing with Tynan.

“ No kidding, ” I reply in frustration. “ How much is Tairn likely to need to see before he intervenes? ”

“If the girl can’t, then he will certainly ensure that none of them kills Andarna. But if he isn’t impressed enough with her to decide to bond, then I can’t promise as much for your girlfriend. ”

“ She’s not - ” I sigh in frustration as Sorrengail pivots to having a one sided argument with the feathertail now. “ Why the hell are we all fighting each other verbally rather than with the enemy and weapons? ”

Jack lets loose a roar and charges at Violet.

Finally, I think.

“ Probably not great that he’s the one with the best fighting instincts though, ” Sgaeyl observes dryly.

Fortunately Violet proves that she has decent instincts herself, even if they are entirely too delayed, when she flings her dagger into the shoulder of the arm that Jack is using to hold his sword aloft. Eye socket would have been preferable, but I’ll take what I can get at this point , I think as Jack crumples to his knees.

Then Tynan and Oren charge her together. She shoots her other dagger into Tynan’s quad. Come on, Sorrengail, if you’re going to go for the leg then it should be the femoral artery or at least a major tendon. Then she ducks under Oren’s sword as he swings high, unsheathes another dagger and slashes his ribs.

“Shit, she can’t move properly because of whatever’s wrong with her leg, it’s a good thing she has that fancy-ass armored vest,” I tell Sgaeyl when I see Oren’s intention to slash his sword into her stomach a moment before he tries and it skids harmlessly off.

“ Be aware, you may need to intercede more quickly than you’d expect, a prior leg injury has effectively pinned her in place, ” Sgaeyl warns Tairn.

“She’s destroyed my shoulder!” Jack screams, trying to sound angry rather than craven, but his intentions clearly show he’s just trying to make his comrades do his dirty work. But of course, rather than taking advantage of Oren’s confusion about his attack being deflected, Sorrengail taunts Jack yelling, “That’s the thing about having weak joints, you know exactly where to strike.”

“Kill her!” Jack bellows before turning tail and fleeing.

What a coward , maybe I could snap his neck with shadows and hope that it can be passed off as the result of a dispute between first-years.

“ Too risky, ” Sgaeyl chides.

“ Any update on what Tairn is thinking? ” I ask as Violet somehow manages to move out of the way when Tynan stabs his sword at her. Then she plunges her dagger into his side and catches Oren under the chin with an elbow.

“ He is notably quiet, but I can sense several of his emotions intensifying more powerfully than they have in years, ” Sgaeyl responds and I can hear the hope in her tone.

“ Still weird that you think the prospect of him bonding Sorrengail is a good thing, ” I comment as Violence banters at Tynan and cuts into Oren’s hip. “ I’ll give it to her that that last sequence was good, but really? He was impressed by that first series - Oh, Shit! ”

I don’t have enough time to call out a warning before Tynan’s sword flays her right arm just below the shoulder. I feel her guttural scream deeper in my chest than I’d like to admit. 

As I watch a disturbingly large flap of her arm be pulled away from the bone it feels like something that has been bending inside of me for months finally snaps. My frustration with her poor decisions is still there, but the hatred toward her that I’ve been trying to foster since parapet has been replaced with an urge to protect her which is so overwhelming that I can only compare it to how I felt toward Imogen after we witnessed the execution of her sister and mother. Despite the similarity, this feeling also has a different flavor to it that is decidedly less big-brotherly.

“Behind you!” I yell at Violet, seeing Oren’s intention to strike a split second before he raises his sword. Violet turns and for an instant I’m terrified that she won’t have time to defend herself, but then the little feathertail snaps her jaws in Oren’s direction, her sharp teeth biting the air just a few inches from his face. This surprises and scares him enough to make him stagger sideways and gives Violence an opening to step in and bash the back of his head with the hilt of her dagger. Wrong side of the weapon, damn it!

After Oren’s unconscious body tumbles to the ground like a ragdoll, Violet turns back toward Tynan. Despite not being a very large man, he appears to my admittedly biased mind to be as large relative to her tiny frame as his dripping red sword looks compared to her dagger.

“You can’t interfere!” Tynan spits at me. His current impulse displays that he thinks my warning to her about Oren’s attack constituted interfering with Threshing.

“No, but I can narrate,” I toss back at him, forcing my voice to sound dismissively calm. 

“If he doesn’t accept that argument and intends to level that accusation to leadership, you may have to kill him now and roll the dice on not getting caught,” Sgaeyl observes and I can see in my periphery that her head is swaying back and forth in the classic sign of dragon agitation.

I focus my attention back onto Tynan as he returns his own to Violet. “His overwhelming objective right now is to murder Sorrengail, I can’t get a read on any of his other intentions, but I’ll do whatever ends up being necessary,” I tell Sgaeyl.

“Your arm is shot, Sorrengail,” Tynan taunts.

“I’m used to functioning in pain, asshole,” she retorts. “Are you?” Even with her dagger in that hand she still manages to lift her maimed arm in an extraordinary display of pain tolerance and raw, unadulterated tenacity. Then I feel a sense of relief course down the bond from Sgaeyl.

“ What is it? ” I ask her.

“ He’s decided, ” she replies simply. “ Tairneanach approaches. ”

“I know exactly where I sliced into you,” Violence tells Tynan with a smirk. “If you don’t get to a healer soon, you’ll bleed out internally.”

I can see in his face that he knows it’s true, and I can see in his subconscious motivations that she’s pissed him off so thoroughly that even despite that, his primary goal is to kill her even if it means dying himself. He charges, his expression the epitome of fury.

Violence attempts to throw her dagger at him but her hand is slick with blood and it slips from her grasp too early in the motion and falls far short of its target. Her intentions flood my mind like an enormous and exquisitely detailed mural. She has no motivation to try to dodge his attack, knowing that her ruined ankle will make evading him impossible. She intends to greet death satisfied in the knowledge that she at least exposed Jack Barlowe as the coward that he is.

If another rider with my same inntinnsic ability were here, it wouldn’t give them any forewarning as to my action. My mind is devoid of thought or intention as Tynan raises his sword in both hands over Violet, I simply find myself moving toward the pair as if in slow motion, shadows streaming along the ground beside me despite the fact that I haven’t consciously made them do so.

But then a blast of wind knocks me back into myself and I look up to find Tairn standing over Violence and the feathertail.

I’ve flown next to him before, but somehow in that context, with me atop Sgaeyl’s back and surrounded by the vastness of the open sky, I’ve never gotten an appreciation for how truly enormous he really is. Perhaps his size is emphasized by the diminutive stature of Sorrengail and the feathertail beneath him, but in that juxtaposition they appear as if they could be children’s dolls. 

“ You no longer need fear the other human, Tairn has bonded her, ” Sgaeyl informs me.

I watch as Violet turns to look at him and the abject terror in her expression transforms into awe and confusion, the unmistakable sign of a newly forged rider hearing their bonded dragon speak directly into their mind for the first time.

Clearly following his instruction she staggers aside just as Tynan lets loose an earsplitting shriek and sprints in the opposite direction. Normally I’d avert my eyes rather than bear witness to a gruesome death, but this time I relish watching as Tairn’s vast maw opens, and fire bursts forth. The murderous motherfucker is almost instantly engulfed in an indescribable inferno and a few short seconds later nothing remains except a pile of ash on the ground.

After a few heartbeats Violence begins conversing with her enormous black morningstar-tailed dragon, Gods, that’s going to take some getting used to, and I turn back to Sgaeyl. It’s partially to give them their privacy and partially because she and I need to have a conversation of our own.

“ Indeed we do, ” Sgaeyl agrees, as I sprint up her foreleg and settle myself on her back.

“ Let’s get back out in the open as quickly as possible, ” I say, and Sgaeyl launches without another word.

Chapter Text

“You do realize that our revolution to stop the dark wielders, which was already exceedingly fragile, is now very likely tied to the life of the most physically vulnerable cadet the quadrant has ever seen, don’t you?” I ask Sgaeyl angrily.

“Deal with the most pressing crises first. We need to be seen by other senior riders to build some semblance of an alibi,” Sgaeyl says as she soars straight upward for a good vantage point.  

I sigh. “Fine. First let’s do a sweep of the area to make sure that no one else is around and could have potentially seen any of that,” I relent.

“ It wouldn’t have been problematic for anyone to see if you hadn’t been about to kill that cadet before Tairn beat you to it,” Sgaeyl responds, frustration lining her tone, though it becomes slightly apprehensive when she continues, “but I don’t sense any other dragons in the immediate vicinity, ”

“ Is it possible for a dragon to mentally conceal their presence if they don’t want to communicate, or for you to know that they’re there? ” I ask.

“ Yes, ” she says, beginning to circle, “ but the only one I’d be particularly concerned about doing that is - ”

“ Claidh, with Amber Mavis, ” I finish, spotting the orange daggertail approaching from behind.

“Where the hell have you been?” Amber demands as Claidh pulls level with Sgaeyl. “No one has seen you in hours!”

“ Leave it to me, ” Sgaeyl instructs, banking away from them and toward the ridgeline.

When they catch up again, Amber is already huffing with indignation. I tell her “Sgaeyl had dragon business to attend to,” filling my tone with contempt to imply that she’s meddling in things that are above her pay grade. “Sgaeyl will explain to Claidh,” I toss at her before both dragons land on the ridgeline.

“ Three cadets were attempting to murder Andarna, ” Sgaeyl allows me to hear her speaking to Claidh. “ I brought my rider along and we monitored the situation to confirm that they wouldn’t succeed. ”

“ Can I assume based on Amber’s hatred of me that you and Claidh aren’t on great terms either? ” I ask Sgaeyl while Claidh is presumably relaying the message along to Amber.

“ Yes, Claidh sides with Navarrian leadership in the belief that the venin scourge should be kept secret and that the protection of the vale is the only thing that matters. She would gladly sacrifice anything and everything else to that end, and one of the main reasons she chose Amber as a rider is because her family was one of those in Tyrrendor that stood against your father’s revolution. ” Sgaeyl explains.

“You ‘monitored the situation’?” Amber scoffs skeptically. “So I shouldn’t expect any of those cadets to turn up mysteriously murdered?” I can see her intention and excitement at the prospect that she might be able to successfully accuse me of interfering with Threshing.

“ Can you tell Chradh and Garrick to get over here just in case? ” I ask Sgaeyl.

“ Already did, ” she replies.

“Not by my hand,” I say to Amber, acting bored. “Or even Sgaeyl’s for that matter, though if she had that would have been her prerogative, dragons aren’t bound by our human rules.”

“So at least one of them is dead then! And I’m just supposed to believe you didn’t do it?” Amber accuses, her excitement clearly building. “Then who, pray tell, do you claim it was?”

Right on cue Tairn bursts through the canopy of trees below, and I simply nod in his direction.

Amber gawks at his leviathan form climbing into the sky with impressive speed. “What dragon is that?!” she demands, awestruck.

“I’m sure Claidh will fill you in,” I yawn.

A moment later Amber explodes, “You’re dragon’s mate?! Gods, first the feathertail and now this? He wasn’t one of the hundred that previously declared their willingness to bond this year, why does everyone keep breaking the rules?” she shouts angrily.

An aggressive growl rumbles up Sgaeyl's throat and Claidh practically cowers in response.

“I just mean to say…” Amber tries to backpedal nervously, “I’m not sure what the dragon law about unbonded dragons killing cadets is.”

“First of all, unbonded dragons are obviously allowed to kill cadets, look at Presentation. And secondly, he’s not unbonded,” I say, nodding toward Tairn again.

“Who’s riding him?” Amber asks, squinting.

“Sorrengail,” I offer.

Tairn banks away from us toward the flight field and my heart stops when I see a tiny figure tumble from his back.

“Well, it looks like he made a bad choice!” Amber says delightedly, leaning forward to watch Violet fall.

“ Don’t worry, Tairn won’t let her die, ” Sgaeyl promises. And sure enough, he begins diving after Violet.

I breathe in a sigh of relief. “ She probably couldn’t even stay seated on a dragon that’s proportional to her size, how the hell is she supposed to stay on HIM? ” I ask her.

“ I told you, Tairn is more than powerful enough to compensate for the frailty of her body, ” Sgaeyl assures me as Tairn catches her in his claws.

“Why the hell would he catch her?” Amber demands. “Sorrengail couldn’t have earned him , he must have only bonded her because your dragon told -”

Sgaeyl snarls and cuffs Amber with her wing, knocking her from her seat. “ Control your rider, Claidh, or the next time she insults me or Tairn you will be riderless once more, ” I hear Sgaeyl castigate, and Claidh lowers her head and retreats to where Amber is sprawled on the ground.

I spot Chradh approaching in the distance.

“ Can you relay a message to Garrick through Chradh? ” I ask Sgaeyl.

“ What do you want me to tell him? ”

 “ Make sure Garrick knows that I may need him to be ready to arrange for Amber to have an accident if this keeps going downhill and it seems like she might try to formally accuse me of interfering with Threshing, ” I say.

Amber struggles back up to a seated position on the ground and says “Alright, I didn’t mean to give insult,” raising one hand toward Sgaeyl as if in surrender while the other tenderly probes the hip that she landed on. “I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

Chradh lands on my other side and Garrick leaps down, quickly skirting around Sgaeyl to place himself between Amber and me. His gaze finds mine, clearly waiting for my signal as his right hand begins reaching for one of the twin swords strapped to his back, but I give a small shake of my head and he stands down.

“Not that it’s any of your business since dragons can do whatever the fuck they want,” I begin explaining to Amber as she gingerly makes her way back onto her feet, “but to ensure that it couldn’t be misconstrued as me interfering with threshing, Sgaeyl called for Tairn to come in case it was necessary for him to protect the feathertail so that she wouldn’t have to. But then Sorrengail stepped in to defend the little dragon, Tairn was impressed and decided to bond her before charring one of the would-be dragon murderers.”

“Fine, I’m going to go discuss this with Nyra,” Amber huffs, mounting Claidh again.

“For Amari’s sake, Mavis, none of that even goes against any of our rules, and even if it did, I didn’t do anything. So unless you want to wrongly accuse the second largest dragon on the continent -” Sgaeyl interrupts me with another vicious snarl, “- who happens to be mated to this bloodthirsty gal, then give it a fucking rest already.”

I try to read her intentions as Amber appears to consider what to do. She seems momentarily resigned to the fact that if my version of events is true then she has no recourse, but then I see her intention to try to find any evidence that I might be lying.

I feel Sgaeyl’s uneasiness though our bond.

“ What? Everything I told her was true, ” I say to Sgaeyl, as Claidh and Amber fly from the ridge without another word to us and begin gliding down toward the spot where we saw Tairn emerge.

“ You didn’t mention that you were about to intercede before Tairn beat you to it, ” Sgaeyl rebukes.

“ Selective truths,” I remind her, because it’s my fucking motto. “Unless anyone actually witnessed that there’s nothing to worry about, and I could see that Amber didn’t.” I say as Garrick begins walking back around us to Chradh. “And okay, yeah, I fucked up there, but there’s no evidence of it for her to find. ”

“ I’m more concerned about subsequent slip-ups in the future. This girl keeps causing you to lose control, ” Sgaeyl grumbles.

“ Yeah, well, now that all of our lives are forever interdependent, which YOU seemed to think was a good idea, you’re probably going to need to get used to me going out on ever-more precarious limbs to keep her safe, ” I grouse in response while Garrick mounts up again.

Sgaeyl’s only response is an indignant chuff.

“Garrick, I need you to help me keep tabs on Amber,” I tell him. “We’ll have to head it off if she ends up deciding to try to accuse me of interfering with Threshing. Check in with me periodically to provide updates and see if I need you to intervene.”

“On it,” Garrick confirms, then he and Chradh launch immediately.

“ Based on the time there are probably at least a couple dozen dragons that haven’t bonded yet, ” I say to Sgaeyl. “ Let’s try to be seen doing what we were actually supposed to be doing this whole time and go patrol around. ”

“ I can sense Malla and the senior wingleader to the Southwest, so let’s head that way first, ” Sgaeyl adds, and we launch as well.

…

About half an hour later Sgaeyl and I are stationed at a peak overlooking the western region of the valley and I see Malla approaching in the distance.

“ Looks like we’re about to have a chat with Malla and Nyra, ” I tell Sgaeyl. “ Can you check in with Chradh to see if Garrick has any more updates on the Amber situation? ”

A few moments later Sgaeyl confirms “ She’s still talking to anyone she comes across to see if she can find someone that saw what happened, but to no avail. ”

“ Good, ” I sigh in relief.

“ But someone did see, ” Sgaeyl states.

“ WHAT? Who?! ” I demand.

“ Sorrengail, ” Sgaeyl reminds me.

“ Okay, fair enough. But surely she’s smart enough to know better than to rat me out… right? ” I wonder aloud.

“ Last time you read her intentions she still believed you were out to kill her, so you’d better make sure of that rather than rashly assuming so, ” Sgaeyl says as Malla comes in to land next to us. “ We’ll discuss it more later. ”

“Hey, Riorson,” Nyra greets me, lifting her flight goggles to her forehead. “I’d been wondering where you were earlier but it sounds like you actually had a pretty eventful Threshing. Anything you need to report?”

I give an amused half snort. “You mean a dragon torching a cadet that was trying to murder his rider and another defenseless dragon? Hardly seems worth mentioning much less reporting,” I shrug.

“Yeah, that definitely seems to add up, but I wanted to double check and maybe give you a heads up…” she says looking surreptitiously around. “That Siefert kid who was left on the scene is awake now and even though his memory is fuzzy he seems to remember you at least talking to them.”

“I was trying to save their lives!” I say angrily. “I just told them they should reconsider their actions knowing that if they went through with trying to murder the feathertail, and Sorrengail hadn’t managed to hand them their asses, Sgaeyl would have disemboweled them if she’d had to. So at the time I thought I could either give them that warning or Sgaeyl would’ve eviscerated three cadets which Amber definitely would have spun as me interfering.”

Sgaeyl rumbles something to Malla.

A moment later, after Malla apparently relayed the message along, Nyra says “Okaaay, message received. Don’t worry about it, no harm no foul. Or maybe lots of harm and an insignificantly minor foul that’s only going to result in this warning, if you can even call this a warning. Frankly I think you were totally in the right and probably would have done the same thing myself.” She offers me a quick grin. 

“I appreciate that,” I sigh. Her honesty helps me feel like I can let my guard down enough to outwardly express my relief a bit. “Any chance you could tell Amber to get off my dick about it? You know the extent to which most of leadership has it in for me, if she tries to frame me for something…”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her, I bet I can squash it, or if not I’d vouch for you.” Nyra says surveying the landscape in front of us.

“Thanks,” I say. The prospect makes me squirm uncomfortably, but she really does deserve to hear it, so I tell her, “You’re a really good leader, Nyra, sorry I’m too much of an ass to have ever told you before.”

“Yeah… I know.” Nyra says, sounding almost sad while she continues to look around at the sunset vista. “Do you remember how utterly amazing this kind of sight used to be after we first bonded two years ago? It’s probably just Threshing and the new riders taking their first flight that’s got me thinking about it, but I never stop to appreciate this kind of thing any more. We really should, ‘cause who knows how long we’re gonna last. Statistically probably not more than a few years these days.”

I sit back and try to really take in our surroundings the way she’s talking about.

“This life is just so fucking brutal,” Nyra continues. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re going about everything the wrong way.”

I stop looking at the view and truly consider her for a moment. I reach out to read her intentions and I see a deep seated drive to do the right thing. Maybe…

“You know, Nyra -” I start, but then both Sgaeyl and Malla suddenly go rigid.

Sgaeyl begins cursing internally while trying to appear outwardly composed and Nyra says “Oh, boy. Well it sounds like all of the dragons that are going to bond, have, and our ladies need to get back for a meeting of the Empyrean as quickly as possible, so let’s get the unbonded cadets rounded up fast.” Nyra and Malla launch off the peak. 

“ Sgaeyl, what’s going? ” I demand.

“The first time she did it I thought it was in pursuit of a wise plan, but Andarna has resumed being as foolish as ever and manipulated me again! This time she won’t get off so easily,” Sgaeyl assures me.

“ What did she do?! ”

“ Andarna ALSO bonded Sorrengail, ” Sgaeyl seethes.

Chapter Text

It takes me and the other senior riders less than fifteen minutes to round up all of the unbonded cadets. We quickly tally up all forty-one of them for the scribes’ records and then Professor Devera begins leading them on their trek back to the flight field on foot while we take back to the skies. 

There is still some daylight dimly illuminating about half of the sky, but the other half has given way to darkness and I can feel my power rising as the world falls into shadow. 

“ I know you’re distracted and pissed about Andarna and that you and the other dragons need to get back to meet about it, but what were you going to tell me about Sorrengail before we were interrupted by Nyra? ” I ask Sgaeyl.

“ She saw you move to kill a cadet at Threshing, ” she repeats.

“ Yeah, I know, but she’s brilliant, she must understand that we’re on the same side NOW. You and Tairn are mated for gods’ sakes, '' I say.

“ Does she know that? ” Sgaeyl inquires.

“ Oh shit, I hadn’t thought of that, ” I admit. “ If Tairn hasn’t told her, then maybe she doesn’t! ”

We pass over the ridge that brings the flight field into view. I’m immediately able to spot Tairn at the very center.

“ And even if she is smart enough to know better than to betray us by testifying about your actions, there is the other threat that could make her voluntary cooperation unnecessary, ” Sgaeyl states.

“ Fucking Aetos, ” I growl.

“ How are you going to ensure he doesn’t use his retrocognition to view her memory? ” Sgaeyl asks, like she’s testing me.

“ I… I’m not sure, ” I concede.

“ You’ll have to target his biggest weakness - his pride, ” Sgaeyl responds as she lands next to Chradh and Garrick. “ Got it? ” she asks.

“Yeah, I know how to do it,” I confirm. But then I’m struck by a pang of something that I’ve become unaccustomed to over the last two years since bonding Sgaeyl. I hate to admit it, but she’s the only one who will know and I trust her implicitly… it’s insecurity. “I’m not going to be able to reach out to you while I’m doing this and you’re meeting with the Empyrean, am I?” I ask.

“ No, ” Sgaeyl responds bluntly. “ But you don’t need me, my trust in you is also implicit, ” she assures me, and through our bond I can feel her approval of the plan I’m formulating as she follows my internal line of logic.

