Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Violet, this is not a discussion. On Conscription Day, you will be joining the Rider’s Quadrant. The only other acceptable alternative would be the other way off the parapet.”

Calling her daughter’s fall from the parapet an acceptable alternative to being a scribe is so like my mother, I have to hold back a delirious laugh. 

“I’ve been preparing to be a scribe before I could walk. Markham wants to personally train me as his successor,” I plead. “I am not Mira. I will die before I get anywhere close to a dragon.” 

The General’s mouth twists into an annoyed sneer, as if the discussion of my demise was an inconvenience—which it probably was. If it was not for the storm that raged the night of the funeral, I would have assumed my father’s death was merely an inconvenience as well. 

“No, you are certainly not Mira.” I flinch at her matter-of-fact tone. “Mira would not have argued a useless point. She knows how to follow orders. Now, I’ve had enough of your insubordination. No child of mine will be a scribe. You will be a rider or you will be nothing. Your training will start when I return from Calldyr.”

“Yes, General,” I mumble. I have never seen eye-to-eye with my mother, but I never expected that she’d send me to die. 

It’s senseless and petty, but I can’t help but hope that it hurts her. If Brennan and my father were the first strikes, I want my death to be the one to destroy her beyond recognition. 

Then I remember Mira, who is going to become an only child. Bile rises in my throat at the wave of guilt I feel. 

“Can I still attend training with Markham?” I ask. “Conscription Day is not for almost a year.” 

She sighs like it is an incredible favor. “That is fine. Do not let it distract you from your training. You are a Sorrengail and you will not disappoint me.”

I want to scream and cry that I never asked to be a Sorrengail. That being a Sorrengail did not save Brennan, or fix my father’s heart. 

She looks at me expectantly, and I know that I've been dismissed. I distantly register saying my goodbyes and walking back to my room, but everything is fuzzy around the edges—like I was watching my life as an observer through a thick, perilous fog. 

The tears do not fall until I’m finally alone, staring at The Fable of the Barrens sitting on my desk like it would hold all of the answers. It is the last thing I have from my father. The rest of his belongings were burned to ash. 

My anger simmers under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch. If my father was still alive, my mother wouldn't be doing this. He was a scribe, and my mother loved him. She did, right? Why can’t she do the same for me? 

An animalistic scream tears itself from my throat as I sweep all of the things off my desk and across the room with as much force as I can muster. I feel a single heartbeat of relief at the sound of glass shattering from the paperweight I received for some birthday years ago. 

The anger immediately fades into regret when I watch my father’s book hit the wall with a loud slam before crashing into the stone floor. It’s left sprawled open on the ground, spine broken at an odd angle and cover partially falling off. I drop to the floor and my knees hit the stone with a force that I’ll feel tomorrow. In between gasping sobs, I crawl towards the broken remains of my book to see if, unlike me, it can be saved. 

There is a piece of paper sticking out from inside the cover, as if it was hidden under the tome’s binding. My surprise smothers my tears. 

To my dearest Violet—

My father's familiar script makes my heart pick up speed. It’s written in Tyrrish, one of many languages he taught me, and it’s unmistakably his handwriting. 

I am writing this letter in hopes that you will never read it, or you’ll find me silly for such a morbid warning eventually. But now that I know the truth, I know you will draw the same conclusions someday. Of all my children, you are the most like me. 

In a perfect world, you would be the greatest scribe to ever grace Navarre. But the more I learn, the more that I fear I will not be around to see it. This kingdom has made more mistakes than I could begin to fathom, and they will do anything to maintain control. There are things you do not know about leadership, and that knowledge would be as good as your death. I have spent years hiding my research from everyone, even Mira and your mother. 

If it is as I fear, you have entered the Scribe Quadrant and you have noticed that things are not as they appear. Knowing you, it will take no time at all until you start asking the same questions I had. And I do know you, Violet. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. If you find out the truth, you won’t be able to stop yourself from making your voice heard. 

As a father, I need to advise caution. There are lies hidden everywhere, even in the books we’re meant to venerate. Do not trust any of the leadership in Navarre and keep your realizations close to your chest. The people who you assume to be your enemies may be most trustworthy of them all.  I can’t explain everything here, but please remember the lessons I have taught you about our role in history. The book I’ve gifted you will be your guiding light. When you are ready, find my research. You are the only one with the tools to discover the truth, and the resiliency to do what is right. 

I love you, Violet. Your brilliance is only overshadowed by your bravery and compassion. I want you to live. 

I run my fingertips lightly over the ink on the page while my mind races. I try to align all of the facts presented to me, just as he always taught me. 

My father did not trust leadership, and found things he could not share with Mira or my mother. He feared that I would make the same discoveries once I become a scribe, and that they would get me killed. 

My face goes white. The Healer’s report said that Brennan’s death broke him, and the pain was more than his heart could take. I never once doubted the official story, but there is something that bothers me now about the way he completely withdrew from society months before he ever got sick. Or the way that my mother stopped letting me visit him even though it wasn’t contagious. She told me it was because he shouldn’t be remembered that way, but what if that was just a lie to keep the truth contained? 

They did it. They really killed him to keep him quiet. The realization sends me reeling. 

Every interaction I’ve ever had with leadership flashes through my brain in rapid succession. Even without knowing the subject of his research, I can’t bring myself to be truly surprised at the lengths they will go to. The brutality of Basgiath is legendary. 

My tears dry on my face. Did my mother know? Did she suspect it and say nothing? The idea that his murder could have been cleared with the General as another memo across her desk makes bile rise in my throat. I lunge for the wastebasket by my bed to empty the contents of my stomach. 

He was betrayed, and he used his remaining time to hide a letter as a warning for me for when I enter the Archives. 

But he was wrong in the end, wasn’t he? I will be crossing the parapet instead of entering the Scribe Quadrant. Can I live without knowing the truth? Or given my destination, perhaps the question would be can I die without knowing? 

The answer to both is no. I really can’t. 

Why did my mother decide I had to become a rider? Does her decision have something to do with the subject of the letter?

My father thought I’d figure it out easily, so maybe the General drew the same conclusion. If the General is complicit, she’d be interested in hiding the truth. Was she sending me to the Rider’s Quadrant to die or was it to keep me away from the scribes—away from the truth? Both?

I ignore the aching in my knees and return to my desk to analyze the letter more closely. I flip the paper around. There are a few lines on the bottom of the page in a language I can’t read. If I have to guess, I’d say Morrainian. He knew exactly what languages I could understand. Why use one that I did not know for a few additional lines? 

In the same vein, why write the letter in Tyrrish at all? He taught me several dead languages, any of which would have been safer to use for a letter he never wanted anyone else to read. But he decided to use the language of Tyrrendor. While it is not the common tongue, it was certainly still spoken, even after the rebellion. 

I wish the letter was dated. He only mentions Mira, so I can assume it was written after Brennan’s death. I hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behavior until after my mother was granted the General position at Basgiath the year after Brennan died, but I could be wrong. In fact, I could be wrong about everything.  

The setting sun makes my eyes strain as I read his final words for me over and over again. For hours, I stay in the same place, with my body curled over the letter as if it would come alive and answer all my questions. I feel an ache in my back join the pain radiating from my knees, but it hardly registers. A lifetime of pain taught me that it is only temporary—a distraction at worst. 

I need to find out the truth somehow, without being allowed into the inner sanctum of the Archives reserved for scribes. 

I finally tear my eyes from the letter and stand up on trembling legs to walk over to the mirror in the corner of my room. With the last bit of light shining into my window, I examine my reflection critically. The same way I would analyze a piece of ancient literature, or assess the validity of a source. 

Everything about me is at odds with the image of a rider, from my soft curves to my short stature. My bones are barely held together by my skin and faulty joints. My hair, and the way it fades to a sickly silver, is just another sign of my weakness for anyone who knows the story of my birth. I will be lucky to make it across the parapet, let alone bond with a dragon. Dragons abhor weakness and yet it is the only trait I have in spades according to every person I’ve ever met. 

But my father never called me weak, and he knew me—down to the fibers of my very soul. He never even alluded to my fragility; he only wrote of my brilliance, and my bravery, and my compassion. He didn’t doubt that I’d discover the truth and do the right thing. His steadfast belief gives me more confidence than I ever thought possible. 

If my father’s last wish is for me to live and find out the bitter truth, whatever that may be, that is what I will do. Or I’d die trying. 

And since the General is giving me no choice but to cross the parapet, then I suppose I will just have to do that as a rider. There is no other choice but to survive. And if a scribe could not discover the truth and live to see it, perhaps a rider stands a better chance. 

Plus those continuous ink pens? Definitely a bonus. I used to tease Brennan and Mira that if I didn’t have to pause to re-ink my quill so often, I would have taken over the world by now.  

I have less than a year to train for survival, and—thanks to my mother’s concession—less than a year to investigate the truth under Markham’s tutelage. As head of the Scribe Quadrant, it’s clear that Markham was likely directly responsible for or complicit in my father’s death. 

You will live, I tell myself over and over again. By the time I step onto the parapet, I hope that I believe it.

Chapter Text

My first meeting with Markham after discovering the letter is the hardest thing I’ve ever done—and I once popped my own shoulder back into place. I can barely look the man in the eye, and I'm thankful that he attributes my despondence to my mother’s decision and not the fact that he is a filthy fucking liar. 

He greets me with a familiar hug, as if he isn’t one of the reasons I lost one of the few remaining people in my life who care about me. I want to scream and rage and destroy. I want to take one of the heavy tomes laid in front of us and slam it across his face with enough force to draw blood and splinter bones. I want to grab one of the quills in front of us and use it to carve my threats directly into his skin.

I count my heartbeats and push my anger down until I’m able to slip back into a facade. She looks like the girl I used to be, but I hardly recognize her. 

“How are you, dear?” Markham simpers, in the same soft voice that he always uses for the fragile and delicate Violet. The one he planned to groom as his replacement, who took his word as law.

Resentment settles in my bones and makes its home in the marrow. I swear to myself that I will never trust blindly again. I force a weak smile tinged with sadness, exactly what was expected of me. “I am alright. I will miss our lessons, when…” I allow my words to trail off purposefully. 

“Yes, it is quite the shame your mother is being so obstinate.” His mouth is twisted into a grimace and the annoyance in his eyes looks genuine. He did not approve of my mother’s change of heart. Interesting. “You are meant to be a scribe.”

I always thought so. I wanted to follow my father’s footsteps in the same way Brennan and Mira followed our mother’s. But I knew better now. My father did not care if I was a scribe. He certainly didn’t want me to dedicate my life to Navarre. He just wanted me to live.

Following his footsteps has taken on a whole new meaning, as I walk towards the truth with no idea how long my journey will be. 

I sigh loudly and twist my hands together, bringing his attention to the wraps around my oh-so-very delicate wrists. “I would love nothing more than to be a scribe, but one does not say no to the General. I only wish I had more time to learn all that I can from the Archives.” 

“Well, at least your mother is allowing our lessons to continue,” he said thoughtfully. “We will have to fit in as much as we can while you are training.” 

I nod my head eagerly. “Thank you. You are so kind to continue to teach me while I am bound for another quadrant. I will attend whenever I am allowed.” 

We continue our lessons from last week, which feel pointless now. While we carefully pack away our materials and place the books we were reading back in the cart in order to be returned to the shelves, I take my first risk. 

“I would love to learn another language in the time we have left,” I say carefully. “I will not have the time to study languages after next year, and I’ve always wanted to learn Morrainian.” 

Markham looks surprised, but not suspicious. “You’ve never expressed interest in Morrainian before.” 

I aim for a nonchalant shrug. “I always supposed that I’d have time to learn in the future. I always told my father that I wanted to learn every language on the continent. I never wanted not knowing a language to stop me from reading every book that I could get my hands on.” 

The thought of my father brings unshed tears to my eyes, which seem to convince Markham that I’m just being sentimental. He adjusts his robes around him as he stands and nods in my direction, after grumbling some nonsense about how every book worth reading has already been translated. A ridiculous statement, but it makes me consider the translator bias of our historical records even more closely. How far back do the lies go? My father always warned me that first-hand accounts were the most trustworthy, but most of the books in the Archives were at least the third edition. 

“Very well. We will begin work on it next week.” 

I bite my lip to stop a triumphant grin. For perhaps the first time, I believe that I can actually do this. Play the role of the delicate flower and allow them to underestimate me until I gather enough information to hang them with it. 

“I will see you next week,” I tell him as I flee the Archives before the facade shatters. 

I have a seemingly endless list of things to do before next year, and doing nothing was time wasted. My legs carry me towards our family’s chambers before I can second-guess my plan. I need my father’s final research, while I can still easily access it. Anything that was not burned with his body will be in their joint office. I always knew my father best, especially where he liked to hide things. 

With the General in Calldyr, there is no better time. I ignore the rising tide of anxiety until I am in front of his old desk. I reach for the secret compartment and pull out a well-worn tome, trapped in a linguistic lock along with another note in my father’s handwriting. There are bottles of some liquid adhered to the front, ready to break and destroy all of his work if I get the code wrong even once. 

And the note? It’s written in fucking Morrainian. My laughter fills the empty office until tears are streaming down my face. People call scribes boring, but I knew my father always had a sense of humor.

I roughly wipe the remains of the tears streaking down my face and carefully place the book in my bag. I will need to hide it until I can decipher the note. 

I make it back to my room and consider the best place to hide something that could get me killed. Placing it on my shelf seems too obvious, for his research at least. What would not be touched if someone were to search my belongings? They’d definitely go through the armoire and desk. They’d flip the mattress to look under the bed. 

With that thought in mind, I venture into the unused room used to store Mira’s old things from before her conscription. I dig through boxes until I find two small daggers. They must be from when she was much younger, since they fit my hand comfortably. After a moment of thought, I also grab a pair of her old leathers and boots, along with a thigh sheath she outgrew. 

Weary of holding a blade for the first time, I carefully slice directly into the side of my mattress and stow away my father’s research, before replacing the sheets and bedding on top. It may be uncomfortable when lying down, but it’s imperceptible to anyone looking in my room. I have always excelled at living with discomfort. 

I slice a few inches of fabric off the bottom of Mira’s old leather pants so they do not gather at my ankles. Her boots are one size too big, so I layer my ankle wraps and another pair of socks under them. My joints will need the support. 

I twist my hair into a tight braid and wrap my knees with the same methodical motions I’ve been using for years before slipping into the mangled leathers and the too-big boots. After a moment of thought, I buckle the sheath around my thigh along with the daggers I stole. I’m too small for a real sword, but a dagger? I appreciate the beauty of something small yet vicious, just as capable of drawing blood as the largest of blades. I have to get used to carrying them. 

My body is different from others. I know that, and I have carried that shame with me to the healer’s for every strain, break, and dislocation. If I am going to survive, I need to be better. To cross the parapet, I need balance. To survive challenges, I need strength and endurance. For everything else? Well, one step at a time. 

I can’t meet my trainer until the General returns next month, but that doesn't mean that I have to stay stagnant. I may have been destined for the Archives, but I watched my two siblings prepare for the Rider’s Quadrant my entire life. 

Time for a run. I jog and sprint in increments along a path I know is hardly used. When my legs begin to shake too badly to move, I slow to a stop and count to a hundred. After I reach the end, my break is over and I force my legs to move again. I spend hours jogging and sprinting and trying not to vomit, until I finally get back to my room, with burning lungs and quivering legs. 

I allow myself only the time it takes for my breathing to completely return to normal. Then I stretch and take a close assessment of my body to start. I’ve always been flexible but that hasn’t stopped me from falling apart at the slightest force. I work slowly and methodically catalogue my limits and which muscles are pulled tighter. 

After my body feels loose, I decide to perform careful exercises that I know I can do without other tools. My shoulders cry for mercy with every push-up, and my sweat makes my hair stick to my forehead at odd angles. Each lunge and squat makes me feel like I’m going to fall over, but I will my knees to stop shaking. Whenever I want to cry out and give up, I picture what my father’s face may have looked like as the people he dedicated his life to betrayed him. It is shockingly effective. 

You will live, I tell myself again and again, as if I could forget. I will train and spy and steal and lie and manipulate every day until the parapet, if that is what it takes.  

In a moment of weakness before I fall into my bed exhausted and sleep takes hold, I wish for a single person that I can truly trust. Someone who will tell me the truth. 

When I rise the next day, every inch of my body aches with overuse. Using the mental exercises that my father insisted I learn, I place my pain into a box, steal it tightly, and hide it away deep inside my mind where it can no longer hurt me. He used to make me practice extensively on different types of visualizations and ways to maintain power over one’s mind, and I am thankful for it now. Compared to the time that I dislocated both shoulders trying to save myself from falling from a tree I climbed with Dain when I was ten, this pain is nothing. It is only temporary. 

I freeze mid-motion while pulling myself from bed. Dain. My best friend, in his first year at the Rider’s Quadrant now, and son of the General's aide. It feels blasphemous to question the loyalties of a boy I have known since we were children. But his father is in leadership, and given the cold and calculating look that I knew Colonel Aetos wore often, I have to be better safe than sorry. 

With a heavy heart, I take my friendship with Dain, my undying faith in him, and put it in the same box alongside my pain, not to be touched. I dress again in Mira’s ruined leathers and prepare myself for another run.

I push through the stitch in my side and the ache in my knees until I complete the same path that I took yesterday. The lingering soreness makes every step feel like knives tearing into my muscles and ligaments, but I do not stop or slow. My body is running the path, but my mind is otherwise occupied trying to figure out the great secret Navarre was hiding. I have next to no information to work from. 

Given the rising tensions with Poromiel, my first instinct is that it has something to do with the war. But what actions could Navarre take against Poromiel that would warrant such secrecy? What kind of horror is great enough to cost my father his life? 

For a moment, I imagine a riot from Navarre raining down dragon fire on innocent Poromish citizens. That is certainly something that leadership would want to hide, since it paints Navarre in an unflattering light. But any response to Poromiel attacking the outposts would be seen as justified. And gryphon riders do attack; that is not a lie. Mira showed me the scar she gained from one of their claws personally. Since gryphons do not function due to the magic of the wards, it does not make any sense for Navarrian riders to leave the protection of our wards to attack them on their land. 

There is something I’m not seeing. 

What are the chances that every rider in active duty knows the secret that stole my father’s life? If I have to bet, I say that none of them do. The list would have to be incredibly short to have any hope of keeping something ruinous contained. Riders are a valuable resource for Navarre, but they are likely not trusted with any significant information. The individualism and hedonism that runs rampant in that quadrant would make the groupthink necessary for hiding a conspiracy next to impossible. 

There is only one quadrant that is able to systematically eradicate knowledge and change the facts. After-all, it’s not the riders who record history for the next generation. If the scribes are all compromised, then everything I’ve ever learned could very well be steeped in lies. And if our written history could not be trusted, the secret is likely even older than the war with Poromiel. 

After I get back to my room, I flip open my father’s book, careful of the broken cover barely holding the binding in place. I’m so sorry, dad, I whisper in my mind. 

I start from the first page, but the stories are so familiar that I can practically recite it from memory. The story of venin and wyvern, of power stolen from the land instead of gifted, and all of the typical moral lessons that accompany childrens’ tales. I review the text and the illustrations, looking for any hidden messages from my father. I lift each page in front of the light to see through it and press my fingers around each edge and seam to see if there was anything else I could feel beneath the surface. 

As far as I can tell, there is nothing else to be found apart from the letter.

Why would my father emphasize the importance of a book of folktales? Unless the clue is the story itself. There is a seed of an idea lingering at the edge of my consciousness, but I do not let it take root. Folktales aren’t meant to be interpreted literally. 

Alright, Violet, I tell myself. Do not be held back by what you think you know. Gather information. What is your next step?  

Go to the Archives and check out another copy of The Fable of the Barrens. Perhaps my father made changes to the source, and there could be clues in any differences. 

Figure out if the riders know. It is imperative that I know how much they are told, in order to find out if I can trust Mira someday. Despite my father’s warnings, I will never be able to stop myself from wanting Mira to be on my side. She is all I have left.

I know that knowledge of the field was dispersed through daily Battle Briefs. Markham runs that class personally along with one of the professors from the Rider’s Quadrant. But Markham is the one who prepares the lesson; I’ve seen him working on them in the Archives before. 

I’m near-certain that Markham is hiding something sinister, but I will not be privy to Battle Brief until I become a cadet. 

The real roadblock is that I’ll lose access to the Archives and the steady flow of information once I cross the parapet and can actually attend Battle Brief. Right now, I have semi-restricted privileges to the Archives as Markham’s personal student. I’m able to access the offices as well as the center for communications in the inner sanctum, which could be vital. Once I’m a cadet, I’ll be severely limited in the books I can borrow and areas I can access, even if I am assigned library duty. Scribes don’t trust riders with books that are both fragile and very, very flammable. 

Access to the Archives. Access to Battle Briefs. I wish there was a way to have both so I can compare the information sent from the frontlines with the information they choose to share.

I grab a copy of the Codex from Mira’s room and read it from front to back. There is no rule that prevents cadets from taking personal lessons in different quadrants. If I can convince Markham to keep me in lessons after Conscription Day, I’d be able to spend time in the Archives without arousing suspicions. It’d be an incredible opportunity to gather information and compare it to what the riders are told. The only downside would be extended time spent with a man I can hardly stand to look at. But that was nothing compared to my father’s sacrifice. 

It’s a plan. Or maybe the bare bones of one. Still, my shoulders finally relax as soon as I decide on a course of action. I had less than a year to secure his agreement. 

In the meantime, all I can do is keep my ears open and remain unnoticed. That’s easy. I’ve been doing it for nineteen years so far. 

I groan and stretch my arms above my head. From the position of the sun, I can tell that I worked through lunch. My body still aches with every movement and the pain threatens to distract me, but I have to stay focused. 

This is not a single battle that my father enlisted me for. This is war, and I do not know the reason, the true enemy, or who my allies are. But wars last for years, and I can’t afford to rush anything and risk my position. Being General Sorrengail’s daughter will not save me if I am caught, just like it did not save my father. 

Just like the parapet, I have to take it one step at a time. 

Chapter Text

It is not like the Archives, which boasts having a copy of every single book on the continent, does not carry fables and other fictional stories. There is an entire shelf dedicated to Navarrian bedtime tales and illustrated copies of history for young children. But when I look the next day, they do not carry a copy of The Fable of the Barrens. In fact, there are no books containing references to venin or wyvern at all. There is one entry containing a topographical map of the Barrens, but nothing concrete. 

My father left me a restricted book, or at least one that is not available on this continent. I thank the scribe on duty for checking and never mention it to another person again. 

It takes me weeks to gather the materials but I’m finally able to fix the broken book and repair the binding. I move with a reverence that most people would reserve for their gods. I had always treasured it, but now it was my most valuable possession. I’d follow it into the ravine before I crossed the parapet without it. Which is unfortunate, considering it’s heavy. 

Perhaps things will become clearer after I translate the letter’s addendum and the clue to his research. While I spend weeks in the Archives with Markham slowly learning Morrainian, I resign myself to the fact that I won’t be able to make any significant progress until I reach fluency or become a cadet. 

That doesn’t stop me from watching and listening in the meantime. I notice the way that Markham’s notes for Battle Brief are a few lines long when the reports from the frontlines that he flips through are several pages. I notice which professors he seems close to, and which he will studiously ignore. I read each public announcement with suspicious eyes and linger in hallways and hidden alcoves so I can listen in on conversations. My spying slowly grows more audacious, until silently following behind scribes, infantrymen, and even the occasional rider becomes commonplace. I file away the things I hear very carefully, as they might become more significant once I have the context. 

My eavesdropping may end up being useless, but it feels good to be productive. It teaches me valuable skills, like hiding the sound of my footsteps and silencing my breathing until it is almost undetectable. Stealth is not a very highly sought after skill in a rider—it’s hard to be stealthy when you fly into battle on a fire-breathing dragon—but it sure as hell can’t hurt. 

I fall into my new routine with ease. I wake up in pain, stretch and wrap my joints carefully. An injury would only set back my training. I eat a protein-heavy meal and then go running, challenging myself to run farther or faster. My standard route has more than doubled, and I feel the increase in my endurance most when climbing the six flights of stairs to my mother’s office for my monthly dose of being a disappointment. She stares at me in silence for several minutes, and then dismisses me. Classic mother-daughter bonding activity. 

After my daily run, I train with Major Gillstead. He is optimistic at how fast I’m progressing and my mother is pleased at his reports, or as pleased as the General is capable of being, that I am taking my preparations seriously. But I know that being quick with a dagger and having wicked aim will not save me during a challenge. To Gillstead’s surprise, I ask to focus on more hand-to-hand combat. I know that I can handle the physical conditioning on my own. 

Instead of ruminating on my weaknesses, I think long and hard about how to use my strengths. I surely ask more questions than Gillstead is expecting, about how to use an opponent's weight against them, how to escape holds, and how to throw a punch without breaking my fucking wrist… again. It’s a slower progression that I would like, but I know learning how to fight could be the only thing that will save me someday. 

While training together, I make it a point to stay on Gillstead’s good side. Twice a week, I collect my favorite pastries from the local bakery and bring them with me to our lessons to share. I thank him for his help profusely and insinuate that I’d never be able to do it without him, if only to stroke his ego. Regardless of his hidden allegiances, I’ll be damned if I don’t learn everything I can from the man, and playing the role of the damsel can work in my favor. 

I’m able to get him to talk me through all the major obstacles. The Parapet. The Gauntlet. Presentation. Threshing. Everyone knows the story, but I learned from my father that nothing beats a first-hand account.

Training for the parapet should be straightforward, but it’s not. My balance has improved enough that I am able to walk a straight path on a suspended beam of wood without faltering, but that does not account for the elements, or the uneven stone, or even the pressure of being up so high without a safety net. Being able to physically cross the parapet will not matter if I can not cross mentally. I take advantage of my newfound stealth, and start sneaking around late at night to find ways to get up higher. From walking along the short walls enclosing the high alcoves and following a now familiar pattern across the roof while I watch the sunset, I did anything to get used to the feeling of being up high while expanding my mental map of Basgiath. 

A fear of heights for a prospective rider? The other cadets will laugh me out of the quadrant. 

And crossing the parapet is only the first challenge. Gillstead describes each of the Gauntlet’s obstacles in extreme detail. I absorb his advice about how to time my jumps for the rotating pillars and the best way to approach the swinging components. He tells me how he wishes he brought leather gloves across the parapet, after he experienced rope burn while bailing out during a practice run. When he gets to the final two obstacles, they sound so far outside of my capabilities that I almost throw up my pastry. My shoulders are fucked on a good day, but it might still be worth it to find a way to practice climbing because it sounds like I might need it. Why can’t it ever be something suited to me? Not that much is. 

If I cross the parapet and survive the Gauntlet, at least Presentation and Threshing are more self-explanatory. There’s nothing I can do if a dragon decides to roast me, so it’s futile to spend time worrying about it. 

My efforts do not stop after dinner. Before the sun begins to set and I venture out to find a high place to climb or a person to spy on, I work on my other skills. I continue to practice stationary exercises, and celebrate when the push-ups, lunges, and squats all become easier. I notice my body changing as new muscles form, and I feel stronger than before. 

My favorite part of training is when I get to throw my daggers, two pillaged from Mira and three others gifted by Gillstead, at a makeshift target until I can hit dead center without looking. I like the ones from Mira the most, even if she purchased them when she was much younger than I am now. Baby’s first dagger, and it fits my hand perfectly. Go figure. I sharpen them every night, and practice how I would slash if I had to use it against another person. When I need to improve my accuracy at a distance, I travel down to the river outside of the citadel and use one of the trees. 

By the time I return from my nightly adventures through Basgiath, there is usually only a few hours until sunrise. I fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep and wake up to repeat the previous day. I’m still in near-constant pain, especially when I first wake, but it’s not agonizing. The ache lingers less and less each day. 

The only variation in my schedule are the days I spend in the Archives with Markham continuing my studies. My ability to hide my emotions improves along with my fitness. Eventually, I can look Markham in the eye and pretend to trust him explicitly without the taste of bile filling my mouth. 

Markham becomes the face of my anger, even more than the General. I hate him with a fierce passion that I’ve never experienced. It was hatred redefined, eclipsing any person I had ever claimed to despise in the past easily. It’s visceral. Unconditional and everlasting. 

Markham’s closest colleagues at Basgiath become my prime suspects and I casually find myself listening to their conversations more often than not. He speaks unkindly of a few professors in separate quadrants, and I register their names in my mind as potential allies in the future. If Markham dislikes a person, there is a good chance that they are actually in the right. I even find myself hating the taste of peaches after he mentions it is his favorite fruit.

I ask lightly probing questions to try and plant the idea of staying on as a student even while I’m a cadet. They are mostly innocuous and, for all he touts his own intelligence, he rarely picks up on them. 

Until a rider with purple hair comes barreling into his office without knocking to ask several questions about lesson plans. Professor Devera. I know from various Navarrian military events that she is a Captain doing her teaching rotation, and was in charge of Battle Brief with Markham. 

I move silently near the open door to listen and she doesn’t even register that I’m there. She is upset that Markham hasn’t been providing her with the full reports because it makes it difficult to answer cadet questions. She wants the unfiltered versions ahead of time to prepare. Markham looks annoyed at the interruption and takes a deep breath before beginning his deception. 

Markham reminds her that she is a novice when it comes to being a professor simply by commending her initiative to improve. He tells her that she should understand the importance of redacting sensitive information while there are lives on the line, at least for any reports from active outposts. She wouldn’t want her initiative to get anyone killed, would she? Then he changes the subject to the next day’s lesson with practiced ease. 

Discredit, deflect, distract. Markham’s favorite way of diffusing a conversation he doesn’t like. For a scholar, he is skilled at manipulation. When he is caught off guard, he rubs his forefinger across his thumb in a repetitive motion. I file away his methods and his tells, and I know it will be useful someday. 

I see the palpable frustration in his eyes after she leaves and I seize my opportunity. 

“Are you okay, Professor?” I asked hesitantly. “She seemed… riled up. Most riders don’t understand how hard scribes work to prepare information for all of us.” 

He groans audibly and I know I have him. Come on, Markham. Confide in me. Trust that I’m on your side. Get closer before I strike. 

“You are completely right about that, Violet. What I wouldn’t give for the other professors to understand the importance of the work we do.” 

“I can’t believe they don’t. Riders only have to keep track of one dragon, and the scribes have to oversee all of them, along with every other quadrant’s people and resources. It is the greatest responsibility there is.” Oh, I’m laying it on thick. 

“That is such a wonderful perspective, dear Violet.” Die in a hole, Markham. “You have such a good head on your shoulders.” Speaking of shoulders, I’d love to remove your head from yours. “The Rider’s Quadrant could use Professors who think the way you do. But most of them think their opinions matter most because they ride a dragon. It is quite taxing.” Your existence is taxing.

My smile does not falter once.

“Thank you, Professor. I know that if I taught future riders, I’d want them to understand how important scribes are to their survival. I doubt I’ll make it that far, but it’s nice to imagine.” I shrug and my smile turns bashful. 

Markham smiles widely, as if I was speaking the words he'd been thinking this whole time. 

“It is truly a shame we’ll lose your brilliant mind in the quadrant in a few months.”

“You’re so kind. I’ll really miss our time together in the Archives. I’ll always be a scribe in my heart.” 

I have to be patient. Markham only recognizes his own thoughts as worth considering, so I need to plant a seed that continuing to teach me would be in his best interest. If I can’t be his successor, I can be a resource or even an ally among the riders in a few years time. 

“We will miss you too. Perhaps if you become a cadet, we can figure out a solution to continue your studies. I would be hard pressed to find another mind like yours.”

There it is. My eyes widen in carefully manufactured awe. “Really? Oh, that would be amazing. I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.” 

Markham nods his head decisively, like everything was going according to his plan. Fucking fool.  

“I will speak to the necessary people before your Conscription Day to arrange things. Make sure you make it across the parapet, and then we’ll find time in your new schedule.” 

“Of course! Thank you again, Professor. You won’t regret this.”

He dismisses me and I leave his office quickly. Manipulating Markham was easier than I expected, after studying him for months. 

Besides learning about my enemy, the only positive part of continuing to spend time in the Archives is Jesinia. I see her again for the first time a month after discovering my father’s letter, while she’s studying for the written exam on Conscription Day along with the other scribe hopefuls. My eyes water at the relieved look on her face. She signs almost too frantically for me to follow, and asks about my well-being, and why I look so different, and whether or not I was truly going to enter the Rider’s Quadrant. 

I try to calm down her fears, but how could I when they are so close to my own?  

I know what people think of me, the weak daughter that the General was throwing to the wolves. More than once, I spied upon people stationed at Basgiath gossiping about the rumors I’d be crossing the parapet. They loved to speculate about how the General probably wants to get rid of any stain upon her legacy. 

Legacy. What a hilarious joke. If I’m right, my mother’s legacy is built upon the foundation of Navarre’s lies, and I want nothing to do with it. 

I consider asking Jesinia for help deciphering the Morrainian, but I stop myself. I am learning the language fast enough, and it would break what’s left of my heart to put her in any kind of danger once she enters the Scribe Quadrant. My instinct is to distance myself, but I still stop to talk to her every day that I’m in the Archives. 

It might be twisted, but Jesinia isn’t a rider and doesn’t have parents in leadership, so she is about the only person that I do not assume is lying through their teeth every time they speak. My self-inflicted isolation and constant paranoia take its toll. I’m always pulled taut with so much tension that I could snap, and I can’t remember the last conversation I had outside of Jesinia that was not soaked in distrust. 

She asks me several times what’s bothering me when I look anxious or my mind wanders, and I can't bear to lie to her. Instead, I spout half-truths that taste like ash in my mouth. 

“I’m only tired. Training to be a rider is more work than I expected.” 

“Just thinking about my father. I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently.” 

“My mother may be forcing me, but maybe the Rider’s Quadrant is where I’m meant to be.” 

When months turn into weeks before Conscription Day, Jesinia pulls me aside and asks if there was anything she can do to help. I force down the tears that threatened to spill. She is probably the first person to selflessly offer me help since I was a child and Brennan used to follow me around to treat my injuries as fast as I could accumulate them.

Perhaps I can’t trust her with the full truth, but I can open myself up to ask for help with a problem I have been actively pondering for weeks. How else am I going to get my books, including my father’s research, across the parapet?

Chapter Text

Despite walking in on them discussing my obvious weaknesses, I am ecstatic to find Mira in the General’s office on the morning of Conscription Day. It hurts to know that Mira does not believe in me, but then again, I never would have considered becoming a rider even a year ago. I stare at her and catalog all the ways her face has changed since I last saw her years ago shortly after she entered active duty. This might be the last image of Mira that I ever see.

My sentimentality ends there. It may be our last conversation for the next three years, but I still can’t force myself to meet the General’s eyes. If I am going to uncover whatever the fuck is going on in Navarre, I have to be prepared for her to be my enemy. Or maybe she already is my enemy, and has been for nearly a year. 

I don’t even flinch when Mira asks her the question that had been burning in my mind. “Are you that eager to bury another child?”

I know Mira’s efforts are all for nothing. The General has never changed her mind before, and today will not be the first time. Especially not for me. 

We leave her office together and Mira disparages our mother down all six flights of stairs. I join her instead of worrying that people would overhear and report it back, like I always warned her growing up. I’ve always lived in fear of my mother, and I find it surprisingly cathartic to express my frustrations out loud for the first time.  Perhaps I need to bitch about the General more often.

By the time we’re in my room, Mira is exactly as helpful and vaguely judgmental as expected, unpacking and repacking my rucksack until it was to her liking. She questions me on my hair, and my training, and if I know how to use the daggers I had strapped to my thigh. I tell her that I did and I am pretty fast, and that is perhaps the only understatement of my ability that I can offer. I was fast—lightning quick, in fact. I ranked at the top of the exams in speed and agility. 

Mira raises one eyebrow after reassembling my rucksack. “No books, Vi? I’m surprised. But I’m glad you’re prioritizing your life.” 

I smile awkwardly. She doesn’t realize that those books from our father are in fact my life, the only things I could trust in this world. They’re just not going across the parapet with me.

After she teases me for stealing her things and destroying her old leathers, she gives me a real pair worthy of a rider and a beautiful leather corset reinforced with Teine’s scales. It was complete with sheaths for my daggers. Now I had three on my ribs, one on the outside of my thigh, and one stored in my right boot as a final surprise. Everything fits me perfectly, including the sturdy leather gloves that I stole from Basgiath’s supply stores. I shove them back into my bag, since they probably won't help my chances today. Mira makes me swear that I’ll never take the corset off, even when I was sleeping.

As she braids my long hair into a coronet that resembles a crown, she speaks quickly and without pause. I absorb all of her advice like a sponge, even if I’ve already spent the past year considering most of it. I know exactly what the parapet entailed, and what will be expected of me. 

I am still terrified to cross the parapet, just as scared as I was the day the General sat me down to tell me about my future. But if fear had an enemy, it would be focus. And I have been nothing but focused since the day I found my father’s letter. My single-minded sense of purpose saves me from what I’m sure would have been months of resenting my training and my mother and my traitorous body. There is no room for fear or resentment while I am carrying my father’s will with me in every step. 

I follow Mira outside of the citadel and towards the lines for roll. She keeps talking rapidly, but I barely register the rest of her words. My eyes are busy scanning the people around us as I try to absorb as much information as I can. To my surprise, I see a candidate with a shimmering relic that starts at his wrist and covers his entire arm. It resembles the relics that riders wear, but he was obviously not a cadet yet.

“Is he…?” I whisper to my sister. 

Mira confirms my suspicions. A relic to identify all of the Separatists’ children. I quickly review all my knowledge of the Tyrrish rebellion. I learned quickly that the things Navarre does not write about were just as important, if not more so, than the things that they do. And there is no mention in any of the materials in the Archives regarding the fate of the rebels’ children, which means it’s information Navarrian leadership does not want readily available. 

It may just be typical revisionist historical writing, since allowing a dragon to brand children could be polarizing to the general public. But if it wasn’t, and this was a part of Navarre’s dirty secrets, maybe my father’s research had more to do with the failed rebellion in Tyrrendor than the war with Poromiel. I never even considered that before.

My fear of the parapet dulls and fades into the background as I think about the new information Mira is providing. The secret possibly concerning the Tyrrendor rebellion is an entirely new avenue of thought to consider, especially considering that my father’s letter was written in Tyrrish. My mind races faster than my body ever could manage.  

I’m pulled from my spiraling thoughts when Mira grabs the straps of my bag and pulls me to face her. Her face has gone white. “I just remembered. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

My eyes widened. I know that name. After Brennan died, I monitored the news and scoured the Archives for every piece of information I could find. As if understanding what happened would make it hurt less. The only son of the rebellion leader Fen Riorson, coined The Great Betrayer, the man responsible for my brother’s death.

“That Xaden Riorson. He’s a third-year and he will kill you the second he finds out who you are.” 

Part of me wants to be afraid but fearing my death was so… typical Tuesday. I’ve been doing it every day for a year. As far as I'm concerned, Xaden can take on what’s left of me after the balance beam of death I have to face shortly. Mira is providing information, and that was so much more interesting. Avoiding a man with a grudge may save my life, but information can help me find the truth. 

One day, hopefully tomorrow if I’m lucky enough to see it, I will have to reflect on the fact that my need for real, true information outweighed my survival instinct ten out of ten times. 

“What is he doing here?” I ask curiously. “I would have figured he’d stay as far away from Basgiath as physically possible.” 

Mira looks concerned at my tone, but still answers. She explains that all of the children were conscripted as punishment for their parents’ crimes. The General told Mira that they never expected him to survive the parapet, avoid being killed by the other cadets, bond with a dragon, and then rise to wingleader. 

I freeze imperceptibly. If they were expecting Basgiath to do the work of killing them, does that mean they weren’t given the option to join any of the other quadrants? 

Well, I can appreciate the ‘fuck you’ to Navarre, even from Xaden Riorson. If leadership hated the possibility of them becoming riders so much, they probably shouldn’t have conscripted kids, I want to say. A year ago, I would have hated the man on principle alone. 

But a year ago, I never thought I’d be crossing the parapet, and here I am. The only reason I’ve been able to put one foot in front of the other every day is because I’ve grown accustomed to questioning everything. Even Mira—maybe especially Mira. I can’t allow myself to trust her until I am sure she isn’t complicit. 

I stay silent. I can tell that Mira is frustrated by my lack of outward fear, but she lets the topic drop. She tells me to find Dain after I get to the other side. I stubbornly keep him inside the tightly locked box in my mind along with the rest of my distant concerns. They could end up at the bottom of the ravine with me, so there was really no point in ruminating on it. 

“Next.” We hear them call us forward and I muscle through an awkward conversation with the scribe and rider taking roll, who reminds us all yet again that Violet Sorrengail was never meant to cross the parapet. Even if I see the genuine pity in his eyes, it takes all of my willpower not to roll my eyes. 

Maybe it’s a stress reaction to impending doom, but I am feeling downright indignant. It feels more productive than fear, so I lean into it. Fuck them. I can cross the parapet. I can be a rider. It’s not the assholes that have called me weak who will choose for the dragons at Threshing. 

I’m immediately more comfortable when one of those assholes standing behind us insults me and the conversation shifts to awe of Mira and her accomplishments instead. I was proud of my sister too, though my happiness was more dependent on her survival than any commendations. Mira is a certified badass and it is my mother’s greatest regret that I’m not a thing like her.

If Mira was just like my mother, I favored my father from the day I was born. Brennan… well, he was perfect at everything he did. The combination of the best of our parents with none of their faults. Strong and scholarly. Skilled and kind. Confident and approachable. 

Gods, I miss him. We pause in front of the door to the turret. 

“Don’t die, Violet. I’d hate to be an only child,” Mira calls out with her trademark confidence and saunters away without waiting for my response. I feel a wave of helpless affection for my sister wash over me. I will never forgive myself if I make her go through the pain of losing a sibling twice. 

“Tough to live up to that,” a beautiful woman with dark skin and short winding braids said from just inside the door. Her features reminded me of the depictions of the goddess Amari, with her high cheekbones and oval face. 

“You have no idea.” 

“Sorrengail, as in…” she ventures as we begin our ascent. 

“Yup.”

“The General?”

“No matter how often I try to forget,” I send her a strained smile as we continue to climb. I have conquered many stairs over the course of the last year, but that did not mean I enjoyed them, especially the fucking perilous ones leading to the parapet. 

I chime into her conversation with the blonde boy in front of us to clarify that yes, two people died on account of the stairs alone last year—three if you count the girl one of them landed on—and there are exactly two hundred and fifty steps between us and the worst bridge in existence. I’m full of fun facts. 

“I’m Rhiannon Matthias, by the way.” 

“Dylan.”

“Violet,” I offer a small smile. Mira told me not to make friends, but I’m admittedly not great at doing what I’m told. 

Their conversation feels surreal, as it is strikingly clear that they both are crossing the parapet because they want to be here. Even if Dylan has a sweetheart at home. They’re both willing to risk their life for the chance to ride a dragon, and I’m here against my will. If my suspicions are correct, I have more in common with the rebels’ children than anyone else in this line. 

“With the last name Sorrengail, I bet you were the first to volunteer this year.” 

I snort. “Not likely. Until last year, I had already picked out my scribe robes. On the bright side, I think I look better in black.” 

Sarcasm as a blanket of comfort was new for me, but a crucial part of my new ‘fuck them’ attitude that I was going for. 

“Gotcha.” Rhiannon met my gaze with an understanding smile. Her eyes are filled with kindness and not a hint of deceit. It is disarming to look into a person’s eyes and not look for the lies hiding behind them. I listen to the taps of her shoes with every step and I try to ignore the conclusion my mind immediately draws. I look out of one of the windows to the darkening sky. The sure sign of an oncoming storm. 

Don’t do it, Violet. 

The same overcompensating asshole from before decides to make his presence unfortunately known. “You might make it across the parapet. This one here is a breeze away from the bottom of the ravine.” 

I roll my eyes, but before I can open my mouth, Rhiannon snaps at him. “Shut up and focus on yourself.” 

My heart softens at her defense of me. Fuck it, I’m going to do it. 

“Let me see your boots,” I whisper, so the asshole doesn’t hear. She looks confused but shows me her soles. Shit, I hate being right sometimes. This is going to be uncomfortable for both of us.

“What size are your feet?” I ask quietly. 

“What?”

“Your feet. What size are they?” I repeat.

“Eight.” 

“Shit, my feet are a size seven, but desperate times, right? Switch left boots with me.” 

“Why?” 

I explain with as much patience as I can muster. We are almost at the top. “These are rider boots from my sister, with traction to grip the stone. Your toes will hate you, but at least you’ll have a chance of staying on if the rain starts.” 

“You’re willing to trade a boot?” She asked in confusion. I understand her hesitance. Most cadets would sooner slice someone’s throat than risk their lives to save them. 

“Just until we get to the other side,” I channel Mira and throw her a pseudo-confident smile. “Just means we’ll both have to make it across. But we’ll have to hurry.” 

She looks out towards the grey sky with furrowed brows, and then nods in agreement. 

We quickly switch left boots and I lace them as tightly as I can. I wish I could use one of my bindings—a spare, since I already have my knees and ankles carefully wrapped under my leathers—to fill the space better, but there is no time. 

Note to self: Next time you decide to make a potentially disastrous and definitely ill-advised friendship, maybe do it closer to the bottom of the stairs. 

The asshole shoves me into the open space as I lean down and I can’t stop myself from turning to him with a sneer on my lips. 

“Let’s go. Some of us have things to do on the other side,” he taunts. 

For the first time, I understand the very rider-esque desire to stab someone. My hand resting above the dagger on my side itches. Maybe I have more Mira in me than I thought. 

“You are so not worth the effort right now,” I growl and turn back towards the entrance. I keep him in my periphery. If he was going to be an idiot and lunge at me, I’d be ready for it. 

My eyes drift towards the entrance to the parapet, which was really just a huge hole in the side of the turret. There are three riders, as one records names and the other moves Dylan to position. The third rider turns to face the line and suddenly, I don’t even remember what the asshole behind me said to piss me off. 

That unshakable focus I had been maintaining for the last year? Gone in a flash. This unknown rider becomes the center of my attention with embarrassing ease. His dark windswept hair flutters around his gorgeous face as his even darker eyes scan the crowd. I allow myself approximately ten seconds to admire the curve of his jaw and the way his muscles flex as he crosses his arms. The scar that bisects his left eyebrow and touches his cheek only adds to his appeal. I am certain of one thing. 

He’s the most exquisite man I’ve ever seen. 

I distantly register Dylan taking his first step onto the parapet. Mira telling me not to fuck outside of my year was more of a suggestion than an outright rule, right? 

“Ready for the next one, Riorson?” One of the other riders asks and my heart stutters. My eyes zero in on the relic decorating the attractive man’s entire arm, which I didn't even notice while I was busy objectifying him.

For a moment, I want to laugh. Of course the one rider my sister warned me about is who I’ll have to step past to get on the parapet. Hopefully Mira is not all knowing, and I’ll make it through this encounter alive. I’ll feel pretty fucking silly dying at his hands after not taking her seriously. 

“You ready for this, Sorrengail?” Rhiannon asks at the worst possible time. I’ve become worryingly fond of Rhiannon in the time it took to ascend the stairs, but I can't stop my flash of annoyance. Especially when the beautiful black-haired rider—Xaden Riorson—snaps his head towards me before I can even attempt to form a plan. 

“Sorrengail?” Even his voice is unfortunately attractive. He steps closer me and I am once again reminded of how fucking small I am. He has to be at least a few inches over six feet. I carefully push away any fear into the box in my mind, and look up to meet his gaze head-on. 

“Violet?” Rhiannon asks while stepping forward. She gives Xaden a suspicious look. 

“You’re General Sorrengail’s youngest,” he accuses. He says that like I had any fucking say in the matter. I try my best to cut my eye roll short, but I don’t think I quite manage. 

“Unfortunately,” I tell him without my voice shaking. “And you’re Fen Riorson’s son. Are we just saying things we know about each other? Your turn.” 

Shit, that one was almost out of my control. Indignant Violet is definitely going to get me killed someday. Hopefully not by the hottest man I’ve ever seen, but who knows? Is it a Tuesday?

“Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution,” he growls through clenched teeth. 

I remember my conversation with Mira. I only found out today that children of the Separatists were orphaned and forced to enroll at this godsforsaken death college. The story is familiar. And the best part is that we all blame my mother. I couldn’t muster a defensive bone in my body if I tried. The General has done nothing to earn my loyalty. 

My voice comes out as a sigh. “And according to all the official reports, your father killed my older brother. I don’t suppose that’ll effect your plan to throw me over?” 

He raises his scarred brow. “Who says I plan to throw you over?”

Mira. Not that I took her seriously. She’ll be unbearably smug if the next time we meet is in Malek’s realm. 

“Call it a logical assumption given my parentage.” I’m pretty certain none of the cadets with the marks of the rebellion would give me a glass of water if I was on fire. Not that I can blame them. Who knows what atrocities my mother is hiding? If my father couldn’t trust her, neither can I. 

Rhiannon interrupts our staring contest. “You alright?” 

Xaden hardly spares her a glance. “You’re friends?” 

“We met on the stairs,” Rhiannon challenges him with an unturned chin. I can’t stop myself from finding it endearing as Rhiannon squares her shoulders and shifts into a defensive stance. My ill-advised friend is both genuine and fierce. Wait until she realizes she’s talking to a wingleader. 

Even if I don’t survive to see tomorrow, I need Rhiannon to make it. I just hope she won't have to find a new pair of boots. 

“Interesting,” Xaden whispers, as his eyes flicker down towards our mismatched feet. 

I have spent a disproportionate amount of time trying to analyze what people mean instead of what they say, and quickly realized how much I can glean from people’s eyes. But not Xaden. The emotions that flash in his onyx eyes are completely foreign to me, written in yet another language I did not speak. 

“Still waiting on an answer,” I prompt. Shit, if he didn’t want to kill me before, it might be the impertinence that does it. But like with most things in life, I just had to fucking know. 

He looks faintly amused. “You’re waiting to hear if I plan to throw you over? And why shouldn’t I make it a surprise?” 

I shrug in a way that I hope reads as nonchalant. “Helps me with my schedule really. Why spend the next five minutes in a typical parapet panic if I’m not even going to have to worry about it? That’s time better spent.” 

Another eyebrow raise. “Better spent doing what exactly?”

There are two ways that I can answer that. There is the smart answer, which is praying to my gods and asking Rhiannon to tell my sister she was right if they ever meet. She’ll deserve that final ‘I told you so.’ Mira Sorrengail lives for those. 

And then there is my actual answer. 