I dismount and Sgaeyl walks off without even a backwards glance. Most of the procession of dragons pauses to allow her to fall in next to Andarna and Tairn who are right behind General Meglren’s dragon, Codagh.

I assume an authoritative stance, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to put to use some of my father’s old advice - by projecting confidence to others you can start to feel it yourself. I cast my gaze around for Sorrengail. I look toward the middle of the field where I saw Tairn as we were landing and spot her a moment before she looks back across at me.

But then she’s distracted by the hundreds of dragons taking flight, and a few moments later the newly bonded first-year riders start swarming into the center of the field and she’s soon surrounded by her squadmates.

“Seeming like the Amber situation has been diffused?” Garrick asks, walking up next to me and speaking surreptitiously.

“Not yet, but she isn’t really the concern anymore, Aetos is,” I tell him. I scan the area trying to locate Aetos and see him approaching Violet. I nod toward him, directing Garrick’s gaze and say, “Go get as close as you can without being noticed. I’ll take care of any immediate threat, but be ready for a signal from me. Otherwise check in to see if I need you to make him disappear after he’s done talking to Sorrengail,” I instruct. He steals off and quickly reaches their periphery just as Aetos spins her around. 

He pulls her into a hug and I instantaneously probe his intentions to see if he’s using his signet on her, but thankfully they show that he’s simply wanting to confirm that she’s okay. Then he holds her at arm’s length and for a moment I consider knocking his hands away from her with shadow, but that would tip my own hand. 

When she appears to assure him that she is indeed fine, some of his concern turns into relief. He’s still not betraying an intention to probe her recent memories so I stand down for the moment.

As they talk and her friends join the conversation, I keep constant tabs on Aetos’ intentions, ready to separate him from Sorrengail with a wall of shadow or give Garrick the signal at any instant. But for the moment his intention is simply to reassure his squad. Huh, who would have thought that he would be prioritizing being a decent squad leader right now. He must not have heard from Amber yet. 

It’s difficult to tell exactly what they’re talking about just from his intentions but I’m guessing the conversation has turned to Tynan and any other first years their squad may have lost today.

Then I notice Aetos’ intention to separate Violet from her friends and I tense. He says something to the rest of the squad and then addresses her specifically, but since he’s still not showing any intent to use his signet, at least yet, I remain where I am. I’m thankful that I do because a moment later I catch a glimpse of Violet’s intention to locate me, it would appear that she was instructed to stay near me, and she’s easily able to find me still here in the same place.

But then Aetos begins pulling her away, he intends to find out what happened to her during Threshing and I decide I have to actually hear what they’re talking about. Fortunately they head toward a shadowy edge of the field. I cloak myself in darkness and skirt around them until I’m in the natural shadows that I simply need to thicken slightly to stay completely obscured. 

Before I’m close enough to overhear I can tell from their intentions that they’re talking about her having bonded two dragons and the drama that has triggered rather than anything about me, so I take my time approaching, making sure to remain completely silent. It’s obvious when the conversation turns to the fact that Tairn and Sgaeyl are a mated pair, but Aetos’ motivation is simply to convince her to pick Andarna, based on the ignorant assumption that the choice will be hers to make if she can’t keep both.

Eventually I get to within ten feet of where they stand and I’m able to hear every word. Violet is recounting the experience from her own perspective, and I see Aetos’ interest get piqued when she mentions my presence there, but he doesn’t interrupt her or move to touch her and view the memory for himself. 

When she finishes, he confirms, “Xaden was there.”

She nods, “Yes. But he left after Tairn showed up.”

“Xaden was there when you defended Andarna,” Aetos says, carefully working through his logic, “and then Tairn just… showed up?”

“Yes. That’s what I just said,” Violet tells him, her intentions showing that it hasn’t even occurred to her to accuse me of interfering in Threshing. Well that’s encouraging at least , I think to myself as she presses Aetos, “What are you getting at?”

“Don’t you see what happened?” he asks her. “What Xaden’s done?” 

His grip on her shoulders is so tight that I can see his fingertips pressing deep into her flesh, no more than two inches from the bandage where her upper right arm must have been stitched back together. Fury flows unchecked through my veins, his objective is to protect her and yet he goes about it in such idiotic ways that he doesn’t even realize when he’s hurting her instead. Right now I don’t even care that his primary intention just became asking her to view the memory, my rage is the reason I decide to step in. Any of my previous insecurity has evaporated, I don’t need Sgaeyl to do this. I can eviscerate this asshole on my own, either figuratively since his arguments are illogical and craven or hopefully he gives me an excuse to even do so literally. I shut off the flow of power I’m channeling from Sgaeyl, allowing my shadows to slip away and I step into the moonlight before them.

“Please, do tell me what it is you think I’ve done.”

I sense the flood of instincts that Violence is assaulted by. She seems frustrated about some of the more risqué ones regarding me, though I find them flattering all the same. But I can’t allow myself to be distracted by my attraction to her right now, so I keep my gaze locked on Aetos.

He removes his hands from her, which is a good call assuming he wants them to stay attached to his arms. But then I’m further incensed by the fact that he steps in front of her, as if the violent little spitfire needs his inept protection. 

“You manipulated Threshing,” he accuses. 

The idiot is considering bringing his accusation against me to leadership simply based on the fact that it was my dragon’s mate that bonded her. He hasn’t even heard about, much less gotten the memory of my true transgression. And he won’t get it. I can use logic to bury his assertion if I can control myself enough to make the argument well, acting completely unconcerned to plant uncertainty in his mind. Fortunately removing his hands from her has enabled me to rein my rage back in.

“Dain that’s…” Violet begins, but then she gets lost in thought. Keeping my eyes on Aetos I watch the image of her instinct to fear me transform into the understanding that I have to protect her at all costs. Finally .

“Is that an official accusation?” I inquire, filling my tone with boredom, as if he’s nothing more than an irritating mosquito buzzing around my ear.

His instinct is immediately to second guess himself, but then he pivots, attempting to convey confidence when he asks, “Did you step in?”

“Did I what?” I fix him with a stare that’s half bemused and half furious. “Did I see her outnumbered and already wounded?” I’m surprised to find my anger building again, unbidden and at risk of undermining my carefully controlled performance. “Did I think her bravery was as admirable as it was fucking reckless ?” I yell the last word and swing my glare onto her without consciously deciding to.

She holds her head a little higher in defiance, retorting, “And I would do it again.” Her intention shows that she’s one hundred percent serious.

“Well-the-fuck-aware!” I burst, thundering right in her face and causing her gasp in surprise. 

I’m also taken off guard by my usually obedient temper that’s completely ruined the choreography of the casually indifferent scene I was attempting to paint for Aetos. Shit, I’ll just have to use it. 

“Did I see her fight off three bigger cadets?” I continue, returning my scowl to Aetos. “Because the answer to all of those is yes. But you’re asking the wrong question, Aetos. What you should be asking is if Sgaeyl saw it, too.”

Finally I sense Aetos rethinking his position, and I don’t need my second signet to see it as he almost appears to physically recede into himself. 

“His mate told him,” Violet murmurs, and when I sense the hurt that realization causes, I’m surprised to find that my own instinct is to comfort her.

“She’s never been a fan of bullies,” I tell her, leaving an edge of anger in my voice so as not to appear to simply be appeasing her. “But don’t mistake it as an act of kindness towards you. She’s fond of the little dragon. Unfortunately Tairn chose you all on his own,” I say truthfully.

“Fuck,” Aetos curses under his breath.

“My thoughts exactly,” I say, as I return my gaze to him and shake my head to drive home the point that he was an idiot for not seeing it immediately. “Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I’d ever want to be chained to me. I didn’t do this.”

I catch a conflicted pang of distress coming from Violence at my comment, and have to smother the spark of hope I feel in response.

But I can’t allow myself to be distracted by that now, it’s time to implement Sgaeyl’s advice and end this for good by targeting Aetos’ pride.

“And even if I had…” I say dancing on the edge of what could be considered advisable to imply as I take a step into his personal space to literally look down on him. “Would you really level that accusation knowing it would have been what saved the woman you call your best friend?”

I sense Violet’s instincts warring between wanting to defend her friend while also desperately wanting to hear him give the right answer. I smile inwardly as I watch his intention to do just the opposite reluctantly bubble up. 

I have him. As often happens, I’m suddenly acutely grateful for my second signet being exactly what I need, allowing me to succeed here on my own, even without Sgaeyl’s sage wisdom in my ear.

“There are… rules,” Aetos begins. Despite his expression betraying some shame, he still has enough pride to maintain eye contact with me. Well we’ll just have to do away with that last little shred of self-respect.

“And out of curiosity, would you have, let’s say, bent those rules to save your precious little Violet in that field?” My tone is frigid as I take in his instincts, savoring the struggle between wanting to lie to protect his relationship with her, versus the truth.

“That’s unfair to ask him,” Violet tries to come to his rescue, walking to his side in a comforting gesture as I hear the enormous riot of dragons returning.

“I’m ordering you to answer, squad leader, ” I say, determined to finish this before we’re out of time.

Aetos shuts his eyes in disgrace before admitting, “No. I wouldn’t have.”

The devastation this wreaks on Violet is obvious in her expression. I could almost respect Aetos’ courage to speak the truth if it weren’t for the fact that his truth is so fucking abhorrent. I scoff.

Aetos’ eyes fly open to look at Violet and he practically pleads, “It would have killed me to watch something happen to you, Vi, but the rules -”

“It’s alright,” she claims, touching his shoulder, but her instincts show how deeply hurt she is by his admission.

“Nice work flying solo,” I hear Sgaeyl tell me proudly through our bond. Gods it feels good to have that line of communication open again.

“The dragons are returning. Get back to formation, squad leader,” I say, resuming my dismissively bored tone. Aetos reluctantly walks away with one last concerned glance towards Violet.

“Why would you do that to him?” Violet demands, clearly pissed. The fuck? Why would HE do that to you?! I think to myself. Forget bending rules, there’s no law I wouldn’t absolutely obliterate to save Imogen, Liam, Garrick, Bodhi, or pretty much any marked one for that matter.

“Forget it,” she scoffs and starts to walk away. 

I would forget it if it wasn’t too convenient of a segue. But now that the most immediate crises seem to have been averted I can finally zoom back out to the bigger picture.

“Because you put too much faith in him,” I tell her, easily catching up since her strides are hardly more than half the length of my own. “And knowing who to trust is the only thing that will keep you alive - keep us alive - not only in the quadrant but after graduation.”

“There is no us ,” she claims. It feels like my stomach has suddenly dropped out because I know she’s alluding to the fact that, despite our mutual attraction, a relationship could never work out between us. But as much of a gut punch as that is, I need to make her understand what’s really important here which she apparently hasn’t realized yet.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that’s no longer the case,” I say, pulling her out of the way of a rider sprinting through our path as the ground shakes from dragons landing everywhere around us. 

“Tairn’s bonds are so powerful, both to mate and rider, because he’s so powerful,” I continue. “Losing his last rider nearly killed him, which, in turn, nearly killed Sgaeyl. Mated pairs’ lives are -”

“Interdependent, I know that,” she interrupts. 

How is a woman as fucking brilliant as she is, not getting this yet? I obviously need to drive home the point that our lives are now inextricably linked, but I think I can also do so in a way that will further solidify her point that an ‘us’ in the other sense is impossible. That is, using selective truths to make myself out to be the most self-important dick of all time; the kind of asshole that an amazing person like her wouldn’t ever consider being with.

“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,” I start, while wondering how Sgaeyl could ever have thought that this could possibly be a good idea. The revolution is dependent on my survival and yet not only has that now been tied to the mutual survival of two more entities, but one of them is both the most physically vulnerable cadet the Rider’s Quadrant has ever seen, AND the most amazing woman I have ever met. Who, I can never fucking be with. But rather than being free of her after this year, and spending the rest of my life trying to forget about her, or at most watching her become a background player in the revolution, instead she will be a constant forbidden presence there next to me. “So yeah,” I continue, “unfortunately for everyone involved, there’s now an us if the Empyrean lets Tairn’s choice stand.”

I can tell that she’s understanding at last. Thank gods I can finally drop the act I’ve been putting on to keep up the pretense that I’m not protecting her, since she and everyone else will understand perfectly well that I now have the most legitimate of reasons for doing so.

Onto the next most pressing problem . “And now that Tairn is in play, that others know he’s willing to bond…” I sigh. In order for everyone in this fucked up foursome, the Tyrrish revolution, and potentially the entire continent to survive, I need to somehow protect this human porcelain doll from dozens of Quadrant-trained soldiers whose new purpose in life will be ending hers. And I have to somehow do that without even being able to tell her how potentially apocalyptic the stakes are.

“That’s why Tairn told me to stay with you. Because of the unbonded,” she says, beginning to appreciate at least some of the gravity of the situation.

“The unbonded are going to try to kill you in hopes they’ll get Tairn to bond them ,” I confirm. 

Garrick approaches, clearly doing as I asked and checking in about whether I need him to silence Aetos. I shake my head and Garrick purses his lips as he shifts his frustrated gaze from me to Violet. I suspect he’s worried that I’m making him stand down because Violet, who now has unprecedented influence over me, is forcing me to spare her friend. Out of respect for him I won’t use my inntinnsic ability to confirm this, and since it’s also basically the lowest priority fire I have on my seemingly endless list of them, I’ll worry about that later.

“Tairn is one of the strongest dragons on the Continent,” I tell Violet as Garrick turns and heads back across the field, “and the vast power he channels is about to be yours. The next few months, the unbonded will try to kill a newly paired rider while the bond is weak, while they still have a chance of that dragon changing its mind and picking them so they’re not set back a full year. And for Tairn? They’ll do just about anything,” I say with exasperation. “There are forty-one unbonded riders for which you are now target number one.” I emphasize the point by holding up a single finger just inches from her face.

“And Tairn thinks you’ll play bodyguard,” she laughs sardonically. “Little does he know just how much you dislike me.”

“He knows exactly how much I value my own life,” I say, and while the sentiment is true for pretty unambiguously moral reasons, I try to channel as much conceited entitlement into my tone as possible to help cement her hatred of me.

Then it occurs to me that even though she seems to fully grasp the seriousness of our new entanglement, she’s showing no indication of doing the same with respect to this next concern. “You’re freakishly calm for someone who just heard she’s about to be hunted,” I observe.

“It’s a typical Wednesday for me,” she snarks. “And honestly, being hunted by forty-one people is a lot less intimidating than constantly watching dark corners for you .” 

Somehow, it’s simultaneously one of the most flattering and hurtful things I’ve ever been told. I simply can’t process any more contradictions in this moment, which happens to be the one Tairn chooses to impact the earth with his landing. He glares down at me from behind Violence.

“Can you tell your mate not to leave craters in the flight field?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“I heard that…” a voice that is deep in both pitch and annoyance says in my mind.

Oh, Malek. I turn and beeline for Sgaeyl who is towering over the rest of the senior riders’ dragons where they all landed across the field.

“You should reexamine your bonds, and know that Tairn does not appreciate jokes made at the expense of his size,” Sgaeyl advises with an amused chuff.

While I continue walking swiftly away, I mentally ground and look around the hilltop. In addition to the bright blue sapphire bond that’s been there since I constructed this place in my mind, there’s also an onyx one now that’s immediately recognizable as Tairn’s. I place a shield over it that I currently don’t ever foresee lifting. I also notice what appears to be a silvery lock of hair - Violence.

“A heads up would have been nice,” I tell Sgaeyl bitterly as I reach her side.

“You should have already been aware that when a bonded pair of dragons both have riders, they are all linked,” she responds irritably.

“Just like Tairn should already be aware of my second signet?” I retort.

“Do not joke about that,” she says quickly, sounding legitimately angry now. “You must never lift your shield on that bond, NO one can know about that …not even Tairn,” she finishes sadly.

“Can I assume that the Empyrean chose not to make my life any less of a clusterfuck and allowed both of Sorrengail’s bonds to stand?” I ask.

“You can drop the entitled asshole act now,” Sgaeyl chastises, “you know perfectly well the Empyrean would never deign to take into account the preferences of any human in their decision making -”

“And I’M the entitled one here?” I interrupt.

“But as it was determined to be in the best interest of dragonkind,” Sgaeyl continues, ignoring my gibe, “yes, neither Tairn nor Andarna will be forced to sever their bond so as not to set a potentially dangerous precedent. I do not know how that feathertail manages to continue eluding any accountability.”

Fuck my mind feels fried , I think as General Melgren begins relaying to everyone what Sgaeyl just told me and I tune him out. This already feels like it’s been one of the longest days of my life and it’s not over by a long shot. Okay, moving along to the next highest priority on the list…

I take a few steps to my right where Garrick stands next to Chradh and lean in close enough that no one else will be able to hear. “I know you’re pissed at me, but unfortunately I’m going to have to keep compounding that for the moment; we need to have a meeting of the inner circle tonight. I know everyone would rather join in the celebrations, but at least I’ll be able to explain why I had to do what I did, and what we’ll have to do now.”

Garrick sighs and I watch as the frustration in his expression melts into concern. “Twenty-three hundred hours like usual?” he asks, while General Sorrengail takes over from Melgren and begins addressing the crowd.

“No, the rest of the Quadrant will be partying so I’m not worried about being covert with the timing and if we wait until that late then at least Imogen will be shit-faced, if not most of the rest of them too. I need everyone’s minds to be sharp, so have everyone report to my room as soon as the ceremony is over,” I tell him. He nods his understanding.

I start paying attention to what General Sorrengail is saying and when she wraps up and mentions the unbonded getting another opportunity next year I scoff and look over to where Violence stands between both the biggest and smallest dragons on the field. Her gaze is already locked on me and I hold up a single finger again as a reminder that the unbonded won’t be waiting a year, that she is their primary target right now .

The general ends her speech with “Now we celebrate!” It’s the signal prompting the newly bonded dragons to mark their riders. I watch as for the first time, two dragons focus their magic upon a single rider. Sorrengail’s face contorts in pain but she doesn’t cry out like most of the other riders, she really does have an exceptionally strong tolerance for pain. 

I can’t help but wonder what her double relic will look like. A series of mental pictures starts swimming through my head but my subconscious soon loses interest in the possible relic variations in favor of imagining what the rest of her bare back would look like if that vest she’s always wearing were removed. I quickly shut down that train of thought, and when I notice Aetos racing toward her I focus my attention back onto him.

I see him reaching for her face and simultaneously wield both my signets, preparing to knock his hands away with shadow if reading him reveals an intention to use his own signet on her. Fortunately his intent is very clearly just to congratulate her on having bonded and managed to keep two dragons. Apparently he’s just a physically affectionate person. Fantastic , I think, feeling sure that trying to tell the difference between when he’s using his signet versus just being touchy will eventually prove problematic.

I see his intentions begin to morph and again prepare to subdue him with shadows, but rather than trying to read her memory his new motivation reveals itself to somehow be even more infuriating. He also wants to see her new relic, but mixed in with the legitimate curiosity is a strong undercurrent of arousal at the prospect of unlacing her corset. Something ugly starts twisting my stomach as Sorrengail grants her consent and he begins doing so.

“Something? You know perfectly well what that is…” Sgaeyl lectures.

I consider flipping her off, but I wouldn’t put it past her to remove the offending finger just to remind me that she can …and probably would.

“Good call,” she grumbles threateningly in response to my thoughts, confirming my theory.

Instead, I keep one hundred percent of my attention focused on Aetos and it feels as if my very blood has begun to boil as he is treated to the view I was just imagining, in the flesh. That same lustful intention of his appears to evolve as he relaces the corset. I’m ready to tear his hands away from her for an entirely different reason as he spins her and cradles her face again. But there is still no intention to read her memory as he inclines her head and leans in, so I can’t do anything. He awkwardly kisses her and it takes every iota of my self control to not use the shadows in his mouth to rip his lungs out.

When they separate, Sorrengail's instinct shows that she was decidedly not into it, but even that doesn’t help. I desperately need a distraction to keep myself from laying waste to this entire field with a furious flood of darkness.

I see that Garrick has left, presumably already rounding up the inner circle, but I notice Ciaran jogging by and seize him by the collar of his flight leathers.

“Does Sorrengail know who you are?” I demand.

“I don’t think so,” he says nervously.

“Good. Come with me, I have a job for you.”

Chapter Text

I spot Soleil and Masen already waiting for me at the end of the third-year corridor as I make my way down it about ten minutes later.

“Well that was unexpected,” Soleil says when I reach them, clearly referring to Sorrengail bonding two dragons, including Tairn.

“Tell me about it,” I grumble as I open my door and let them in.

“Xaden, check this out!” Masen says excitedly, holding up a sphere for my inspection.

I sigh with exasperation, “Masen, I’m sorry, but -” 

“No, wait, watch this!” He walks over to the nearest wall and places one hand on the stone. His face scrunches into a look of fierce concentration. 

I hear an oddly muffled buzzing sound and identify it as coming from the sphere in his other hand. A continuous stream of sparks is flowing from a strip of metal along the outside to what I can see, upon closer inspection, is a medallion of alloy suspended in the glass at the center of the sphere.

“That’s great Masen, I’m glad you found a way you can imbue alloy -” I start.

“I call it a conduit!” Masen says, his voice strained as if he’s trying to speak while holding his breath and his face is getting even darker than it usually is from the exertion. “Felix figured out how to weave the runes for me.”

“I’m really happy for you,” I say wearily, “but right now we’ve got more important things we need to focus on.”

“No one else is even here yet,” Soleil admonishes me. “Did you even notice this?” she asks, pointing to the wall where frost has begun forming on it around the area where Masen’s hand is in contact with it.

“Whoa, what’s going on there?” I ask, doing my best to summon a modicum of enthusiasm.

Masen stops channeling and drops his hands to his knees. “I’ve been practicing!” he pants. “I was siphoning heat from the stone and it’s getting so cold that water vapor in the air is depositing directly as a solid on its surface, skipping the condensation transition and liquid phase entirely.”

 “Amazing work, Masen,” I say as the door opens and Garrick leads Imogen, Eya, Bodhi, and Liam into the room. “We’ll find another time to talk about your cool science stuff, okay?”