“Well, probably trying and most likely failing to throw you off first, or take you with me. I don’t suppose I’ll be too picky if it comes to that.” 

I hear Rhiannon cough in front of me. Me too, Rhiannon, me too. I also cannot believe my audacity. 

“You’re really not selling this. I think the better option would be the element of surprise, if you’re going to try and take me with you,” he argues, but the amused quirk of his admittedly perfect lips remains in place. 

“Mutually assured destruction, while not my first choice, might be the only one. As a rule, my first choice includes significantly less falling to our doom.”

“And your first choice isn’t throwing me off? I find that surprising.” 

“Ah, unlike you, Riorson, I don’t quite believe I have a reason to want you dead.” His eyes widen marginally in surprise, and I pat myself on the back for catching him off guard. “I’d much rather spend the next few minutes contemplating my own mortality secure in the knowledge that you’re not going to try and kill me.” 

I’m distracted from our banter by a scream coming from the parapet. The noise around me fades as I watch Dylan try and fail to pull himself up. The only sound I register is the increasing rumble of rain pounding against stone. Dylan is dead. 

The blood drains from my face. Dylan’s almost-fiancé is going to read his name on the death roll today. Fuck. I am going to be the next to die. 

Xaden throws me a twisted smirk. “Contemplate your mortality faster, Sorrengail. I don’t have to lift a finger to kill you if the parapet does it for me like everybody expects. You’re up.” 

As quickly as I lose my nerve, I find it again. The crazy things anger will do to a person. I am just so fucking tired of people assuming I am weak and fragile. It’s like they have already written down my name among the deceased. Even my own mother doesn’t really believe I’ll make it across. 

My face flushes red as I turn back towards Xaden and snarl. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that. I would hate to make things too easy on you.” I turn my head away from him in obvious dismissal. 

I will live, I repeat to myself silently, if only to piss everyone off. 

I look at him from the corner of my eye, and he seems downright pleased at my anger.

Chapter Text

“Name?”

“Violet Sorrengail.” 

“Sorrengail, as in General Sorrengail?” One of the riders asks me. Did they not just hear my whole encounter with Xaden? I don't think we were being subtle.

“I wish it was a common enough name for me to say no.”

“I thought she only had one daughter,” the other one interjects. 

I look up towards the growing storm above the parapet. “Oh, she wishes. I have this pesky habit of not dying. But maybe you’ll be right before the end of the day.”

I allow myself a moment to carefully settle my feet on the parapet, to get used to the feeling of the uneven stone. I almost smile when I realize how much it reminds me of walking along the short walls that surround the highest alcoves in Basgiath. But even while standing within the portion surrounded by walls on either side, the wind whips around me with a vengeance. I can hear the blonde insult me again, and I lift up a hand to flip him off without looking back. Moving forward before he can get close enough to push me, I take my first step. One at a time.  

After the walls around the parapet disappear, there is nothing to buffer the elements. I hear the asshole give his name to the riders—Jack Barlowe—and make some bold claim about being a wingleader someday before he screams more taunts towards my retreating back. Or maybe he was taunting someone else now. I had already tuned him out. 

Fuck all of them, I think viciously. I will live at least long enough to tell everybody who thought I was weak to fuck off. Especially my mother. 

Thunder bursts from the clouds and the rain begins to fall in a heavy curtain, as if in response to my thoughts. 

“Well, fuck you too, General,” I complain loudly as I struggle briefly to find my center of gravity. I don’t put it past her to send a storm just to mess with me. In another life, I probably would be reciting Navarrian history to stay calm like I always did as a child. But the books that used to bring me comfort now only make me angry.

While looking only at the stones in front of me, I try my best to walk faster but Rhiannon’s boot begins to slide against the slick surface with every step. I gasp at a potentially lethal slip but manage to regain my footing.

I can already see it. Here lies Violet Sorrengail. Death by mismatched boots.

That headstone might even be worse than death by someone else falling off the stairs. 

I reach the halfway point without dying and risk a glance over my shoulder to see if Jack is close. To my surprise, he is stopped a quarter of the way and looking back towards the entrance of the parapet instead of charging at me. I try to squint through the heavy rain and I can see a gangly looking man with dark hair take a few shaky steps forward while Jack taunts him at a distance. My blood runs cold. I suddenly know exactly what Jack Barlow is waiting for. Another victim. 

Jack throws an ugly smirk over his shoulder and meets my eyes. “He’s dead and you’re next, Sorrengail.” His spiteful glare confirms my suspicions. 

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of Jack throwing this unnamed candidate from the parapet, but there is nothing I can do. My ears can barely pick up Jack goading the stranger into walking closer, but I have trouble making out the exact words.

Maybe it is because the gangly boy looks so scared, body shaking like a leaf as he inches forward so slowly it’s like he’s barely moving at all, but my heart cries out for him. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else, which is something I can relate to. Even if he dies before graduation, anything would be better than being thrown to his death just because he happened to get in line after Jack. The parapet was the test, not that sadistic piece of shit.

But Jack is going to kill him, and then he is going to turn around and come for me. It is in my best interest to cross as fast as possible while he is distracted and send a prayer to Malek for the boy's soul. Unless.

Holy shit, it’s an objectively terrible idea. Possibly the worst idea I have ever had. I curse myself for even considering it. Freezing in place on the parapet, I mentally review the Codex to make sure I am not breaking a rule, but we aren’t even cadets yet, so it doesn’t really matter. There is also the little fact that I’ve never actually stabbed anyone before, but I don’t let myself linger on that thought. I'm trying to become a rider in Basgiath's most brutal quadrant; I was always going to have to truly hurt someone someday. I have spent hours over the last year thinking about it, but there is no time to dwell today. 

“You’re a fool if you do this, Violet,” I whisper to myself. As usual, I elect not to listen. 

My feet shift slightly so I can fully turn my body without sending myself tumbling towards the ravine. While Jack isn’t looking towards me, I brace my feet as solidly as I can manage and take a few steps forward—er, backwards. I only have five daggers, and I will definitely need the last one in case this doesn’t work. 

I guess I’m actually doing it. 

I take one of my daggers and test the weight in my hands, flipping it until I’m holding the tip of the blade. It hurts to use one of Mira’s daggers for this, since they are my favorite, but they are my best bet to aim true. It doesn’t escape my notice that standing here with a blade in my hand is the first moment on the parapet where I did not feel even the slightest at risk of losing my balance.  

My eyes narrow in on Jack and I try to gauge the distance. I have hit farther targets before, but not in these conditions. At least he will not be able to dodge on the parapet without risk of falling. The rain and the wind would cause drag, so I need to aim higher to compensate. But if I aim too high, I suppose that he might duck. I could even hit the poor candidate I’m trying to save if he gets the chance to react. I nod to myself. I can’t give him the chance to turn around and see me coming then. 

“At least if I die, it’ll be my own stupid fault, and not my mother’s,” I muse quietly, my words lost to the sound of the pounding rain. “I’m sorry, Mira.” 

I let the dagger whip from my fingers with practiced precision. Jack roars in pain as it sinks deep into the meaty flesh of his calf, just like I wanted. He falls forward and grasps at the even stone in front of him to keep from falling off the edge. He turns to look over his shoulder with murder in his eyes.  

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Sorrengail!” he screams. Yes, yes, he’s going to kill me. I think there is a line forming so he'll have to hurry up if he wants the chance.  

I force myself to shrug as I pull out another dagger. I’ll wait to use it in case he manages to stand up. “You probably overheard, but I’m not the biggest fan of people throwing others off the parapet. I guess I’m sensitive like that.” I speak loudly enough to be heard over the rain. Thunder rings out and I don’t allow myself to flinch. “I’ll have to ask you to reconsider.” 

“I think I’ll break your neck before I toss you into the ravine, bitch! Then I’ll kill this bastard just for being here. Good riddance to two weak links in the wing.” The bastard in question takes a step back. I lock eyes with the unnamed candidate and shake my head slowly, holding up a hand to tell him to stay put. 

I repress the urge to scream back at Jack that he is a hateful fuck and I would be glad to send him to meet Malek. I need to stay calm, even while I rile him up until he is twisted beyond recognition. 

“Big words from a big guy who can’t even stand up,” I say dismissively. “I doubt the riders would want a wingleader who had to crawl across the parapet.” 

Even at a distance, I can see the way his face flushes in anger and grabs the edges of the parapet to stand up. I finger my dagger in contemplation. Unfortunately for Jack Barlowe, he has not spent the last year pushing down his resentment until nothing but a vicious calm remained. I am fucking angry too, all the time, and I wouldn’t have lasted a week if I exploded on every person I blamed for my father’s death. I know how to manage my anger, how to harness it, how to look behind it and find purpose. 

Jack clearly never practiced that skill. He pushes up with all his strength to try and stand far too quickly instead of being cautious, and I can see the moment his hand slips on the wet stone. He careens dangerously to the side, and tries to correct himself by throwing his leg across the stone bridge to grasp it tightly for balance. To both my delight and horror, it was the leg I embedded the dagger in. He flinches at the pain and his grip loosens.

Even as his scream of anger turns into one of fear, I do not bother to watch him fall. I keep my eyes on the only other person on the parapet. We have been at a standstill so long, both of us are shivering from the cold as our wet clothes stick to our skin. His eyes follow Jack all of the way down, and I watch him focus on the ravine below. The stranger sways dangerously. Oh no, not after everything. 

“Hey!” I yell out. “Do not dare look down.” 

He looks back up at me and I can see the fear in his hazel eyes. Afraid of the parapet, or afraid I’d stab him too? I put away my dagger just in case.

“Look at me,” I yell again. “What’s your name?” 

“Ivan Luperco,” he offers hesitantly, but at least he doesn’t look down again and he speaks loud enough for me to hear him over the rain. 

“Okay, Ivan,” I tell him with a tight smile. “My name is Violet. We are not dying today, do you understand me?”

“I can’t!” He screams as if his death is a forgone conclusion. “Even if you didn’t kill him, I never was going to make it. He’s right! I’m weak!” 

Oh gods, I killed someone. I put that fact into a different box in my mind and close it. I lock it tightly and throw away the whole fucking key. 

“If I had a coin for every time someone called me weak, I’d have enough money to replace my lost dagger a hundred times over. Now we’re both here, on the parapet, and all we can do is prove them wrong. Now take another step,” I order him with an authority I didn't know I possessed. He moves forward. “Eyes only on the stone in front of you. Arms out, just like that. Good. You’re doing great. We’ll say ‘fuck you’ to the people who called us weak together, okay? On solid ground preferably.” 

I stay perfectly still as he inches closer to me. Once he is near enough that I can see the ghosting of freckles decorating his face, I rotate carefully so I can finally face the correct way again. I send one last lingering look over my shoulder. 

“You’re going to live today, Ivan.” 

I begin to move again, unable to believe that I had actually done something so foolish and it didn’t get me killed.

Yet. 

“Fuck!” As if it's karma for feeling relief too soon, Rhiannon’s boot slips on my next step and I lurch forward, knee slamming against the stone. My hands grip the sides of the parapet to steady myself, not unlike Jack did after I stabbed him. The irony is not lost on me. 

“Violet!” Ivan yells frantically. Aw, he sounds concerned. That’s sweet. 

“I’m alright, Ivan,” I grunt and steady myself. I know I’d have a wicked bruise, but at least my knee is still exactly where it should be. The end of the parapet is only a few meters away. I am so close I can taste it. 

I take a deep breath and picture my father’s face again. If I die here, if I don’t keep going, the truth he died for will burn with my personal effects. 

I carefully maneuver one of my legs back underneath me and shift my weight backwards to balance. With another grunt, I manage to force myself back upright through sheer willpower. Standing carefully, I test my weight on my injured knee. Painful but not debilitating—very close to my usual standard of living. I can do this. 

“Okay, let’s try walking straight ahead again. Third time’s the charm,” I mumble as I put one foot in front of the next. I don’t permit myself even a moment of relief as the stone walls rise above me. I drop down from the elevated parapet into the safety of the courtyard and whip my head around to check on Ivan. 

I can’t even properly exhale until he joins me on the ground safely. We stare at each other with identical expressions of shock that we actually made it. After a moment, we share a surprised laugh that is more a huff of air leaving our lungs too fast than real laughter. “I can’t believe that you—” he starts, before he is cut off. 

“Name?” One of the riders calls out in a bored tone. I break away to face her. 

“Violet Sorrengail. And before you ask, yes, that Sorrengail.” 

Ivan makes a noise of surprise and I turn back to look back at him. He pointedly avoids my gaze. 

“Ivan Luperco,” he mumbles to the rider quietly before practically sprinting away from me. 

I finally notice the rebellion mark peeking out from under his long sleeves.

Chapter Text

I watch Ivan retreat until he disappears into the crowd. 

Fuck. The pain in my knee barely registers compared to the tightness in my chest. 

A strong hand grabs my shoulder to turn me around, and I have my dagger out and lifted to their throat before I can even think about it. Rhiannon backs away in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say sheepishly as I shove the dagger back into its home on my corset. “I guess murderous psychopaths trying to throw you from the parapet is hell on the nerves.” 

Rhiannon snorts and pulls us towards the courtyard. “I should have expected that. I couldn’t help but notice that the blonde asshole wasn’t behind you. Did his ego weigh him down?” 

“Not quite as much as my dagger did,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “He tried to throw off the person behind him and threatened to kill me next, so I threw one at his leg.” 

Rhiannon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, your parapet story will definitely win at parties.” 

I laugh while I feel the adrenaline start to fade from my body, and my vision blurs. “Can we find somewhere to sit maybe? We need to switch back our boots and also I don’t think the courtyard is supposed to spin like this.” 

Rhiannon laughs and allows me to lean on her slightly as she leads me towards a wooden bench inside one of the alcoves in the wall. “I don’t know how to thank you. That boot must have saved my life at least three times.” 

I smile but it feels strained. “No need for thanks. I’m just glad we both made it. It would have been awkward for either one of us to walk around with two different boots.” 

She squeezes my shoulder before releasing me to plop down on the bench without an ounce of grace. With a heavy sigh, I lean forward to untie her boot from my left foot and pull it off. She sits beside me to follow suit, but we are interrupted by a surprised voice calling out. “Violet?”

My entire body freezes. Dain—uncaring of the shredded remains of the box inside my mind that he busted out of without permission—is standing in front of us. 

I always knew I would see him again, and confront the fact that I’ll have to keep him at a distance, but I never thought it would be when the world was spinning around me and I was only wearing one shoe. I am woefully unprepared. 

Despite looking older, with facial hair and new scars, he is still so clearly Dain. But he is also Colonel Aetos’ son, I remind myself. His son who would do anything to please him. I don’t want to hurt him, but I just can’t bring myself to trust him. 

The sight of the boy used to fill me with butterflies, but now they are a plague of locusts and I think I am going to be sick.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I definitely do not mean to say that aloud. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Violet?”

“Hi, Dain,” I manage with a hint of teasing in my strained voice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. Also I don’t think I was kidding about being sick. I think it’s the adrenaline finally wearing off.” 

I lean forward again to put my head between my knees—still only wearing one shoe. The breeze on my ankle leaves me feeling off balance, so I grab my boot from Rhiannon and pull it on with a heavy sigh.  

“Damn it, Violet,” he huffs and kneels down to lace the boot for me. I allow myself to enjoy his fussing for a moment, because it is familiar and comforting. Then he turns to my first friend in the quadrant and gives her a nasty look that makes me bristle. “Who the hell are you?” 

Rhiannon doesn’t back down, even a little. “I’m Rhiannon, Violet’s friend. Who the hell are you?” 

“Dain and I have been friends since we were children,” I explain.

“And I’m a second year rider, cadet,” Dain postures with a haughty look on his face. I send him a glare when Rhiannon takes a step backwards. “Violet is just fine. And that is what you will say to anyone who asks.” 

“Stop it, Dain. I trust her.” 

Rhiannon only nods in response. “Violet isn’t anybody’s business and that is what I would tell someone who asks. I never would have made it across the parapet without her, so I’m pretty sure I owe her my life now.” 

I laugh lightly and lift my head to send her cheeky smile. The dizziness fades into delirious delight. “You can’t prove that. Maybe my small ass boot just slowed you down.” 

“As opposed to my big ass boot? I’m sure that made your walk downright relaxing.” 

“Oh, it was practically a romantic stroll with Jack the Sociopath. Imagine the view at night.” 

Rhiannon snorts at me while she finishes lacing up her own boot, but Dain just looks more and more upset at our jokes. His face turns a shade of red that I’ve never seen on him before the longer we ignore him. 

“This is serious, Violet. Are you hurt?”

“No more than usual, Dain. I came through with a bruised knee, but one surprisingly intact ego. It could have definitely gone worse. Shame I lost that dagger though. It was one of the ones I stole from Mira.” 

“You wear daggers now?” He seems surprised. What did he expect me to fight with? 

He steps back to look me up and down and I see a flash of heat in his eyes. In another life, I would preen at his obvious perusal. I just nod. “They saved my life." And the life of another cadet.

Dain shakes his head in disbelief and turns back to Rhiannon. “My name is Dain Aetos and I’m the leader of Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing. Find the redhead with the roll and tell her that I want you and Violet in my squad. If she questions you, tell her that she owes me for Threshing last year.” 

Rhiannon glances at me to check in before leaving us alone, which I appreciate beyond words. I am so happy I gave her my boot. “I’m all good. Not even dizzy anymore. I’ll find you after I talk to Dain.” 

“Go before someone sees us,” Dain barks. I repress the urge to pinch his arm the way I always used to when he pissed me off. 

“Going,” she answers, but I can tell she backs off only because he is going to be her squad leader. I watch her walk away before turning to Dain. 

I open my mouth to ask him how he’s been, maybe even congratulate him on being a squad leader, but he cuts me off with a glare. “You crossed the parapet with an equestrian boot too big for you? What the hell were you thinking?” 

I almost flinch at his harsh tone, so unlike the Dain I remember, before I recall who I am now and return his glare with equal fervor. “I was thinking that she would have died without trading. I was thinking that I don’t regret it at all. And right now I’m thinking that maybe you should watch the way you’re speaking to me.” 

His eyes soften and he reaches for my face, but I stand up and push his arms away from me so I can walk a few paces away. For some reason, I really don’t want him to touch me. My knee aches but the wraps provide enough stability that it doesn’t even cause a limp. Dain follows me with a groan. 

“You were supposed to be a scribe, Violet. What the hell happened? Tell me you did not volunteer for the Rider’s Quadrant.”

I roll my eyes. “You were gone for a year, Dain, not a lifetime. You know I wouldn’t choose this.” 

He curses. “Your mother.” 

“The General gave an order,” I said without any feeling. “Every Sorrengail is a rider, if you didn’t know.” 

“You can’t become a rider, Violet,” he insists. 

“What do you want me to say, Dain? I’m here now and all I can do is try to survive.”

“No.”

”No?” I ask incredulously. “Please enlighten me, Squad Leader. I was operating under the impression that you graduate or you die.” 

“Not if we get you to the Scribe Quadrant. Now.” He grabs my shoulder and starts roughly pulling me along one of the nearby corridors.

“Dain, you need to stop.” I carefully pull my shoulder from his grasp and stop walking. “I am in the Rider’s Quadrant now. There isn’t anything that either of us can do about it.” 

“Violet, please. You’re never going to make it here. Even if you were able to cross the parapet, you’ll break during your first challenge, or the Gauntlet, or when the dragons sense that you’re…”

“When they sense I’m what, Dain?” I ask with ice in my voice. “I am so fucking tired of people telling me I’m weak or less than.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Vi. I just meant that there is no guarantee a dragon will bond with you. Let me get you out of here, and you’ll have a wild story to tell for the rest of your life. If you go back out there, that life won’t be very long. I care about you so much, Vi, please let me save you.”

He looks more flustered throughout his little speech, violently dragging his hands through his hair. 

“You need to stop, Dain. I care about you too but I am not leaving. My mother would never allow it.” My voice is calm and measured. It's the truth. My mother promised she’d drag me back by my braid if I entered the Scribe Quadrant and I do not doubt her. But more importantly, I didn’t come this far to run away. 

His voice drops down to barely a whisper. “I can’t protect you out there.”

“I never asked you to. And why the hell did you ask Rhiannon to put me on your squad if you were going to try and sneak me out the back door?”

“To make her leave so I could get you out!” He looks ready to continue but I cut him off with a fierce glare. “Do you—”

“You do not get to make decisions for me, Dain Aetos. Not now, not ever. I will see you at formation.” 

I watch all of the fight drain from his eyes. With that, I turn away from him and practically run in the direction we came from. When I finally enter the courtyard, I search for Rhiannon, who is tall enough that she’s easy to find. Lucky bitch. 

“There you are! I was worried. Is everything okay with…?”

I nod, but can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “I’m all good. The minute you left, Dain tried to smuggle me into the Scribe Quadrant. A shocking breach in conduct for a squad leader, but I suppose we’ll have to forgive him if we’re stuck with him all year.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. “Why the hell would he do that? You just kicked major parapet ass.” 

I can’t stop myself from smirking at the reminder. “I did, huh? General Sorrengail would be proud, which almost makes me wish I didn’t.” 

Rhiannon throws her head back and laughs. “I have never met someone as willing to shit talk a General as you, Violet.” 

“Wait until you hear my opinions on Melgren.” 

The storm passed soon after I crossed—of course it did—so I tilt my head back and enjoy the sun on my face. 

The quadrant is full of brightly decorated cadets and excited chatter among the first-years. Rhiannon turns to introduce me to a girl named Tara, and spends the next several hours making friends for the both of us. A year of training non-stop and distrusting everyone I know may have stunted my social development, because the sight is as exhausting as it is fascinating. 

I am painfully aware of the exact moment Xaden Riorson exits the turret and begins to cross the courtyard. People seemed to move out of his way instinctually. The only patch on his jacket was the one indicating his role as Wingleader in the Fourth Wing. I wonder what his signet is, and which dragon he is bonded to. Rhiannon notices my attention shift. 

“What was the deal with Riorson in the turret?” She asks quietly. “Your conversation was… intense. Is he really going to try to kill you?”

I shrug, as if we were talking about the weather. “Maybe we were just flirting and he’s bad at it. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that if Xaden Riorson wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here.” 

Rhiannon just shakes her head in amusement. The beginning of the first speech saves me from hearing her response. 

I valiantly ignore the unsettled feeling I get whenever I see Panchek. I do not trust any of the faculty, but I reserve an extra bit of wariness for Commandant, who gleefully reports the death of sixty-seven candidates. More than last year. How many of them were collateral damage in the storm my mother sent for me?

At least one of those names may as well be written in my own handwriting. 

I wait patiently through the speeches and explain things to Rhiannon as we go, from the breakdown of each wing to the roles of leadership. I am a veritable well of knowledge, equipped with a Codex full of rules and a lifetime of spite. As they start announcing the squads, my mind begins to wander again. 

Today has been packed with new information to analyze. As if I had paper in front of me, I organize my mental notes carefully. I know that I can’t risk recording any of my ideas or the information I’ve gathered, so it will have to do. 

The marked ones. Even the idea of a dragon punishing a group of children and leaving them with relics makes me feel sick. My theory that they were forced into the quadrant with the highest death rate makes an all too bleak picture even worse. 

But leadership obviously isn’t happy that any of the marked ones survive, let alone thrive under the harsh conditions. If the leadership isn’t happy… I recognize now that people may have looked at Xaden with begrudging respect when he crossed the courtyard, there were also looks of disgust. A quick glance around me confirms what I suspect. All of the marked ones are clearly huddled together in small groups—no more than three—and the other cadets cast wary looks in their direction. 

It is foolish that I haven’t considered it before. The marked ones are obviously ostracized by both leadership and at least a large portion of the cadets. They might be the only ones here who have a longer list of people wanting them dead than I do. And they are forced here, just like me. 

I remember the way Ivan couldn’t bear to meet my eyes after he heard the name Sorrengail. I’m glad I didn’t tell him my full name while we were on the parapet. It probably would have upset him and worsened his odds. I purposely avoid looking for him in the crowd. Today is hard enough for them without me reminding him of the General. 

And what about Xaden Riorson? Mira was certain that he would kill me, but I can’t help but trust my first instinct. I can recognize the man’s hidden brutality, and the quadrant’s reaction to him spoke volumes, but I don’t get the impression that Xaden would kill me unless he thinks I am a threat to him. He seems too smart for that, too calculated. 

Rhiannon and I being called to Dain’s squad is no surprise. Maybe Dain’s overprotective nonsense was good for exactly one thing. Even if he’s my squad leader, I must continue to keep my distance in order to make sure he doesn’t realize why I am here. The classified signet patch that I noticed on his jacket tells me that he has secrets of his own. 

The real surprise of the day, besides actually surviving, is when Xaden stalks forward towards the other wingleaders and has a quiet conversation that results in Dain’s squad being switched with one of the ones from Fourth Wing. Xaden’s wing. 

I can pretend it has nothing to do with me, except for the way that Xaden stares directly into my eyes as we move to line up near the rest of the squads in Fourth Wing. Right in front of where he is standing. I refuse to look away, lifting my chin in challenge. 

Rhiannon leans down to whisper in my ear. “He definitely either wants to kill you or fuck you. For your sake, I hope it’s the latter.” 

My cheeks warm against my will and I break our standoff to glare at her. I know which one I’d choose. I blame myself for the joke I made about flirting earlier, but she doesn’t have to call me out like that. I turn back towards Xaden and the smirk on his face makes me worry for a moment that he heard her, which is impossible. 

I shake myself out of my stupor to focus on the wingleader speeches. 

Xaden is exactly as magnetic as I expect as he goads the cadets into revealing their overconfidence. People cheer and celebrate, and I silently mourn the sixty-seven people who did not have to die for Navarre’s bullshit. A quick glance around shows me that none of the marked ones are cheering either. 

The noise of the crowd fades into the sounds of wings beating against the wind. 

“Gods, they are beautiful,” Rhiannon whispers right as I see a riot of eight dragons approaching. They’re flying fast too, and for a moment I believe that they will pass right over us. Instead, they cut their momentum sharply with a flap of their massive wings and settle on the walls of the fortress as if it's a perch. It was probably designed for this. 

When I see the first cadet break away from formation from the corner of my eye, I know what is going to happen. I almost smell burning flesh in the air before the flames burst forth from one of the red dragons to meet the cowardly cadet. He’s gone before he even reaches the shadows cast by the entrance. First-years cheering in the courtyard is a distant memory. The gusts of heat to my left and right that follow bring the death count to seventy, but I do not turn to look. 

The largest in line, a navy blue daggertail, captures my attention immediately. She appears more regal and vicious the more I look at her. She leans forward to directly meet my eyes, more large rocks threatening to come loose from the wall, and tilts her head. There is something almost feline about her, and I am the mouse caught in a trap. Maybe she expects me to run next. 

She breaths out sharply and hot steam washes over my face, feeling very much like a precursor to flame. My knees lock in terror. Maybe Dain is right and the dragons recognize my innate weakness. She could torch me right here, before I get anywhere close to Threshing. There isn’t a person at Basgiath that would be surprised, and Dain knew me best. Maybe I’m doomed. Maybe I should just run away now, and at least they’d make it quick instead of suffering for months to only try and fail. 

I push my fear back into the box and square my shoulders. I count each of my heartbeats while I maintain eye contact with the massive blue dragon. Fuck an easy death—the dragons can drag me kicking and screaming to Malek if they choose. I can’t do anything about it other than hold my ground. 

And especially fuck Dain. He doesn’t know the person I am anymore, the person I had to become. If he did, he wouldn’t be trying to smuggle me to the Scribe Quadrant. And everyone else who calls me weak? They can follow Jack Barlowe into the ravine. 

The blue dragon blinks slowly and finally looks away. Xaden addresses the crowd again, but I am so wrapped up in trying to slow down my racing heart that most of it escapes me. 

Chapter Text

After formation the next day, I’m walking alongside Rhiannon to collect our things for class when I hear a familiar bird call. Rhiannon stops beside me when I pause and sigh heavily. I can see him standing meaningfully near the doors of the Dragon Rotunda. I can feel his eyes drilling into the side of my head. If I’m being honest, Dain lacks a certain subtlety that I’ve come to value. He's just so obvious. 

“What was that?” 

“Dain. It seems I’m being summoned. If I’m not in Battle Brief, send a search party to the Scribe’s Quadrant. If he isn’t in Battle Brief, don’t send a search party anywhere because I’ve likely killed him and I’ll need you to be my accomplice.” 

Rhiannon laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’ve already scoped out where to hide the body, Vi. I’ll grab your bag so you can head straight there.” 

“You’re the best. If Tara ever wrongs you, I will definitely fight her for your honor.” 

Rhiannon’s face scrunches in embarrassment and she shoves me in the direction of the bird call. “Shut up, I just said I think she’s pretty.” 

“Like it isn’t payback for the shit in the courtyard yesterday." I tease Rhiannon as I dance away from her swatting hand. 

I’m only able to admire the beautiful ornate dragon carvings in the rotunda for a moment until Dain pulls me behind the red dragon’s pillar by my arm in a way that borders on painful. I push him away with a huff and pry his fingers away. Did Dain always used to grab me so much? Or is the lack of concern for my personal space another rider characteristic?  

“What can I help you with, Squad Leader?” 

He groans and tries to grab my arm again, but I brush him off. “Don’t be like that, Vi. You know I just want what’s best for you. Please just let me help you out of here. You’ll be in your first challenge soon and there’s nothing I can do for you on the mat.” 

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Dain. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Who I am and the things I want are different now.”

“What, you want to die? Please, please just survive. For me.” 

“No, I want to live for myself. You’re upset that I don’t want to ‘just survive’ so it’s easier on you.”

Dain turns to pace in front of me. I can see despair in the lines of his shoulders. For a moment, he almost looks like he's going to cry, the way he always used to when we were children, whenever I was injured. “Violet, you’ve always been stubborn, but this is ridiculous. Just because you’ve read books about being a rider doesn’t mean you know fucking anything!”

My growing sympathy for him dries up like a reservoir during a drought. I flinch and he reaches a hand towards me like he can pull the words back. I place both of my hands on daggers at my side and he allows his hand to drop in the space between us instead of making a connection.

“Let me be abundantly clear, Dain Aetos. Yes, my mother forced me to be here. No, I will not be leaving. Yes, I have a health condition. No, I’m not weak and no, I do not need your help. Speak to me like I deserve to me here—because I fucking do—or you can stop speaking to me at all. I won't blame you.” 

His eyes widened. “Vi, I’m begging you—”

I cut him off. “Then beg. But it won’t make a difference.”

I know Dain cares about me, but he can’t protect me. I wouldn’t want him to. 

“The challenges aren’t the only thing to worry about, Vi! Your mother has made enemies. You’ll be a walking silver target for anyone with a bone to pick with the General. Why do you think Riorson switched our squad? If you don’t get out of here, he’s going to kill you!"

I sigh in exhaustion. “Riorson had every opportunity to push me over at the entrance to the parapet. From the way everybody around here looks at him, I bet that if he truly wants me dead, the walk from here to the Archives wouldn’t stop him.” 

Dain shakes his head. “You don’t know the half of it, Vi. He’s strong and ruthless and bloodthirsty; there’s a reason that he was chosen by a blue dragon—especially one like Sgaeyl. She is just as bad. Cath told me that the other dragons don’t even like to be around her.”

The blue dragon is bonded to Xaden. The one who looked at me like she was trying to see into my soul. It makes sense. Xaden had a similar look on his face in the turret. But Dain’s words do not phase me. I have already decided that I won’t fear Xaden until he gives me a reason to, and as Dain so lovingly pointed out, I’ve always been stubborn.  

I still can use the opportunity to gain more information. Call it my fatal flaw. “What is his signet anyways? I noticed he doesn’t wear a patch.”  

“He’s a shadow wielder. What do you think that says about him down to his core?”

A signet presentation is hardly as literal as Dain is implying. He wants me to see the shadow wielder as evil, as if the manifestation of his powers proves that he’ll be lurking around corners ready to slit my throat just because he can. It’s all the proof I need that Dain still sees the world in black and white. As if things are ever that fucking simple. 

Maybe Xaden is a person who has seen too much darkness in his life? Maybe he feels safest when he’s shrouded in shadows and hidden from others? Maybe he just really enjoys the silence and beauty found in the night? 

Who am I talking about again? 

“What’s your signet then, Dain?” I ask suddenly. Will he tell me? Or will I have to figure it out? 

He freezes for a moment but his answer is expected—rehearsed even. “Mine is classified.” 

And what does that say about you, Dain?  

I sigh heavily. “That’s fine. But you can’t expect trust if you don’t give it, Dain.”

He wavers faster than I expect. “I do trust you, Violet. You have to know you’re important to me. I… I can read recent memories.”

My blood runs cold at the implications. This might be very bad for me. 

“Wouldn’t they have killed you? That is awfully close to reading minds.” I aim for a concerned tone. 

Dain shakes his head. “It’s limited by touch, so I’m less of a security risk.” 

Fuck security, he is a huge fucking risk to me. I frantically try to decide on a response. I need to know how it works, or I won’t be able to avoid him pulling my memories from my mind and ruining everything. Think, think, think. Discredit, deflect, or distract? 

It's painful to contemplate manipulating Dain, betraying him in that way, but I can't falter for something so important. 

My hands drop from their ready position at my blades. I force a relieved smile and take a step towards him so I have to look up to meet his eyes through my lashes. “Oh, thank the gods. I’m so glad they didn’t hurt you. And if I’m being honest… that’s a pretty cool signet.” 

His brown eyes soften and he gives me a bright smile. “Thanks, Vi. I’m lucky.” 

“You must have a very strong dragon to develop such a power. How did you discover it?” I asked with a practiced innocent air of curiosity. “I think I would have thought I was going crazy.” 

Dain rubs the back of his neck and laughs lightly. “It was during the middle of sparring if you can believe it. A second-year had me in a hold and I reached back to grab his shoulders. The second I brushed his face, I was suddenly watching him eat oats for breakfast. I pretty much sprinted back to my room.” 

Shit, he tried to touch my face within the first five minutes of seeing me again. My hesitance to manipulate him withers and dies. I will wear my betrayal on my treacherous heart like a badge of honor if that is what it takes to get closer to the truth. 

I force out a soft giggle. “You’re lucky that you didn’t look back further. In this quadrant? You probably would have seen his bedmate from the night before.” 

His laugh is still heartbreakingly familiar, like finding an old favorite sweater you thought you lost but it doesn’t fit the same anymore. “Using a signet to be a voyeur? My, my, Sorrengail, you’ve changed.” 

“You don’t know the half of it, Aetos,” I tease back. I need to exit from this conversation gracefully to avoid any suspicions. Dain Aetos will never get his hands anywhere near my face ever again. I smile and bump his shoulder with my own, which is the most I’m willing to touch him. “I did miss you, you know.” 

“I missed you too, Violet. I can’t imagine my life without you.” 

“I am doing my best so you won’t have to, Dain. But if you don’t start to trust me more, and you keep pushing me on this, you’ll lose me even when I survive.” I offer him a sad smile over my shoulder and move towards the exit of the rotunda. 

“Violet, please,” Dain reaches for my bare hand to stop me and I have to stop myself from flinching. I tell myself that it's not how his signet works, but my fight-or-flight response is beating against my chest like it's trying to escape.

I count my heartbeats as the thoughts cycle through my brain. Get away from him now. Stab him so he’ll never be able to touch you again. Get away from him now. Stab him so he’ll never be able to touch you again. Get away get away get away get away get—

I settle on the least bloodthirsty option and gently squeeze his hand before I pull away. 

“Goodbye, Dain. I need to go to class.” 

When I finally manage to leave him standing there, I exit the relative privacy of the large pillar and walk past a few cadets milling about. Before I can start towards the exit, I feel heavy eyes weighing down on me. I rest my hand on one of my daggers casually and scan around me without shifting my head too much… there, top of the steps to the fourth floor. Xaden Riorson stares at me from a distance, ignoring whatever the third-year built like a tree next to him is saying. 

I meet his gaze and raise an eyebrow. “So we meet again, and with no convenient parapet to toss each other from. Did you need something, Riorson?” 

I hardly raise my voice above speaking level, but I know he hears me. He uncrosses his massive arms and quickly descends the stairs so we’re standing on the same level but across from each other. “That might be the first time I’ve heard anyone call the parapet convenient. Just trying to do my duties, since you’re in my wing now.” 

I laugh. “And whose fault would that be? Should I feel special that you dragged an entire squad over to get closer to me? Or scared?” 

His eyes flash with an unfamiliar heat and he takes a few steps forward. He opens his mouth to reply, but stops at the sight of Dain exiting the pillar behind me and rushing to stand by my side. 

“Trying to fuck inside your chain of command on the second day?” He asks Dain with a cruel smirk, none of the playful teasing I’ve come to expect. “I thought Mr. Codex himself would be more attached to the rules.” 

“Wingleader,” Dain grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. “Run away, now. He’ll use any chance he can get to kill you. I’ll stay here, it’s harder for him to hurt me as a Squad Leader. We’ll continue our talk later.” He lowers his voice to speak to me as quietly as possible, but I can tell Xaden knows what he’s saying by the way his sneer deepens. Dain’s hand flexes towards my arm like he wants to physically pull me behind him and the sight makes my blood boil. 

Keep your fucking hands to yourself, I want to scream. I imagine shoving my elbow into his solar plexus vividly. “Gods, you’ve always been bad at taking no for an answer, Aetos.” His last name gives me back a bit of the distance I’m craving. He breaks his eyes away from Xaden to look at me in surprise. “Our talk is over. I meant what I said.”

I don’t bother to lower my voice. I step away from him purposefully and turn back to Xaden while keeping Dain in my periphery.

Xaden watches us with an amused smirk on his face. “You heard her, Aetos. It’s poor form for a Squad Leader to harass a new cadet. Why don’t you run along?”

Dain clenches his jaw and frowns. "Thank you, Riorson, but I can walk Vi-Cadet Sorrengail to class.” 

I roll my eyes so hard they may never recover, but Dain isn’t even looking in my direction. “Alright, Squad Leader, that’s enough. He gave you an order. Goodbye.” I interject pointedly.

Dain glares at Xaden one more time and gives me a weary look, but he doesn’t push his luck any further. I turn and allow my eyes to follow him until he finally pulls open the large doors and leaves the rotunda. I notice the third-year standing next to Xaden looking curious as the wingleader closes the distance between us. He stops several feet away. 

“You really need help finding your classroom, Sorrengail?” He asks and I'm relieved to see the lightness in his eyes return. It’s night and day compared to his conversation with Dain. Maybe I’m not the one who needs to watch my back around Xaden. 

I’m dying to ask him again if he plans to kill me, but it seems rude after he helped me get the hell away from Dain. 

“No, sir,” I tell him with an annoyed twist to my lips. “Squad Leader Aetos is just having a personal issue.” 

“And what issue would that be?” 

Casting me as the damsel in his story, conspiring to break the Codex by removing me from the quadrant, trying to read my fucking memories. Take your pick. 

“Well, minding his own business, for one. I’d elaborate but I think we’d both have to get to class before I’m done. Poor form to be late on the first day, and all.” I throw his words back at him with a raised eyebrow.  

He stares into my eyes for a full minute without saying anything. “Hm, interesting.” 

I snort. “Keep it up, Riorson, and I might think you want to keep me alive for your own entertainment.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to call you boring, Sorrengail.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling and we stare at each other for several long moments, until the man standing beside him clears his throat and we’re both snapped out of it. I have to be more careful; it is much too easy to fall head first into the depths of his onyx eyes. 

“I’m glad we’re both having fun. See you later, Riorson, you made sure of it.” I nod my head to both of them politely and turn to finally exit the rotunda. 

I know I still haven’t received a solid answer regarding Xaden’s plans vis-à-vis killing me, but I can’t help but enjoy our banter. It was teasing, and sarcastic, and real… and more than anything, I wasn’t lying when I said I was having fun.   

Chapter Text

I make it to Battle Brief with time to spare and Rhiannon is already here with my bag in tow.   

“How did everything go with Aetos?” She asks quietly as I slip into the seat she saved me amongst the rest of our squad. The last thing I need is rumors floating around that I'm sleeping my way to safety with my squad leader, especially when I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. 

“Same story, different day. You’d think a member of leadership would have better listening skills.” 

We roll our eyes together. “Men,” she huffs dismissively. “They’re the same in every quadrant.” 

I giggle and we make conversation while Professor Devera waits to begin class. After a few minutes, she steps forward to introduce the course, bright purple hair catching my attention first. I pull out my notebook and writing tools as we begin. My first Battle Brief. I've been waiting for this moment for so long. 

I notice Markham staring at me from the very front of the classroom and I force a small smile on my face and nod in his direction. All I want to do is throw my quill at him like a dagger. I test its weight in my hand. It’s unbalanced but I could probably do it.

His lips curve into a small smile and he nods back at me. There’s almost pride in his eyes and it makes my stomach churn even more than Dain did. Markham deserves a quill in the eye, not to take any measure of satisfaction in my abilities. The only person I care to make proud is my father, and Markham might as well have killed him. Focus, Violet. You need to keep his trust. 

Now that I’m an official cadet, I need to meet with the filthy liar and determine a time for our independent studies. Once I’ve settled back into my role as his student, I can worry about finding all the information I need. 

“First topic of the day. The Eastern Wing experienced an attack last night near the village of Chakir by a drift of Braevi gryphons and riders. Naturally, some of the information is redacted for security purposes, but what we can tell you is that the wards faltered along the top of the Espen Mountains.”

Espen Mountains? By gryphon riders? Why?

She presents the rest of the available information and I take notes diligently. I had already known that the wards had failed around the border before, so the surprise didn't hit me like the rest of the class. I overheard two riders talking about a similar attack months ago when I was hidden in a high alcove near the Bell Tower. They didn’t seem very surprised, so I can only assume that it wasn’t the first time for them either. We haven’t had any new announcements, so Navarre is obviously able to repair them, but they’re also not sharing with the public that they’re fallible. 

Maybe I should try to research how the wards work. They were put into place centuries ago and the people just trust that they will stay standing. I know now that blind trust is the true enemy. 

Now that I think about it, it was a high altitude village that those riders mentioned too. Did they know the wards would falter or were they the cause of it? If they have magic capable of bringing down our wards, why would they attack somewhere where their gryphons are at such a disadvantage? 

Professor Devera calls for questions from first-years and I hear all of the ones I expect. I’m pleased that I can predict the answers to several of them. Unfortunately, none of the cadets are picking up the details about the attack that I am. I need to direct the conversation… 

“What was the altitude of the village?” I ask loudly, cutting off a cadet from another squad that was about to speak. Cadets around the room look at me but I keep my eyes on Markham as he steps forward. 

“A little less than ten thousand feet. Why is that interesting, cadet?” 

“Gryphons aren’t strong at that altitude, and neither is their ability to channel. It’s an illogical place to attack unless they somehow knew that the wards would fall and they’d be able to access their magic. Additionally, Chakir is at least an hour’s flight from the nearest outpost,” I say without looking at the map. I’d studied it enough times to be sure. Professor Devera smirks and gestures for me to continue. 

“If it took an hour for the entire squad to arrive, the Navarrian riot were also aware that the wards would falter. Given the time it takes to light the beacons and the standard rotation of a squad, since several of them would have been off-duty or asleep, they had to have already been on their way.”

One of the men on my squad—something with a T—snorts. “That’s stupid. Precognition doesn’t exist, how would they be on their way to a future conflict?” 

Rhiannon turns to glare at him, but I snap before she can open her mouth. “It’s a question of logic, so I’m not surprised you don’t understand, Timmy. Try to come up with a valuable insight of your own before you try to find holes in mine. I guarantee it will serve you better in the long run.” 

People around the room laugh, and his face turns a concerning shade of red. “My name is Tynan,” he growls. 

I give him a fake smile. “Whatever you say, Tyler. Now listen to the Professor and maybe you’ll learn something for next time.” 

“Fuck y—”

Professor clears her throat to get our attention. “She is right. One of the dragons sensed the faltering ward and the wing flew. Had they not, the casualties would have been far higher and the destruction of the village far worse. It is a reasonable conclusion that the gryphons could sense it as well, though we cannot confirm.” 

Tynan glares at me, but it doesn’t stop the bubbling of confidence in my chest. The other cadets can be stronger and better at killing than I am, but I will always be smarter. 

“Second and third-years, take over. Let’s see if you can be a little more respectful to your fellow cadets.” 

To my delight, she’s looking disapprovingly at Tynan and not me. I knew I liked Devera from the second I realized she didn’t like Markham. 

A deep voice that I can feel in the base of my spine speaks up from the very back of the classroom. I force myself not to turn around to look at him. “What was the condition of the village?”

Shit, that’s a great question. I’m almost angry I didn’t think of it myself. How the village was attacked is almost as significant as the who and the why. Professor Devera describes the conditions and when Xaden draws his conclusions, I am completely convinced by his logic. I love a man who can string together an effective argument. 

“They were looking for something 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?” 

“Exactly. That’s the question,” Devera praises. “And that right there is why Riorson is a wingleader. You need more than strength and courage to be a good rider.” 

“So what’s the answer?” a first-year to the left asks. 

“We don’t know,” she shrugs, and her eyes bleed honesty. She probably doesn’t know, but I bet Navarrian leadership does.

I take notes, but my mind continues to race. They were looking for something. It wasn’t just an attack of opportunity when they realized the wards would falter. What could they want so badly that it’s worth risking their lives on Navarrian soil—despite the wards and the altitude limitations and the fact that our dragons will fly to meet them wherever it may be? They probably hoped to find whatever they were looking for and get out before the wing reached them. 

Xaden is right that Chakir is a poor village. What did they want? Maybe I can look for shipment details for any materials sent to that village or the nearest outposts. But it’s just as likely that Navarre doesn’t keep track of any materials that they wouldn’t want people to know about. 

I chew on my lip and try to see the whole picture. Dragons and probably gryphons know when one of the wards is failing. Logic says that it’s probably due to an innate sense of the magic in the earth. Gryphon riders targeted that village to look for something, something that Navarre leadership refuses to acknowledge, either to not sow fear amongst the public without proper information or because they know exactly what they’re looking for. 

Were they in search of the same thing in the other attacks? If that’s the case, why not just move whatever it is inland to avoid these types of conflicts? 

I decide that I’ll pull the public records for the incident that I overheard before. The information will probably be incomplete if not outright false, but the details that are included may shine some light on the issue. If the conditions of the villages are the same, then it could prove a pattern. Before I know it, class was over and most of the room had cleared out. 

“You good, Violet?” Rhiannon asks as she tugs her bag onto her shoulder. I nod and put away the rest of my things. 

“All good. I have a question, so I’ll meet you at lunch. Save a seat for me before I’m doomed to sit next to Teddy.” 

She laughed as she walked away. Once I’m the only person left in the room, I walk over to Professor Markham. 

“Hi, Professor,” I said brightly, digging my nails into my palms in between my clenched fists. “I wanted to see if you were still willing to continue my lessons. I know you’re an incredibly busy man.” 

Markham smiles in return. “Hello, Violet. I was so pleased when I saw your name on the final cadet list. I can tell from one lesson that this quadrant will be lucky to have a mind like yours. Let’s figure out a time for lessons.” 

I take a paper out of my pocket and hand him a copy of my schedule. “I prepared this for you. I still find myself keeping scribe hours, so I’ll probably sign up for breakfast duty too. If it’s the mornings that’ll work best for you, just let me know and I’ll pick something else.” It would put a damper on some of my plans, but I'd figure it out. Library duty would also have its benefits. 

Markham looks it over and nods to himself. “No, that should be fine. I will make myself available after your classes finish. Let’s aim for two days a week for now. Maybe Tuesday and Thursday after dinner?” 

“That works for me. Thank you for not giving up on me, Professor,” I say with carefully manufactured gratitude. 

“You’re welcome, Violet. Perhaps it is selfish, but I would hate for the Rider’s Quadrant to keep you all to itself.” I laugh lightly when he pauses because that is what he expects me to do. “Now, meet me in my office on Thursday after dinner. I will take care of your clearance to the Archives and we will discuss everything further.” 

“Understood. Have a good rest of your day, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow for Battle Brief.” 

Markham nods and I wait for him to dismiss me because I know it bothers him when riders come and go with ‘the proper respect owed to his position.’ Entitled little rat.

By the time I make it to lunch, Rhiannon is waiting next to an open seat with my food. Gods, I would kill a man for her. 

“A certain squad leader came looking for you again. I told him you had forgotten something in our room and he went running, so you should have time to eat before we head to the gym.”

Getting me food and lying to Dain for me? Scratch that, I’d destabilize an entire government for her. 

“I would kill a man for you.” Because telling her I’ve thought extensively about how to hypothetically destabilize a government isn’t casual lunch conversation. 

Rhiannon’s eyes sparkle and she shoves my tray forward. “You always say the sweetest things.”

I smile around a bite of my apple and shoot her a saucy wink. My new status as a killer isn’t a comfortable one, but it’s one that I’m trying to acknowledge so it doesn’t have the power to hurt me later. I know that if given the choice, I’d do it all over again. 

I’m in a war college. I always knew I’d be expected to become a weapon for the wing regardless. It’s only a matter of time until successful cadets take their first life. 

I’m just a little overachiever who took care of corrupting my humanity on the parapet.

Chapter Text

I’m still thinking about how I felt a piece of myself fall off the parapet with Jack fucking Barlowe when we’re gathered in front of the sparring mats with the rest of our squad. Besides some obvious exceptions—Tynan and Luca come to mind—I really enjoy most of them. Especially Sawyer, once he and Rhiannon promise to help me with hand-to-hand combat in exchange for help with history. That’s easy. I could recite Navarre’s entire falsified history with my eyes closed. 

Sawyer is a repeat first-year, having failed to claim a dragon during Threshing. I think he might be the bravest of us all to do this all over again. I eagerly agree to their proposal, but on the inside, I’m thinking about all the questions I want to ask Sawyer once we’re closer. Experience can be the difference between life and death. 

Rhiannon is called forward to the mat and she absolutely crushes Tynan. She’s fast, agile, and her hits have a strength that I’d kill for. The best part? When she holds her boot to his throat and tells him, “Yield, Tanner.” 

Fuck, she’s so great. If I was into women, I’d be half in love with her already. 

“You and you.” Emetterio points to me and a pink-haired second-year who is looking at me like I kicked her dog. I give her a once over, past the killer arms that are going to be the death of me, and my eyes settle on her rebellion mark. Shit. I always expected to have to face one of the cadets with rebellion marks, but during my first challenge? The gods must have a sense of humor. 

“Sorrengail. You really should dye your hair if you don’t want everybody to know who your mother is. You’re the only silver-haired freak in the quadrant.”