“ I think it’s really impressive, babe,” Soleil says, giving Masen a kiss and shooting me a glare. She takes him by the hand and leads him over to sit on my bed as he says, “Think about how much heat must be stored in a cliff-face that’s been baking in the sun all day! I’ll be able to imbue as much alloy as we need like a real siphon.”

I tune them out, trying to refocus on the purpose of this meeting as everyone else finds a place to settle in.

“Fucking Ciaran, where is he?” Garrick asks. “He was the first one I talked to out on the flight field.”

“Not his fault for once,” I reply. “Obviously I called this meeting to talk about the increased urgency to protect Sorrengail, and I didn’t want to leave her exposed while we’re all here, so I gave Ciaran the two-minute version of this talk for the time being and then put him on guard duty.”

“I hope that means we’ll still get to join the party after this,” Imogen mutters irritably.

“Join, yes. Get black out drunk? No,” I tell her sternly.

Imogen scoffs mutinously and rolls her eyes.

“You’re the only one we have in her squad, Imogen,” I address her directly, “so this is going to fall to you more than anyone else, at least for now. We can always consider other arrangements if it becomes necessary.”

“ My biggest concern is Aetos.” Garrick jumps in, shooting me a frustrated look. “You want to provide some context for everyone else?” he asks.

“You know we compartmentalize intelligence so everyone only knows what they need to,” I begin. “So I’m not going to explain everything, but I’m curious how much you gleaned and I’m fine with everyone knowing at least that much for the sake of dealing with Aetos. You brief them.”

 “Alright then,” Garrick says, crossing his arms and drawing himself up into an intimidating posture. “Now, don’t overreact, give me a chance to explain everything I know, but from what I heard him saying, Xaden was there when Tairn bonded Sorrengail -”

“What the hell Xaden!” Bodhi interrupts scathingly while Garrick’s arms come uncrossed and he shakes his head, quietly grumbling, “What did I just say, you little…” 

Bodhi ignores him and continues addressing me directly, “You know that leadership would love any excuse to pin something on you, you could’ve been accused of manipulating Threshing!”

“ Could have been?” Imogen says angrily, rising from where she was sitting against my desk and glaring at me suspiciously. “I think we need to take a moment to find out if WE should be the ones making that accusation. I bet I’m not the only one who would like some reassurance that you didn’t betray us by intentionally tethering yourself to Sorrengail,” she tells me, her voice uncharacteristically and unnervingly quiet.

There is a general murmur of assent from at least half of the others around the room. I have to hand it to her, she’s the only one with the audacity to suggest that I might need to be held accountable for the good of the revolution. I won’t be surprised if her well founded distrust of authority ultimately proves to be healthy for our movement, even if she’s off target this time. It’s further proof that I was wrong to exclude her from the inner circle last year. As necessary as it is to have an unshakably loyal fixer like Garrick, that kind attitude could potentially prove dangerous if there’s no counterweight to balance it out.

Right on cue, Garrick orders, “Cool it, Imogen! Of course he didn’t.” 

Imogen doesn’t back down, shifting her glare from me to Garrick who is in a sense her opposite, yet equal match.  “It had to be asked,” she states defiantly. “Even taking into account his favor to her fucking mother, we’ve all seen how he has a soft spot for her.”

“Enough. Sit back down and let me finish explaining,” Garrick demands.

Imogen crosses her arms and reluctantly leans back against the desk again. “Or a hard spot,” she mutters under her breath.

Garrick ignores her remark and continues addressing the room at large. “I was there when Xaden was explaining himself to Amber Mavis, who was also accusing him of interfering with Threshing,” he turns back to Imogen. “So you should know that that’s the kind of company that you’re keeping right now,” he throws at her. Imogen has the decency to lower her gaze.

“It sounded like there were some first-years that were going to try to murder the feathertail and Sgaeyl made Xaden come along to make sure they didn’t. She summoned Tairn in case he’d need to intervene, but Sorrengail did first. Because she defended the little dragon Tairn decided to bond her. End of story. Xaden did nothing wrong but because he was there he could potentially be wrongfully accused.” 

Another murmur floats around the room, this one seeming to express an acceptance of the explanation. I look to Imogen who gives me an approving nod.

“And that’s why Aetos is a problem,” Garrick continues. “His signet is retrocognition so if Aetos gets his hands on proof that Xaden was present by reading either his or Sorrengail’s memories, then we all know he’ll bring that straight to leadership.”

“You could let me have my way with Aetos, I bet I could make him forget that Xaden even exists,” Imogen offers, probably wanting to atone for her misguided implication. “Or just kill him,” she adds as an afterthought.

“The first part of that isn’t a bad backup plan,” I admit. “If he gets his hands on a problematic memory then I’ll have you wipe his . But for now it’s not a problem, he certainly won’t be able to lay a hand on me, and I have a feeling that he won’t be touching Sorrengail any time soon either,” I say thinking of Sorrengail’s reaction to their kiss. “But if anyone ever sees him getting concerningly close to her, by all means, interrupt them.”

I glance at Garrick then quickly look away again pretending not to have noticed the furtive little smirk on his face.

“So for the moment at least, I’m not concerned about Aetos,” I claim. “Let me know if anyone sees something that might change that, but I’m confident he didn’t get Sorrengail’s memory of me from Threshing,” I have to be careful about not alluding to my second signet here, “because I would’ve already been dragged in front of leadership if he had. Now, let’s get back to the much more important issue at hand of making sure Sorrengail stays alive,” I conclude.

“And why is there an increased urgency to protect Sorrengail?” Eya questions. “I thought because of your deal with her mother, your life and potentially all of ours were already on the line if she died.”

 “In theory, yes,” I confirm. “But I hope you weren’t assuming that if Violet had died I would have simply surrendered myself to General Sorrengail for execution. All of the marked ones would have had to flee Basgiath obviously, but the contingency plan was that we’d just have to kick off the next phase of the revolution in Aretia before we’d really be ready for it. Now that Tairn has bonded Violet, however, if she dies that would almost certainly result in his death, which would definitely kill Sgaeyl and consequently me as well.”

“So we can no longer bank on a timely escape,” Garrick summarizes. “At this point we have to assume that if Sorrengail dies, that will directly cause Xaden’s death, and as always, probably doom the revolution and the entire continent to boot. AND with Tairn as the potential prize, you can bet that the unbonded cadets are going to be gunning for her.”

“What’s the plan?” Liam asks in a serious tone.

“Frankly, in a worst case scenario, you are,” I say to Liam directly. “As a newly bonded first-year, congratulations by the way…” he gives a single subdued fist pump. This makes everyone else chuckle which cuts the tension in the room nicely. 

“Anyway, you’ll already be our point-person in the first-year dorms,” I continue. “I don’t want you to worry about it tonight, Ciaran has it covered, so after this meeting you should go and celebrate. But tomorrow find out which room she’s been assigned to and keep an eye out for anyone, especially unbonded cadets, that might try to target her on that floor anytime outside of curfew hours. And if it becomes necessary, as your wingleader I can transfer you into that squad so we’d have a second person embedded close to her besides just Imogen, which would be a helpful backup for when RSC kidnaps her and such. Plus you would also be in all of Sorengail’s classes.”

“You don’t think we should take that step proactively?” Bodhi questions.

“Well I’m currently leaning towards hoping that would be overkill,” I say uncertainly, “but I want input from anyone here that would have feedback about that idea.”

“I’d leave the decision up to you all since you’ve got so much more experience at this place, but hopefully it’s obvious that I’m more than willing to play bodyguard to keep you safe,” Liam offers.

“I think we might want to err on the side of restraint, let her toughen up a little.” Garrick shrugs. “We should always have someone near enough that they can intervene if they need to, but I don’t think we need Liam right next to her preventing attacks. A little assassination attempt never hurt anyone.”

“That is just… unequivocally false,” Masen starts.

Soleil pats his leg and whispers, “It was a joke, babe.”

“I know that!” Masen says, rolling his eyes. “But my point still stands, if she is attacked when one of us isn’t right there to stop it there’s no guarantee she’d survive long enough for us to make it down a corridor or whatever.”

“I dunno, she does have that crazy armor stuff that I’m assuming pretty much no one besides us is aware of.” Imogen pipes up. “Plus it doesn’t have to be one of the nine of us in the inner circle… you are going to have us distribute orders to all the marked ones to protect her if they see anything going down, right?” she asks me directly. 

I nod my assent.

“She’ll also have a paranoid old dragon sharing her consciousness and constantly scanning for danger,” Eya observes. “I can’t really imagine that an unbonded cadet will be able to take her unawares or kill her so quickly that no marked one will be able to get there in time to save her.”

“Still seems like an unnecessary risk to me,” Soleil chimes in. “She’s fucking tiny and I had the impression she’s not that great at hand-to-hand.”

“There’s no getting around her size, but after what I saw today, you’d probably be surprised by her fighting skills when it’s really life or death. But maybe there’s some kind of middle ground…” I muse. “Imogen, how is training going with your other first-years?”

“Great,” Imogen says proudly, “neither of them have lost a challenge, or a yard brawl, since they started with me.”

“Nice work,” I reply. “That’s impressive enough that I’m going to entrust you with the training of the new most important person to the revolution.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Imogen erupts, standing again.

“We need Sorrengail to be able to defend herself, meaning she needs serious training starting now, and who would you propose as a better trainer?” I challenge Imogen. 

“Make Tavis do it!” she shouts, pointing at Garrick. “He’s always so eager to go along with whatever you suggest, but if that means buddying up to a fucking Sorrengail, I don’t want any part of it!”

“He’s her section leader, who she’s never even interacted with one-on-one,” I explain patiently. “Unlike everyone else here, she knows you. And as squadmates there’s a good excuse for you to be training her. Plus, I’m serious about your training of the other first-years being impressive, this is too important for me to assign it to anyone except whoever I think is the best person for the job.”

Imogen seethes through gritted teeth, “Are you ordering me -”

“Yes,” I interrupt, leaving no room for argument.

Imogen inhales deeply through her nose, her lips still pursed in a furious scowl and I’m worried she’s about to explode, but then Garrick says “Imogen…” in a warning-filled tone. She swings her glare onto him, which he returns just as defiantly. Finally she shakes her head and turns to flop face-down on my bed next to Soleil and Masen and screams “FUCK!” into the covers.

That might be the most obediently I’ve ever seen Imogen behave and I again choose to ignore the self-satisfied smirk on Garrick’s face.

“Anything else we need to address?” Bodhi asks, trying to get the meeting back on track.

“Yeah,” I sigh, finally working my way down the list to the issues that, hopefully, don’t have the potential to effectively end the world. “Smuggling mission next month, and afterwards, we,” I gesture to Bodhi and myself, “need to stop by Aretia together.”

“What for?” Bodhi asks, surprised.

“A very uncomfortable conversation with Brennan. You and I can have a private talk about that tomorrow, for now let’s finish up with the shit that concerns everybody.”

We spend another fifteen minutes or so planning the next mission and then everyone gets up, excited to go join the celebrations.

Garrick lingers to be the last one out. When he reaches the threshold rather than walking out he closes the door behind the rest of them, then turns to me with a deadly serious look on his face.

I wait, in the unfamiliar position of being unsure what to expect.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to make Aetos disappear?” he asks.

“Yeah. Do you seriously think I would have made you stand down if he’d gotten his hands on a memory that could have fucked us over? I couldn’t give a shit that he’s Sorrengail’s friend.” I say with exasperation.

“No, not because of that…” he looks around in what seems like an overly conspiratorial display considering that it’s only us in the room. “Because of -”

“Oh fuck off!” I yell, stepping forward and punching him hard on the shoulder. It took me way too long to realize he was messing with me.

Garrick laughs harder than I’ve seen him do all year, “I’ve never seen you jealous before, it was amazing! Your shadows were fuckin’ pulsating, I thought you were going to strangle Ciaran!”

I have no idea how my best friend has managed to put me in a good mood after this unbelievably shitty day. “You want to talk about jealousy?” I ask smirking. “What do you think about the fact that Imogen just ‘fuck’-ed in my bed?”

Garrick stops laughing and his face goes slack. “Low blow, man.” For a moment I think he’s serious but then he cracks a grin again and charges. He tackles me onto my bed and then starts punching me in the ribs on both sides, though he’s doing it harder than I think he would have if he were only joking. They’re going to be legitimately bruised, I think as I throw him off me and spring up into a fighting stance with a grin on my face.

Garrick doesn’t take his eyes off me as he over-dramatically unsheathes a dagger and holds it in a defensive position as he backs up and gropes for the door handle behind him with his free hand. Once he finds it, he opens the door and starts backing his way out of the room, but right before he closes the door again he pokes his head back in. “Oh man, missed opportunity, you could have said ‘Imogen fucked in my bed WITH another couple’!”

He slams the door shut just in time for it to catch the dagger that I throw at his head.

Chapter Text

“I need to talk to you,” Liam says with an urgent tone as he runs up to Garrick and I outside the gathering hall. He’s clearly just come from flight lessons since he’s still wearing those leathers and he hasn’t made any attempt to tame his wind swept hair.

“Okay,” I say, looking around. “Let’s go find an unoccupied area in the courtyard where we won’t be overheard.”

I lead the way out into the sunshine and lean up against the academic building in a spot where nobody else is around. Liam and Garrick do the same on either side of me.

“I tried to come tell you between lunch and flight class but I only had a few minutes and couldn’t find you,” Liam says irritably.

“Yeah, Garrick, Bodhi and I went to my room to continue preparations for the mission tonight, and some other shit we’ll have to do after that,” I tell him.

“Listen, I think it’s time to put me on bodyguard duty,” Liam states flatly.

“For Sorrengail?” I say, bemused. “It’s been a month and as far as I’m aware she hasn’t even been attacked once.”

“Then apparently not every piece of the intelligence that gets run up the chain makes it all the way to the top,” Liam says with an accusatory look across at Garrick.

“So what?” Garrick says dismissively. “It sounded like you neutralized that threat and probably seriously reduced the risk of any others. There’s no reason to bother Xaden with shit he doesn’t need to know about. Compartmentalization doesn’t only run downhill.”

“Well, there’s been a development, so he needs to know now,” Liam argues.

Keeping his eyes on Liam, Garrick gestures to me as if giving his blessing to continue, and I nod my agreement.

“About two weeks ago I intercepted a first-year named Caroline Ashton who was about to ambush Sorrengail as we were leaving a history lesson. I told her that the only reason I was letting her live was so that she could warn any other unbonded cadets that might think to do the same that they wouldn’t be so lucky on the next attempt.”

“Good work,” I tell Liam. “But so far I’d agree with the assessment that Garrick just gave.” 

“Yeah, well I’ve been keeping tabs on her ever since and learned that she’s very close with Jack Barlowe. And then today right after lunch they were celebrating with a bunch of other unbonded first-years after she successfully managed to bond a dragon who’s new rider died during a flight lesson.”

“Okay, still sounding like good news…” I prompt assuming there’s something more.

“But then , they started having a much more hushed conversation. I wasn’t able to catch much of it but it sounded to me like they were planning for the half dozen or so unbonded cadets that were there to launch a coordinated attack on someone, and I’d imagine that would have to be Sorrengail.”

“Shit,” Garrick curses. “If you’re right, that could be really dangerous. Just having one person in her general vicinity at all times might not be sufficient if she’s attacked by a bunch of cadets all at once.”

“Damn it. You might be right about it being time to transfer you to her squad,” I tell Liam. “But I’ve got too much going on right now with the mission tonight.”

I think about it for a moment. “Alright, here’s what we’ll do… you touch base with Imogen, she’ll be training Sorrengail tonight and is only joining for the acquisition phase of the mission, not the flight out this time. I want you two to organize a plan with Soleil and Eya to keep an extra close eye on Sorrengail for the next two days while the rest of us are… otherwise occupied. Just make sure she gets back to her room safe each night, the unbonded won’t be able to use lesser magic to unlock her door, so we should be in the clear after that. We’ll be back by the following morning and I’ll want a full report first thing. Based on how things are looking at that point I’ll make the decision about whether to transfer you.”

“Sounds good, I’ll go find Imogen,” Liam says and he dashes off.

Garrick and I stand there in silence for a few moments.

“I didn’t want to undermine you in front of Liam,” I tell Garrick, “but for future reference, any attempt on Sorrengail’s life, and mine by extension, is definitely something I want to hear about.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces. “Just seemed like you were trying to keep anything regarding her at arm's length since Threshing. Before that you were dogging after her every day, but ever since we came up with the new arrangement to have the rest of us constantly doing so, I don’t think I’ve seen you go near her once.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t wrong about that thing you were giving me shit for after the inner circle meeting. I don’t know why I can’t shake my attraction to her, but for reasons that I’m sure are obvious, going there would be just about the worst idea in the world. Hence why I decided to delegate her protection and why my plan going forward is to stay away from her as much as possible. Hopefully that’ll let this idiotic crush fizzle out.”

“That definitely seems like it’s going to work,” Garrick says sarcastically. 

“Do you have a better plan or do you think I should just go back to constantly stalking her?”

“Touché,” Garrick says, putting his palms up in surrender before folding his arms and gazing around the courtyard, undoubtedly on the lookout for threats as always.

I start doing the same and suddenly become conscious of a pull coming from my hilltop. I ground myself there and look around to find the silver strand representing my link with Sorrengail tugging in a certain direction.

I look that way in reality and see her enter the courtyard through the tunnel from the flight field. I look away again before she can catch me watching her, but not before noting how pissed she looks. Then I sense an overwhelmingly powerful instinct of distress and intention to make amends coming from the tunnel behind her and it’s instantly recognizable as belonging to Aetos. 

I glance back at Violet to find that she’s looking at me and I arch an intrigued eyebrow at her as she walks past. She flips me off in response.

WHY must my subconscious find that kind of thing from her so fucking sexy!  

But then a commotion on the stairs up to the rotunda steals my attention. There is a growing wave of apprehensive instincts emanating from the people around a guy that is stumbling down the step with his hands clasped on either side of his head.

“Make it stop!” he shrieks, starting to run down toward the middle of the courtyard. “For gods’ sakes make it stop!”

I suspect that I already know what’s happening considering that I witnessed the same thing happen almost exactly two years ago and even experienced something similar myself shortly thereafter. If he’s manifesting an inntinnsic signet right now the entire revolution could be compromised if he reads the mind of any marked one. 

I force myself to convey as little concern as possible with my movements as I shift to start putting myself between him and Violence on the off-chance that it’s anything else and simultaneously wield shadows for the same general purpose. Then I begin trying to focus my second signet on the young guy to confirm my theory so I can be ready to end him at any moment if necessary. 

I’m dimly aware of people shouting around him but I do my best to focus on him specifically through the cacophonous collage of instincts pouring in from every direction. 

“You!” the kid screams pointing at someone approaching him. “You think I’ve lost it!” His eyes bulge and his voice takes on a different timbre when he says, “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!” I’m able to see through his intention that he’s giving voice to the other person’s thoughts.

With that confirmation I immediately stop using that ability and throw up a second set of mental shields in case his signet is powerful enough to penetrate the ones that I always keep up by default so he can’t expose me as an inntinnsic as well.

He starts parroting another person's thoughts at them and a terrifying realization strikes me. Hopefully our constant paranoia of being found out is enough for any marked ones in the courtyard to reflexively think about anything else, but Violet knows enough to doom us all and might not have the instinct to conceal it considering that it isn’t her own secret to protect. I have to warn her.

I immediately start pushing through the crowd to get to her, listening as the guy shouts, “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see that I just want to keep her alive?” in a creepily accurate impression of Aetos’ whiny voice. Thank Zihnal he’s not a marked one, how is he so self-absorbed that he hasn’t realized what’s happening?

I shove one of her squadmates aside to finally reach Violet. As my arm brushes hers, a strange subconscious sense of disorientation that I just now realize I’ve been experiencing for the past month subsides.

I focus all of my attention back onto the kid as he screams, “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!” His terror is quickly approaching a breaking point.

“Do something,” Violet pleads with me.

“Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit you’ve learned,” I instruct her, thinking of how she distracted herself on the parapet.

“I’m sorry?” she says in offended confusion. Shit, I shouldn’t have had any way of knowing she does that, I realize.

“If you value your secrets,” or mine, “clear your thoughts. Now ,” I demand.

HOW do I keep fucking up around her?!

Whatever, if I need to I can claim that the information was passed to me by another marked one that heard her doing it in some other stressful situation. Right now I need to stay focused. 

“And you!” The kid points directly at Garrick. I coil shadows from the ground up the guy’s body as he begins intoning in Garrick’s voice, “Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about -”

I clamp the shadows over the guy’s mouth, smothering his words.

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, preparing to strangle a fellow inntinnsic for a transgression that I know all too well is no fault of his own. This is going to be the most traumatic killing I’ve ever had to carry out…

But before I can bring myself to wrap the shadows around his neck, I’m saved from having to do so as I see Professor Carr step forward behind the poor kid. I didn’t think I’d ever be happy to see that asshole, especially not because of what I know he’s about to do.

I keep my shadows in place over the guy’s mouth and force myself to watch as a reminder of what my fate will be if I can’t keep my shit together and stop slipping up by inadvertently showing my hand like I just did with Violet. 

The crack of his spine breaking feels like it emanates from within my own chest. I take a sharp breath and start walking without any thought as to where. I just need to get away from here.

…

A little over a day later I’m still hiding behind my facade of indifference as we fly through the recently darkened sky. Fortunately I was able to simply put Bodhi in charge of the smuggling mission again under the pretense of preparing him for next year.

“Well it’s time to shake yourself out of complacency for what’s about to happen now,” Sgaeyl demands.

I try to mentally psych myself up as the five dragons land just outside the front gates of Riorson House with Sgaeyl and Cuir at the head of the riot.

“You ready for this?” I ask Bodhi.

“Why would you ask that right now?” he counters. “What if I said no, could we just leave?” he scoffs as he jumps down from Cuir’s back.

“Fair point,” I concede, leaping to the ground myself.

Garrick, Masen, and Ciaran follow suit and the dragons fly off into the night as we make our way toward the fortress.

A minute later the front doors have been unbolted to admit us and we enter the house. Trissa comes striding toward us quickly from the direction of the Assembly chamber. 

“You’re here for your dressing down, I’m guessing?” she asks me.

“It’s time to reap what we sowed,” I confirm. “I’m sure Brennan realizes that I was acting on your advice, so I assume you already collected your harvest of wrath?”

“Dramatic much? Yeah, he laid into me for a good half hour when he first found out. It made for a less boring Tuesday than most,” Trissa offers casually. “But I guess you actually give a shit about what he thinks of you.”

“Tell him I’ll be in my room, would you?” I sigh.

“I’ll make sure someone gets him the message,” she assures me before turning to Bodhi standing at my side. “Good to see you, Durran. Because I like you better than that angsty one, I would advise that you not be there when Brennan comes for him. Tavis, I’m sure you and the others already know better than to subject yourself to it,” she mentions as an afterthought to Garrick who is standing behind us with Masen and Ciaran.

“Of course, wouldn’t be caught dead there. But Durran here is going to have to be following orders rather than advice,” Garrick smiles menacingly while playfully jostling Bodhi by the shoulders. 

“Thanks anyway, Trissa,” Bodhi sighs regretfully as we all start making our way up the stairs. 

“Why did you even decide to come anyway?” Bodhi asks Garrick.

“Well I would lie and say that it’s because I know the Assembly is going to put Xaden through administrative hell in the morning and I was going to do what I could to help. Or because we all decided it was past time for a party in Aretia…” Garrick teases, “but honestly I just want to hear about how badly you fuck this up with Brennan as soon as possible.” 

Bodhi shakes his head in annoyance. 

A minute later the others break off one floor earlier than us and walk away down the hall. Garrick looks back to give a friendly wave and an ominous, “Good luck!”

When Bodhi and I get to my room I walk over to the armoire. I open it and take down the blanket that’s tucked all the way at the back of the top shelf. Then there’s a pounding on my door.

I close the armoire while Bodhi walks over to let Brennan in. He opens the door just as I toss the folded blanket onto my bed. I turn to face Brennan and he strides purposefully into the room. We both stop and fold our arms across our chests at the same time.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Riorson,” Brennan says, his voice disconcertingly quiet.

I simply nod my assent.

“I see you brought emotional blackmail. You better think again if you’re expecting that I won’t tear you a new one in front of your little cousin.” 

My only response is a regretful shrug.

“She’s my baby SISTER, you unbelievably self-absorbed asshole!” Brennan roars. “You do NOT withhold information about FAMILY!”

I raise an eyebrow, silently communicating the obvious question.

“Yes, I know I’m doing the same with my own family,” he fumes, “and if we all live long enough, I’m sure I’ll have to do some answering of my own to them, but right now it’s your turn.”

I cock my head a bit to one side and lift that shoulder in a gesture of reluctant agreement.

“You implied that you were withholding information relating to the revolution,” Brennan seethes, “making me think it was along the lines of something that was too big or dangerous for me to mend, but which I’d want to try to fix anyway if I knew about it.”

“That’s exactly what happened,” Bodhi interrupts.

“You stay out of this, Durran,” Brennan snaps at Bodhi without removing his glare from me, “this is Riorson’s fuck up to answer for.”

“He accepts accountability, but he won’t be speaking until you do the same,” Bodhi responds.

Brennan whips his attention to Bodhi for a beat. Then he returns it to me just long enough to see me nod my acknowledgement before pinning his glare on Bodhi again.

“And what do I need to be held accountable for, exactly?” he demands.

“You told Xaden that if he determined it would be best for you not to know the information he withheld, then you’d be fine with that because you trust him,” Bodhi responds.

“WELL I SURE AS SHIT DON’T TRUST HIM ANYMORE!” Brennan explodes.

“Then I’m sure the feeling is mutual because until you live up to your word, he has no reason to trust you either,” Bodhi counters.

“Are you serious with this?” Brennan angrily demands of me, motioning to Bodhi. “What possible reason could there be for you to not be making these arguments yourself besides forcing me to have this out with someone besides the person I’m pissed at, YOU!”

“That’s exactly the reason for this, or one of them at least,” Bodhi answers while Brennan continues glaring at me. “If he enabled you to argue with him directly then, as you said, you’d be pissed. And all of your brilliant strategic and logical thinking goes out the window when you let emotion cloud your judgement. But perhaps the biggest reason for me to present these arguments is because I’m proof.”

Brennan sighs and finally turns to face Bodhi again. “I’m assuming that at this point I’m supposed to ask, ‘proof of what?’”

“Yes, thank you,” Bodhi says curtly. “I’m proof that when Xaden is responsible for someone, not only do they survive, but they become very capable.”

“Did Riorson tell you to say that?” Brennan rolls his eyes at Bodhi, his tone cooling from furious to just deeply annoyed.

“No, I came up with that point on my own. Because I’m very capable.”

“And did you just come up with it on the spot or have you two been practicing this conversation ever since he received my letter?” Brennan inquires disparagingly.

“We had a brief conversation about a month ago during which he told me that I should prepare to have a calm, logical debate with you on his behalf and then he simply provided me with all of the context I’d need to be able to craft my own arguments,” Bodhi explains.

Brennan turns back to me. “And has he been rehearsing non-stop for the last month?” he asks and I’m encouraged to see the ghost of a grin on his lips. I give an honest shrug.

Bodhi’s posture, through which he had been trying to convey confidence up to this point, slouches slightly. “I may have practiced in front of a mirror a few times, yes,” he says in a much more conversational tone, as if this was the first phrase he’d uttered that he hadn’t prepared ahead of time. “I actually wrote down every point that I thought you might make, and counterpoints for each of them. Do you mind if I actually just pull all those out…” He reaches into his flight jacket and begins withdrawing a stack of parchment.

“Yes, actually I do mind,” Brennan says, apparently having recovered his state of annoyance. “You’re supposed to be ‘very capable’, remember? You shouldn’t need a cheat sheet, or …book.”

Bodhi winces in disappointment and shoves the papers back into his jacket again.

“And as disarming as this whole display may be to me personally,” Brennan says frustratedly, “I’m not convinced that it really is a good tactic because if you tried to pull some kind of bullshit like this when negotiating with Melgren, or Tecarus, or my mother , they would eat you for fucking breakfast!”

“Maybe…” Bodhi begins uncertainly, his brow furrowed in concentration, “it’s still a good tactic because you have to know your audience and tailor your approach accordingly. So Xaden probably would have come up with a more direct and forceful approach to use with someone like your mother, but he knew you’d find this disarming because he knows how delightful you are deep down. Aw, that’s kind of sweet of you both!”

Brennan simply stares at Bodhi in dumbfounded disbelief. I lower my gaze to the floor and shake my head in utter humiliation.

“That wasn’t even one of the points I prepared!” Bodhi says excitedly. “I just came up with that, and look,” he points at Brennan’s face “it’s totally working; I’m not sure what that expression is, but it’s definitely not anger!”

“I think this has backfired on you, Riorson. I definitely don’t want Violet turning out anything like this,” Brennan asserts, gesturing at Bodhi.

I offer him a pained grimace.

Brennan lowers his forehead into one hand and massages it. “Okay, let’s hear the highlights from that novel in your jacket, Bodhi,” he says wearily.

Bodhi resumes his confident stance and clears his throat. “So, a few minutes ago you said you thought all this was about something related to the revolution that was too big or dangerous for you to mend, which you’d have wanted to try to fix anyway if you were aware of it. And in a way, that describes the situation perfectly…

“You obviously do consider your sister being forced into the Rider’s Quadrant to be a problem that you would’ve wanted to fix, but if you’d tried then it obviously would have become a matter concerning the revolution-”

“Based on the misguided assumption that I would have failed .” Brennan interrupts.

“If you’d gone to attempt to rescue Violet, then at the very least the secret of your survival would have been revealed,” Bodhi counters, “which would have led Navarrian leadership to question where you’ve been hiding and why. And in all likelihood the search for that answer would have led them straight to our doorstep.”

Brennan folds his arms in frustration but doesn’t belabor that particular point.

“Plus, as I mentioned before, your exceptional strategic thinking goes out the window when you’re emotional. So it’s also exceedingly likely that not only would that have still happened, but in attempting to rescue Violet you might have gotten yourself, and possibly even her, killed in the process.”

Brennan looks furious and raises a clenched fist with just the pointer finger extended at Bodhi and moves to take a step toward him when a voice from the doorway interrupts saying, “He’s right, Aisereigh, and the fact that you’re too heated to see it right now is proof.”

We all look over to see Trissa leaning against the open doorway. Her comment stops Brennan in his tracks and I see some of the anger in his face begin to transition to something cooler and more calculating.

“So,” Bodhi continues, taking advantage of the silence, “even though this was arguably a personal matter on the surface, that’s why it was even more important that Xaden exercised restraint in disclosing the information. Whether it’s personal or not is irrelevant because the only difference is that something that’s personal is likely to trigger your emotional knee-jerk reaction and failure to apply logical reasoning. And that’s exactly why Trissa advised Xaden to keep it from you. He told you he was on the fence about whether to disclose the information and you instructed him to leave it up to Trissa. So even though I think she made the right decision, either way this is all her fault anyway.”

“Damn it, Durran, I was about to give you so many props for how well you handled that until you fucked it at the end there,” Trissa comments.

“Wait, wait, I’m not done, I can still stick the landing,” Bodhi implores. “All of that said, Xaden does realize that under practically any other circumstances he should obviously have told you that your little sister was in potentially mortal danger. So he does want to take accountability there. And if you will own up to the fact that you explicitly told him to withhold the information if they determined it was something you shouldn’t know before completely flipping out on him for doing exactly that, then you two can talk it out and I can get the hell out of the middle of this.”

We all turn our attention to Brennan as he fumes in the center of the room. He pivots to face me again. “You’re seriously not going to say a word unless I agree to let you off the hook?”

I unfold my arms and open my hands, gesturing to the room at large as if to communicate that the entire situation should make that perfectly clear.

Brennan clenches his jaw and looks away for several seconds. Finally he looks up again, staring out the window rather than directly at me and reluctantly mutters, “Fine.”

“Oh thank gods -” Bodhi sighs.

“BUT…” Brennan interrupts. “We’re not done here yet. Just because I’m being entirely more generous than you deserve by letting that transgression of yours go, that doesn’t mean we don’t now have to have a talk about what all this means going forward.”

“Fair enough,” I concede.

“I know you too well to doubt that even despite your deal with my fucking mother, you’d have been prepared to let Violet die or even kill her yourself to protect the revolution or even just your precious marked ones…” Brennan begins.

I fold my arms again, not liking where this is going.

“Have you considered killing her at any point, even for just a moment, and even just once?” Brennan demands.

“Twice,” I admit.

“ Elaborate ,” he orders.

“Your little sister takes after you in entirely too many ways,” I needle. “When we held the first meeting of the year with all the marked ones that are new to Basgiath, it turned out that she was up a nearby tree and overheard the entire thing.”

“What the fuck?” Bodhi chimes in, but both Brennan and I wave him down.

“How the hell does that make her like me? And did she hear anything about the revolution?” Brennan asks, more of his anger clearly transforming to intrigue.

“No, I made sure not to allude to the revolution at all and cut off anyone else before they could either,” I reply. “And it was Brennan-esque because her reason for being up in that tree in the middle of the night was because she was collecting ingredients for making poisons.”

“Ah. Yes, I’m sure our father taught her well,” Brennan thinks aloud.

“Maybe not as well you…” I muse, “she dosed all six of the first challenge opponents she faced ahead of time in various ways. Eventually I had to put a stop to it before anyone else caught on, the predictability alone made her much less subtle about it than I’ve seen you be.”

“How did she know which cadets she’d be facing each week?” Brennan asks.

“I haven’t gotten a good look at it, but I saw her come into possession of a book that I’m under the impression was written by you …” I prompt, curious for more information from him in turn.

“Mira,” Brennan states. “Before she began her first year in the Rider’s Quadrant I wrote down everything I could think of that might help her survive. I should have known that she’d pass it on to Violet when she found out about our mother’s new plan for our little sister… So, what made you decide not to kill her after your clandestine meeting of marked ones?”

“She promised not to tell anyone about it,” I say simply.

“And you just believed her?!” Bodhi demands.

Brennan turns and fixes him with the glare that had been directed at me throughout the first part of this confrontation and Trissa gives an appreciative chuckle. “Am I going to have to have a talk with you about not killing my little sister?” Brennan asks sinisterly. 

Bodhi puts his hands up and retreats a step.

“You know I’m a good judge of character,” I tell Bodhi. “And obviously I made sure she kept her word,” I pivot back to Brennan again. “Your little sister has been keeping my shadows very busy listening in on her.”

“Good to hear that you’ve been taking your responsibility to keep her safe seriously,” Brennan comments. “Tell me about the second time you considered killing her.”

“Garrick, Bodhi and I had just gotten back from a smuggling mission when I found her hiding in some shadows listening in on our conversation.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s what was happening there?” Bodhi comments quietly. “That little snoop is lucky that none of the rest of us have -”

“Shut up!” Both Brennan and I yell him down in unison.

“All right, well you boys have fun with your little pissing contest, I’ve lost interest again,” Trissa yawns before turning and leaving.

“How many times do we need to have the conversation about compartmentalization?” I ask Bodhi. “I would’ve handled the situation if it was necessary or told you if I needed help with it, but it didn’t turn out to be a big deal.”

“And why is that?” Brennan prompts to get me back on topic.

“Because it turned out she didn’t overhear anything about the mission,” I reply.

“And she just didn’t care what the three of us had been off doing?” Bodhi scoffs. 

I have to admire his determination not to back down despite Brennan and I repeatedly brow beating him. And he did do an admirable job of handling the initial part of the confrontation to get us here, so I decide to relent.

“That’s right, it was the evening after her first attempt at the Gauntlet and she was preoccupied with the death of a friend and her inability to get up the chimney,” I tell Bodhi. “And again, I obviously made sure to confirm that she hadn’t heard anything compromising and that she didn’t say anything to anyone about it afterwards.”

“How did the little squirt make it up the chimney?” Brennan inquires.

“I gave her some good advice,” I claim evasively, knowing perfectly well that Brennan wouldn’t consider my telling her to ‘figure it out’ to constitute being either ‘good’ or even ‘advice’.

Fortunately he doesn’t question it and proceeds to look me up and down as if appraising me for the first time. “Fine. I’m satisfied that you’ve done an acceptable job protecting my little sister up to this point. But now that she did make up the Gauntlet and went on to bond the second most powerful dragon on the continent at Threshing, your deal with my mother is no longer sufficient, as evidenced by the fact that you’ve admitted to considering killing her twice despite it. Now, you make a deal with me .” Brennan says menacingly.

“As if that were necessary,” I scoff. “You know perfectly well Sgaeyl and Tairn are mated and how that ties my life to hers in turn. So I obviously won’t be considering killing her and just dealing with the consequences any more.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” Brennan teases ominously.

“Is it that the unbonded are going to be coming after her to get to Tairn? Because I obviously know that too and have already taken the necessary precautions. Plus Tairn was bonded to Naolin . So I’m sure you know even better than I do how paranoid he must be about her safety. He’s going to be scanning her consciousness for any hint of a threat at every waking moment. Hell, probably the unwaking ones too.”

“Again, not what I’m concerned about, but we’ll get back to our little deal at the end,” Brennan says. “First there are two final subjects we need to cover.”

“And what are those?” I sigh. It's already been an incredibly exhausting nearly two days, first with the debacle around the other inntinnsic and then the ongoing smuggling mission since that evening. I just want to go to bed.

“First, it seems important to me, that both of you,” Brennan turns to acknowledge Bodhi as well, “gain an appreciation for how important your roles as future leaders in this revolution really are, and how terrifying that is to those of us that truly grasp the extent to which you are still children.”

“Excuse me?” Bodhi says haughtily.

“Exactly,” Brennan says, pointing at Bodhi. “Only a child would petulantly take offense to being called one. Anyone that has really grown up would let the accusation slide off them because they’re mature enough to realize it’s not true and that they don’t need to concern themselves with the opinions of anyone foolish enough to believe it. Or if they’ve experienced enough life to have truly become wise, then I suspect an enlightened person would be able to recognize that they’re always gaining more experience and wisdom, meaning that no matter their age, they really are still immature compared to the person they’ll become in the future.”

Damn, this guy has either really seen some shit or has an especially wisened dragon sharing his own consciousness, I think.

“Both,” Sgaeyl comments to me.

“I’m guessing you’re twenty-one years old, right, Bodhi?” Brennan continues then turns back to me. “And I know your birthday isn’t until March, so you’re still twenty-two at this point, Xaden. I know you two have been through entirely too much for people your ages, but even taking that into consideration, you are still SO young.”

Bodhi and I both shift uncomfortably.

“Which is not to say that you aren’t beginning to mature. I see signs of it in both of you. Bodhi, the way you handled the first part of this conversation, most of it at least, ” Brennan mutters the aside, “that was really impressive. You even helped me realize I was being pretty immature myself. And Xaden, coming up with the strategy to make that happen, and trusting your friend to be able to do what you might not have been able to manage yourself, that kind of leadership really is impressive too.

“But, I think, just this year has really been your first taste of leadership. I know you’ve been in charge of the marked ones and the smuggling since your first year in the Quadrant, but the others in your class from that year are more like peers. Last year you started becoming a leader to Bodhi and the other first-years in his class, but again, consider your age and the fact that you’d only been bonded to a dragon for about a year at that point. Now it’s really starting to happen for you though, you’re literally a wing leader . That’s a legitimate military rank that puts you in charge of a considerable number of dragon riders in the army of Navarre, and I’m guessing you felt the difference in the weight of that responsibility. And I’m sure you’ll be in a similar position next year, Bodhi,” Brennan says to him before turning back to me. “I have to imagine that felt like a real step up, even for someone like you who is the presumptive leader of the revolution.

“Consider though, how young and immature our revolution is too. Sure, you’ve attended Assembly meetings and made consequential decisions, but think of how trivial those will eventually seem if our revolution is ultimately successful. By the time you’re my age, in order for you and the movement to live that long, the revolution will have had to grow to become at least as powerful as the kingdom of Navarre. Hopefully at that point the weight of responsibility on your shoulders will be greater than that which Melgen or even King Tauri bear.

“Right now, you are still a child. I bet I’m right in thinking that deep down it still feels that way to you too. I bet you still lean on Sgaeyl’s wisdom more than you’d like to admit because if you were honest with yourself you still feel like a kid that doesn’t know if what he’s doing is going to work half of the time.”

Gods, is this guy an inntinnsic too ?

“He’s just someone who’s been through the same thing himself already,” Sgaeyl replies. “Trust me, Tairn knows.”  

 “This is the first year you’re really starting to grow up,” Brennan continues, “and even one year of true leadership will make a big difference. I bet you won’t have to be faking it nearly as much next year, that you’ll actually start being confident in your decision-making and feeling like a leader instead of just acting like one.

“But until that happens, I suspect there’s one more aspect of leadership that both of you could benefit from being schooled in, and that’s perspective taking. I’m sure you’ve heard the common refrain that you should never give an order forcing someone to do something you wouldn’t do yourself. But too often leaders either don't consider that at all, or if they do, only with respect to whether they themselves would be willing to do it based on their own life experiences. But you need to appreciate the fact that not everyone has had those same experiences and consider things from your subordinate’s perspective. You need to actually place yourself in their shoes, and rather than just asking whether you’d be willing to do it if you were in their position , ask if you were that person , with their background and and all of their values, as misguided as they may seem to you, then would you still be willing to do it.

“Hopefully you both have matured enough by now to stop begrudging the vast majority of Navarrians that don’t know about the dark wielders. If you consider things from their perspective it’s obvious that they have no reason not to follow their leadership and that it’s perfectly understandable for them to hate any rebels for fighting them. Just like we’ll have to hope that when that secret is inevitably blown open, a good chunk of them will be willing to do some perspective taking of their own, realize that we’ve just been trying to protect innocent people and come join us to do the same.

“Which leads me nicely into the final topic of discussion here before I explain the deal you and I are going to make,” Brennan tells me. “As an exercise in perspective taking, I think you need to gain a better appreciation for Violet’s situation, as I get the impression that you haven’t really considered it from her point of view. And as someone that grew up in the same family, I think I can enlighten you… Violet is all alone in this fucked up world, and has been for long time now, to an extent that even you can’t compare to.”

He points directly at me and I can’t help laughing out loud.

“Are you serious right now?” I ask as Brennan folds his arms again and regards me with a skeptical smirk but allows me to continue. “First of all she’s become incredibly close with at least a few of her squadmates and she has me, my inner circle, and all of the marked ones at Basgiath looking out for her. So right off the bat, she’s far from alone. And you want to compare that to my situation? You must be fucking joking! I’m a godsdamned orphaned only child!”

Brennan snorts disdainfully. “That’s one way to look at it, but let’s break things down. You claim to be orphaned because your father, who you were incredibly close with, was killed when you were seventeen. Does that sound familiar at all? Is there anyone else we’re discussing who's loving father, and ostensibly the only parent worth mentioning, died when they were the same age?” Brennan asks mockingly. “And then you conveniently neglected to compare your mothers.”

“All that remains for me of my mother is that blanket,” I growl through gritted teeth, pointing at my bed. “She abandoned me when I was ten years old. So yeah, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a mother.”

“Sounds infinitely better than having mine,” Brennan retorts. “Sometimes people have to leave their family behind for those loved ones’ own good. I would know. But even if you’re right and she did just abandon you for the hell of it, that would be a whole fucking lot better than the hand Violet was dealt when her mother literally threw her to the dragons. And how did your mother treat you as a child those first ten years? How do you think Violet’s treated her? Do you think General Sorrengail ever made her a blanket? As far as I’m concerned, Violet never had a mother.”

I clench my jaw but choose not to respond in acknowledgment that he actually does have a decent point there.

“You also pointed out that Violet has you and all of the marked ones at Basgiath looking out for her. But when I say she’s alone I’m not referring to her physical safety, because I’ll admit it seems like you’ve got that pretty well covered, if only to ensure your own. But are any of those marked ones her friends ? How many of them would try to kill her just for being a Sorrengail if they weren’t under orders not to? When was the last time you said anything to her that was explicitly un friendly? Hell, when was the last time you even spoke to her at all?”

At this I lower my gaze to the floor.