I circle her slowly and let the words roll off my back. It's nothing I haven't heard before. “My name is Violet. I, for one, like the pink. Maybe you have some recommendations.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck are you talking about? Your mother murdered my family, and I’ll return the fucking favor.” 

My eyes soften without my permission. I know I should rile her up and make her angry to make her lose focus. It would be the smart move, but losing a parent isn’t something to throw in someone’s face to win a spar. “I’m sorry that happened to you. But that doesn’t mean I can let you kill me.” 

I see the moment her anger wins regardless. She lunges for me, and I side-step quickly, aiming a jab at her kidneys and rotating far enough to avoid her grabbing me. She's fast. Much faster than Major Gillstead is. I suddenly wish I would have tried harder to find different opponents during my training. 

The look on her face tells that she is really going to try and kill me. I really wish blades were allowed. Even if I didn’t especially want to stab her, I’d feel better with the dependable weight in my hand.

I manage to stay ahead of her for a few moves, until I stumble trying to dodge a kick aimed at my head. She turns and manages to send me flying with a boot to my chest. I hit the mat hard.  

I feel the air escape my lungs in a hurry, and she follows faster than should be possible. There is fast and then there is whatever the hell she just did. “You can’t use your powers here, Imogen!” Dain calls from the side of the mat. She's channeling magic. 

Her pale green eyes take on a wicked gleam and I manage to spot a flash of silver just before her blade slides off the side of my corset. She stows away her weapon quickly, but not before I realize exactly what she just tried to do.

I use her moment of confusion from my armor to land a punch on her face and it sends her stumbling backwards. 

“Did you just try to stab me? What the fuck?” I mutter quietly as I stumble on to my feet. Imogen is really getting on my fucking nerves. 

“You think you don’t deserve it, Sorrengail?” Imogen taunts. “What kind of fucking armor is that?” 

Imogen asks the question like she expects an answer, which is hilarious. I will not be listing my strengths and weaknesses for her perusal. She blurs forward again on her next lunge and I hear Emetterio threaten to stop the match. But it's like I'm listening through cotton in my ears. Nothing outside of the mat is important. I keep my eyes on Imogen. I was almost able to keep track of her that time. Either she's not channeling as much magic, or I'm getting used to the timing. 

“I think that if you’re trying to hurt my mother by killing me, you’re barking up the wrong fucking tree,” I grunt as I’m forced to bail out of a punch when she uses her powers again. Even if I'm able to track her with my eyes, my body is quickly nearing its limit. This needs to end soon. “The General doesn’t give a shit about me. All you’ll do is save her the effort of doing it herself.” 

Imogen pauses for the briefest moment and I use the opportunity to tackle her and take her to the mat. Despite my months of training, she’s still stronger and manages to flip us around easily, locking my arm behind my back with a painful tug. I can tell exactly what she plans, and I'm able to brace myself for it. She stretches my shoulder past the point of no return and I hear the moment it pops out of place, but I refuse to let myself feel the burn. Not yet.

“Yield, Violet!” Dain cries from the edge of the map. Fuck off, Dain. 

Oh good, there’s my anger. It’s so much more comfortable than pain. I force every muscle in my body to relax and as soon as Imogen moves to adjust her hold to compensate, I slip my useless arm from her grasp and kick my legs out to unseat her. As I roll away, I use the momentum and the floor to violently pop my shoulder back into place with a sickening crunch that reverberates throughout the gym. Thank the gods it’s my left arm.

I hear gasps around me as I jump back to my feet quickly and tackle Imogen where she’s still sprawled on the ground. I use my right arm to press against her neck as one of my knees dig into her back. With my injured arm, I quickly pull a dagger from sheath at my ribs and press it against her vulnerable side. I curl forward to hide the motion with my body where the rest of the crowd can’t see it, especially Emetterio, but she can feel the tip of the blade. It would probably be a lethal wound if I pressed forward. 

I lean down to whisper in her ear. “I know you hate the General. I can’t even blame you. I hate her too. But she’s already fucking ruined my life, and I’ll be damned if I let myself get killed for her sins too. Now I would really quite prefer not to kill you, so fucking yield. ”

Her eyes flash with a whirlwind of surprise and anger and I dare to press the blade closer. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind her it’s there and that I have her life in my hands. “I yield,” she spits at my face, and I covertly put my blade away before jumping up and offering my good arm to pull her up. 

She ignores it, but at least I tried. Rhiannon meets me as soon as I step off the mat. 

“Did you just fucking pop your shoulder back into place and then tackle her?” 

I give her a weak smile. “What, like it’s hard?” I joke, but the reminder makes my stupid brain finally recognize the pain radiating from my arm through the rest of my body. Fuck, that was reckless. Maybe I should have just yielded when she had me pinned, but I figured there was a 50/50 chance she would try to kill me regardless. “I almost forgot how much that hurts. I think I need to be mended,” I whisper quietly so only Rhiannon can hear.  

Dain walks up to me quickly. “Come on, Violet. I’ll take you to get your arm checked out.” 

I use my remaining strength to roll my eyes lightly. “Stay here, Squad Leader,” I manage to say, emphasizing his title pointedly. “I’ll be just fine.” 

“Come on, Violet. I know how bad it hurts. Let me help you like I always have.” 

He reaches for my face and I see red. My anger rises faster than I can smother it for the first time in a long time as I take a quick step closer to Rhiannon. The harsh movement sends another lightning bolt of pain through my body, but I don’t flinch. “You don’t know shit about the way I hurt, Aetos.” 

Rhiannon clears her throat. “I’ll take her. Both of our matches are done. Let’s go, Violet.” 

I follow her out of the gym quickly without waiting on a response from Dain, cradling my arm as soon as the doors close behind us and I can afford to show weakness. “Fuck,” I whisper while my eyes water. “Setting my own arm and then picking a fight with my squad leader might not have been my best idea.” 

Rhiannon braces part of my weight as we make our way to the Healer’s Quadrant. “First of all, setting your own arm was amazing. Fucking brilliant actually. The most intimidating thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I think a few of the first-years gagged.” 

I laughed weakly and adjusted my hold on my aching arm. It might have been intimidating, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

“And second of all, our squad leader was being a pain in the ass and he deserved it. He can’t coddle you in there. All it will do is stunt your growth and start rumors.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” I gasp as we start walking up the stairs and the motion makes my shoulder sting so bad that I bite my tongue until I taste blood. “I know he cares, but I don’t want him anywhere near me if he keeps this up.” 

“Speaking of… did you guys ever, you know?” 

“Did we fuck?” I ask bluntly. “No. There was a moment that I thought maybe, but nothing ever happened. And then he came here, so we didn’t speak for a year while my mother turned my life upside down and decided I was crossing the parapet. I had to become a different person to survive, and I don’t think he likes her very much.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s annoying but he still looks at you like he’s in love with you or something.” I try not to flinch at her words. The movement would hurt too fucking much right now. 

“That’s just Dain. He’s… intense about stuff he cares about, but we’ve never been anything more than friends. And now, we’ll be friends or we’ll be nothing. Or I’ll be dead and it doesn’t even matter.”

Rhiannon hummed thoughtfully. “I think he’ll come around. If you keep kicking ass, he’ll have no room to judge.” 

“That’s a pretty big if. My body is… different from yours. My bones are weak and my joints are really fucked up. I spent most of my life being put back together. It’s why Dain looks at me like something that needs to be fixed. It makes me want to hit him, but I mean, I also get it. He doesn’t have many reasons to think I can do this.” 

We finally reach our destination and I breathe a sigh in relief. My tragic life story is a good distraction, but painkillers would be better. Rhiannon has an odd look on her face when we pause in front of the door. 

“Thank you for walking me. You don’t have to stay for the whole gruesome affair. Mending hurts like a bitch. And thank you for saving me from Dain twice today.”

Rhiannon turns to stare directly into my eyes with a serious expression. I blink in surprise, pain momentarily forgotten. 

“Violet, I’m really glad I met you. You switched boots with me and then turned around on the parapet to hit a murderous piece of shit in the leg, with your dagger, in the pouring rain, all to save two strangers. You also won against a second-year today, even though she was cheating. That is not weak. For what it’s worth, you’re by far the strongest person I’ve met here, and I know you’re going to be a hell of a rider someday.” 

I blink back tears. “Thanks, Rhi,” I manage to whisper. “I’m really glad I met you too.” 

She nods and then opens the door for me. “Now let’s go get you mended. I’m not squeamish.”

Thankfully nothing is broken, so all Nolon has to mend are the muscles and ligaments in my shoulder, which took a serious beating. From both Imogen and myself, to be fair. It is really not recommended to set your own shoulder, especially mid-battle. He offers me a light blue sling and tells me to wear it for the next few days to take the weight off while it finishes healing. 

I stubbornly remove it as soon as we leave the Healer’s Quadrant so we can go to dinner. I can’t be seen as fragile, and it’s already almost fully healed anyways. 

My arm would be good—my definition of good, not a normal person’s—by the time official challenges started in two weeks. Only fourteen days until the people who want me dead can try their best to follow their dreams. At least I’d be able to use my daggers from now on. My wrist still aches from punching Imogen in the face. I can’t deny it felt good though. 

I can spar with Rhiannon and Sawyer every spare minute, but there is always the chance that I’ll get paired against someone who is just undeniably stronger, and wouldn’t hesitate to strike a killing blow. A person can only improve so much in two weeks. The margin of error is too high. To ensure my survival, I need to win. And to do that, I need to plan for contingencies. 

Time to hit the library. I separate from Rhiannon and walk the familiar route towards the Archives. I need to see a particular scribe about a particular book.

I find her just leaving the Archives, and we smile wildly at each other. Despite how happy I am to see Jesinia, I don’t approach her for a hug. Those kinds of things are frowned upon in the Scribe Quadrant. 

“Violet! I’m so happy you’re okay! I checked the death roll after parapet and I was so relieved not to see you there,” Jesinia signs rapidly. 

“Congratulations on passing! I always knew you would. We both did it! I will tell you the whole story about the parapet one day when we’re alone. But I’m actually here on business,” I sign back, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder. 

She nods in understanding. “What can I help you with today?” 

“I just wanted to see a friend about a book,” I sign cryptically. 

“One book?” she clarifies. 

“Until I get my own room. For now, I just need one. Maybe a purple one.” I shrug casually. 

Jesinia smiles and nods. “Can you be available tomorrow to come pick it up?” 

“Sure, how about I meet you outside of your dorm?”

“Are you sure?” I understand her confusion. We’re not exactly encouraged to roam between quadrants but I know Basgiath like the back of my hand. In those final months of training, I had trouble sleeping more often than not. I had already explored the top levels thoroughly while training for the parapet, so I pilfered a magelight and spent my nights learning the rest of the layout of Basgiath instead. By the time it was my Conscription Day, I already discovered all the secret ways in and out, along with the hidden passages and underground tunnels that connected the quadrants and ran through the entire citadel, mostly through trial and error. There were some areas that I haven’t been able to sneak into, but there isn’t much I can do about wards.

I also found one especially long tunnel that I suspect leads to the flight field given the direction, and I leave that one alone out of respect to the dragons. Every other path is fair game. 

“All good. Be there at ten.” 

I finally head to bed, earlier than I’m used to. I think about my conversation with Rhiannon on the way to the Healer’s. All of my old friends have been in my life since childhood. Dain, Cam, even Jesinia. I’ve never experienced such an instant camaraderie with another person before in my adult life, and I can’t help but truly think Rhiannon is on my side. But after a year of being intensely secretive and downright paranoid, it’s difficult to tell someone anything real about me. 

At the very least, I should probably tell Rhiannon that I’d be out at night, so she doesn’t try looking for me. 

I decide to sleep on it and decide tomorrow. After I prepare for bed, I check that my corset is secure and that two of my daggers are within reach under my pillow. Then I find the Book of Brennan that Mira left for me and sleep is the last thing on my mind. A wide and teary grin breaks across my face as I reach the entry about finding out the challenge match-ups. 

From Malek’s realm, he is still making my life easier. I force myself to go to sleep. It is going to be a long two weeks of preparations. 

Chapter Text

I make it in and out of the Scribe Quadrant safely the next night when I meet Jesinia to pick up my much-loved book of poisons. It was a gift from Brennan and I have been updating it for years. The margins are full of notes in my handwriting dating back to my childish scrawl from when I was much younger. I’ve had to re-bind it to add more pages twice over the years. It's funny, but I've been learning about poisons for much longer than I've been training to a rider. I never thought my little hobby would become so useful one day. 

After I find a hidden place to settle down and plan, I take everything out. I have to, quite literally, pick my poisons. I compare my little purple book to the maps in the Book of Brennan so I can make a list of the ingredients and other materials I will need. It will be suspicious if I’m out every night while I’m in the first-year barracks, so I need to plan for my gathering missions carefully. My knowledge of Basgiath will be useful too, as many of the hidden passages cut out significant time spent circling around the citadel. 

With my list and a marked map in hand, I finally slink back to my bed after everyone is asleep. Rhiannon opens her eyes when I put my things down, but she just smiles sleepily at me and turns back around. She doesn’t ask me where I was or what I was doing. Something about it convinces me that I would be smart to put my trust in her. At least a little. 

That thought leads me to the next night. I take a deep breath and catch Rhiannon’s eyes before she leaves to meet Tara. She raises an eyebrow when I ask her if she wants to take a walk before she goes. She nods and we make our way out to the darkened courtyard. She looks curious when she sees me scan the area carefully and move us to a good vantage point where I’d be able to see anyone coming. 

“What’s up, Vi?” 

I just look at her for a few long moments before I take a deep breath. “I know it's clear that I’m sneaking out, and I wanted to come up with a convenient lie. But the thing is, I’m pretty sure you’re my best friend, Rhi. I want to be honest with you about everything, but there are things that are stopping me.” I groan in frustration. I hate to talk in riddles and half-truths. 

“Is it okay if I tell you everything I can? It’s not all exactly in line with the Codex, so I wouldn’t blame you for keeping your distance from me from now on.” I ask softly. 

She nods immediately. “Of course. You don’t have to tell me everything for me to believe you, Violet. That’s what trust is about.” 

My mouth opens, and then closes again. “Fuck, this is hard,” I mumble, before I try again. “Let’s start with my brother.” 

I show Rhiannon the Book of Brennan. Thankfully, she doesn’t think it’s cheating or immoral to benefit from something gifted to me by my siblings. She’s actually pretty excited about it while I explain my plan to break into the professor’s lounge and show her the lockpick kit I snagged from a distracted infantryman months ago. I covertly slipped it in my rucksack after Mira finished re-packing my things for the parapet, along with a few other vital tools that could save my life someday. 

“I grew up in a small border village, so it’s not like subterfuge is common. I think it’s fun that you’re breaking in places to gather information.” Gods, you have no idea, I want to say.  

“You don’t think that I’m weak because I can’t handle challenges the normal way?” I manage to ask, even if I’m scared of the answer.  

Her smile is kind. “I already said you’re not weak, Vi. Everyone has different advantages over others, and I’m not going to shame you for capitalizing on yours.” 

“Thanks, Rhi. So, uh… did you want to know your match-ups too?”

Her dark eyes sparkle. “Of course. Being your best friend is obviously one of my advantages. I wouldn’t say no to scoping out the competition.” 

I break into a laugh, and just a bit of the weight that has been accumulating on my shoulders for so long falls away. “I’m happy to be of service. There are a few more things I want to tell you.” 

My plans as an aspiring poison master. Dain’s signet power. Even my private lessons with Markham, but not the reason why. She takes everything better than I expect. 

Impressed at the fact that I’ve been learning about different poisons and their antidotes with my brother since I was a child. “You’re kind of terrifying, Vi.” I give her a deliberately wicked smirk and we share a laugh. 

Shocked that Dain can look into our memories, and justifiably irritated that he’s tried to do it to me. “Asshole. I’ll make sure he keeps his hands to himself.” From the look in her eyes, I believe her. I wouldn't want to be a Dain who's messing with me if that's what my protector looks like. 

Not surprised that I’m pursuing more lessons in the Archives. “You’ve been training to be a scribe your entire life. That love doesn’t go away because you cross the parapet.” No, it doesn’t. Part of me will always mourn the scribe I could have been, but most of that love had already been stripped away long before I set a foot on the parapet. 

“You and Markham must be close.” My face must show how I feel about that. “Or… not?” She tries.

I sigh heavily and hike my bag higher on my shoulder. “It’s complicated. I don’t trust Markham as far as I can throw him, I’ll tell you that. But there are things I still want to learn and my options are limited.” 

Rhiannon looks at me seriously. “Are you holding out on something that is going to get you hurt?” 

“Not if I can help it,” I say honestly. “All I can say is that there is something I’m looking for. Once I find my answers or figure out what I’m going to do about it, I will tell you more.” 

She grasps my shoulders warmly and pulls me into a quick hug. I shoo her away quickly to go see Tara, even as my heart soars at the thought of having my first real ally. I promise myself that I’ll trust Rhiannon with everything that I can. Spending too much time alone in my own head is really starting to wear on me. 

—

According to my squad member Ridoc, I am starting to develop something of a reputation. “Some of the riders were gossiping about what happened on the parapet. And then there were your entirely badass, yet gross as hell shoulder acrobatics in the challenge. People are talking.”

I pause mid-bite. “Huh?”

Ridoc nods. “Yup, one person told me they heard you grappled with someone double your size and tossed him from the parapet with your bare hands. Another person told me that you killed two people before ending up in the courtyard, and threatened one of them that you’d cut off his balls.” 

I choke on my food and cough loudly. Rhiannon hands me a glass of water so I take a sip and try to blink past the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry, I did what? ”

“Some people are even saying your mom has been training you in secret since you were born and the rumors of you being weak were purposefully fabricated so you would be underestimated.” 

Rhiannon and I whip our heads around to stare at each other for a moment until we’re both laughing hysterically and have to use each other to stay upright on the bench. 

I wipe the remainder of the tears that break free. “Gods, wouldn’t that be convenient? Unfortunately, Ridoc, it is the boring truth that I am not some secret, highly trained plant from the General. I found out that I was coming here around a year ago, and before that, I was either in the Archives reading or at the Healer’s… well, healing. I only killed one person on the parapet, and it was with a dagger that I threw. No grappling necessary.” 

Ridoc laughs loudly. “Oh, I know. No person who hasn’t planned on being a scribe knows all of the obscure history shit that you do.” 

“Hey!” I protest. “You will surely benefit from my obscure history shit!” 

He laughs even louder and hands me the untouched apple on his plate without a word. Penance for making me choke on my potatoes, perhaps? I'll take it. 

“I’m just saying. It’s even more impressive, getting as far as you have and kicking ass with next to no preparation. And you’re smart as hell? It’s awesome.” 

I flush happily and thank him. Ridoc has to be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I take all of his words at face value. Except the flirtatious ones, though he probably meant those too. I'm too busy to think about getting laid even half as much as he does. Unfortunately, after hearing him talk about our wingleader's abdominals for ten minutes, I came to the conclusion that we have the same taste in men. Not that I will ever reveal that bit of information. 

He's a good fighter too. Not as good as Rhiannon, but good enough that I'm pleased by his compliments. Truthfully, Rhiannon is still knocking me to the mat nine out of ten times, but I’ve been trying my best to improve those odds. I do better against Sawyer, because he’s not nearly as fast or agile. He is tall though, which has been good practice for getting behind an opponent’s defenses when they have a long reach. 

“But, yeah, you’re getting quite the reputation. Some people think you’re going to do something really crazy in the next challenge,” Ridoc continues. Crazier than popping my own shoulder back into place and then brandishing a hidden dagger with none the wiser? 

Well, I’d hate to disappoint my fans.  

I finish my dinner quickly and shove the apple in my pocket before I go on my way. It’s Thursday and I have a long night ahead of me. I need to get to the Archives for my lessons with Markham. And since it is a full moon tonight, I’ll have to take advantage of the increased visibility after everyone is asleep. It was the perfect time to go hunting for ingredients, especially with challenges starting in a little over a week. 

I am so consumed thinking about my plans that I almost crash into a tall, lean figure turning the corner. I jump back in surprise and move to put distance between us instinctively.

My eyes travel up to his face and I freeze. “Ivan,” I breathe. 

I have made it a point not to look for him at formation or in the dining hall. But I still listen for his name when they read the death roll. 

“H-hi, Violet,” he stutters. His hazel eyes are flitting around the hallway nervously and his freckles stand out even more against his paling face. Does he think I’m going to hurt him or something? Shit, that stings. 

I move out of his path so he can leave, but he stops walking to stare at me. The moment drags on longer than comfortable. We both open our mouths at the same time. 

“I’m sorry—” 

“I’m sorry—”

We cut each other off and I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And we’re back to staring again. I clear my throat. “What are you sorry for, Ivan?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I shouldn’t have run after the parapet. Y-you saved me, no matter what your last name is. I owe you more than that. I owe you my life.” 

I shake my head seriously. “No.” 

“No?”

”No,” I repeat. “Listen to me. You don’t owe me a fucking thing. All you needed to do out there was survive and you did that. I don’t know all the heinous things the General probably did to all of you, and that’s by her design. Hate me if you need to, and don’t feel bad about it. But you don’t owe me anything for what I did on the parapet. That’s not why I did it.”

Ivan looks surprised as he considers my words closely. “Why?”

“Why did I do it? I don’t really have an answer.”  

“Why did you turn around for someone like me? I expected you to hate me, to hate all of us. We know what happened to your brother.” 

I sigh. “You didn’t do anything to my brother, and you didn’t do anything to me. None of you have done anything to earn my hatred—except maybe Imogen, but we can probably get over it if she stops trying to stab me,” I add with a shrug. “And if I’m being honest, I didn’t even see the mark. All I saw was the look on your face.” 

“Would you still have turned around if you had seen it?” 

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Look, I don’t think kids should be held accountable for the actions of their parents. I know that I wouldn’t want to answer for the General's sins. And I may be wrong but it’s my theory that you were all conscripted directly into the Rider’s Quadrant without being able to choose,” I pause and Ivan simply nods. 

I shrug again and look up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. “So maybe that's why I turned around after I saw your face. Even if I didn’t notice the mark, maybe I recognized a helplessness that felt at home in my own chest. We were forced to be there, and we were terrified they were right when they called us weak. Our lives gambled away at the whims of someone who doesn’t give a shit about us. Maybe even wants us to fall.” I drop my gaze to meet his eyes again. “I realized that being angry is easier than being scared, and the worst thing I can do to the people who have underestimated me is to live and live well. I wanted you to get that chance.”

His breath catches and he chews on his already abused bottom lip. “You really were forced here? By your own mother?”

“Let’s just say we have a common enemy,” I say with a sarcastic tilt to the corner of my lips. “But regardless. I wanted to say I’m sorry too. I didn’t intend to hide my last name. I don’t have any ulterior motives, and as we’ve covered, your life is still your own. I wish you all the best in this hellhole, Ivan. Truly.” 

I edge around him so I can continue walking towards the Archives, but he turns around and calls out. “Wait, Violet!” I stop and face him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re not what I expected.” 

“Would you believe that I get that a lot?” 

He laughs and it’s a great one, light and airy and full of life. I’m glad I have the chance to hear it. “I want you to know that I’m not going to run again.” I bite back a smile at the forceful quality his voice takes on and the undaunted look in his eyes. He seems so far away from the person I met on the parapet. “Not from the things that scare me. I needed your help to learn that. And I don’t want to run from you again either. I don’t hate you and I-I’d really like it if we could be friends.” 

I smile so widely that I think my face is going to hurt later. Nodding my head, I adjust the strap of my bag and start walking backwards. Markham will be annoyed if I’m late. I’d hate for him to think I don’t value his precious time. 

“I’d really like that, Ivan. I’ll see you around. Until then, don’t die.” 

His hazel eyes shine in amusement. “You too, Violet. We still have to say ‘fuck you’ to the people who called us weak, right?” 

“Right.”

The smile stays on my face for the rest of my time in the Archives. Thinking that Ivan hated me had weighed heavily on my soul. But to see him again and have him want to be friends? It’s proof that maybe someday people will be able to look at me and not see the General. 

I wonder if I could win over the other cadets with rebellion marks too… but the conditions would be pretty difficult to replicate given my distinct lack of a parapet and a psychopath on-hand. 

Chapter Text

Brennan first started teaching me about the art of poison when I was seven. He was seventeen and only a few years away from joining the Rider’s Quadrant, but we had always been close despite the large age gap. Brennan was always around to steal me away from my lessons to join him and Mira on adventures when I was feeling lonely, or coming up with games to play when I was bedridden from injury, or helping me hide my scrapes and bruises to avoid lectures from our mother. He was never upset at having to take care of me. 

We were at the latest outpost General Sorrengail was stationed, and Dain and I were exploring to find another good tree to climb. The last one didn't go very well for me, but I never seemed to learn my lesson, at least any of the ones taught outside of the library. We eventually found a fun looking oak tree and followed the branches up and up until we reached a place we could sit. Along what appeared to be a vine of ivy, pretty lavender colored berries were growing. I stopped to admire the color and decided to grab a handful and bring them with me to show Brennan. He always knew a lot about plants.

I carefully stowed them away in a handkerchief from Dain’s pocket, and climbed back down after him. Unfortunately, my hands slipped right before I could take the final step and I landed heavily on one of my ankles. I heard the horrible tell-tale cracking sound and felt pain shoot up through my leg. 

Dain gasped and told me was going to run and find my brother, but I could barely hear him over the sound of his tears. He was always like that whenever I was hurt, and I hated it. It always made my weakness feel so big, if that makes any sense. 

By the time Brennan came running, I was propped up against the tree with my legs straight in front of me. I had already assumed a sad but stoic face. My ankle hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as whenever my knee popped out or that time I tore the muscle in my shoulder trying to toss a ball at Mira as hard as I could. It barely registered aside from a small stinging. 

“Hey, how are you doing, Vi?” he asked kindly as he took a seat next to me. He had a bag of medical supplies next to him like always, and he was already carefully reaching towards my ankle to assess the damage I did to myself. 

“M’okay,” I mumbled. “I tried to climb a tree again.” 

He laughed softly and pulled out the salve and wraps that he'd need. “I can tell. It’s a good thing this is just a sprain. You’ll be back to climbing trees and causing trouble in no time.” 

“I think I scared Dain.”

I rolled my eyes at my best friend’s dramatics. 

“Oh, definitely. I had to send him straight home because he was still hysterical,” he winked at me while he carefully rolled up my pant leg and slid off my shoe. “What was so interesting about this tree?”

I lit up at the reminder. “Berries!” 

“Berries?”

“Mm-hm. I thought they were pretty.” I pulled the small package out of my pocket and unwrapped them. “See? I didn’t eat any, so don’t give me the worried face! I’m seven, not stupid. But I thought you could tell me what they are.” 

His eyes sparkled as he rubbed the salve he’d made to help with the pain and bruising all over my ankle and the top of my foot. “I know you’re not stupid, Violet. You’re brilliant and you’ll be much smarter than me someday.” He gently lifted my leg so he could firmly wind the wrap around my ankle and below my foot to hold it in place. He’d always been even better at that than the healers. “And those, my dear sister, are fonilee berries. You’re lucky you’re so smart, because when they are that color, it means that they aren’t ripe. They can make you sick, or even make it hard to walk.”

My eyes went wide. “Whoa, really?”

“Yup! Do you wanna know a secret?” I nodded eagerly. He set my leg down and leaned forward to lower his voice. “When you dry them out and smash them up, you can make them into a very fine white powder. It’s almost invisible and you can’t even taste it… so if you were to, oh, I don’t know, sprinkle them in someone’s food…”

“Poison,” I whispered, my excitement palpable. “How do you know that? Why do you know that? Are there more plants like that? Can you teach me how?”

His amber-colored eyes widened at my questions. “Why do you need to learn how to poison someone?” 

“Why not?” I asked, shocked he’d be surprised. “Please teach me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Vi. Mom might kill me.” 

I huffed, the pain in my ankle completely forgotten. “Mom doesn’t care about the things dad teaches me! He's making me learn Old Lucerish and right now, we’re working on cyphers and writing letters in code! I feel like I’m in training to be a spy,” I giggled. “Poisons would fit right in.” 

Brennan rolled his eyes but it was fond. “Okay, let’s make a deal then. I’ll teach you everything I can, and you promise to be more careful.” He slowly packed up all his supplies. 

I nodded eagerly. “I promise! I’ll be careful. No more trees. Except if I need to collect stuff for poisons of course!” He stared at me. “No, not the angry face. I was joking!” 

Brennan just shook his head and stood up. “If I didn’t teach you, you’d probably end up roping dad into it. He’s the one who taught me. Come on, let’s get home and start on lesson one.” 

He helped me stand on one foot and kneeled in front of me, so I could get on his back and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I smiled into the back of his neck once I settled. “What’s lesson one?” 

“Well, only test them on people who are mean to you, of course,” he joked. I laughed loudly right in his ear. 

He spent the rest of the two mile trek answering all my questions. I didn't think about my ankle once. When I heard that Brennan Sorrengail's signet had manifested and he was one of the rare menders in Navarre, I knew exactly what they meant by the signet being determined by the rider and not the dragon. Nothing could have fit my brother better, considering he's been putting me back together in more ways that one for years. 

Over the next few years, whenever he had time off from training, he introduced me to more recipes, incorporating plants and other ingredients that I was never sure how he got ahold of. He showed me how to carefully prepare and preserve the fresh materials, how to safely mix and experiment, and the best methods of delivery. One memorable day around two months before his Conscription Day, he even gave me recommendations on how to do it undetected. It was probably not the standard education for a ten year old, but it sure was fun. For my birthday that year, he gifted me a set of very small glass vials. For poison!

Under the full moon, next to the Iakabos river below the citadel, the memories threaten to overwhelm me while I gather the familiar lavender berries. It’s a good thing my glass vials from Brennan made it across the parapet with me. I could always sneak into town to buy more, but it's nice to have a piece of my brother with me. It took me a long time to realize that he was letting me in on one of his hobbies because he knew it would be safe—a relative term—and keep me from running around and hurting myself more often. And damn if it didn't work.  

I am broken out of my reverie by the sound of people approaching the base of the tree. The one I am currently in. Of all the trees in all of the world, it had to be this one that was double-booked. Shit. 

My muscle memory takes over and I freeze in place. I slow my breathing until my presence is silent. Carefully, while timing it with the rustle from the leaves in the wind,  I turn my head and look down so I can see who had the nerve to pick my tree. 

No fucking way. The tall dark figure is illuminated in moonlight. I can see him clearly enough to spot the scar that bisected his eyebrow. 

There is absolutely no way that Xaden Riorson managed to find me. I used no less than three secret passages while leaving Basgiath and I stopped often to make sure I did not have anyone following me, like I always do. Is he even looking for me or is this some odd coincidence? 

I continue to use the sounds of leaves rustling and the river flowing to cover any noise made by my minor adjustments. I need to see what is happening. 

He’s standing there with another much smaller hooded figure. I swear, if they are here to hook-up, daggers will be thrown. She turns her head and a flash of pink makes my stomach clench. Imogen. She’s barely looked at me all week, but I’m not foolish enough to forget she tried to kill me. 

I am about to shift to a lower branch so I can hear them when the sounds of multiple pairs of footsteps bring me up short. It had to be a small crowd based on the amount of noise. Oh no. My odds are not looking good. 

More eyes to spot me, more ears to hear me, and less of a chance of surviving in the event of an attack. I can move silently, but the full moon will make concealing my presence more difficult if I climb down any further. 

As the group nears, I finally get a good look at them. 

Cadets with rebellion relics. At least two dozen. I recognize Garrick leading the group, and Ivan standing among the other first-years.  

It looks like we’re all breaking the rules tonight. Groups of more than three marked ones are not allowed to gather. I had always thought it was a strange rule. Why three? I put a pin in the thought to examine later. I have to focus on getting out of this alive. 

Part of me wants to hear what they’re saying. I’m not suspicious that they’re involved in whatever Navarre is up to. In fact, they might be the one group of people that I don’t think would ever lie for leadership, but information is information.

I decide to settle for several minutes while I watch Xaden speak at length. I can’t hear him very well, but I’m sure it’s just as terrifying and inspiring as his introduction on Conscription Day. He asks a question and four of the first-years raise their hand.  One of them is Ivan. I examine the other three and recognize two of them from challenges. They had both lost.

There is some back and forth between the older cadets, and the first-years all seem to be reassured. If I had to draw any conclusions, I’d say they were discussing helping them with the challenges. The bits and pieces of conversation that are carried to me by the wind support my theory. 

With that, I decide to stay put. If they’re just offering support to the younger cadets, it’s nothing sinister and I can’t risk my life on a whim to hear about their training schedule. I resign myself to not moving for a long time when I hear my name. 

Well, fuck. Now I have to listen. 

I shift as slowly as possible and reach a leg down to get on the next lowest branch and then I repeat the process once more. I count my heartbeats and attempt to move along with the sounds of nature. I stand with my body tucked close to the tree, where I can be partially hidden by the shadows. 

Wait. 

The shadows. 

Damn, I don’t know how shadow wielding works, but the chance that Xaden already knows that I’m here is higher than I’m comfortable with. I stop to consider my next move. Another step down will make me clearly visible to any of the cadets who decide to look up. 

From this distance, at least I can hear better. It’s Imogen… complaining about me? I can’t say I’m surprised. 

“I’m just asking when we’ll be able to finally kill her.” 

“You already tried that, remember?” Xaden asks coldly. “Against my express permission. I told you that Sorrengail is mine.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. 

Imogen huffs. “Come on, Xaden. She deserves what’s coming to her.” 

I hear someone clearing his throat before speaking up. “N-no, Imogen. I t-tried to tell you after you almost ripped her arm off that she’s not like her mother. Violet saved my life.” Ivan struggles to get the words out, but he manages in the end. My heart swells at his defense of me. 

“Luperco,” Imogen barks. I almost flinch on his behalf. “So it’s Violet now?” 

The noise blurs when they start to argue over each other. I can see Imogen screaming and waving her hands. Despite being so tall, Ivan looks intimidated when she charges forward like a bull, but he refuses to move back. He’s not running away anymore. 

Fuck yes, Ivan, I want to cheer. I don’t want them to throw punches, but it’s good to see that he has that fight in him. 

“If you like the little Sorrengail bitch so much, why don’t you ask her for help to survive challenges? Oh wait, she’s a freak who got lucky and we’re the ones actually keeping you alive.” 

I don’t mind being called a bitch, but did she have to call me little? She's only like a head taller than me. 

“Lucky? Is that what you call her winning after you broke the rules? Twice?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Luperco. If she didn’t pull a dagger on me during that last move, I would have killed her.”

“You pulled one first!” he yelled. “That’s my point. She could have killed you after that, and she didn’t. She could have kept walking and let me die, and she didn’t. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

I watch Imogen open her mouth, but she falls silent when Xaden clears his throat. “I don’t know what gave either of you the impression that this is a group discussion. I decide what happens to Violet Sorrengail.”

Ivan scoffs loudly, and I actually flinch this time. Big swing there, my friend. 

Just because I talk back to Xaden Riorson doesn’t mean I think it will go over well when someone else does it. He’s objectively intimidating as hell. I just haven’t been able to track down my missing survival instinct yet.

“You have something to say, Luperco?” Xaden asks with a dangerous lilt to his voice. 

He freezes. “Y-yes, I do. Everybody is talking about how you moved her into the Fourth Wing to make it easier to kill her. If this is just some long-winded revenge, I c-can’t be okay with that. She’s my friend.”

I bite back my smile. They grow up so fast. 

Xaden stays quiet for a few long moments. “I do not have to defend myself to you. But because I watched her save your life on the parapet, I’ll throw you a bone. I have no plans to eliminate Sorrengail unless she proves herself to be a threat to us that cannot be resolved in any other way. Certainly not because of who her mother is. If you want to be friends with her, I’m not going to stop you. But question me again and we will have problems.” He turns to Imogen. “I told you that you were out of line. Go after her again, and it’s me you will be dealing with. Now, are we all clear?”

Well, threats aside, that’s nice. There are now at least two marked ones who don’t want to kill me. 

“Thank you,” Ivan mumbled weakly. His staunch defense of Violet Sorrengail to a group of people who despised me on sight probably took a lot out of him. 

It appears I am the last item on the agenda for this little club meeting, because they disperse quickly after that. My eyes track Xaden as he is the last to walk away and he disappears into the shadows in the direction of Basgiath. I adjust my position to wait silently. The only problem is that I still feel like I’m being watched after ten minutes. 

Am I just being paranoid? 

I reach one of the lowest branches, only to shift myself into a sitting position instead of jumping down. From my position, my feet hang about six feet from the ground. 

I swing my legs back and forth like a child. On a hunch, I peer out into the shadows that cover the darkest side of the tree, the one hidden from the moonlight. “So, was that whole not killing me thing a lie because you knew I was here?”

Xaden appears to materialize from the darkness like he was there all along. A predatory smile stretches across his features almost lazily. “Hello, Violence."

Chapter Text

"Hello, Violence."

I can't help but admire the almost feline smirk on his face. He really is exceptionally beautiful. If I thought Xaden Riorson was the most exquisite man I've ever seen in the turret on an overcast morning, seeing him in the moonlight was an almost religious experience.  

“Is that a pet name?” I ask, pulling up one of my legs so I can wrap an arm around it from my perch. The leg that hangs down is still swinging slightly. My body language is a carefully curated picture of unruffled ease. “Cute. I’ll have to think of one for you.”

Xaden crosses his arms and leans back to look at me. “I thought it suited you better. You don’t strike me as a delicate flower.” 

His voice is teasing, but his words still fill me with a strange sense of pride. To have someone as strong as Xaden tell me that delicate doesn’t suit me? It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to hear.  

“I haven’t struck you at all yet,” I tease back. “Seems like my new name might not be earned.”

“Is that a promise?” he purrs with a gravel to his voice that I feel at the base of my spine. 

“Hm, I guess that depends on how you behave." I hum in false consideration to try and hide my reaction at his words. "Which brings me back around to my question: did you lie during your little club meeting when you said you had no plans to kill me?” 

Xaden steps further into the light so I can clearly see his features. “It wasn’t a lie. I’m not going to hurt you, Violence.” 

I stare down at him for a moment to try and ascertain if he meant it. His onyx eyes are still an insurmountable challenge. An ironclad gate locked tight from the inside. 

“Why?” I demand.

“Can you come down first?” 

“Maybe after you tell me why. It’s nice to be the one looking down at someone for once. I see why tall people are so full of themselves,” I quip. 

“I’ll try not to take that personally.” I throw him a look that makes it clear that he definitely should. “I’m not going to kill you because I don’t think you’re a threat to me or my people.”

“Well, that’s not nice, I rather like to think I’m a threat to everyone,” I tease, before I look down at him seriously. “But I do appreciate the reassurance. Thank you.”

“I would like some reassurance in return.”

“Of course I think you’re pretty, Riorson," I retort immediately. 

He rolls his eyes and I bite back a smile at the exasperated look on his face. “I meant whether you plan to report our little club to anyone.”

My eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion. “Why the hell would I do that? They’d probably kill you all. And as much as Imogen would love to dance on my corpse, the feeling isn’t mutual. None of you deserve punishment for sticking together in this hellhole, especially first-years like Ivan. But if mutually assured destruction makes you feel more comfortable, I’d have to explain why I’m out here, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.”

The truth is that I’d rather fucking die than report anything to Navarrian leadership, especially something that may cost more innocent lives. 

“Ah, yes. Luperco. Your friend.” 

His voice is sharp, but I can’t bring myself to care. My smile in return is wide and unguarded. I can't help it. Seeing the fight Ivan had in him, his willingness to stand up to two scary riders to have my back... it was more than I ever could have expected. “Isn’t it great? I thought he’d hate me forever.” 

“It’s hard to hate someone who saves your life.” 

I shrug. “So? He doesn’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t blame him for hating me, but this is definitely better.” 

Xaden looks up at me and I can see the calculations running in his mind. “Why do you care if Luperco, or any of the marked ones, hate you?” 

I consider his question seriously. Why did it matter so much to me? 

“I… I don’t really know. I’ve never minded being hated before. But it makes me sick when I remember I’m just a living, breathing reminder of the woman who made you all orphans. I guess it’s just nice that he sees more than that when he looks at me.”

“You don’t remind me of the General at all,” Xaden says without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Now climb down from the tree.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” I tease. I choose to ignore the complicated feelings his first words evoke. I have spent so much time hiding the most important parts of myself that it catches me off guard to realize that I want Xaden to look at me, and I want him to see me. The thought makes my stomach clench. I don't want to give him anything but honesty. But it’s an inescapable truth that I’ll lie to him if I need to, just like I lie to everyone else. “Are you going to come up here and get me?” 

“I might be forced to do something drastic if I have to go up and get you, Violence.” 

Shit, was that a promise? I hope he can’t see my face flush from down there. 

I force a light laugh and drop my leg so I can move to climb down. “Fine.”

It’s a familiar motion, slowly allowing my arms to take my weight and bending my knees at just the right angle to soften the impact as I jump down. I’ve always been jealous of the way other people can move rashly and trust that their bodies will follow directions. I am forced to be constantly, annoyingly aware of every inch of my traitorous form. Each of my movements needs to be calculated because one wrong twist or bit of pressure in the wrong place and I’ll break. Most people can’t fathom such distrust in the body that houses them.

I finally drop to the soft grass and turn around to face Xaden. His arms are finally uncrossed, like he had been ready to catch me if I fell. 

“Okay, shadow wielder, I’m back on solid ground. What are you going to do with me now?” My self-restraint returns to me before I can make some suggestions of the explicit variety. He looks really good in the moonlight. 

The gold flecks in his dark eyes seem to shine brighter in response. “I thought we already established that I have no plans to kill you.” 

I smile at the reminder. I'm never quite able to stop smiling when we're playing like this. “Well, I’m glad. I’d hate to have to try and kill you back. So I have to ask, when did you realize I was up there? I know you didn’t hear me.” 

I mostly just want him to confirm my suspicions. 

“Oh, believe me, you would have been impressively hard to detect for the normal person. But unfortunately, my shadows found you instantly.” There it is. 

I pout. “No fair. I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.” 

“I never said I play fair.” He leans up against the tree trunk. “Now, I seem to recall a mention of mutually assured destruction. What are you doing here? I’d accuse you of spying on me but you didn’t climb down to listen in until Imogen and Ivan started arguing about you.”

His shadows can tell him that much? Interesting. 

“Berry-picking. It’s a beautiful night for it, don’t you think?” I answer honestly. It may not be the full truth, but I'm not lying to him. It's all I can offer now. 

Xaden just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Berry-picking. Who picks berries in the middle of the night?”

“I am a very busy girl, Riorson,” I tsk. “Maybe this was the only time I had to spare. Or maybe I just like long walks in the dark.”

“You’re not scared of being out alone at night?” he asks. 

“What is there to be scared about? In the last year, I’ve spent more time walking around Basgiath at night than I have in the daytime. I like it. People tend to be more themselves once the sun goes down.” 

He looks at me with narrowed eyes like I’m an equation to be solved again. He opens his mouth to say something, and then stops himself. 

“You know, I’ve never gotten caught before, until you and your shadows,” I add in the absence of a response. “I am usually much better at going unnoticed.”

“Violence, I don’t think I could stop from noticing you if I try,” Xaden replies seriously. 

Are we flirting? It’s been a while since I had cause to genuinely flirt with anyone, but the swooping sensation in my stomach is a familiar one. 

“I don’t think you’re trying very hard at all not to notice me. Isn’t that right, Wingleader?” I tease him.

His onyx eyes flash with surprise and something else. Gods, I wish I could tell what he’s thinking. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he allows. “And here I thought I had spectacular self-control.”

I push away all thoughts of what being the cause of him losing control could look like, and grant him a coy smile. “One of the many ways I’ll have to prove you wrong about something, I’m sure.” 

We’re suddenly one step closer. I don’t know who moves first, but I have to tilt my head up to look at him. He lowers his voice to a deep whisper that reverberates in my chest. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Violence.” 

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling even wider. The tension is a palpable energy in the air, hanging between us like suspended rays of moonlight. I want to reach out and touch it. Touch him. 

“Me too… Xaden,” I whisper. His name feels unfamiliar on my tongue, but I like the feeling of the way my mouth shapes the syllables. Before I can let myself fully slip into distraction, I remind myself that I did not come out here to flirt. I need to focus on my mission before playing with Xaden gets me killed or worse, discovered. 

I look away to double-check that the tie on my bag is secure and tuck my braid behind my shoulder so I can pull my hood up and hide any trace of silver. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I continue. “I have places to be and your club meeting ran long.” I start walking a few feet backwards in the opposite direction of the citadel entrance.

“Places to be?” He asks in disbelief. “The sun rises in a few hours.”

“That makes it a perfect time for what I have in mind,” I joke. I keep walking backwards, which is admittedly not a good idea for someone like me, but I was still having too much fun to consider looking away from his surprised expression. 

There is hesitation there, and it seems out of place. “Are you sure I can’t walk you back?” 

I laugh lightly to hide my surprise. Was he actually worried about me being out alone?  

“Not tonight, but I appreciate the offer, Wingleader,” I turn around to walk forward so I don’t do something embarrassing like trip in front of him and break an ankle or something.  I pause and throw him another look behind my shoulder. “Goodnight, Xaden.” 

“Goodnight, Violence,” he calls back and leans back against the tree. It looks like he wasn’t in any hurry to seek shelter from the night either. 

There is still a stupid smile on my face when I kneel down to collect the leighorrel mushrooms that I have big plans for. Xaden Riorson isn’t going to kill me. A novel concept, but a welcome one. I’m still thinking about the shadow wielder when I finally crawl into bed two hours before sunrise. I promise myself that I’ll make up for my lack of rest the next night, when I don’t have quite so many plans. 

I mentally review the events of the night. Xaden noticed me with his shadows. He was able to sense someone was there, and he knew that it was me. He could even tell at what point I decided to move closer to listen in. 

What kind of feedback do they provide? Tactile? Or is it even possible they provide visual or auditory information? If he can truly ‘sense’ through them, are there limitations? Range, or light-based perhaps?  

It’s no wonder that people describe him as the most powerful rider of our generation, if his powers are truly that versatile. It will also make it exceedingly hard to hide anything from him. After-all, shadows are everywhere. 

That night, I dream of watching the sunset from the highest roof at Basgiath. And then suddenly, I’m even higher—soaring on top of a blanket of night itself.

Chapter Text

I spent almost a full year preparing for success in the Rider’s Quadrant, but I managed to overlook one significant detail during my countless hours of training and plotting. 

Excuse me for assuming that as a former scribe-in-training, the academic part would be easy and I wouldn’t have to prepare. I was readying myself to fight against a corrupt government hiding ruinous secrets from their own people, so surely a little bit of schoolwork would not kill me. And I was right for the most part. History and Math were a breeze, and Battle Brief and Dragon Lectures kept my interest peaked more than enough to succeed. I attend my classes and pay attention and nothing has been too challenging.

And then I'm introduced to a new one of my enemies. Physics. I feel like I’m trying to learn another dead language. Too bad that that particular part of my mind is still occupied by Morrainian. 

Scribes don’t need physics. It’s unimportant to learn about the objects in motion, when the object in question rarely ever moves from the Archives. Physics is a part of the standard education for most prospective riders, and I just… forgot about it? Me? 

I suppose that there had to be at least one thing that fell through the cracks. I just didn’t think it would be my academics. I’m oddly offended at my own oversight. 

I’m once again thankful for my squad, because at least I’m in a study group with people who actually expected to have to learn this shit. 

“So if I throw myself from the roof to escape this assignment, I’m my own inertia,” I grumble to myself while I knock my forehead against the table in the common area repeatedly. Rhiannon laughs at my pain and pushes my textbook forward to provide a cushion between my face and the wood. 

With a heavy sigh, I lift my head to pout at her. “This will never make sense to me,” I declare. 

Rhiannon looks over at what I have so far and from her grimace, I know I’m not even on the right track. “Come on, Vi. You’re the smartest cadet in our year. Look at everything you’ve done so far! You will not be beaten by physics."

I wish I could poison physics so it knew not to fuck with me, but alas. 

I organize my face into something resembling a reassuring smile. All of that big talk about not losing focus but I think I’ve read this chapter three times and retained none of it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just study more.” 

Later. I am feeling restlessness itching under my skin and I need to get out of here. 

“I am going for a walk,” I declare. “Maybe a run. I don’t know. How fast would I have to go to outrun this class? Does physics tell you that? I haven’t gotten to that chapter yet.” 

Rhiannon rolls her eyes at me affectionately. “Okay, Vi. Can you be back in an hour? Sawyer is meeting us for the history assignment.” 

I nod quickly. History, I can do with my eyes closed. “Of course. Did you invite Ridoc?” 

“He’s busy with his new boy toy.”

Oh, to be getting fucked by something other than Newton’s Laws of Motion. For a moment, I'm almost jealous. The occasional late night rendezvous with a handsome shadow wielder does nothing to help stifle my libido. 

I walk quickly towards the barracks so I can drop off my bag. After I’ve shed the unnecessary weight, I’m walking towards my usual path I follow for my runs when I run into Ivan. Quite literally too. 

“Shit!” I yelp as I turn a corner and immediately trip over long legs sticking out. I attempt to kill my momentum before I tumbled forward, but I guess that must be physics too, because I was real fucking bad at it. 

I hit the concrete floor harder than I anticipated, my knees knocking into the paved road painfully. I flex my legs automatically after I settle and confirm that they’re only a little sore. Thank the gods, I have my first challenge with Oren Seifert tomorrow, and a displaced kneecap is not my idea of a good time. 

I finally look up to see what happened, and I see Ivan looking at me with wide and guilty eyes. “I’m so sorry, Violet! Nobody usually comes out here.” 

That’s what makes it perfect for my runs. To be fair, I do usually run in the early mornings and not in the hours after dinner. I sigh lightly and rotate so I was sitting on the floor instead. It looks like physics won today. I won’t be able to run without worrying about my knees the whole time. 

“It’s fine, Ivan,” I tried to soothe his guilt because he is still frantically reaching towards me like he wanted to help me up, but he is still sitting down on the floor too so I don’t know how successful his efforts would have been. “Nothing broken or even out of place.”

A shadow falls over his eyes and I can just tell that he’s remembering my… what did Ridoc call it? Ah yes, my shoulder acrobatics. I keep speaking to draw him back. 

“What are you doing sprawled on the floor?” I ask curiously. 

“Suffering,” Ivan deadpans. 

I stifle a laugh. “Need company?” I shuffle forward so I’m sitting beside him along the wall. I can’t forget that Ivan stood up for me in front of the other marked ones last week. “I’m quite good at that.” 