“That’s what I thought,” Brennan says in disappointment. “I’m glad to hear that she’s becoming close with some of her squadmates, but again, compare that to your own situation. Bodhi might be the only blood family you have left, but he’s clearly as good as a sibling to you, just like Liam, Imogen, and Garrick, all of whom you have right there with you in the Quadrant. And how many more of the marked ones would lay down their lives to save yours because they’d want to, not just because they’re following orders. I’d bet that some of them will. And who does Violet have like that? Mira and I exist, but she’s completely cut off from us. Hell, she doesn’t even know that I exist. What I’m doing right here, right now, is the most I can do to look out for her.

“So to that end, I know that it’d be ridiculous to order any of the marked ones to simply be her friend. But the relationships I have with the rest of the separatists’ children, if any, are very different than the one I have with you ,” Brennan says, poking me in the chest. “Both of our worlds were turned upside down after the battle of Aretia. We both lost the most important person in our respective lives, not to mention many others, and in our search for some new semblance of normalcy, the most unlikely thing happened. We became friends.

“For over five years now I’ve thought of you as something close to… well a couple of months ago I would have said a younger brother, but you fucked that up when you failed to tell me about the danger my actual little sister was in. You’re free to reject this offer and we can forge ahead simply being colleagues. But I’m true to my word, and I’ll forgive you for your fuck up and we can go back to the way things were between us as long as you agree to this deal... 

“I’m not going to say that you have to be her friend, but at the very least give her a chance, keeping in mind that her situation really isn’t so different from your own. Since I know how great she is, if you really do that I’d be willing to bet most anything that you’ll eventually find you’ll want to be her friend.”

I consider Brennan carefully for a few moments. “I can give her a chance. Deal,” I say, extending my hand.

“Ah, but, that’s not the only stipulation to this agreement,” Brennan says with a smirk. “I’m willing to forgive you and we can go back to the way things were, being each others’ trusted confidants, and in return you’re to give her a chance and be willing to become her friend, BUT… no more than her friend.” Brennan seizes my hand and grips it much harder than is necessary to seal the deal.

…

After what, to me, passes for a half-decent night’s sleep in my own bed, I’ve got a half day of bullshit ahead of me before we can leave to time our arrival back at Basgiath for well after curfew. 

I endure several hours of the Assembly moaning at me about how infrequently I come to deal with matters that they claim require my attention, which, frankly, is the main reason I don’t come more often. Garrick acts as my aide, taking notes while I pay attention to what I consider the important portions and spend the rest of the time thinking about what Brennan said last night. Eventually I need a break and call for a recess before heading down to the forge.

“Irana!” I yell, waving to attract her attention as I approach while she hammers on a short-sword in the making.

“Riorson, shit it’s been a long fucking time since you’ve graced us with your presence!” the old woman exclaims happily.

“I know, it’s good to see you Miss Irana! How are you and Ceard doing?” I ask.

“Oh, you know me, I’m fine,” she shrugs. “And at least the old windbag keeps the fires lit around here, but of course he’s curmudgeonly as ever, more so if I’m being honest.” Her eyes glaze over for a second. “You know perfectly well he’s Fen’s son and heir, so shut it,” she snaps without bothering to keep the response to her dragon private through their bond.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I don’t come bearing gifts. Quite the opposite in fact. Any chance you could do me at least one big favor?” I ask apprehensively.

“Ah, you know a fun project is as good as a gift to me. Name it,” she says without hesitation.

“Well, the most urgent thing is that I need a custom set of daggers -” I start.

“How custom are we talking?” she asks.

“Nothing you can’t handle. I’ve seen some of the ones you’ve made with runes for specific purposes, I just need a set of twelve of them to cover all of the most important bases. Specifically these,” I say, handing her a list that I wrote while Major Ferris was prattling on earlier.

Irana unfolds the scrap of paper and assesses it. “Unlocking, tracking, most of these I can do myself. But a few of these, damn, especially ‘protection against mindwork’? I’ll need to get Trissa’s help with that one.”

“But you can do it?” I ask hopefully.

“Of course,” Irana scoffs. “Anything else ‘custom’ about them?”

“Yeah, they’re for someone who’s about five-foot-two and probably couldn’t lift that short-sword on your anvil there, so they should be sized accordingly,” I tell her.

“Alright, a dozen rune-hilted steak knives are on the top of my list,” Irana snarks, reaching for a pen and making a note at the bottom of the paper. “But you said that was the most urgent thing, what else do you have for me?”

“Well I’m not sure the other idea I have is even possible, it definitely wouldn’t be anything you’ve ever made before…” I begin apprehensively.

“Ooh, I like a challenge, let’s hear it,” says Irana excitedly.

“It would also be a huge undertaking, I’m sure it would take much longer than a dozen daggers would-”

“Stop teasing me and come out with it already!” Irana demands, thumping the broadside of her hammer into my shoulder.

“Ouch! Fine, I’m just trying to give you an out in case it’s a total non-starter… do you think a dragon saddle would be in any way feasible?”

 “Oh, shit.” Irana pauses and thinks for several moments. “Well the first and biggest issue I forsee with that is the dragon being willing to wear it. Ceard says that no self-respecting dragon ever would.”

“That would be my task in all this,” I tell her. “Right now I’m just asking if you think it’s physically possible.”

“Well, I’d obviously have to design it in such a way that it wouldn’t interfere with their wings otherwise they wouldn’t be able to fly. Hmm, I’m sure it would require a few iterations, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible. I said shut it you!” Irana turns to yell in the direction of the forge behind her. “Not you, sorry,” she says, turning back to me. ”What size dragon are we talking about here?”

“Oh it’s big,” I promise, “and one that Ceard probably wouldn’t want to continue disparaging if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Oh HO! You hear that Ceard, it sounds like you’ve been insulting Sgaeyl, that badass lady could knock you into next week!”

“Not far off, but you’re still not thinking big enough,” I tease.

“What? Now who would be bigger or badder than your -” I watch realization dawn on her face. “No! You’re not telling me -”

“Yep,” I smile. “So I could talk to Brennan about helping you estimate sizes and such…”

Irana laughs heartily. “Ceard, you’re gonna get to help me test out a dragon saddle, and if you don’t like it you can take it up with Tairn, son of your old pals Murtcuid and Fiaclan!”

A muffled but furious roar sounds through the channel in the wall at the back of the forge through which the dragon fuels it from above, and I feel thumping even through what must be at least fifty feet of bedrock between us.

“That’s his excited dance,” Irana says with a broad smile on her wrinkled face as pebbles rain down from the ceiling.

…

It’s nearly two in the morning as our riot of five approaches Basgiath. 

“So do you think there’s any way you’ll be able to convince that grumpy old mate of yours to wear a saddle?” I ask Sgaeyl.

“I’m not going to try to convince him of anything,” Sgaeyl huffs. “You said that would be your task.”

“Well, yeah, relative to which parts of the plan Irana and I will handle respectively,” I scoff. “But as for HOW I’ll accomplish my part, obviously the only way is through you.”

“Nice try, but I won’t be doing your work for you.”

My own anger flares and I start to argue “This is impor-”

“I do not take orders, even from dragons,” Sgaeyl interrupts. “I am always able to think critically and make the correct decision perfectly well on my own. Your human concerns are none of mine.”

I take a deep breath to help control myself. “I’m not giving you an order, I’m making a humble request. And it’s not just a human concern, they need that saddle for Tairn to be as effective as possible in battle and there’s no way I would be able to persuade him to wear it if I can’t even persuade you to ask him.”

“That bond you have with him is going to be there for the rest of your life,” she reminds me. “You need to learn how to deal with him, developing that connection could be even more valuable in those future battles. I think this is the perfect opportunity for you to start.”

“Amari help me, I can NOT imagine how that could possibly go well,” I worry.

“I will at least offer you this piece of advice - don’t just try to portray boldness, you need to actually BE bold,” she tells me. “He’d be able to sense any trace of fear and then, yes, it would not go well.”

The dragons begin descending toward the flight field. A few seconds before we’re about to touch down Sgaeyl suddenly and violently pulls up and accelerates toward the citadel at breakneck speed.

“A group of unbonded has just breached the Silver One’s room, Tairn just gave the alert,” Sgaeyl informs me urgently.

“Violet?!” I ask in shock as I struggle to stay seated.

“Yes!”

“They’re IN the room!? I’ll never get there in time!” I call back desperately.

“Oh yes you will!” Sgaeyl orders as she dives towards the citadel faster than we’ve ever approached the ground before.

Chapter Text

“Use shadows to cushion your roll and open the door to the stairwell!” Sgaeyl orders.

“I can’t roll as fast as you’re coming in!” 

“I’ll provide the extra torque, you can do this as long as you trust me and your shadows!”

Just before we’re about to crater into the courtyard Sgaeyl pulls up so hard the acceleration results in a more extreme force than I’ve ever experienced and my vision begins to blacken around the edges as blood is forced down out of my head.

I’m about to black out when suddenly I’m not experiencing any force at all.

It feels as if everything is moving in slow motion as my brain reengages, I realize that Sgaeyl has rolled me off her back. I’m upside down about ten feet off the ground approaching the dormitory building at what I’d estimate to be about fifty miles per hour.

My boots are suddenly clamped in Sgaeyl’s claws, she quickly spins me so that I’m now upside down and facing backwards, then throws my feet in the direction we’re traveling so that I start tumbling. 

Instinct takes over. This is just a rolling dismount, only at about triple the speed that I’m used to. 

Sgaeyl was right, I can do this.

Shadows begin shaping themselves around me. I'm controlling them but it’s as easy as manipulating my own hands, happening without conscious thought.

A ramp forms that’s the exact shape of my trajectory, leveling out at the bottom of the door to the dormitory staircase which is flung open by another shadow. 

There’s no impact at all as I start rolling along the ramp, which I dynamically shape to effectively make it a soft surface that absorbs my momentum, roughly halving my speed by the time I reach the door.

“Leap!” Sgaeyl shouts along our bond, but it’s unnecessary. I’m in complete control, to the extent that my conscious thoughts have returned to the unbonded in Violet’s room. 

A fury like I’ve only ever experienced once before courses through my body and my legs launch me upward as I pass through the doorway.

I’m in the spiral stairwell and carried enough momentum from my roll into the leap that I know I’ll continue to rise all the way to the landing that opens onto the first-year’s corridor without touching a stair. There’s just the small issue that it’s around one full turn of the spiral. 

I use more shadows to tilt myself almost horizontal and I start running along the curved wall of the stairwell at a full sprint, arriving at the first landing in under a second. I wield shadows again to whip my momentum ninety degrees down the corridor rather than continuing up the stairwell and it only takes another couple of seconds before I skid to a halt in front of her door.

I channel my fury into an enormous battering ram of shadow that explodes open the heavy wooden door. It slams against the inner wall so hard that I see splinters fly.

I catch the briefest glimpse of Violet clutched in Oren Seifert’s grip with a blade at her throat, already moving to slash it open.

My heart stops.

But the next instant she’s disappeared and it takes another instant to register that Violence is now right in front of me, ten feet from where she just was, looking up at me with relief and a single drop of blood dripping down her neck.

There’s no time to try to process that. My shadows stream into the room around me as I step forward, taking what I can feel in my bones is my rightful place at her side. Fury still rages within me but knowing I can protect her now allows me to master it.

I’m in complete control again as I snap my fingers to bathe the entire room in mage light before simply informing them, “You’re all fucking dead .”

The attention of all six unbonded cadets snaps to me and Seifert stammers “Riorson!” letting the blade drop from his hand. But it has Violet’s blood on it.

“You think surrendering will save you?” I ask, an unshakable calm manifesting out of my absolute conviction as to what needs to happen. “It is against our code to attack another rider in their sleep.”

“But you know he never should have bonded her!” Oren lifts his hands in surrender. “You of all people have reason enough to want the weakling dead. We’re just correcting a mistake.”

“Dragons don’t make mistakes,” I tell them as the last lesson they’ll ever learn. This couldn’t feel less like the situation with the inntinnsic kid the other day as I wrap shadows tightly around the throats of the five I don’t know, saving Seifert for last. Remorse is not an emotion I am capable of in this moment as they struggle before collapsing to their knees and finally go limp, making no attempt to break the fall as they face plant onto the floor, already dead.

I take my time moving toward Seifert. There have only been a few instances where I’ve killed people and it didn’t bother me at all, perhaps Alic Tauri most notably, but this is the first time I’ve savored the terror on anyone’s face as I’ve approached to end their life. I watched him slice Violet’s throat and the only reason she isn’t dead is because her throat was somehow no longer there after his blade first made contact.

I use a shadow to pick one of her daggers up off the floor and deliver it to my outstretched hand.

“Let me explain,” Seifert pleads pitifully.

“I’ve heard everything I need to hear. She should have killed you in the field, but she’s merciful, that’s not a flaw I possess.”

I see his intention to cower, but he deserves to die the same way he would have killed Violence so I explode forward and use her blade to open his throat before he can curl up to protect it.

As soon as I do, the last immediate threat to her life has been eliminated causing my desire to revel in his suffering to evaporate. I avert my eyes as he futilely clutches his neck with his hands before collapsing.

I sense someone running through the shadows in the stairwell but feel them drawing one of the swords strapped to their back which tells me it’s Garrick. And there’s Bodhi, just behind him. Whether their dragons were alerted by Sgaeyl or they just decided to follow me, I’m glad they’re here; I have more important things to attend to than disposing of the bodies.

“Damn, Xaden,” Garrick says as he takes in the scene and resheathes his sword. “No time for questioning?”

“No need for it,” I tell him as Bodhi walks in and also looks around, making a quick assessment of the situation. 

Violet lets out a laugh causing all three of us to look at her in surprise. It seems involuntary though, making it easy for all of us to recognize it as a symptom of shock. Which is fair enough, frankly. 

“Let me guess. We’re on cleanup?” Bodhi sighs.

I nod, “Call in help if you need it.”

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive, comes from Violet

“Yes. You’re alive,” I reassure her as I navigate my way through the bodies, collecting another of her daggers from one of their shoulders on my way to the armoire.

Garrick drags one of the bodies out of the room closely followed by Bodhi with another.

“I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud,” Violet says in a shaky voice.

Fuuuck! People’s instincts usually come across as a kind of visual image, but it’s not always that straightforward. Her repeated self assurance was so clear that I could have sworn I heard her chanting it like a mantra. It’s like I can’t STOP fucking up whenever she’s around.

I force myself to act casual as I continue looking through her armoire. Fortunately Garrick and Bodhi had already left and I have what should be a simple and effective excuse, “It’s the shock.” I need to change the subject… “Are you hurt?” I inquire, as I grab the last of what she’ll need and turn back to her.

Her breathing becomes shorter and more rapid and Violet staggers backward into the wall behind her. I immediately focus my second signet on her, primarily concerned that she’s freaking out because she just figured out that I’m an inntinnsic. But even in the much more likely event that it’s just the shock wearing off, causing her to become aware of the pain from the injuries she must have sustained, I need to know what those are. Plus if I’m intentionally using my ability I shouldn’t slip up, again , by passively gleaning any of her instincts and mistaking it for something she actually meant to communicate.

Thankfully her intentions reveal that pain is the only thing on her mind. At least my secret is still safe but I’ll be just as fucked if she’s bleeding out internally or something. “Come on, Violence,” I implore as I make my way around the remaining bodies back to her. “Pull your shit together and tell me where you’re hurt.”

She doesn’t answer and now it’s my turn to start freaking out, I toss aside what I’m holding and tip her chin up to bring her eyes to mine. My ability is stronger with eye contact and looking into hers allows me to get a clearer picture that it’s her ribs on the back right side that are the source of most of the pain. “You’re breathing like crap, so I’m guessing it has to do with -” I leave a tiny pause, prompting her to finish the sentence so it seems more like it was really just a guess.

“My ribs,” she confirms. “The one by the bed hit the side of my ribs with the sword, but I think they’re just bruised.” 

I know that she has that armor from Imogen’s intel, as well as seeing it deflect a similar blow during Threshing, but I’ve already given her enough to be suspicious of tonight, so I respond, “Must have been a dull sword.” She knows I’m not dumb though and I really want to know what the armor is made of to be able retain such strength despite being so light and flexible. I decide it shouldn’t be too risky to simply make the observation, “Unless it has something to do with why you sleep in your leather vest?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow at her curiously.

She pauses for several moments before seemingly arriving at a decision of her own. “It’s dragon-scale.” She lifts her arm and turns, allowing me to see where she was struck. Her nightdress is in tatters, revealing the vest underneath and there is a narrow slit in the leather through which I can see a glimmer of green scales. “Mira made it for me,” she continues, “It’s why I’ve lived this long.”

Fascinating. I’d like to think that the only reason the idea has never occurred to me is because dragon scales are obviously too large for such a use normally. But if I’m honest, I’ve heard of size manipulation as a signet before, so I, or somebody else, really should have thought of that before. Armor like this ought to be standard issue. The revolution needs to start keeping an ear out for any rider with that signet.

“Ingenious. Though I’d say there are multiple reasons why you’ve made it this far.” I note that even though the image my signet provides would suggest that her ribs are the source of the most severe pain, that’s clearly not the only injury she sustained. 

I look her over quickly and my eyes narrow on her throat. Someone gripped it hard enough to burst the superficial blood vessels in the skin, leaving a mottled purple handprint there. 

“I should have killed him slower,” I seethe.

“I’m fine,” she claims, but her instinct betrays the truth.

“Never lie to me,” I demand, growling the order through clenched teeth.

She seems surprised for a moment, but then nods. “It hurts,” she concedes.

“Let me see.”

Despite what must be overwhelming pain, her intentions and expression both show clearly that she’s sparing a moment to take offense. “Is that a request or a demand?”

“Your pick as long as I get to see if that fucker broke your ribs,” I answer clenching my fists.

But it will have to wait because Masen and Ciaran walk through the door right in front of Garrick and Bodhi. “Take those two,” Garrick instructs the new arrivals, “and we’ll get the last ones.”

I thank them as they remove the last bodies and then I use lesser magic close and lock the door behind them.

“Now, let me see your ribs. We’re wasting time,” I tell her.

She only hesitates for a moment before nodding. She modestly turns around while pulling her arms out of the sleeves of the nightdress and through the large hole at the top, allowing the back of it to fall to her waist while she holds the front to her chest.

“You’ll have to -”

“I know how to handle a corset,” I interrupt her. The sight of her nightdress half draped off her body is enough temptation already, I’m not sure I could handle it if she started giving me verbal instructions as to how to undress her further. I clench my jaw, exercising a considerable amount of willpower to set those kinds of thoughts aside and assess the injury to her ribs. I carefully gather the two-toned hair falling down her back and push it over her shoulder out of the way and then quickly begin unlacing the armor.

As I work my way up the fastenings from the bottom, the view I imagined on the flight field after Threshing starts coming into view and I realize that I desperately need something else to occupy my attention. I clear my throat and ask, “How the hell do you get yourself into this thing every morning?”

“I’m freakishly flexible,” she replies. 

Well that couldn’t have backfired any worse. It definitely doesn’t bring to mind anything Brennan would castrate me for imagining. 

She turns her head so I can see the profile of her face and adds, “It’s part of the whole bones-snapping, joints-tearing thing.” 

Our eyes meet and this time it’s the sensation in my chest rather than my groin that has me ready to castigate my own damn self for having no self control.

Lust is much preferable to that shit, so I look away and return to the task at hand, opening the corset. By reminding myself that she’s Brennan’s little sister and of the deal I just made with him I’m able to control my baser instincts, but I do take a moment to examine her relic. The large black dragon silhouette representing Tairn stretches from shoulder to shoulder with the much smaller depiction of golden Andarna centered over it. The dark-to-light similarity to her hair isn’t lost on me. It’s almost as if they’re physical representations of the fact that she contains multitudes; having both a striking capacity for violence as well as a detrimentally strong respect for life.

Shaking myself mentally, I force my attention to her ribs, brushing them lightly first and when she doesn’t protest, gently probing. Based on the fact that she doesn’t scream or try to hit me, I think we have our answer. “You have one hell of a bruise, but I don’t think they’re broken,” I tell her.

“That’s what I thought. Thank you for checking.”

I quickly lace the corset back together before either my body or my emotions can continue having problematic responses to her exposed figure.

“You’ll live. Turn around,” I instruct.

She does, and as I lower myself onto one knee I mentally steel myself for what I’m about to do. I recall what Sgaeyl told me on the flight in, both ‘I don’t take orders’ as well as ‘ don’t just try to portray boldness, you need to actually BE bold.’ 

I place myself back in the moment when I battered the door open, channeling both the fury I felt seeing her under Seifert’s knife as well as the unsettling confusion when she had seemingly teleported across the room the next instant. 

I ground. Locating my onyx bond with Tairn I remove the shield I covered it with right after Threshing. I harness the connection to both him and Sgaeyl. “Meet us on the flight field,” I order, before slamming shields down over both bonds.

“You’re going to have to walk through the pain,” I tell Violence, “and we have to do it fast.” I snatch up one of her boots and touch her corresponding foot. “Can you lift it up?”

She does and I proceed to quickly put on both of her boots and lace them up. Grabbing her cloak from where I tossed it over a chair, I wrap it around her and button it just below her chin. 

“Let’s go,” I say before remembering how cold it is out, and I take just a moment to admire her remarkable hair again before pulling the hood of the cloak over it.

I grab her hand and guide her out the door. “Where are we going?” she inquires a few seconds later without lowering her voice.

“Keep talking loud enough for others to hear, and someone will stop us before we can get anywhere,” I hiss.

“Can’t you just hide us in shadows or something?” she asks at the same volume.

“Sure,” I respond sarcastically, “because a giant black cloud moving down the hallway isn’t going to look more suspicious than a couple sneaking around.” I pin her with a glare intended to both keep her from speaking again as well as communicate that the hypothetical would be a ruse and that recent events haven’t changed anything with regard to the fact that we could never actually be a couple. 

She remains mercifully quiet after that, allowing me more time to mentally prepare to confront arguably the most terrifying dragon on the continent. 

We eventually make it to the secret tunnel halfway down the staircase in the academic wing. When I use lesser magic to reveal the entrance she gasps, “Holy shit.”

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” I tease, tugging her in and closing the door which plunges us into pitch blackness. “But in case you are…” I snap my fingers illuminating a mage light above us.

“Thanks,” she mutters, clearly comforted by the light.

I let go of her hand and say, “Keep up,” as I begin striding down the tunnel.

“You could -” she gives a small pained grunt. “Be a little more considerate.”

“I’m not going to baby you like Aetos does,” I retort. “That’s only going to get you killed once we get out of Basgiath.”

“He doesn’t baby me,” she claims from behind me, where she can’t see when I roll my eyes.

“He does and you know it. You hate it, too, if the vibe I’m picking up on is any indication.” I don’t need an inntinnsic ability to be able to see how fed up she’s gotten with him trying to shield her from everything. Still, I pause allowing her to catch up before continuing on at her side. “Or did I read that wrong?”

“He thinks this place is too dangerous for someone…” she hesitates uncomfortably, “like me, and after what just happened, I’m not sure I can really argue with him. I don’t think I’ll bother sleeping again.” Suddenly she pins me with a fierce glare, “And if you even think about suggesting that you sleep with me for safety from now on -”

Well at least we’re still on the same page about acting on what I know is our mutual attraction. I decide to simply continue playing the asshole in order to further cement that plan. Scoffing, I say “Hardly. I don’t fuck first-years - even when I was one - let alone… you.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” she retorts angrily. 

Perfect . As long as I keep it up she should continue disliking me enough to think that-

“I’d have to be a masochist to sleep with you,” she asserts, then seems to feel the need to add, “and I can assure you, I’m not.”

“Masochist, huh?” I grin. Maybe I’m laying it on a little too thick.

“You hardly give off snuggly morning-after vibes,” she accuses before a smirk of her own takes shape on her face. “Unless you’re worried about me killing you while we sleep.” 

“I have zero concern about that ,” I declare in an accusatory tone. “As violent as you are, and skilled with those daggers, I’m not even sure you could kill a fly. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you managed to wound three of them and never went for a kill shot.”

After a moment she softly replies, “I’ve never killed anyone.”

Damn it. There’s that golden aspect of her personality that‘s so different from my own that I can’t help but admire it. But again, physical attraction is one thing, dangerous shit like admiration is what I really have to watch out for. I have to remind her, and myself, what that kind of thinking truly is - a liability that’s likely to get us all killed.

“You’re going to have to get over that,” I state bluntly. “All we are after graduation are weapons, and it’s best if we’re honed before leaving the gates.”

“Is that where we’re going? Are we leaving the gates?” She asks, deftly sidestepping the lesson in my comment.

“We’re going to ask Tairn what the hell just happened. And I’m not talking about the attack,” I say, again thinking of her apparent disappearance from one spot and instant reappearance in another. The only explanation that comes to mind is that she’s manifested the signet of distance wielding, but from what I’ve read about it, that’s not exactly how it works. And then there’s the other issue at hand, “How the hell did they get past your locks?”

She doesn’t answer, simply offering a small shrug. “We’d better figure it out so it doesn’t happen again,” I snap in frustration. “I refuse to sleep on your fucking floor like some kind of guard dog.”

“Wait. This is another way to the flight field?” she asks, and then her eyes glaze over in the tell tale sign that a rider is talking to their dragon.

“Yes,” I admit. “It’s not exactly common knowledge. And I’m going to ask you to tuck this little tunnel into the file of secrets you keep on my behalf.”

“Let me guess, and you’ll know if I tell?” she says with the hint of a tease in her voice.

I grin again, “Yes.”

“Are you going to promise me another favor?”

“Having one of my favors is more than enough,” I tell her, thinking of how much work it’s going to be for Irana to invent an effective dragon saddle, “and we’ve already reached mutually assured destruction status, Sorrengail.” A quid pro quo shouldn’t be necessary anymore as either of us fucking the other one over would screw us in turn. “Now, can you push through it, or do you need me to carry you?”

“That sounds like an insult, not an offer,” she accuses.

“You’re catching on,” I drawl, though I still slow my strides in recognition of how painful it must be for her to breathe hard with that rib injury. 

Even with that accommodation her steps soon begin to waver when the tunnel floor pitches and we start to ascend an incline. I put an arm around her waist to keep her from wobbling and provide a bit of forward assistance. My heart rate increases as, for the first time, it could be argued that I’m holding this woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for months. She shouldn’t be allowed to smell this alluring.

“What were you doing tonight anyway?” she inquires.

“What makes you ask,” I retort, trying to convey with my tone that she already knows too many of my secrets.

“You made it to my room within minutes and you’re not exactly dressed for sleeping,” she counters. 

I find this accusation amusing considering that a fucking armored corset has to be the furthest thing I can imagine from comfortable sleeping clothes. “Maybe I sleep in my armor, too,” I quip.

“Then you should pick more trustworthy bedmates.” 

I laugh thinking of both Catriona, and the fact that I should have known better than to get into an snappy repartee with this brilliant fucking woman.

Damn it, I think, the smile sliding off my face. Brennan was right that as soon as I give her a chance I find that I do want to be her friend. He was also right to play the protective big brother card and warn me off in case I’d want to be more than that.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” she presses. 

“Nope. Third-year business,” I claim, letting go of her as we reach the end of the tunnel and proceeding to use lesser magic to open it.

We step out into the frigid air, it’s definitely good that I thought to put her cloak on or she wouldn’t have been able to stay out here for more than a minute or so. 

“What the hell?” she murmurs, marveling at the innocuous opening in the rocks that no one would ever notice was there without being shown.

“It’s camouflaged,” I say, making another gesture to close it again.

The familiar sound of wingbeats comes from above, but I don’t bother craning my neck to look for them. Instead I just fold my arms across my chest and glare straight ahead where I know Tairn’s face will be momentarily. It’s not difficult to get back into the right mindset to be bold, I simply summon the anger that I felt so recently when I executed half a dozen people.

Sure enough he comes crashing down directly in front of me, falling perfectly in line with my scowl. Sgaeyl is at his side and little Andarna apparently decided to tag along as well.

“I’m guessing the wingleader wants a word?” Tairn huffs, allowing me to hear as he takes a giant step toward me communicating that he’s not intimidated by my demeanor in the least.

I keep my glare focused on Tairn but allow a moment for Violet to comfort Andarna who comes hurrying forward worriedly.

“Yes I want a word,” I bite out at Tairn. “What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to her?” 

“None of your business what I choose or do not choose to channel toward my rider,” Tairn rumbles in response.

Violet starts to relay, “He says-” 

“I heard him,” I interrupt curtly.

“You what?” Violet stammers, apparently flabbergasted. I guess someone will have to explain to her the bonds associated with mated dragons.

“It’s absolutely my business when you expect me to protect her,” I throw back at Tairn even louder than before.

“I got the message to you just fine, human,” Tairn challenges, his head starting to sway in that agitated serpentine movement. He’s clearly angry that I’d dare to stand up to him, but I’m banking on Sgaeyl’s advice that it’s preferable to him viewing me as weak.

“And I barely made it,” I seethe. “She would have been dead if I’d been thirty seconds later.”

“Seems like you had thirty seconds gifted to you,” Tairn booms in response.

“And I’d like to know what the fuck happened in there!” I shout at him, eliciting a gasp from Violet. This is the moment, I have no idea whether I’ve fucked it or nailed it, his response will surely tell me which.

After a few moments Tairn rumbles in irritation. Clearly I did well enough based on the fact that I’m not dead or at least paralyzed. 

“Indeed, good work,” Sgaeyl tells me proudly.

“We need to know what happened in that room,” I state more quietly, uncrossing my arms thinking that perhaps I should back off a little now that I’ve seemingly proven myself to him. I glance at Violet for an instant before returning my focus to Tairn.

“Do not dare to try and read me, human, or you’ll regret it.” Tairn opens his jaws and for an instant I think he’s under the impression I’m trying to use my inntinnsic ability on him as he curls his tongue in preparation to blast fire.

“He’s just a little freaked out. Don’t torch him,” Violet comes to my defense, stepping between me and Tairn and lifting her chin at him defiantly. The reprieve allows me a chance to remember that not only does my signet not work on dragons, but Tairn doesn’t even know about it since Sgaeyl has confided that it’s the only secret she’s ever kept from him. He must just be aware of the reputation I’ve carefully cultivated for being naturally good at reading people and influencing them like my dad was always able to do.

“At least we can agree on something,” Sgaeyl states, and based on the shocked expression on Violet’s face she was allowed to hear as well. I’m pretty sure I catch a double meaning in Sgaeyl’s words though, acknowledging both Violet’s spoken point as well as my thought, presumably warning me that I’d better make sure to keep that secret from Tairn. 

“Correct. And there is no such thing as ‘proving yourself’ to a dragon that carries forward indefinitely, you must NEVER show weakness or anything that could be interpreted as manipulation,” Sgaeyl scolds me privately.

I step forward to stand next to Violence again as she says in wonderment, “She talked to me.”

“I know. I heard,” I toss at her while following Sgaeyl’s advice and allowing my anger to take over again. “It’s because they’re mates. It’s the same reason I’m chained to you.”

“You make it sound so pleasant,” she accuses.

“It’s not,” I throw back. “But you and I are exactly that, Violence. We’re chained. Tethered. You die, I die,” and so does the revolution , I think to myself, “so I damn well deserve to know how the hell you were under Seifert’s knife one second and across the room in another. Is that the signet power you’ve manifested with Tairn? Come clean. Now,” I order.

“I don’t know what happened,” Violet says. Then she turns her attention to Andarna for a few seconds.

When she turns back to me she says, “Nature likes all things in balance,” like she’s relaying the sentiment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

She turns back to the golden dragon and there are a good ten seconds of silence before I hear Tairn grumble, “This is why feathertails don’t bond,” like he is exhausted by her behavior. 

“Let her explain,” Sgaeyl implores.

I have no choice but to wait patiently for another stretch before Violet tells me, “Feathertails aren’t supposed to bond because they can accidentally gift their powers to us. Dragons can’t really channel until they’re big, but they’re all born with something special.” She turns back to Andarna again and asks, “Like a signet?”

Sgaeyl begins explaining the nuances of signets which I already know so I don’t pay attention, distracted by what Violet just relayed. It sounded like the feathertail breed have abilities that could potentially be transferred directly to their riders which is why they don’t bond. But I think she said all dragons are born with something special. Does that mean even Sgaeyl…

Violet starts relaying Andarna’s words again, “She gave her gift directly to me. Because she’s still a feathertail.” She pauses for a moment before clarifying, “You’re still a feathertail?”

I wait while Andarna presumably answers, looking extremely tired and yawning.

“You’re… you’re a hatchling,” Violet quietly stammers.

“She’s a what?” I demand looking at Andarna as she snorts steam indignantly. 

“You let a juvenile bond?,” Violence admonishes Tairn. “A juvenile train for war?”

“We mature at a much faster rate than humans. And I’m not sure anyone lets Andarna do anything,” says Tairn irritably.

“How much faster? She’s two years old!” Violence throws back, the exasperation in her tone matching his.

“She’ll be full grown in a year or two,” Sgaeyl steps in seemingly trying to ease the tension again, “but some are slower than others. And if I thought she’d actually bond, I would have objected harder to her right of Benefaction.” The last point seems intended to scold Andarna, and Sgaeyl emphasizes it by fixing her with a chastising glare.

“Hold on. Is Andarna yours ? Have you hidden a hatchling away from me these last two years?” I ask, my tone betraying how crushed I’d be by her lack of trust in me.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sgaeyl huffs a gust of hot air directly in my face. “Do you think I’d let my offspring bond while still feathered?”

“Her parents passed before hatching,” Tairn explains.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Andarna,” Violet comforts her.

There’s a pause while Andarna ostensibly answers her, and based on Tairn responding, “Not enough to keep you off the Threshing field,” I presume that the baby dragon was claiming that it’s fine and that she’s learned to behave herself regardless. Tairn continues, saying “Feathertails don’t bond because their power is too unpredictable. Unstable.”

“Unpredictable?” I prompt, needing to understand how all of this will potentially affect Violet, and our mutually dependent survival.

“The same way you wouldn’t hand a toddler your signet, would you, wingleader?” Tairn groans even despite his enormous size when Andarna slumps against him. It reminds me of a puppy flopping onto its begrudgingly accommodating parent for a nap.

“Gods, no. I could barely control it as a first-year,” I say, picturing the way Bodhi and I used to wreak havoc around Riorson house as little kids and how much worse it would have been if we could have controlled shadows… or read minds.

“Exactly,” Tairn affirms. “Bonding too young allows them to give their gift directly, and a rider could easily drain them and burn out.”

“I would never!” Violet says emphatically. She looks back to Andarna who is surely responding again as she sags further against Tairn and struggles to keep her big sleepy eyes open.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know,” Tairn tells Violet in a comforting tone. “Feathertails aren’t supposed to be seen.”

“If leadership knew riders could take her gifts for themselves, rather than depending on their own signets…” I stop before I let myself be overwhelmed by my hatred of those at the top of the Navarrian military.

“She’d be hunted,” Violet completes the thought for me.

“Which is why you can’t tell anyone what she is. Hopefully she’ll mature once you’re out of the quadrant, and the elders are already placing more… stringent protections on the feathertails.” Sgaeyl tells us.

“I won’t,” Violet assures them. “Andarna, thank you. Whatever you did saved my life.”

A couple of seconds later the grateful expression on Violet's face transforms into one of complete shock. She doesn’t say anything for several more seconds.

“What did she say?” I implore, taking hold of her by the shoulders since it looks like she might fall over.

A growl rumbles up Tairn’s throat and he hits me with a burst of steam.

“I’d take your hands off the rider,” I’m advised by Sgaeyl.

I unclench my hands slightly but grit my teeth in frustration as I continue to steady her gently. I was just trying to make sure his already injured rider didn't get hurt further, I think before saying, “Tell me what she said. Please.”

“She can pause time,” Violet answers, her voice still sounding stunned. “Briefly.”

Holy Dunne. Violence can’t even wield lesser magic yet but that ability would already make her arguably the most powerful rider alive. At least in certain circumstances like the one she found herself in earlier tonight. “You can stop time?” I ask Andarna directly, needing confirmation.

She looks back to Violet again, practically asleep. It makes sense now, I’m sure her temporal manipulation must be exhausting.

“In small increments,” Violet confirms softly.

“In small increments,” I repeat, my mind spinning with the potential ramifications.

“And if I use it too much, I can kill you,” she whispers to Andarna.

They fall silent again, clearly having another private exchange through their bond. 

But Violet suddenly snaps out of what looks like a peaceful reverie, exclaiming, “Is Professor Carr going to kill me, too?”

I grip her shoulders firmly again as everyone else’s attention refocuses on her panic stricken face. “Why would you say that?” I ask.

“He killed Jeremiah,” she reasons, looking up into my face. “You saw him snap his neck like a twig right in front of the whole quadrant.”

I swallow, all too aware of the lie I’m about to tell by omission. “Jeremiah was an inntinnsic. A mind reader is a capital offense. You know that.”

“And what are they going to do when they find out I can stop time?” She asks, horrified.

“They’re not going to find out,” I swear. “No one is going to tell them. Not you. Not me, Not them,” I say gesturing toward Sgaeyl, Tairn and Andarna. “Understand?”

“He’s right. They can’t find out,” Tairn agrees. “And there’s no saying how long you’ll have the ability. Most feathertail gifts disappear with maturity when they begin to channel.”

There’s one last exchange that I’m not privy to before Sgaeyl tells me, “Get her safely back to bed.” 

All three dragons take off and head back toward the Vale, Tairn assisting Andarna who is having difficulty flying while so tired.

Violence and I enter the secret tunnel again and start making our way back home as well. I reflect on the fact that Violence now has a secret ability that’s almost as likely to get her killed as my inntinnsic one, and the imbalance resulting from the fact that I know hers but can never tell her mine. I can at least offer her some hard won wisdom on the topic…

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about the time-stopping. It’s not just for your safety,” I explain. “Rare abilities, when kept secret, are the most valuable form of currency we possess.”

She considers me carefully but doesn’t say anything in response.

“We need to figure out how unbonded cadets got in your room,” I say, changing the subject before her prodigious scribe-mind can work out the problematic follow up question for her to ask.

“There was a rider there. Someone who ran away before you arrived,” she confides. “She must have unlocked it from the outside.”

I stop dead in my tracks, my anger flaring again at the realization that she effectively lied when she implied earlier that she didn’t know how they got in. “Who?” I demand.

She shakes her head and then lowers her gaze to the floor. Ah, there’s some reason she wouldn’t tell me before. I hope to gods it’s not because it was a marked one. 

“At some point, you and I are going to have to start trusting each other, Sorrengail. The rest of our lives depend on it,” I remind her. “Now tell me who .”

I’ve tried to avoid using my second signet on her since we left her room in an effort to make good on my deal with Brennan and treat her like a friend. But I have to know this. When I read her I’m relieved to see that she intends to tell me, but disheartened by her instinct to think that I won’t believe her.

Finally she looks up at me again and whispers, “Amber Mavis.”

The shock lasts only a second. I’m an idiot. I should have known.

Without another word I start striding along the tunnel again. I’ve got a lot to do before morning formation…

Chapter Text

I take my place at the head of Fourth Wing shortly before morning formation is supposed to commence.

“How are things looking on your end? ” I ask Sgaeyl. 

“Malla believes Claidh and has already forewarned her rider…” Sgaeyl begins. I look over at Nyra on the opposite side of the formation who seems to have been waiting to catch my eye and she gives me a reassuring nod. 

“Obviously Claidh denies everything,” Sgaeyl continues. “She claims to have been asleep at the time in question and to have no knowledge of her rider planning any such attack, though I find the semantics of that word choice interesting to say the least.” I look at Amber who also notices my gaze and immediately puts up her mental shields and with a few curt words dismisses the guy that she was in hushed conversation with. He disappears into the crowd before I can get a look at his face, but from his overall build and what I saw of the back of his head I’m reasonably sure it was Jack Barlowe.

“That means it will all come down to Septon Izar and Neochin, or if they break the wrong way then it would be up to Pancheck and Poileat as the tie-breaker.” I observe. “Any idea where they stand?”

“Neochin is as noncommittal about this as he is about everything else, he says he’ll just leave it up to his rider,” Sgaeyl says in frustration. I spot Septon who doesn’t appear to know that anything significant is happening behind the scenes.

“And Poileat is just like her rider,” Sgaeyl’s tone is disgusted this time. “If it ends up being their decision I’m sure they would base it on what the majority of the crowd would appear to want in the moment.” I see Commandant Pancheck nervously fidgeting with a copy of the Codex behind Captain Fitzgibbons as he calls the formation to order.

“So all of this will either be up to one irresolute dragon and rider that could easily go either way, or another pair that are a political weathervane and will just give in to whichever side of the mob is loudest,” I summarize.

“And just to verify, you do understand that ‘all of this’ includes your fate?” Sgaeyl confirms. “If you fail to make your case then you will be condemned for falsely accusing a wingleader.”

“Obviously,” I toss back.

“And why is it again that you don’t just roast her?”

“We’ve been over this. Like you just said, Mavis is a wingleader, so even if I gave her what amounts to a fair trial around here and didn’t succeed, they’d kill me for it. If I just took matters into my own hands and acted as judge, jury and executioner without involving leadership you think that would go any better?”

“Infernal human institutions,” Sgaeyl huffs.

“I don’t like it any more than you do but I’m human,” I remind her. “It’s not like dragons don’t have their own bullshit bureaucracy, or do you care to defend all of the decisions that the Empyrean has made lately?”

“Fair enough,” she admits, “I just hope you’ve been practicing your oration skills.”

Once Captain Fitzgibbons starts reading the death roll I turn my attention away. The vast majority of it today will consist of people whose souls I’d rather condemn to hell than commend to Malek.

“You and Bodhi understand what I need you to do?” I ask Garrick over my shoulder.

“Of course, I went and woke him up to tell him the plan right after you left my room to go talk to Panchek,” Garrick confirms. “I also got Liam’s room and duty reassigned like you asked.”

“Good work. Can you tell me the name of the cadet behind Sorrengail?”

Garrick cranes his neck to look back in her direction. “That’s Vaughn Penley.”

“Xaden, can we talk?” Masen asks, having just weaved his way through the formation to get to me.

 “Not right now, Masen,” I say, turning to look toward Aetos’ squad myself.

“I think it’s really important…” Masen tells me nervously.

“It can’t be more important than the shit I have to get done right now, Masen. Some other time, alright?” I say quickly before walking away to begin what is likely to be an absolute fiasco.

I can tell that Violence spots me approaching through the crowd when I’m still a ways out because my consciousness is suddenly flooded with an image that, if I’m parsing it correctly, would appear to show that her instinct is to metaphorically compare me to a deadly poison in alluring packaging. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more flattered. I’ll also have to give some thought to how it is that her intentions are coming through so clearly when I’m surrounded by hundreds of other people at the moment, many of whom are taking note of me breaking ranks. I don’t have time to think about any of those things right now though. 

I spare one last glance at Violet’s stunning features before I have to make a very concerted effort to focus my second signet onto Aetos specifically as I reach him.

“There’s a change to your squad roll,” I tell him, doing my best to convey a sense of calm indifference.

Aetos attempts to stand up a little taller and says, “Wingleader? We just absorbed four from the dissolution of the third squad.” He’s clearly trying to imply that he doesn’t want me messing with his squad any more generally, but his underlying intention reveals itself to be concern that I’m going to relocate Violet. 

“Yes,” I say simply, showing that I’m perfectly well aware of what he’s implying and couldn’t give a shit. For all his preaching about the rules he has remarkably little respect for the fact that I’m his superior officer and can do whatever the fuck I want with his squad. At least this is perfect timing for him to witness what proper regard for the chain of command looks like.

“Belden, we’re making a roll change,” I call over to the squad leader of Tail Section’s Second Squad. 

“Yes, sir,” Belden responds without hesitation.

“Aetos,” I turn back and give him a pointed look to make sure he picked up on the fact that he’s a piece of shit squad leader before informing him, “Vaughn Penley will be leaving your command, and you’ll be gaining Liam Mairi from Tail Section.”

The affronted look on Aetos’ face quickly reconstructs itself into an expression of deference and he nods, his intentions now focused on the Squad Battle and the advantage that Liam will provide there. 

The two first-years move to trade places and Liam gives me a meaningful look and a nod as he passes me. Just as he does, an extremely indignant instinct from Violence overwhelms all others again. Of course she instantly recognized my plan for exactly what it is, and despite its purpose being to guarantee her safety, she’s obviously pissed. 

“I do not need a bodyguard,” she hisses at me.