He groans and tilts his head back against the head with a thud. 

“I’m just being dramatic. I’m not good at classes and I didn’t do well on the first History assignment. Reading doesn’t come easily and I needed to get away from my textbook.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Like the letters get jumbled? Or maybe flipped?” I’ve read about things like that. There are at least two texts that I can think of pulling from the Archives for more information.   

“Exactly. It’s just hard for me. The teacher who gave us lessons at the foster home used to hate reading my work.” 

The foster home? I had figured that they were housed somewhere in Navarre but hearing it confirmed made my stomach clench. Orphaned and shipped off to live in the kingdom that took everything. I try to shake off my dark thoughts. 

“You should join me and a few members of my squad to study,” I immediately offer. “It’ll be fun. I run the History portion of the evenings and then beg for my life while Rhiannon tries to teach me physics.”

Ivan barks a laugh at my description. “Are you uh, sure they’ll be cool with me joining? The general consensus on us is still pretty mixed.”

“If they’re not, then they’re not my friends after-all,” I insist. “Was there anything you did like learning?” 

Ivan thinks about it for a moment. “I liked life skills. Starting a fire, setting traps for food, how to build a secure camp. We were fostered near the mountains so we spent a ton of time in the forest learning how to survive. Land navigation and first aid were really important.”

His hazel eyes brighten at the topic of conversation. I can tell that he really enjoyed his time spent in nature. I can't relate, but I enjoy seeing him so excited. Ivan probably would have gone for the infantry in another life, and he would have been good at it. 

My eyes brighten. “You’re going to do so well when we’re abducted next year!” 

“I’m sorry, what?” He questioned. I freeze. Cadets don’t talk about RSC. Except tipsy riders who don’t know I’m hidden nearby. Oops. 

I scratch the back of my head and laugh awkwardly. “Ah-hah, I hear things." That's an understatement if I've ever heard one. "Just trust me that those skills will come in handy next year. Allegedly.”  

He shakes his head at my antics. “You are kind of strange.” 

I gasp in outrage. “Whatever. We have a entire land navigation course next year, I can tell you that. Amongst other things where your talents will shine. I promise that you’ll have areas you’re good at naturally and we can help figure out a plan for all the rest.” 

“Thanks Violet,” he mumbles and looks down at his knees. He still looks unsure at the idea of spending time with my friends, which needs to be rectified immediately. I push myself up so I can stand and I purposefully don't flinch at the twinge in my knees. I don't want to make Ivan feel bad.  

“Let’s go.”

“What, now?”

“Yes. We’re going to grab my bag and then to the commons to meet Rhiannon and Sawyer for History. You can watch me try to strangle dates into their heads and then I’ll read through that assignment. Does that sound good?” 

He nods hesitantly but still moves to stand up with me. I smile brightly at him and lead us in the direction of the barracks. 

Rhiannon is surprised when I return with a stray, but she greets us both brightly. “This is Ivan Luperco! He is in Tail Section. Ivan, this is Rhiannon Matthias.” 

She nods in greeting. “Hello! Are you also history-challenged and taking advantage of Violet’s scribe past?” 

Sawyer pops up behind us like he was summoned. “Oh, another victim of Violet Sorrengail’s school of history? I should warn you that she can be a strict teacher. I swear she almost stabbed me with a quill once. I’m Sawyer by the way! Ivan, right?” I roll my eyes at their dramatics. 

Ivan smiles awkwardly. “H-hi, thanks for having me.” 

I’m happy that both Rhiannon and Sawyer treat him kindly. I don’t know what I would have done if I was wrong about them. I smile brightly and direct Ivan towards two of the empty seats at one side of the table. “Our other squad mate Ridoc usually joins us, but he’s busy. You’ll like him though. Everybody kind of likes Ridoc.”

“That second-year really likes him,” Rhiannon says suggestively and it makes me giggle. 

I turn to the other two boys to explain. “He decided that getting laid by a cute second-year rider in First Wing is more important than studying today.” 

Sawyer snorts. “I can’t blame him. I swear it’s been two weeks and most of the first-years have already fucked each other. In a few months, it’ll be downright incestuous.” 

We all laugh lightly, including Ivan, and pull out all of our textbooks. I don’t know about Ivan, but I’m definitely the only member of my squad who isn’t taking advantage of being isolated with a group of attractive, physically fit people my age. 

Rhiannon’s eyes sparkle and I just know I’m in for it. “It’s good for morale. Maybe if Vi was getting laid, she’d be less mean when we don’t remember the correct dates for some obscure battle. Less sexual frustration might help all of us.” 

Sawyer and Ivan laugh while my face flushes. “Rhi!” I drag out her name with a loud whine. “I am not sexually frustrated,” I finish with a much lower voice. It’s only been… I think back towards my last doomed relationship and that one fling with an infantryman… a year and seven months… 

Shit. I joked about my libido, but maybe there is more honesty to that than I anticipated. 

Rhiannon smiles wickedly. “I don’t even think you believed that one, Vi.” 

I throw one of my un-inked quills at her. Not with the sharp side facing forward like a weapon, but just to make a point. She laughs at the feather hits her cheek and falls to the table harmlessly. 

“We don’t have private rooms. I’m not planning on hooking up in common spaces or storage closets,” I insist. I do know other, more secret, parts of Basgiath that I would take advantage of in that case. Not that I would, but I know where I’d go if the situation called for it. But if I were to hook up with someone who was already a rider… no. I stop that thought process before it reaches any kind of conclusion. 

Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “Just teasing you, Vi. It’s okay if Riders aren’t your type.”

Well, I wouldn’t say that. “I don’t have a type.” 

“That’s a lie, everyone has a type.” 

“Not me,” I shake my head. There were two Infantrymen but they could not have been farther apart in terms of personality, looks, or station. Neither of them ended particularly well. 

“And you’re telling me that the people you’re into do not have anything in common?”

“Uh, my dad always hated them?” I offer hesitantly. It’s hard for me to bring him up, to share any part of me that I desperately I want to keep safe. 

Rhiannon looks intrigued. “Typical protective parent stuff or did you just have bad taste?” 

I make a noise similar to a tea kettle coming to boil. “Ah, okay, enough of that.” I ignore Ivan and Sawyer’s answering laughter. “Keep this up and I will take out my frustration when I quiz you later! Books open!” I clap my hands together dramatically while they all groan. I ignore the three heavy sighs in perfect harmony and smile to myself. 

I am glad I found Ivan when I did. I’ve seen the way marked ones are treated within their squads. Being ignored seemed to be the best case scenario, from cadets and instructors alike, and I wouldn’t let that happen. 

He had my back under the tree, and I'll be damned if I don't return the favor in any way that I can. 

Chapter Text

Breakfast duty is exactly as helpful as I knew it would be. With unfettered access to the kitchens that feed all four quadrants, it’s almost too easy to poison people at Basgiath. Frankly, they should look into better security measures, if one girl with some plants could make the entire population bedridden if she felt like it. It’s a good thing I have better self-control than that. 

I pilfer materials from a storage closet to sew a secret pocket into my jacket for my arsenal of poison. Some of the fresh ingredients that I would love to get my hands on are seasonal or they’re not found locally, but I’ve stocked up as much as I can and hidden them in strategic places around Basgiath that I know won’t be found. I will only need a few doses for challenges, but it’s always good to be prepared for any unexpected situations. They’re not my most refined work, but they will get the job done.

Poisoning Oren Seifert almost isn’t even worth the effort it took to climb the tree. He fights like a bull, charging forward without any grace. And after dodging Imogen and trying to keep up with Rhiannon, his movements are sloppy and easy to predict. His flaws are only made worse by the poison. By the time the fonilee berries truly kick in, I already have a knee to his back and a blade to his neck. I am across the gym before he vomits, and I send a silent apology to the four members of his squad that I chose to suffer with him. They also received a dose this morning. 

Basic tactics. It’s harder to identify the motive or the perpetrator if they can’t identify the true target. 

The next five challenges go according to plan. I break into the professor’s lounge to find out my opponent at the beginning of the week, spend a few days identifying and studying them, and then I decide on if I need poison to gain the advantage. If I do, I meticulously plan the type of poison, the delivery method, and how I would cover my tracks. I’ve chosen to poison three other challengers after Oren, purely based on what I can find out about their physical abilities and whether or not they go for killing moves during matches. Or if I’ve heard them spew any vicious words about my being weak or a Sorrengail.

I am nothing if not rational about what my body is capable of, even if I notice improvement during my spars with Rhiannon. For the other two challenges, I fight without any handicaps and earn a black eye and a sprained wrist for it. I still manage to win though. It is an essential sacrifice to ensure that people don’t notice a pattern developing with my matches. I plan to only use poison when absolutely necessary for my survival. 

Except that plan goes flying right off the parapet when I overhear a group of cadets from First Wing cornering three of the first-year marked ones. I only vaguely recognize them from under the tree, and I couldn’t recall any of their names. My blood runs cold when I see the ugly sneers on the older cadets’ faces, and then it runs very, very hot when they toss out words like ‘traitor.’ I stay in my shrouded corner of the corridor and spend time carefully memorizing each of their features until they finally move on. There are six of them. 

When I’m serving First Wing their breakfast less than twenty minutes later, I pick out the offenders. It’s a good thing that pieces of shit stick together, because they’re walking towards the line as a small group. With practiced precision, I angle my wrist downwards to sprinkle out a translucent powder on the tray of eggs under the guide of moving it to make more room. I had used a leather tie to adhere the glass vial to the inside of my wrist. 

Each one of the cadets I witnessed gets a taste of one of my nastiest blends. I did not make this for simple challenge wins. It was the kind of poison that took someone out of commission for days. Nausea, blurred vision, diarrhea, even a fever if they were especially unlucky. 

Ivan, along with another tall marked one with blonde hair, approach the line right after the last of my victims. Ivan smiles brightly at me and holds out his plate for his serving. Even the blonde one grins, dimples on display, which is rare enough that I blink back my surprise. 

“We’re out of eggs,” I tell Ivan with a wide grin, and smile at the blonde boy with him too. 

He looks down in confusion at the very obvious tray of scrambled eggs in front of me. “Uh…”

“Yes, completely out, what a shame. Here, have some more potatoes instead.” I pointedly scoop out two servings of potatoes onto both of their plates, along with an extra sausage. Protein is important. 

Ivan looks at me, down at his plate, at the eggs in front of me, at the boy next to him, and then back to me again. “Violet?”

“Have a good breakfast.” 

He pauses for a long moment. “That’s all I’m going to get?” 

I shrug. “Plausible deniability.” I shoo both of them away so I can switch out the tray with a fresh batch of eggs from the kitchens before more people arrive. I dispose of the rest of the poisoned food before leaving to get ready for class. 

It’s definitely not my smartest move. There is too much on the line for me to act out of anger instead of logic, especially for petty reasons. But I can’t bring myself to regret it when I spy three of them leaving the sparring gym in quite the hurry looking positively green. One of them is already vomiting up his guts in the corner of the room, unable to even make it to a bathroom or the Healer’s. It’s a shame that I can’t see the impact on the other two, but I have faith that they’re just as miserable.  

One of the unfamiliar girls with a rebellion mark who was in the hallway looks at my victims with unadulterated joy on her face. I’d do it all over again. 

I hide my smirk in my waterskin when I take a drink. I almost choke when I feel a presence slide up alongside me silently. “Shit! I’m going to need to get you a bell.”

“Hi, Violence,” Xaden greets with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I know you said you were a busy girl, but I didn’t expect this.” 

“Expect what?” I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I have a very bad feeling about this. 

His deep voice drops into a whisper. “You know, I had my suspicions after your first challenge, but nothing concrete. You’re good at covering your tracks. Who knew a Sorrengail could be such a little rule breaker?” 

Fuck. He knows. About me manipulating challenges, at the very least. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say evenly. 

His onyx eyes light up with amusement. “Oh, I’m sure. So if I were to authorize a search of your person…” his voice trails off meaningfully. 

I feel a spark of anger, and I forcefully shove it back. This was no time to say something without thinking it through. “Well, Wingleader, that would be within your rights. Perhaps we could have a discussion on the definition of mutually assured destruction first. It might be enlightening for you.” 

“Let’s spar,” he says suddenly, like we weren’t just conversing in thinly disguised threats. 

“Does this mean you changed your mind about killing me?” I can’t help but ask. 

Xaden grabs the bow staff I had been using with Rhiannon and Ridoc out of my hand to put it back and leads us to one of the empty sparring mats at the very far side of the gym where we can have more privacy. I watch both of them do a double-take as we pass by, but they stay where they are. At least two members of my squad are being smart today, because I can't say the same.

“Don’t be so paranoid, Violence. Someone may think you have something to hide. Take your weapon out.”

I want to punch the smug look off his face. I settle for dropping into a fighting stance and pulling out the favorite of my daggers. My collection is growing with every challenge win, but I don’t like any of them as much as the one I stole from Mira that perfectly fits my hand. The matching one going down the ravine with Jack Barlowe still hurts. 

“It’s only paranoia if nobody is really out to get you.” I hold my position, waiting for him to make a move. Xaden was the best fighter in the quadrant, and there was no way I was going to win this one. But I’ll be damned if I make it easy for him. “As for me, I’d just call it being rational.” 

Bastard doesn’t even take out a weapon. He lunges and I throw myself to the side to avoid him, my dagger primed to slash. I do my best to keep in control of my shifting momentum, to do anything I can to get away from him, but it’s hopeless. He’s faster than I am, stronger than I am, and he’s not even armed. 

I make a valiant effort to charge him before he can recover, but he easily steps in behind and grabs my arm above my blade. Without pausing, he twists it behind me. He’s obviously being gentle as I don’t feel any strain in my shoulder at the tension. I do however feel the warmth of his body pressed up against me as he leans down to whisper in my ear. 

“You’re definitely rational, Violence. I watched your first challenger go down and I thought maybe, but then other people were sick too. You made sure that there was no pattern and that your opponents were not the only ones affected, which is a nice touch. After a few matches where you had to work for it, I almost had myself convinced that I was imagining things. I still can’t figure out how you know who you will be matched with.” 

I swallow as I feel a sharp stab of fear make my blood run cold. If he turns me in, there is nothing I can do. I won’t sell out the lives of two dozen marked ones to save myself, no matter how much I posture. I just can’t do it. 

“You sure spend a lot of time looking at me, Wingleader.” Try as I might, I can’t stop my voice from shaking. I’ve never come so close to being found out. 

He releases my arm and I lurch forward, spinning to face him with a serious expression on my face. We lock eyes. 

“Want to know what finally did it?” He teases, ignoring my words. “You were quite interested in how I figured you out last time.” 

I use his distraction to try and kick his legs out from under him. He hits the mat hard with a satisfying thump, and I scramble to try and pin him with a headlock. Unfortunately, I can't get a good grip and he easily flips us and reverses the hold. 

“Ah, ah, ah, come on, Violence. I know you’re curious.” My breathe catches as he leans down to speak in a whisper. 

The worst part about this is that I am kind of curious. Prick. 

“Tell me what you think you know then,” I demand quietly. I can already feel myself start to breath heavily.

"Again." Xaden stands quickly and offers me a hand. I ignore it pointedly, pulling myself to my feet. 

Xaden watches me silently. My body tenses to prepare for his attack, but even if I know it's coming, there is nothing I can do about it.

He rushes forward and tackles me back down to the mat faster than I can move away, one arm holding down my hand with the blade and the other cushioning the back of my head before I hit the ground. Adjusting to move his hand from the back of my neck, he grabs my free hand that was already reaching for another blade and forces it up against the mat along with the other one. He has me fully incapacitated with little effort and I hold back the urge to scream.  

He leans down to speak directly into my ear. “Today, you did something out of character. You weren’t executing a plan when you poisoned that group of cadets. I saw your face after you found them harassing those marked ones, and then I saw you serve them breakfast. Funny how Ivan and Liam didn’t get any eggs today, and all six of them are in the Healer’s Quadrant right now.”  

I squirm to try and get any kind of freedom of movement. Distantly, I realize that the blonde’s name must be Liam. “Oh no, I hope they’re okay,” I mutter sarcastically. “I sure hope it doesn’t last for the next three to four days.”

He pushes his body up so he can look me in the eyes. “You have some kind of savior complex or something?”

“Fuck you, Riorson,” I spit out at him with poison dripping off my tongue. “I’m not trying to be a fucking hero. I’m just trying to survive. But so are they. So whatever I did or didn’t do, I’d do it again.” 

“I’m back to Riorson now, then? I quite liked hearing you calling my name.” He practically fucking purrs. Prick. He rises from on top of me and takes a step back. “Again.”

I pick up my dagger from where it fell out of my grip and rise to my feet. “What is the point of this? Revenge, blackmail, the sick enjoyment of watching me squirm?” I keep my voice low and my eyes directly trained on him. 

“The point?” he repeats with a false expression of innocence. “The point is that you need to learn to handle yourself in challenges without poison or you’re going to die on the field someday. I could care less about you poisoning some pieces of shit who deserve it. I told you I don’t play fair. Why would I hold that against you?” 

“What?” I ask in surprise. He's not planning on turning me in? 

“You won’t be able to give your enemies a cup of tea before battle, and…” He stalks forward slowly and gestures towards one of the large daggers strapped to my side, one that feels extra uncomfortable in my hands. “You need to get weapons that work for you, and learn how to use them properly.” 

I am so perplexed that I decide to focus on the one emotion I clearly understand: anger. It’s easier than focusing on how close he suddenly is. “I know that, Riorson,” I snarl at him. “My arsenal is almost as versatile as I am. If you think I need you to ingest something to poison you, you are sorely mistaken and I’d be happy to prove you wrong. Again.”

If anything, he looks delighted at my words. “Excellent news. And your weapons? These big, ugly things?” he pokes at the one with a red gem on the handle. It’s the one I took off of Oren.

“Weapons must be earned. I’m as disappointed by their taste as you are,” I roll my eyes and readjust my grip on the dagger in my hand. “I know how to use them.”

“Oh, Violence. I have no doubt that you have perfect aim, but you need to learn to capitalize on your advantages in close combat, or you’ll die as soon as you run out of sharp things to throw. Though I’m sure you’d get creative.” Did he just fucking wink at me?

“What do you think I’m trying to do here?” 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do. Stop practicing with the bow staff and focus on weapons your size.” 

“I only have one weapon that’s my size.” I grit out between clenched teeth. 

“For now,” Xaden says casually. He finally takes a step back. “We are going to start training together. You should also be in the gym lifting weights in your spare time. Arms and legs could use some work.” 

“Is that an order, Wingleader?” I try to mask my shock with indignation. Xaden doesn’t train with anyone outside of Garrick. I tell myself I only know that because of Ridoc's hour long ode to both of their shirtless forms a few weeks ago, and not because I can't help but look at him in my periphery when we're in the same room. 

“Think of it as an invitation. Saturday night at 8. I think we have much to learn from one another, Violence,” he drops his voice to a throaty whisper and then takes several steps back. I feel my breath return to me in a rush and I can’t help but nod hesitantly. If Xaden wants to teach me things that will keep me alive someday, I am in no position to turn him down. That doesn’t mean I have to roll over though.  

I watch Xaden walk away with his hands shoved in his pockets and internally fume about him having the last word. Before I can stop myself, I call out to him. “Xaden?” 

He stops in his tracks at the sound of his name and turns to face me. “You’ll have to decide soon if you want to fight me or fuck me. I’m getting mixed signals.” I speak casually and rejoice at the genuine shock on his face. The surprise melts into a heated stare. 

“Oh Violence, I decided that a long time ago.” Xaden replies seriously and then turns quickly to stalk out of the sparring gym. 

I try to ignore the warmth that blooms on my face. Damnit, I still feel like he won that one. As soon as the doors close behind him, Rhiannon is walking towards me quickly. If it wasn’t undignified, she’d probably be sprinting at full speed. 

“So, uh,” she begins awkwardly. “Our Wingleader still has his eyes on you.” 

Oh, Xaden certainly has his eyes on me, amongst other things. I really need to learn the limits of his shadows, because I know for a fact that he was nowhere near me in that corridor this morning. If they revealed my actions like I expect, then they’re in danger of revealing everything about my goals here at Basgiath. Especially when so much of my activity happens at night. 

There are several things I need to take care of now, and all of them require the cover of darkness. 

Xaden won’t turn me in for poisoning a group of cadets, but what about treason? I don’t think he’d stand with Navarre, the kingdom that stole everything from him, but I can’t be sure. 

I turn to Rhiannon with a calculating look. “Hm, I’ll have to do something about that.”

We both look up and see Dain charging over with a stormy expression on his face and I groan softly. Fuck, I’m never going to hear the end of this. 

Chapter Text

Despite his generally infuriating approach, Xaden does bring up some valid points that I have been meaning to address. It makes me want to hit him in his smug face even more. With my anxiety about challenges reduced from all-encompassing to a minor annoyance, I decide to move forward with some of my plans I have been putting off. 

The truth is that poisons made from various flora and fauna are great for throwing the other cadets off their game discreetly. But Xaden is right that they won’t be enough if I’m ever attacked without warning. They are hard to administer and they take too long to create symptoms. If my life is on the line, I will need something similarly deadly at my fingertips.

It’s a good thing that I already have a plan on how to even the playing field. But to do it, there is a minor consideration. I have to break into the Healer’s Quadrant after hours. 

The problem is that the Healer’s Quadrant is a bit like the Rider’s Quadrant. The secure rooms are warded, especially after the healers retire for the night. I can run amok around Infantry and Scribe Quadrants with relative ease after stealing a truly concerning number of spare keys over the last year and discovering the hidden passages, but getting through a ward undetected is different. It takes thought, and foresight. 

I had read enough about wards to recognize that purpose is everything. I take the time to theorize about the way this one may be designed and deduce that they can’t mean to keep out everyone. If it did not let in anyone who was not woven into the spell, it would be terribly inefficient. The room needs to be accessible given the number of healers and injured people who go seeking help. 

The first night after Xaden confronts me, I decide to run a simple test with low stakes. A deliberately random second-year in another squad receives a glass of lemonade with dinner spiked with concentrate made from carmine tree bark. It’s more difficult to poison someone without breakfast duty, but not impossible. I time my entrance in line to get my own food carefully. As I grab my drink, I pour a carefully measured amount into the prepared glass lined up next using the same trick as the eggs with a vial adhered to my wrist. 

I move forward in line casually while keeping her hands in my periphery to confirm she picks up the correct one. If she had picked up another glass, I would have followed any cadet that ended up drinking it, but I had measured the dose according to her approximate size. I’m thankful it goes as planned, because it would have ultimately been a hassle if the symptoms were not severe enough to warrant a trip to the healer’s due to the victim being larger than expected. 

It’s administered in low enough quantities and late enough in the day that by the time it kicks in and she seeks help, the healers’ should be empty. 

I carefully conceal myself in the corridor with her door in sight and wait patiently. A few hours later, I see her door creak open and she sluggishly exits her room and stumbles in the direction of the Healer’s Quadrant. Perfect. 

I trail behind her silently at a distance to observe. To be fair, with the way she is swaying and groaning, I could probably be stomping around the corridor and she still would not notice me. Maybe the dose was too high after all? Or was the concentrate stronger than expected? I will have to look into that. 

Just as I thought, the wards allow her to push directly into the examination room despite the fact that the door had been locked when I tried it last night and the room is completely empty. I memorized the small schedule that they keep posted behind Nolon’s desk weeks ago after I had my shoulder mended. I know that someone is scheduled to return for rounds in a little less than an hour.

And yet after only eight minutes, I see a healer in their pale blue robes approaching from down the hallway. Interesting. 

I listen to them greet the cadet like they were expecting them, and I’m able to draw a few more conclusions. 

The wards are designed to let in anyone who is hurt. They also must be created to notify whoever is on-call when someone needs attention, since they came to assist the cadet almost immediately. A great system for a war college with so many injuries, but a bit annoying to work around. 

First, I need the wards to believe that I have a reason to be entering them, or they will not let me in. I wince at the thought that pops into my head to combat that issue. 

Second, I’ll have approximately eight minutes to collect everything I need. To give myself time to flee, it’s closer to five or six. I’ll have to prepare my list carefully and identify their locations ahead of time. But nothing looks out of place about Violet Sorrengail visiting the healer’s, so that will not be a problem. 

Third, if I get slowed down or the response time is faster than expected, I’ll need a story for the healer who enters. Just a clumsy Violet needing medical attention, nothing to worry about. That means a way to covertly hide everything in case I’m discovered is essential. 

I finally leave the darkened hallway to go climb into bed. I’ll execute the plan tomorrow night. 

—

Much like poison, spying is as much of an art as it is a science. It takes creativity. And perhaps a bit of recklessness. 

I’ve learned so much from a lifetime of pain and the constant fear of getting hurt. It’s taught me so many things that I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface on the ways it continues to help keep pushing me forward. 

But one thing I didn’t think would come in handy? Learning how to hurt myself just right. 

I deliberately do not follow the familiar routine for wrapping my ankles under my boots the next morning. I feel like I’m entering battle without armor at the lack of familiar pressure. 

I sit through Battle Brief listening absentmindedly to the discussion on an old war I could recite from memory and consider my options. Any kind of blunt force trauma would be odd to explain, but a little twist going down a stairs? Oh no, my poor weak ankles. It would take about three days to be fully healed, even with mending.