I can’t allow my composure to be rattled at the moment by fighting with her about it though, so I address Aetos even though my words are meant for her. “Liam is statistically the strongest first-year in the quadrant. He has the fastest time up the Gauntlet, hasn’t lost a single challenge, and is bonded to an exceptionally strong Red Daggertail. Any squad would be lucky to have him, and he’s all yours, Aetos. You can thank me when you win the Squad Battle in the spring.”

“I. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard,” Violence says louder this time, emphasizing each word to show that she won’t be placated by my indirect argument to Aetos.

“Good luck with that approach,” Imogen mutters knowingly while another first-year gasps at the fact that Violet would dare to talk to me that way.

Fine. If only to reassert my authority, which Violence is doing her best to undermine, I calmly step past Aetos to invade her personal space. Fuck! When will I learn that getting close enough to catch her intoxicating scent is a mistake? 

“You do, though, as we both learned last night. And I can’t be everywhere you are. But Liam here - he’s a first-year,” I say with sardonic enthusiasm, gesturing to Liam right behind her, “so he can be in every class, at every challenge, and I even had him assigned to library duty, so I hope you get used to him, Sorrengail.” 

Violence clenches her fists and at least lowers her voice again, hissing through similarly clenched teeth when she asserts, “You’re overstepping.” 

“You haven’t begun to see overstepping,” I say, my voice dropping from sarcastic to ominous as a way of warning her that she’d better drop it, and I can see that it’s working because she intends to relent.  “Any threat against you is a threat against me,” I continue, also seeing that she apparently finds the deeper tone of my voice to be sensual, so I decide to throw in a little tease for good measure; “and as we’ve already established, I have more important things to do than sleep on your floor.”

She blushes, and I don’t mind so much this time when she raises her voice again to assert, “He is not sleeping in my room.”

“Of course not,” I say with a sly grin. “I had him moved into the one next to yours. Wouldn’t want to overstep .”

With that, I turn and start heading back toward the front of the formation while Captain Fitzgibbons wraps up his announcements. 

Commandant Panchek steps forward, meaning it’s time to see if cashing in all of the social capital every marked one has built up over the last two and a half years is enough to buy me a chance at being believed over a fellow Tyr that stayed loyal to Navarre during our province’s rebellion. Based on the fact that my father was the one that led that revolt, I have my doubts, but there’s no other choice. Mavis knows that Violet saw her, so she’ll have to finish the job, and has even more incentive for doing so considering it would also rid her of me. I have to strike first, and I’ll have to attempt to use her own medicine against her and do things according to the wretched Codex for once, though I’m not excited about my chances challenging Mavis on what’s effectively her home turf.

“It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred,” announces Panchek. “As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated. This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward.”

Recalling every tactic my father ever taught me about influencing people, I take my time approaching the dias. This is meant to imply that I’m utterly unconcerned that hundreds of people are waiting on me which should lend me an air of gravitas and also allow people to start speculating, piquing their interest to hear what I have to say.

I start climbing the steps, making sure to lead with my chest to portray strength and the idea that my actions are driven by passion in addition to the objective facts of the situation. When I reach the podium I place my hands on either side of it and splay my elbows slightly in order to physically take up as much space as possible, it helps that I’m a big guy to begin with.

I wait for a few moments before I start, drawing the crowd in further. When I do speak I ensure that my voice is deep and just loud enough for those in the back of the formation to hear, but also quiet enough to entice many to literally lean in to hear better. 

“Early this morning,” I begin, a stern tone to my words, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds.”

I allow several seconds for the reaction to my carefully chosen words to reverberate around the crowd.

“As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonorable, is a capital offense.”

I spare a moment to glance at Sorrengail, allowing my genuine emotions to come through. My hands grip the edges of the podium as the anger I felt in the moment resurfaces.

“Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack with two other Fourth Wing riders.” I nod in their direction and Garrick and Bodhi break ranks to step forward. I wait for them to make their way up the stairs and take their places just behind and on either side of me. The fact that they’re well known to be two of my closest confidants won’t do me any favors with a certain faction of the quadrant who are prejudiced against marked ones, but those people were never going to be convinced in any case, and it can’t be denied that having these two flanking me makes for an impressive display. 

   “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran.”

Here’s where it’s likely to get dicey. I no longer need the audience to lean in, everyone is already hanging on my every word, now it’s time to blast them back with the accusation. I fill my voice with righteous rage when I assert, “But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived,” Violet’s testimony will undoubtedly be dismissed by many so I need to make sure to touch on my only other piece of real evidence, circumstantial as it might be. “A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be brought to swift justice. I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail.” Only now do I fix her with my wrath-filled scowl. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”

The entire formation gasps and then all hell breaks loose. I do my best to make sense of the intentions pouring in from every direction. It’s chaos but I get a general sense that there is a remarkably even split between those that my efforts have already begun to convince, those that were never going to be convinced, and those that have no idea what to think.

I decide to let the pandemonium continue for a while since I gauge that with the first volley of arguments being hurled, there are more undecided cadets being converted to my side than Amber’s. But she doesn’t appear to need my abilities to have picked up on the same thing.

Amber walks out to the center of the courtyard and proclaims, “I have committed no such crime!”

This seems to be all that many of the riders still on the fence needed to hear and I sense the balance quickly swing against me.

“Wingleaders,” I call loudly over the cacophony. “We need a quorum.”

“The six of us are almost there,” Sgaeyl tells me. “Read the Commandant to see which way he’s leaning.”

I glance behind me at Panchek for a second as Nyra and Septon climb the steps toward me. It’s difficult to get a lock on him through the mayhem all around which only increases as the dragons crash down on the battlements behind me. I sense a small shift back in our direction due to the sheer terror that Sgaeyl and Tairn inspire, but it doesn’t seem to be enough to sway one of the two most important votes... 

“Panchek seems to be able to sense perfectly well that there are more riders against us than for us right now, he’d condemn me over Mavis if it fell to him at this point,” I inform Sgaeyl. “We need to make sure it doesn’t, I’ll focus on Septon, you do what you can to convince Neochin.”

“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family! For not supporting your father’s rebellion!” Amber screams up at me.

My nervousness is instantly replaced by pure fury. The fact that she would invoke my father’s memory as if he were the traitor, when he made her parents well aware of the existential threat that the dark wielders pose, it just goes to show that she turned out to be as cowardly as them. In fact…

I focus on her and the flicker I thought I saw from her comes through slightly clearer. In her terror, she let her mental shields slip a little and I can see that my accusation isn’t the only thing she’s frightened of. I can’t get a good read because her instincts are as chaotic as the rest of the Quadrant from which hundreds of other images pour in, muddling things further. It doesn’t make any sense, there’s something about Jack Barlowe and his cronies, but I quickly dismiss that because underneath it the one thing that is clear is that, like her parents, she too is already aware of the existence of venin and has taken action to keep the secret from others.

I turn my back on the traitorous bitch without deigning to respond and focus on Septon who is there with Nyra to form our quorum of wingleaders. 

“Septon, you have to vote to convict Mavis, she’s guilty,” I implore.

“It’s true,” Nyra jumps in, “Sorrengail saw Amber in the room and Tairn saw it through her, Malla told me. He must have told Neochin too, right?”

“Neochin says that’s what Tairn is claiming , but how are we supposed to know he’s telling the truth?” Septon says, folding his arms.

“Why would he lie?!” I demand.

“Because he’s mated to your dragon, and as Amber pointed out, it could be argued that you have good reason for hating her,” Septon observes.

“This isn’t about my father’s rebellion,” I seethe, “this is about Mavis violating the Codex that she professes to love so much like the hypocritical cu-”

“Why does it matter anyway?” Septon cuts me off. “I don’t want to get into the middle of this and clearly two of the three of us are already on your side, so I’m just going to abstain and you two can condemn her yourselves.”

“You can’t abstain,” Nyra explains. “She isn’t convicted yet so Amber still gets a vote, Xaden and I don’t make up a quorum of the four wingleaders. This is all up to you, Septon.”

“Fuck that!” he exclaims. “This has basically become a referendum on the marked ones as a whole. It’s a case of he said she said where the two sides represent the children of traitors versus those that stayed loyal to Navarre. There’s no way I’m going to be the deciding vote on that without incontrovertible proof. You’ve always seemed like a decent guy Xaden, but I can’t know that there aren’t some marked ones that want to follow in their parents’ footsteps, and even you seem to still harbor a pretty potent hatred toward Generals Melgren and Sorrengail.”

“I’m hitting a wall with Septon, any luck with Neochin?” I ask Sgaeyl quickly.

“Our discussion mirrors yours except that, for Neochin, the two sides represent the factions of the Empyrean that want to take the fight to the dark wielders before they gather too much strength versus those that simply want to hunker down and protect the Vale at any cost,” Sgaeyl informs me furiously. “He is effectively in perfect agreement with his rider and refuses to cast the decisive vote on the most consequential matter dragonkind has faced in centuries.”

I try to read Septon as best as I can through the mess of confusion raging around us. His instinct shows that even though he thinks I’m telling the truth, he can’t be one hundred percent sure, and he’s using that as the excuse on which to base his intention to stay out of it.

“Don’t be a coward, Septon, I know you can tell which side is lying here!” I berate him.

“You have to make a call,” Nyra orders him, “otherwise we’re effectively deadlocked. Half the wingleaders can’t carry a motion.”

“Perfect, then Panchek gets to be the tiebreaker,” Septon shrugs. “Better the Commandant than me, he’s way more qualified to make this call.”

I quickly try to get a read on the quadrant as a whole. It seems like the prevailing attitudes haven’t changed much since I last checked, those against us appear to make up slightly less than half of the crowd, but that’s still more than the third or so that are convinced at this point. There’s still too many that are on the fence just like Septon.

“Sgaeyl, if this gets turned over to Panchek I’m fucked!” I tell her. “Alert the dragons of all of the other marked ones, if this goes south hopefully I’m the only one that would need to make an escape, but we should plan for the worst.”

“Luckily for you, the Silver One just persuaded Tairn to save your ass…” Sgaeyl tells me, but for some reason she doesn’t sound especially happy about it.

I notice the four other dragons flanking Sgaeyl and Tairn go rigid, then I’m suddenly flooded with new instincts from every direction. I can tell that Tairn is sharing Violet’s memory of Mavis with all the other dragons within range, and the vast majority of them are subsequently sharing it with their riders. 

“Holy fuck!” Septon shouts along with the uproar that begins swelling all around us.

“Is that incontrovertible enough for you?” I demand.

“Hell yeah, roast that cowardly hypocrite, Xaden!”

I school my expression to keep it from suggesting that I think both of those words could be accurately applied to him as well, and simply give him an appreciative nod before turning back toward the formation.

“The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement,” I shout to regain the attention of the Quadrant, then wait a moment for silence to fall. “We find you guilty, Amber Mavis.”

“No! It is no crime to rid the Quadrant of the weakest rider!” she screams. “I did it to protect the integrity of the wings!”

When she turns to them looking for any support she can get, the entire formation recoils away from her. Even though about a quarter of the riders would still seem to be on her side, none of them would publicly ally themselves with someone whose fate is obviously sealed. 

“And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire,” Nyra announces.

“No! Claidh!” Amber appeals desperately to her dragon.

Claidh growls threateningly at the other five dragons for only an instant before Tairn’s deafening roar makes her quail away from him and hang her head in defeat.

“Please don’t,” I barely hear Violet’s voice drift up from the back of the silent formation. I focus on her and it’s all too easy to get a very sharp picture of her intentions. There it is again, that same bright golden aspect of her personality I saw last night which is equally as admirable as it is naive. She wants to talk things out and try to befriend Mavis because of her belief that all life is sacred and the fact that it would grieve her to know that she was in any way responsible or even connected to another person’s death.

She holds my gaze and pleads loudly, “Please, give her a chance.”

I have to keep my wingleader mask firmly in place. Obviously neither Tairn nor I can grant her heartfelt request in this circumstance, but it does occur to me that a mindset like that might make for an ideal leader in the world I hope to bring about one day. Until that’s our reality though, it’s nothing but a liability, because achieving that end goal will require fighting wars and a period of untold darkness and death first. 

I guess that’s my role to play in all this, I think as the formation splits down the center and Tairn extends his neck past me toward Mavis.

I close my eyes and feel the heat blast my face.

Chapter Text

I walk into Battle Brief and can’t help tracing the delicate silver bond to find Violet seated below. Reading her with my second signet at every opportunity I’ve had over the last week has failed to produce any answers, and this time is no different. She appears to be noting how empty the room has become and reliving a frightening moment she had on the flight field recently.

Liam spots me and leans to his left to tell Violet something. She promptly flips me off without bothering to turn around. Yep, that definitely doesn’t help with figuring this shit out. 

I sit down next to Garrick and do my best to put the question out of my mind, but I can’t keep my eyes off of her. 

“I'm assuming you're obsessing over whether she hates you any less considering recent events,” Garrick begins as he follows my eye line and I quickly look away to try to appear disinterested, “but that seemed like a pretty unambiguous answer, so stop torturing yourself about it. I can tell how badly you’re crushing on her so I know it must suck, but try to remember that you two not being together is a good thing. For one, think about how much of a clusterfuck it would be for you to be involved with General Sorrengail’s daughter. And secondly Asereigh would rip your dick off.”

I notice movement from her direction and I cautiously shift my gaze. I ensure that I make eye contact with Liam since I can tell in my peripherals that Violet is looking my way too and I don't want to be caught getting lost in her fucking heart-melting beauty. I give Liam an approving nod to acknowledge his good work protecting her and he nods back in return. Violence seems to find that exchange aggravating and turns back around huffing in annoyance.

Just then I notice Masen making his way toward me. The whole Amber Mavis ordeal had been so distracting that I’d completely forgotten to ever follow up with him about what he was trying to tell me that morning.

When he reaches us Masen begins saying, “Xaden, I need-”

“To talk to me,” I interrupt, “Yeah, sorry I just remembered. Is it something you can talk about openly?”

Masen shakes his head vehemently.

“Ok, come by my room tonight right after curfew then,” I tell him.

“Got it,” he says thankfully before turning and heading off again.

“I can’t help but notice that you aren’t denying anything I was just saying,” Garrick observes.

I offer a non-commital shrug.

“Well, I guess that’s not a bad first step, but how about instead of being stereotypically masculine about the whole thing and bottling up all of your emotions, you actually talk to your fucking best friend about it,” Garrick says rolling his eyes.

“Not here,” I mutter to him.

“Obviously,” Garrick scoffs. “I’m not suggesting we let anyone see us opening up about emotional shit, just that rather than being all stoic and isolated you can reach out and drop the act behind closed doors.”

At that moment a shining golden instinct breaks its way unbidden into my consciousness. I mentally ground and notice the silvery strand representing my bond with Violence doing something that I can only describe as ‘humming’. Huh…

I look down toward her in reality and am able to get an exceptionally clear picture showing that despite having mixed feelings about it, her instinct is to find something related to me to be… sweet.

What the fuck? This woman could not be sending me signals that are more mixed if she tried. I watch as she accidentally drops her quill to the floor, and I reflexively pick it up with shadows.

Shit. It’s too late to act like I didn’t, but I quickly look away before she can catch me watching her. Turning back to Garrick I say, “Fine, come by my room a little before curfew tonight. That way if I need your help on whatever it is Masen needs to talk about you can just stick around for that too.” 

Garrick nods in confirmation.

…

I take another deep drag of churam.

I still don’t get it. 

There’s a knock on my door and then Garrick pokes his head in.

“Oh shit -” I start. 

“Oh, hell yeah! I didn’t know it was going to be this kind of a night,” Garrick says excitedly, closing the door behind him and walking over to where I’m sitting on my bed leaned up against the wall, his hand extended. “Give it here, apparently I have some catching up to do.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be that kind of night,” I say, handing it to him. “I had remembered that you were coming, which is why I left the door unlocked for you, but then… I forgot. Sgaeyl’s emotions are always a dead giveaway when she and Tairn are getting in the mood, so I knew they hadn’t hooked up since the Amber Mavis fiasco, and that was an uncharacteristically long stretch since their last liaison almost two weeks ago.” 

Garrick nods his understanding while he takes a long drag and then holds it. 

“So when I began feeling her begrudging lust coming on I immediately reached for the churam,” I continue explaining, feeling that it’s necessary for some reason, “I figured this was likely to be a particularly hot and heavy session and that if I didn’t, that in combination with my own pent up sexual frustration might put me at risk of fucking the first willing person I came across.”

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t make the cut,” Garrick jokes, finally letting out a huge puff of smoke. “But this is perfect, you’re already way more loquacious than usual. So let’s talk about your crush on Violet fucking Sorrengail.”

“Oh gods. I know, how fucked up am I?”

“ VERY ,” Garrick says decisively. 

“Right? It would be like if…” I pause and Garrick takes another puff while he waits for me to finish the thought. “Well I was going to give an example of an even more egregious pairing, but honestly I can’t think of any other families as diametrically opposed as the Riorsons and the Sorrengails. Maybe a gryphon having a crush on a dragon or something? I don’t know.”

“Might not be too far off base,” Garrick muses as he sits down on the opposite side of the bed, “I have to assume some giant-ass eagle getting busy with a lion is where gryphons came from in the first place.”

“Hmm,” I say thoughtfully before forcing my mind back on topic. “But man, I’ve been mulling it over for a week now and it still doesn’t make any sense. I feel like I need to start from the beginning. You know how I’m really good at reading body language and such,” I carefully prompt and Garrick nods his agreement. “So I could tell that when she first saw me, before she knew who I was, she was attracted to me because…”

“You’re a good looking guy,” Garrick says it for me.

“Thank you. So fine, that’s explainable. Then learning that I’m the son of the ‘Great Betrayer’ somehow didn't immediately squash her crush on me. Not how it usually goes, but whatever. Maybe she’s the most open minded person in the world and simply accepts that a child doesn't necessarily follow the alleged dogma of their parents, or maybe she’s just an exceptionally horny woman, in which case… you do you, girl.”

Garrick mimes raising a glass as if toasting such a noble concept.

“But I recorded the time of death for those ideas months ago,” I continue. “The first theory is sunk by the fact she was definitely convinced that I was trying to kill her to get revenge for my father, so she clearly wasn’t giving my last name the benefit of the doubt. And that second idea doesn’t make sense either… even if she is just incredibly lustful, I can’t imagine she’d let her objectively brilliant mind be completely hijacked by her libido. If that were the case then she may have let her physical attraction to me win out and would’ve had absolutely no trouble luring me into her bed if she really went for it. Or, if she just needed physical gratification that badly, there are plenty of other gorgeous guys around here that could satisfy that urge just fine.” 

Garrick spreads his arms as if illustrating himself to be just such a specimen. 

“Oh please,” I scoff. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of this without talking about Imogen.” 

“Damn it,” Garrick pouts, hanging his head.

“Anyway, I know with much more certainty than I ought to that she hasn’t taken anyone to bed the entire time she’s been in the Rider’s Quadrant, so I don’t think it’s just that she’s super randy either. Honestly, I’d stopped concerning myself with all of that a long time ago. I realize only now that I stop to consider it that I must have subconsciously thought that all of those ideas must be correct to some limited extent and the result was that she didn’t deny her physical attraction to me but found it incredibly frustrating because she hated me as a person.  From everything I’ve gleaned, that line of logic seems to track, and knowing that she hates me has made the task of distancing myself from her just barely possible for me.”

“You’re really that hung up on her?” Garrick asks.

“It’s so bad,” I sigh in frustration. “If I’m honest with myself, this girl has always just felt like she was out of my league. Even if venin didn’t exist and our families had always been on the same side of history, she’d be the genius daughter of one of the most influential scribes and General Sorrengail, one of the most badass dragon riders in existence. By comparison I’d just be some meathead kid whose mother abandoned him and whose father was in the inferior infantry branch. If we’d ever met at some gala or something I would have fallen head over heels for her and proceeded to pine for the rest of my life over the fact that even though it’d never actually happen, it wouldn’t seem technically impossible that it could. But in reality, not only am I part of our group of social pariahs, but our families are considered straight-up traitors , and I’m the godsdamned poster child. So I have considered any notion of us being together to be literally impossible.”

“Hold on, is that really how you think about yourself?” Garrick demands. “Because that’s unhealthy as all fuck.”

“I don’t know man,” I sigh. “I guess only recently and because of how badly I’m wrapped up in my own head about this shit. It also doesn’t help that Sgaeyl’s too occupied to tell me to knock it the fuck off.”

“Well I definitely want to come back to that, but staying on topic for the moment, you think that’s the only reason you’ve managed not to fall completely head over heels for her, out of some kind of instinctual self-defense mechanism?” Garrick asks.

“Exactly. But now my certainty that she really does hate me has been shaken. I realize that I subconsciously considered the impossibility that we could ever be together to be some kind of central tenet of my universe. It meant that I could keep my promise to Brennan, that I could move on with my life rather than spending the rest of it longing for her because there was never any way it could have happened no matter what I did. But assuming that fundamental fact about my existence is still true, then why the hell did she save me last week?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make much sense,” Garrick concedes, taking another drag of churam and handing it back to me. 

I follow suit and then, apparently incapable of shutting up at this point, I launch off again, “It would have seemed like a horrible life sentence when she realized she was tethered to me because of our mated dragons. In fact, forget ‘would have’ like it’s some kind of speculation, I was watching her face when that realization struck and I know for a fucking FACT that she was horrified. So she never could have hoped that an opportunity to get rid of me as perfect as that trial that I botched would ever fall into her lap… 

“Even my death would be incredibly inconvenient, assuming it didn’t outright kill her. Not to say that our bond isn’t strong, but Sgaeyl almost definitely wouldn’t be killed by my death, though she’d just as surely be greatly affected by it. Perhaps not quite to the same extent as Tairn when he lost Naolin where it would have killed him if it’d had been any worse, but somewhere toward that end of the spectrum. Sgaeyl’s emotional paralysis would have profoundly affected Tairn for years, meaning that my death would ultimately be quite the hassle for Violence.”

“Wait, what?” Garrick inquires with a little giggle.

“Oh shit I used the nickname didn’t I? I’m way too high, time to be done with this shit,” I say, smothering the churam.

Garrick laughs heartily. “ Oh my gods , ‘the nickname,’ that’s amazing! You’re so fucked.”

I press on, trying not to think about the fact that Garrick will definitely never let me live this down. “So if she doesn’t want me to die, but still hates my fucking guts, then when she was presented with an opportunity that would effectively just make me disappear, why would she not treat that as a gift from Amari herself? She could have just stood back and let it happen, I would not have been successful in convicting Amber Mavis and I would’ve been condemned in turn. I’ve made sure she’s perfectly well aware of what a self-important, rule-flaunting dick I am, if not the context explaining how I’m able to consider myself a decent person despite all that. So she should have known I’d just steal away on Sgaeyl. 

“Sure, our dragons would’ve had to get together regularly, but from her point of view that should have just meant that I’d be forced to live as an outlaw, surviving in the wild somewhere within a few hour’s flight of wherever she and Tairn were so that Sgaeyl could be with him whenever they wanted. She probably would have thought that to be a fitting sentence for an asshole like me.

“But rather than allowing all of that to happen by simply not lifting a finger, she chose to do a fuckload more than just lift a finger to ensure my life could continue along its current path. Somehow she managed to convince her thunderously powerful and newly-bonded dragon to do something that I’m quite certain I never could have persuaded Sgaeyl to do. She’s been completely unwilling to talk to me about it, but I found out from Kaori that sharing a memory with other dragons the way Tairn did is an ability they all have, but that it’s considered incredibly intimate and hasn’t been done outside of a mating bond in living memory, if ever.

“So how the hell did Violet convince Tairn to do it? And why would she do it for my sake? I just don’t get it.”

“Hence, why you’re obsessing over her even more than usual,” Garrick observes. “You think it was some big sacrifice she made to save you and you’re thinking maybe it’s a sign she might like you back.”

“That’s the only thing I can come up with that could possibly explain it. But no, she definitely hates me like you said yourself in Battle Brief this morning. And I need her to, if she didn’t and I thought there was even a one in a million chance of being with her, I’d be lost. It’s only knowing for a fucking fact that it CAN’T happen that keeps me sane.” 

“Okay, you are too high because you’re being way over dramatic there, bud,” Garrick begins. “First of all, we’ve seen how squeamish she is about death, so that could explain why she saved you, it doesn’t need to have been some grand gesture. And secondly, you’re building her up a lot more than I think is warranted, and really selling yourself short. Even despite us being social pariahs, I swear, a solid third of the quadrant must have a crush on you, it’s really fucking annoying actually,” he adds as an aside, “and that definitely includes her. Plus, I don’t think it’s just physical either. You can’t know for a FACT that she was horrified when she realized you two were tethered together, or if she was it isn’t necessarily because she hates you as a person.”

“Oh, I know ,” I counter.

“How?” Garrick challenges.

Oh shit. Time to improvise. At least something else I’ve been thinking about could work as a good excuse… “You know how riders of bonded dragons have a mind-to-mind link? Well she obviously hasn’t learned how to shield or anything yet and I think she’s been inadvertently communicating through ours ever since she bonded with Tairn. I swear, sometimes it’s almost like I can sense her thoughts.”

“Oh damn. Well definitely keep that shit to yourself. But even if that’s true, you can hardly blame her for being horrified or hating you on the surface, as you said, there have rarely been two households more star-crossed than yours. Before I was trying to play that up to get you to leave it alone, and maybe it’s just the churam talking, but now I’m leaning the other way. I kinda want to prove to your self-deprecating ass that her superficial hatred of you is just a cover, because it’s painfully obvious to the rest of us that both of you want each other, and if making it happen is the only way to get you to see it, then so be it.”

“First of all, how the hell would you propose to make that happen?” I scoff. “But more importantly, what happens when it turns out you’re wrong?”

“Even if I were, I can tell that you’re not going to get over this until it plays out one way or the other. So if we actually give it a try and she’s not into you, then there’s your answer and you can finally move on. It would probably be better for the revolution if it worked out that way, so again, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But none of that matters anyway, because I’m not wrong.”

“Okay, as long as we’re exploring hypotheticals, what if you were right. That could potentially ruin a bunch of revolution-related shit. I don’t think I’d have the self-control to uphold my deal with Brennan, and if I broke it there's not just him I’d have to be worried about, but also the tiny wrinkle that we’re doing a shitload of stuff that she’d consider traitorous.”

“Hey, if Bodhi was able to talk Brennan down even after you admitted to almost killing her, I think he’d be able to get over you dating her. And as for her, yeah, it would be really bad if she found out about what we’re up to and didn’t sympathize, but again, look at her whole reverence-for-life kink. I think it’s way more likely than not that if she learned about the dark wielders she’d come over to our side.”

“You’re just saying shit I want to hear,” I say dismissively. “There’s no way she’d ‘turn traitor’. Markham had hand picked her to follow in his footsteps as the one in charge of maintaining the secret of the dark wielders. But it’s a moot point anyway because we’ll never be together since she really does hate me.”

“Alright, if you’re so sure, and getting rejected would solve the problem anyway, then you should be willing to try to prove me wrong.”

“Fine, how do you propose we find out if she really wants me?” I ask him pointedly.

“ That is the tricky part. There’s no subtle way to get her to stumble across you in the shower or something. How can we put you in a situation that would allow us to see if she’d jump on you without it seeming obviously contrived?”

“There’s not. She’d immediately be suspicious if I were doing anything other than the shit I’m always doing. She’s obviously been repelled by my personality when I’m doing my usual routine, going about my duties as wingleader, or when I’m MIA doing covert shit for the revolution. And whenever I’m not occupied with one of those two things I’m just -” I pause, an idea beginning to form in my head.

“Hoho, I know that look, what are you thinkin’?” Garrick prompts.

“I’m thinking that if you want me to put myself out there with Violet, then you need to do the same with Imogen.”

“Oh fuck. Come on, man, that’s totally different.”

“How so?” I demand.

“People like you and Sorrengail, who start out on opposing sides can still end up together, it happens. But people from the same family can’t.”

“You and Imogen aren’t -”

“We might not be related by blood, but I’d argue that the connection we share, you included, is even deeper than that. We’re chosen family. Like you said yourself at the beginning of the year, she might as well be our sister. Think about how fucking awkward it would be if Imogen came on to you. I’m sure she’d feel the same way if I tried making a move on her.”

“Only if she thinks of you the same way I think of her, and she doesn’t,” I assert.

“Bullshit.”

“No no no, from my perspective this is exactly like how you were just describing Violet and me. You don’t think there’s any way she could possibly like you that way, but it’s painfully obvious to the rest of us that you both want each other.”

“No way, you’re wrong.”

“I literally said ‘what happens when you’re wrong’ like three minutes ago! And in your case what would happen is that things would be awkward as fuck for a few months before you both get over it and things would go back to the way they are already except you could stop pining over her and move on. Just like the case you were making to me. No, our situations are uncannily similar, and I have the perfect way that we can both suss things out without even going too far out on a limb. We wouldn’t have to directly be making moves, it would be much closer to letting them catch us in the shower to see how they’d react but much less awkward and contrived.”

“I’m listening…”

“Before, I was going to say that whenever I’m not performing wingleader duties or sneaking off to do revolution-related shit, then I’m in the gym . I usually go in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and I avoid going whenever Violet’s there, but it wouldn’t seem at all out of character for us to show up to train at a time that they happen to be there.”

“But how would that help see if they’re into us? I must’ve done a thousand training sessions when Imogen’s been around.”

“And apparently in all those times you’ve never taken notice of her taking notice of you. Plus, this won’t be any normal training session where we’re drilling a few specific techniques over and over. I feel like we’re both ready to take out our frustrations on each other and try to prove the other guy wrong. We’re going to go all out and show off more than a little.”

“Huh…” Garrick says considering me carefully. “I do like the idea of beating the shit out of you, so I’m in on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If we’re going to be showing off in order to suss out whether the girls’ interest might be piqued enough to set aside their hang-ups about us, then we really have to go for it,” Garrick says, grinning maniacally. “I know you’re usually self conscious about taking your shirt off when many other people are around because of your scars, and I normally train fully clothed as well. But if we’re really going all out then it shouldn’t seem contrived for us to go shirtless because I’m going to make you work up a serious sweat putting you through your paces to prove it’ll get your little scribe crush all hot and bothered.”

I laugh, and then tease, “And even though I’m going to work you so hard you’ll be a gross mess, it’ll prove that Imogen wants you so bad, she won’t care and she’ll still be drooling over you anyway.”

“Ok, this just got weird,” Garrick states flatly.

“Agreed. What else can we talk about?”

“Kaori said that the memory sharing thing Tairn did is never done outside of mating bonds?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Gods, Sorrengail really must like you if she convinced him to do that for you.”

“That’s definitely not my read on the situation.” I say, shaking my head. “The only thing I know for sure is that Tairn did something almost unthinkable to save my ass.”

“Have you thanked him?”

“No, do you think I should?”

Garrick fixes me with an incredulous expression. “I’m surprised he hasn’t burned you for not having done it already.”

“Huh. You might have a point. And I do need to start building more rapport with him before I can broach another uncomfortable subject, I think he needs to wear a saddle for Violet’s sake and Sgaeyl says I have to be the one to try to convince him.”

“Are those two… done?”

“Yeah, even through the churam high and our respective sets of shields, just enough of her feelings leak through for me to know that things fizzled out a while ago. That was quite a bit quicker than usual, but hey, it had been a while.”

“Well definitely don’t bring that up, but if your inhibitions are low enough at the moment… seems like there’s only one thing to do.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I ground and carefully remove the shield that I keep over the onyx bond to Tairn. 

“Hey, I realized I never thanked you for saving my ass during that whole thing with Claidh and Amber Mavis last week -”

I hear a deep morbid laugh sound through the onyx. “Poor Wingleader, you just fucked up at least as badly as I did,” Tairn chuffs in my mind and I’m simultaneously taken off guard by an inexplicable and overwhelming rage emanating into my consciousness. “At least her anger’s getting spread around rather than focussed on just me.” There’s one more chuckle from Tairn and then my mind explodes in an irate cacophony. 

“I should incinerate you, you tactless pissant!” Sgaeyl rages.

“Whoa, what the fuck?!”

“You THANKED him for doing that?!”

“He saved my skin, and saved you a huge amount of grief in the process!”

“Only because you failed to accomplish your task! What if I was responsible for doing some simple job, blundered it, and then Tairn convinced your little silver haired girlfriend to salvage the situation by stripping off her clothing and sticking her tongue down the throats of every rider in the quadrant simultaneously. Would you appreciate it if I thanked her for doing so?!”

“I’m… not sure I follow, but also sorry?”

Sgaeyl’s only response is a furious roar and then she shuts me out.

“Well those were some interesting expressions on your face,” Garrick observes. “Was Tairn pissed that you waited a week to -hang on…” he pauses and his eyes glaze over. “Chradh says that Sgaeyl’s making quite the commotion in the Vale? What the hell just happened?”

“Apparently you give terrible advice,” I say as a knock sounds on the door.

I’m about to get up to see who it is when Masen opens the door. 

“You didn’t lock the door behind you?” I demand of Garrick.

“I was excited about the churam!” he says defensively.

I roll my eyes and turn back to Masen who closes and locks the door behind him and then proceeds to take in sight of Garrick and I sprawled on my bed probably visibly appearing just as high as we feel. “Is… this a bad time?” Masen inquires apprehensively.

“I’m sorry man, this last half hour or so has really gotten away from me,” I tell Masen shaking my head. “I smoked a bunch of churam because I thought Sgaeyl and Tairn were going to be banging, but apparently they didn’t? You don’t need to know all this, I just can’t shut up. Do you want any?” I ask, proffering the churam.

“No, I really need to -” Masen hesitates. “Actually, I’ve heard it can help relieve anxiety, is that true?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d probably be a lot more concerned than I am right now if it didn’t,” I muse.

“Maybe it’s not the worst idea in this situation then,” Masen says, nodding and stepping forward. 

I relight the churam and hand it to him. “I hope it’s not as bad as it smells,” Masen says, inspecting it closely.

“Oh, it’s much worse,” Garrick assures him.

“Great.” Masen says sardonically before taking a small cautious puff. “Oh, my gods, that’s disgusting.”

“I don’t disagree,” I offer. “But in my opinion, in certain situations, the ends can justify the means.”

Masen shakes his head, considering the churam in his hand carefully for a few moments before taking another much larger drag.

“Whoa, whoa, okay. That’s plenty for your first time,” I say, taking the churam back from Masen and extinguishing it again. “What’s got you wanting to take the edge off so badly?”

“It probably nothing, but if it is something, it’s something we’d probably want to keep compartmentalized,” Masen says, glancing toward Garrick meaningfully.

“Fair enough, apparently I’ve already been unhelpful enough here tonight,” Garrick says, heaving himself off the bed and making for the door. “I saved some of those iced pastries from breakfast yesterday morning for just this kind of occasion.” He pauses at the door and points at me. “You and me, shirtless show-off session sometime in the next couple of weeks.” He nods decisively then leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Do I want to know?” Masen asks, sitting on the bed in the spot that Garrick just vacated as I flick my hand to lock the door again.

“Definitely not. So what’s going on, Masen?”

“Okay… so you know how I figured out that way to imbue the alloy medallions a lot more efficiently?”

I rack my fuzzy feeling brain, trying to recall. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

“Well, really the only limiting factor at this point is where to get the energy from. And it occurred to me that a huge cliff-face, like the ones between the Rider’s Quadrant and the rest of the War College, if it’s been baking in the Sun all day it would contain more heat than we could ever hope to use. So that’s exactly how I’ve been imbuing a bunch of the raw alloy lately. But last time I went down there, I noticed something I hadn’t before…” Masen pauses, looking nervous again.

“Masen, it’s just us here, I’m not going to tell on you or anything,” I promise him.

“No, it’s nothing like that… see the energy that the rock absorbs from the Sun has this really distinctive quality to it, it feels all pure and, almost benevolent somehow. I don’t know how to describe it to someone that doesn’t have my same signet, but I guess it’s just kind of bright, or golden, or… good. But then this last time I was down there, I felt something different underneath that heat from the Sun. There was another kind of energy deeper down and I could sense that it had a completely different quality to it.”

He lets the idea hang in the air so after a moment I start to say, “Okay, I get that it would be hard to describe, but-”

“No, I definitely know how to describe this other type of power,” He interrupts. “It was darkness.”

We sit in silence for a few heartbeats.

“You’re not suggesting -” I begin.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Obviously I don’t know that it’s the power the dark wielders draw from, but I feel like it would make sense.”

“Masen, not only are we inside the wards, but we’re right at the place where they emanate from, and you’re a bonded dragon rider. There is absolutely no way you’d be able to sense the power that un bonded venin channel directly from the Earth outside of the wards. That’s the whole point of the wards, they protect Navarre from venin because only dragons are able to channel within them.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s why I thought this was probably nothing. It just felt super weird and I wanted to get your opinion just to confirm.”

“Yeah, definitely nothing to worry about,” I assure him.

“Great, that makes me feel much better,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Alright, well unless there was anything else you wanted to talk about…”

“Yeah, no. I’m good, I think I might go and see if Garrick has any of those pastries left,” Masen says, getting to his feet. He walks over to the door and turns back to me. “Sorry for bothering you with this, I don’t know what I was thinking. Thanks for talking me down.”

“No worries. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too, thanks again,” Masen says with a final nod before leaving and closing the door behind him. 

I relock the door with another flick of my hand and flop back onto my bed. I roll my eyes, it always requires so much effort to interact with Masen and his over analytical way of thinking. I put that discussion out of my mind and return to happily dwelling on the first part of my conversation with Garrick and what he said about how everyone else can supposedly tell that beneath Violet’s outward hatred of me, there is an underlying affection that mirrors my own.

Chapter Text

“I am requiring you to do something for me.”

I look around wildly trying to locate whoever just spoke. It’s the middle of the night and I’d been under the impression that I was alone in the gym, and a quick scan confirms that I am. It takes another moment for me to realize who it was.

I ground, and find an orange glow of power seeping out from under the shield that I keep over the onyx bond with Tairn. I lift the shield. “Is that your version of asking for help?” I inquire.

“No. I am neither asking, nor do I need assistance. I am requiring that you complete a task that you should have already done of your own volition,” Tairn responds testily.

“Okay…?”

“You are to restore Sgaeyl’s contentedness.”

I only manage to hold it in for a second before a snort escapes. “I might just as easily require that you regard me with any modicum of respect; it would be a completely futile exercise. She’s barely even spoken to me over the last two weeks, and certainly not about THAT.”

“Which is why you need to fix this,” Tairn growls.

“Sounds to me like you do need assistance.”

I feel his anger radiating through the bond like an onyx storm. “I had effectively ameliorated my own part in this before you made it even worse! Before, she wasn’t so far gone that she didn’t still burn for me. That was enough to get her talking about it that night, and though she still refused to couple with me, we had a productive fight and I’m sure she would have forgiven me within a few days. But then you butted in and since then even our physical need for each other hasn’t been enough to get her to fight with me about it again. It is not like her.”

If this were anyone else I’d give them shit about just wanting to get laid, but I’d prefer not to have my head torn off by the world’s largest morningstar. Plus I get the impression that, even though I’m sure that would be a nice perk for him, his real reason for coming to me is much more profound.

“I honestly wish I could. I want to fix this too, but I don’t know how,” I tell him.

“Figure it out. The situation didn’t become so serious that I couldn’t have salvaged it on my own until you got involved.”

I sigh. “Okay, I’ll do my best to come up with something.”

“That is insufficient,” Tairn accuses. “You WILL fix this, or as the source of the problem I would be all too happy to eliminate you.”

I grin and shake my head. “Yeah yeah, you can cool it with your empty threats, I just meant let me think about it for a while.”

Tairn’s only response is an irritated grumble and then he’s gone.

I spend the next hour analyzing the situation for what must be the dozenth time before a new idea finally occurs to me.

“Are you still awake Tairn?”

“Yes, I am unable to sleep.”

“I wonder what that’s like,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. “I think I came up with something that might work, but I’d need a couple things from you. You’re not going to like it, but I assume you’d be willing to make peace with it if it ‘restores Sgaeyl’s contentedness.’”

Tairn gives another grumble of annoyance.

“Is that a yes?”

“It depends on what these things are,” he growls.

“Ok, first of all you need to agree to have another uncomfortable conversation with me sometime in the near future, because I need your help with something unrelated to this.”

“How dare you demand a favor from a dragon!” Tairn seethes. “There will be no quid pro quo, you will do this because I will end your family line if you refuse!”

“I’m not refusing, and I’m not demanding a favor in return,” I say patiently, having figured that this would be his response. “I’m telling you that if you agree to hear me out about this other thing, I think I can fix things with Sgaeyl, but if you don’t then I’m quite certain that I can’t.”

“I will require that you explain how that is the case, but if I am satisfied that what you say is true, then I will hear your request, if it is made with sufficient humility.”

“I guess that’s good enough to be getting on with. So we’ll come back to that, but the other thing I need is basically for you to tell me a secret.”

“My patience with you wears thin, Wingleader. What is this secret you wish to know?”

“I couldn’t care less. It doesn’t matter what it is or how insignificant, as long as it’s something that Sgaeyl will know I couldn’t have learned about from anywhere but you.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this, and I don’t like it.”

“I told you you wouldn’t, but I don’t see any other way of fixing this, so unless you do, your choice is either dealing with the fact that you don’t like it, or continuing to deal with a pissed off Sgaeyl.”

“Give me a minute to think of a secret that would work…”

…

Today has been significantly better than the last couple of weeks, which were miserable. I've felt like shit for upsetting Sgaeyl and her anger and despondency leaking through our bond hasn’t helped my mood either. 

Tairn and I wrapped up our planning session in the wee hours of the morning. At first he acted annoyed about having to agree to certain parts of my plan, but after fleshing it out with him for another half hour, by the end I could tell that he was surreptitiously excited at the prospect that it really might work, though of course he’d never admit to that. 

He left off by telling me that some gesture he had planned would require him to fly to a lake that’s an hour or so away after flight lessons with Violet. He didn’t know how long it would take once he got there, so the tentative schedule for executing our scheme was late in the evening, with sometime tomorrow being the backup plan if it took him longer than he hoped. That had left me in a state of nervous but eager anticipation all day which made for a nice change. 

I’m still waiting for his go ahead when there’s a knock on my door and, using the shadows outside the door, I can feel from his massive build that it’s Garrick. I flick my hand to unlock the door and he comes in. 

“Hey, I hadn’t wanted to bring it up again, you’ve been so moody since that night with the churam, but you seemed a lot more upbeat today,” Garrick observes after closing and locking the door behind him again. “Did whatever it was that Masen wanted to talk to you about turn out to be anything? And if so, I get it if you can’t tell me what it is, but I wanted to at least see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Oh, no it was nothing,” I say, waving a hand casually. “Just Masen over thinking things as usual.”

“Well that’s good…” he says and then pauses for a few seconds before asking, “And would it be a bad idea for me to ask whether you and Sgaeyl have patched things up, and what was going on there? 

I sigh. “She’s pissed that I thanked Tairn since she apparently feels like what he did is even more intimate than I thought. To the extent that she considers it borderline cheating on her. But yeah, today I’ve been feeling hopeful since I think I’ll be able to make it better either later tonight or tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Garrick says thoughtfully. “I suppose even if we didn’t know the extent of it I should’ve known it’d be a bad idea to thank him for ‘being intimate’ with other dragons. You weren’t kidding about that being bad advice. Sorry.”

“I should’ve known better too, but neither of us were thinking particularly straight that night, and hopefully it’ll be water under the bridge soon, so don’t worry about it,” I tell him.

“Does that ‘not thinking straight’ comment imply that you’d now consider our other plan from that night to be a bad idea too, or is your mood improved enough to consider it? Apparently Aetos has designated Tuesday nights as hand-to-hand practice time for his squad, so Violet and Imogen are in the gym right now.”

I grin and shake my head. “C’mon, man, we were high. That plan was ridiculous.”

“I’m not denying that,” Garrick smirks. “But I think the logic behind it was pretty good and I haven’t been able to come up with a better plan to accomplish those same ends. Nobody has to know it was planned, it’d just look like a particularly intense sparring session.”

“You seriously want to go fight shirtless to see if it catches the eye of our crushes?” I ask incredulously. “That is some teenager-level immaturity.”