I would confide in Rhiannon about my plan but she would probably be against this particular part of it. She is more concerned with my health and well-being than I am most days. The amount of times she’s glared at or lectured me for staying out most of the night and not getting enough sleep… I can’t imagine that telling her I plan to throw myself down the stairs will go over well. 

Well, actually, I’ll just be slipping on the final step, like a normal person with caution and a working survival instinct. One tiny sprained ankle coming up and all it will cost is my pride and a few days of training. And a bit of pain, if we’re being technical. 

With mending, I’ll still be recovered by the time I’m scheduled to meet Xaden for sparring on Saturday. 

As Rhiannon and I approach the landing, I deliberately angle my foot wrong on the final step so it folds underneath me and I pitch to the side. Despite all my training, my joints remain bad at being joints and the all too familiar cracking sound rings uncomfortably in my ear. I grab at Rhiannon’s arm for balance in a way that looks instinctive, mostly so I can ensure gravity does not send me flying backwards and cause a sprained ankle to become a concussion. Though an overnight stay would take care of having to sneak in…

Rhiannon catches me swiftly because I can even finish the thought. “Vi!” 

“Shit.” I curse and step forward on my good leg to get out of the way for anyone walking behind us. “Thanks for the save.” 

“Is your ankle okay? That did not sound good.”

It’s definitely sprained. I fake a tight smile. “I’ll be fine.”

I take one step forward and let out the smallest wince, like I'm trying to hide the severity. “Oh no, I don’t think so,” Rhiannon declares as I knew she would. “Let’s go to the healer’s. Even if it’s not serious, it’ll be good to check.” 

I sigh like she’s being an overprotective mother hen but nod in agreement. I even let her cross our arms so she can support part of my weight on the way there. “If you insist, Rhi.”

We enter the corridor leading to the Healer’s Quadrant, but before we can make it to the door, Colonel Aetos steps out. I try to hide my reaction. What is he doing here? It's very out-of-character to find Colonel Aetos in another quadrant, and I know that the General is in Calldyr this month from the updates received in the Archives. 

I straighten up slightly and slow as we approach, fake smile at the ready. Rhiannon follows my lead. “Colonel Aetos. It’s good to see you, sir. I hope you’re not here for the same reason as me.” My voice is deliberately pleasant and I draw his attention to my slight limp. 

His smile is thin. “Hello, Cadet Sorrengail. I had heard you joined the Rider’s Quadrant from Dain. It is a shame to see that you still suffer from the same… proclivities.” 

I keep my smile in place. “Just a small accident. Dain is my squad leader actually. He’s been doing great. I think you’d be proud.” 

He nods slowly. “Yes, he is.” I pause and wait for him to fill the empty space again with words. He always has more to say. “It was a surprise to both of us to hear you crossed the parapet.”

“It was an order from the General.” I reply neutrally. He stares at me searchingly for a full minute and I have to use every bit of my self-control to stop from fidgeting. 

“Indeed. Please do not let me stop you from seeking medical attention. Dismissed, cadets.” He walks away without another word, not acknowledging Rhiannon at all. 

“That’s Dain’s father?” 

“The one and only. He’s been the General’s aide for most of my life, which is why Dain and I were always stationed together growing up.” 

“Is it just me or was he kind of a dick? I think I understand our squad leader a bit better now.”

I laugh lightly at her words while I push open the door. It swings open to reveal several healers and a few patients. I lock eyes on Nolon. 

“Hi, Nolon,” I greet sheepishly. “I’m sorry to be back again so soon.” 

He smiles kindly at me. “I’m always happy to mend you, Violet.” 

I know the drill. I limp towards the open bed slowly and allow my eyes to scan the room and locate everything I need. The ingredients cabinet is locked as I feared but I’m relieved to see that it’s non-magical, so my lockpicking practice will come in handy. The surgical area is in the adjacent room and I confirm with a glance that there still is no lock on that door. I’ve been there a number of times, and none of them have been pleasant trips. From what I remember, they store what I need on the middle shelves so it’s easy to reach. 

After a painful session of mending, Nolon releases me with directions to rest, keep my ankle tightly wrapped, and stay off my feet. 

I creep out of my bed after everyone falls asleep. There I go again, being bad at following directions. I bring my empty bag and store my lockpicking kit inside the hidden pocket of my jacket. 

I walk casually towards the Healer’s Quadrant with a small limp in case anyone sees me. As I approach the door, I remind myself of everything I’ve learned about wards. Design. Purpose. Intention. 

My father explained it to me himself. If a person can fool themselves, they can fool magic too. To make my way into the room, I just need the ward to believe that I’m hurt and I need medical attention. 

Mind over body. It's essentially my usual routine for handling pain but in reverse. I flex my foot to aggravate the soreness in my ankle and empty out all other thoughts except for the pain radiating up my leg. I am injured and I need new wraps. 

I am injured and I need new wraps. 

I reach forward and open the door, striding in with one swift movement. There is no time to celebrate. The clock has started ticking. Eight minutes until they get here to collect the ingredients and five or six until I will not be able to escape undetected. I walk immediately over to the ingredient cabinet and pull out my lockpick. It takes me just under a minute.  

I scan the ingredients quickly and grab everything I even think I might need. This will probably become much harder once they do inventory and discover anything missing, so I can’t afford to leave anything vital behind. Once I have it all, I pull the bottles forward so it doesn’t look like it’s been ransacked. They'll discover the theft eventually, but it's in my best interest that it is not any time soon. Especially if I don't make it out unnoticed. 

I re-lock the cabinet and sprint to the surgical area. Two and a half minutes down. 

The shelves are almost exactly like I remembered. I panic for a moment when I don’t immediately find what I’m looking for, but it’s thankfully right behind one of the boxes of spare gauze. I grab one of the wraps for my planned alibi and I slip it into my pocket instead of my bag. 

Three and fifteen seconds. Around two minutes to leave. 

I am about to turn to enter back into the main room to leave when I see a short hallway leading off the surgical area that I had never noticed before. At the end, there is a single door. From what I can see from the crack, there is a magelight shining in the room. That is incredibly strange given the hour. 

It’s not an office. Those are all located in the same area three corridors down. It’s not a long-term treatment room. Those are on a different floor. What is it? 

Against my better judgment, I creep forward. Since I can’t channel, I do not have the highest sensitivity to magic, but I’ve learned with practice to be able to sense it faintly like with the last door. 

I can't stop myself from gasping. The feeling of magic is so thick in the air around this door that I can almost taste it. It’s nothing like the ward I just fooled. It feels most similar to the high-security restricted section in the Archives. This ward is a very powerful deterrent to keep everything out—or keep something in. 

I waste precious time wondering what the hell the Healer’s Quadrant is hiding and whether or not it has anything to do with Colonel Aetos’ visit earlier today, before my internal clock snaps my body to attention. 

One minute left. Time to go. I sprint out to the main room and exit through the same door. In case the healer is closer than expected, I slow to a casual walk with my new wraps in my hand. I keep a steady pace until I turn the corner opposite to the direction they’d be approaching. After I check that the coast is clear, I break into a sprint, aching ankle be damned. 

I will stash everything away in the very early morning hours, before anyone even thinks about getting up for breakfast. I crawl into bed curled up around my bulging rucksack, too shaken up by the surprise door to even think about sleep. It’s a good thing that everything still went to plan. 

What the hell was that? Why hide something using such powerful magic there? It could be something innocuous but that’s not what my instincts are saying. 

Despite my curiosity, I try to push it all to the back of my mind. 

I have less than two months until the Gauntlet. My infiltration tonight won’t be able to help me there or during Presentation, but during Threshing? The chances that I’ll need to fight another cadet for my life are high. I will need to spend the next few weeks experimenting to make sure I’m truly ready when the time comes. Thankfully, the rest of what I need will be much easier to steal. Or purchase from town, but where is the fun in that? 

All of my energy needs to be focused on training physically or further preparing my arsenal for a real fight. If I make it past Threshing, I’ll give another thought to what is behind that door.

Chapter Text

The weeks before the Gauntlet pass more quickly than I anticipate. My life is a spiraling tornado of classes and training during the day and sneaking out to work on my poisons or my gear during the night, and there are moments it threatens to topple me. I was grateful when both the official challenges and my private lessons with Markham were also placed on pause two weeks ago. Even if I wanted to stab Markham with my quill when he explains how he’s graciously providing me with more time to prepare for the Gauntlet.

Both would resume after Threshing—if I survive, of course. I try to devote that additional time to the gym as per Xaden’s more-insult-than-advice. Unfortunately, things so rarely work out in my favor. Imogen practically lives in that particular gym, so times when I can lift weights in peace are hard to come by.

The first time I go lift weights, I invite Ridoc for moral support. Even his bright chattering could not distract from Imogen deadlifting less than twenty feet away while staring at me with the promise of violence in her eyes. The pink-haired girl might take Xaden's decree regarding my life seriously, but she clearly hasn't given up any hope of kicking my ass someday. I want to retreat from the obvious aggression, but I had more things to worry about than one cadet who would rather see me dead. I need to prepare for the obstacle course that plans to kill me, so I steel my spine and let Ridoc instruct me on how to lift in order to gain muscle in my arms and thighs. He's not the best teacher in the world, but I give him a ten out of ten for enthusiasm. 

I feel the countdown to the Gauntlet beating against my chest like a drum. Things will happen so fast after that. Gauntlet, Presentation, Threshing, all within four days. If I survive.

I’m not planning on collecting my father’s research until after Threshing when I hopefully move into my new, private room, but I do break and ask Jesinia to bring me The Fable of the Barrens. It’s not because I’m any closer to discovering why it is important. More nights than not, I just find myself feeling sentimental. I want a piece of my father back while I contemplate my probable death. 

For someone like me, the Gauntlet is the single hardest challenge a rider can face in their first year. I would dance across the parapet and challenge the largest cadet I can find to a match before willingly undertaking the Gauntlet. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up.

I do have a plan; or again, maybe just the bare bones of one. 

I throw myself into training to get my mind off of the uncertainty of it all. I despise any plans that require anyone besides myself. 

Even in the midst of everything, Xaden still makes it a point to drag me to sparring sessions with him at least twice a week. From the very first time we met to train, I was surprised by him. He answers all of my many, many questions with clear patience and he always explains how and why he kicks my ass after he does it. He forces me to repeat particular movements until they come easy even when my limbs cry for mercy, and provides strikingly honest feedback that borders on cruelty sometimes. But he takes teaching me seriously, and he’s good at it.

His methods are infuriating at first, until two weeks later when I’m able to win a challenge against a cadet who had at least 9 inches and a hundred pounds on me without the assistance of any poison. The hold I use to keep him prone is one that Xaden drilled into me personally.

He may be a prick on occasion, but he is nothing if not effective. Compared to Major Gillstead, I could tell that Xaden had much more experience instructing others. Especially people smaller than him.

The truth is that I'm having a surprising amount of fun getting knocked down by Xaden Riorson over and over again. It's not that I'm a glutton for punishment, but it's always been fun to play with him. Even more so now that it so often ends up with him on top of me close enough to feel his breathing—hardly even labored, that asshole—against my face. 

Our sessions are rife with an unspeakable tension, even as he takes me to the mat more times than I can count and lectures me about the importance of using my head. It must be the first time in life anyone has ever accused me of that, but Xaden was adamant when we began training that I wasn't using my mind to its fullest capabilities. Which I did not take well, for obvious reasons. 

“You’re quick, Violence. Quicker than most, and I’m not just talking about your body. I’m talking about the way you think. Analyze your opponent like he’s a problem you’re trying to figure out or I don't know, a book you’re trying to translate. What do his movements tell you about his actions? What are his weaknesses? What are his strengths? You’re fast but you should be instinctually responding based on the information you collect, instead of getting caught up in how to avoid being hit.”

I grumble in frustration and push myself up into a standing position, ignoring his offered hand. 

“It seems to me that avoiding being hit is a pretty important part of winning.”

“Trying not to lose and trying to win are two different things, Violence,” he answers. 

No matter how much I glare and grumble, I give his words serious thought.

Truthfully, he isn’t wrong. I had never considered my analytical mind as a tool to use to my advantage on the mat, only to help me plan for my survival outside of it.

I am slippery and hard to get hands on during a fight, but I struggle with executing a takedown. For most of my challenge wins, I usually wait for an opponent to overextend themselves in some way after they get frustrated by my taunts and being unable to reach me. When they make a mistake, I capitalize on it. Up until now, I have been approaching each fight with the same simple mindset: don’t die. 

“I've seen the way you take in information. Plan each move with the same level of forethought you use to poison people, Violence,” Xaden says seriously. “Just do it quickly.”

I nod my head thoughtfully and return to a starting position with my blades in each hand. I worried about using real weapons during sparring at first, but he insisted that he'd be fine and the benefits of learning outweighs any risk to him. Considering I had never drawn blood, I'm sorry to report that he was correct. 

For weeks, I try to analyze fights the way he suggests—both when I’m participating and while I’m watching others—and I am floored by how much a simple shift in thinking changes my fighting style. Instead of dancing away and waiting for people to make mistakes, I keep my distance purposefully while I study my opponent.

The way they walk, the way their eyes move, the way they hold their weapons. I prod their defenses while carefully out of reach to assess their reaction time and how well they can balance. Reaction time and balance are everything when it comes to fighting someone double my size.

I still offer half-hearted feints and taunts to rile them up while my mind keeps running, but it’s a different level of processing that I’m hardly even aware of. My squad members will gleefully reenact my most vicious barbs when the match is over, but I don't even remember saying most of them. 

On the inside, I am dissecting them and whittling each of them down to their smallest parts. They are information to consume, a problem to solve. 

Rhiannon favors her right side, and almost always goes for one of the same six combos to start, and I adapt unique responses for each one with varying levels of success. Sawyer is easy to knock off balance, and he seems to have a weakness in his left knee that is easy to take advantage of by coming in close and fast. I theorize it may be an old injury that's causing weakness. If I get my leg behind Sawyer at the correct angle, it’s almost impossible for him to get away without hitting the floor.

My success rate during sparring with my squad rises dramatically, and I am happy when Rhiannon finally stops holding back as much. Even if I earn a busted lip for it the next day. 

Xaden never goes easy on me. Sure, he’s always careful not to cause any true damage, but he doesn’t do me the disservice of pretending I’m holding my own when it’s a lie. He makes me work for it. These games we play might not be entirely honest, but they are frighteningly genuine. 

I try to examine Xaden critically, but to no avail. He is a formidable fighter, and he hardly ever telegraphs his moves before he makes them. He displays none of the shifting focus as a fighter decides if a punch or a kick would work best. He strikes just as true with both sides of his body, and he is easily able to adapt to the shift in his momentum that I’ve seen ground men his size. I don’t see any weaknesses of his to exploit, even as my reaction time during challenges continues to improve. 

“Ugh,” I groan out loud as I hit the mat again… hard. “I think I liked it better when I was worried if you’d kill me.”

Xaden huffs out something similar to a laugh and steps back to give me time to recover. It's a shame that this isn't one of those times where he ends up on top of me. At least that's something to look forward to besides the bruises that stain my back and sides. “Are you complaining about me taking time out of my busy schedule to help you, Violence?” 

I move to sit up and cross my legs beneath me. I roll my shoulders back to release some tension and stretch my arms high above my head. “Me, complain? Never.”

It's the truth. The education that he's selflessly offering me could save my life someday, and I can't help but appreciate him for it. 

He rolls his eyes and takes a seat next to me on the mat. I am covered in sweat and very clearly done for the day.

“I know it’s hard to see changes when you’re living it, but you are improving. I watched you fight that second-year yesterday. The way you slid behind him and sliced behind the knee he was obviously favoring was inspired.” 

I try to stop myself from preening at his words. Xaden does not offer praise where it is not earned. “Thank you,” I say quietly. Just because I’m a spy doesn’t mean I have to be rude. “Everything you’ve taught me has helped, really. I was managing before, but now I feel like I’m earning it.”

“You always earned it.” He retorts with a serious expression on his face that makes my stomach clench. “Are you ever going to tell me how you always know who you’re fighting?” 

“Maybe if you let me in on one of your secrets.” I tease him lightly. Xaden shakes his head at me and smirks—one of his rare soft ones that I haven’t seen directed at anyone except me. It’s not rational and I’m not proud of it, but I think I might die if he ever looks at anyone else like this. 

“Hmm, you really want a secret?” 

Yes, all of them. Desperately. “If you’re willing, shadow wielder. I wouldn’t want to spoil your reputation of being an untouchable enigma.”

He looks amused and leans forward. It must be at least ten by now, because we’re the only ones left in the gym. But I can’t help but lean in to mirror his position anyways. “Fine. Here is a secret that I can tell you. I have a gift for you after Threshing.”

My jaw drops, and I can’t stop the tears from prickling the corners of my eyes. I blink quickly to will away the stubborn wetness.

Xaden’s onyx eyes widened in concern and I can see the golden specks sparkle under the magelights. It's the closest to panic that I've ever seen him display. “Violence? Shit, I didn't-are you—” 

I shake my head rapidly. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to… leak. I just… to tell you the truth, I’ve been avoiding thinking about life after Threshing, especially with our first practice run on the Gauntlet tomorrow. It’s nice… that you think I’ll make it. I hope all your efforts training me don’t go to waste before I can even get in front of any dragons.”

Xaden, looking relieved, nods in understanding and shifts slightly closer so he can bump his shoulder against mine softly. Even sitting down, he’s so much bigger than I am. “You’re not dying on the Gauntlet.”

“I didn’t take you for an optimist, Xaden,” I respond wryly and look down at my hands. They used to be soft except for a rough mark on my finger from my quill, a scribe’s hands; now they’re covered in new calluses along my palms and small marks from when I was first learning how to use my daggers. “I can’t do much about the length of my arms.”

“So? You have a plan, don’t you?”

I can’t help the almost coy smile I send him from under my lashes. He said that with zero hesitation, and his confidence is contagious. “I do have a plan.”  

“I knew it,” Xaden says confidently. “Why would I bet on you if I don’t think you’ll make it? I won’t be able to return this gift.”

I just shake my head, but I’m still smiling. “For all you know, it’s a terrible plan. I’ve been known to have those on occasion. Remember the parapet? Very foolish of me.” 

“As if I could ever forget the parapet. It wasn’t foolish. It was brave. Dangerous, but brave. I hope you’re not planning on giving me another heart attack at the Gauntlet.”

I ignore the insinuation that he'd panic at the prospect of my death. It tells me too much yet not enough at all. I bump his shoulder back teasingly, and pause for a moment at how… solid he feels. “I can't make any promises. I guess we’ll both be trying not to die.” 

He huffs another bit of almost-laughter that I want to keep in my pocket for later. 

“Deal. Now don’t think you’re getting out of telling me one of your secrets,” he reminds me. 

I sigh heavily. “You want to know how I figure out who I’m fighting?” 

“I want to know everything about you, Violence, but yes, today I will settle for this one thing.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Gods, how I wish I could let him know every part of me. I can’t really, but if it’s just this one thing…

I'll continue to do what I've been doing this whole time with Xaden: offering him as much honesty as I can manage. Regardless of anything, I just don't want to lie to him. I have this deep-rooted feeling that it would be a mistake to inject dishonesty into our relationship. 

“Don’t get greedy. A secret for a secret works just fine,” I tease. After taking a deep breath to steel my spine, I turn to look him in the eyes. “My brother.”

Xaden freezes. “What about your brother?” he asks cautiously.

I don’t blame him for his wariness. Brennan is one of the topics we veer away from during all our sparring sessions. Nothing kills the mood more than the reminder that his father was deemed responsible for my brother’s death. 

“He passed along a book to Mira when she joined the Rider’s Quadrant. Tips, tricks, secrets. She gave it to me. I have no idea how he figured out that the challenges are posted in the professor’s lounge every Sunday, but one tiny lockpick later…” my voice trails off. “He called it the Book of Brennan, which is kind of embarrassing and just like him.” 

I can’t help but smile at the thought of Brennan. I miss the way he would never speak to me like a child, and always listened to me with his complete attention. I exhale into a small laugh. “I’ll even give you one more secret today, free of charge.”

“Someone is feeling generous.” Xaden teases me, but I can see a softness in his eyes. The one I've already decided belongs to me. 

“Call it a thank you, for all of your help. I learned most of what I know about poisons from Brennan too. He was a really great brother.” The memories of learning from Brennan assault me and I have to blink back tears again. 

“The book has instructions on poisonous plants?” Xaden asks. I laugh and shake my head, which has the benefit of stopping my tears before they fall. 

“No way, he wrote it for Mira. She would never resort to poison. She’s much more a punch-you-in-the-face type of girl. My poison training started when I was seven, and Brennan kept teaching me all the way up until he left for the Rider’s Quadrant when I was ten. I had to keep learning on my own after that, which was less fun.” 

“He agreed to teach a seven-year-old about poison?” Xaden seems surprised. He mouths the word ‘fun’ to himself without making any noise and I have to giggle at the look on his face. 

“It’s cute that you think I gave him a choice,” I quip, but I can’t keep the bittersweet smile off my face. “Brennan and our dad taught me anything I wanted to learn, which was pretty much everything.” 

Except physics. Fuck physics.

Xaden looks like he can’t decide between being amused or impressed or concerned—which is silly considering that poison has saved my life here at Basgiath. 

“Thank you for telling me that, Violet,” he responds softly. It must be the first time I’ve heard him call me by my real name. “I’ll owe you an extra secret next time.” I will definitely come to collect on that one. I don't hunt for Xaden's secrets but I'll take any that he's willing to give me happily.

I push myself up so I can stand. “I’ll hold you to that, Xaden.” If I linger any longer with this strange energy stretching between us, I’m liable to do something stupid, like tell him all my secrets. There was something curiously disarming about Xaden Riorson. 

“Sweet dreams, Violence,” he calls out as I walk to pick up my bag. I turn over my shoulder to look at him. He hasn’t moved from his position sitting down on the sparring mat. “Good luck on the Gauntlet.” 

“Sweet dreams, Xaden.” I raise an eyebrow. “And I don’t need luck, remember? I have a plan.”

I’m halfway out the door before his laughter reaches me, more uninhibited than I have ever heard it before. More than anything, it makes me want to turn back around to see the way it transforms his handsome features but I force my feet to keep moving. Focus, Violet. Use your head. 

That night, despite all my reservations about letting Xaden in, my dreams are filled with soft laughter, onyx eyes, and flashes of gold. 

Chapter Text

Despite all my big talk about having a plan, I still try my best to make it up the Gauntlet without needing it during our practice runs. It’s not that I think there is anything wrong with my Codex knowledge and my justification, but a large part of me really wants to do it like everyone else. If I do it the way that it was designed, I don't have to depend on another person to make the ruling. 

Except I’m harshly reminded that I am not like everyone else. 

The first four ascents go surprisingly well. I breeze through the spinning log, jump across the granite pillars, and hop in and out of the giant spinning wheel with perfect timing. The buoy balls are slightly more difficult because I weigh less than other candidates, but I manage to capture the momentum I need to continue moving without any major problems. My shoulders ache after the iron rails, but I put the pain in a box and keep moving across each of the shaking pillars that threaten to topple me. The next ascent, a staircase made of logs, is intimidating, but it’s less of a challenge physically than it is mentally. The jumps are not far, but keeping track of the timing and pattern is crucial, because any loss of focus or hesitation can lead to being crushed between them. 

When a dragon flies out of the Vale and startles Aurelie, who is progressing confidently right behind me, I watch her try and fail to grasp at the ropes. I lurch forward and yell her name but I know instantly that it is too late. 

My heart is still racing when I approach the final ascent. I didn't know Aurelie, not like I've grown to know Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer. But she was a legacy rider. She has been preparing for this her entire life, and she fell. I've only been working at it for about a year and three months. 

I try my best to climb the leaning chimney as intended, and I feel the molten pressure in my shoulders build until I know they are going to tear themselves out of the sockets before I make it to the top. I’m forced to bail out using the rope and climb down before getting anywhere near the final vertical ramp. On the obstacle meant to simulate climbing onto a dragon, a benchmark skill for riders. My failure is leaden in my chest and threatens my breathing. 

I offer to take Aurelie’s effects to be burned. We weren't close but I was the last person to see her alive, and I have been spending most of my nights outside lately regardless. I might as well save the rest of my squad from having to do it. 

There are no ingredients left to collect or people to spy on, and no secret mission or infiltration to plot. I just find a high alcove and climb out onto one of the short walls enclosing them. I sit down with my feet hanging out facing the courtyard and stare up at the stars wondering if my father will be proud of me, even if this is as far as I’m able to make it. 

Most of the time, I like to think so. But sometimes, the guilt weighs so heavy on my shoulders that I think it will knock me right off my perch. 

I should be proud that I even made it this far. That’s what all the people who have called me weak will think. I can already imagine their voices, filled with fake remorse and pathetic niceties. Poor little Violet, the weakest Sorrengail. Nobody thought she'd even make it across the parapet. At least she fell during the Gauntlet instead of being burned alive by a dragon. 

I sneer into the empty night at the idea of proving anyone right about me. Farther than they thought isn’t far enough. Far enough itself is an empty platitude from people who are okay with never even leaving the fucking ground. 

I want to soar. 

The only time my thoughts take a less melancholic route is when I spy Xaden returning very late at night with two other tall figures, all dressed in flight leathers. One of them is obviously Garrick. He is just as tall as Xaden and twice as wide; it would be easier to walk face first into an oak tree than miss that man at a distance. The other one is familiar. He’s one of the officers in Tail Section, a second-year marked one. He has darker skin and similar features as Xaden so he’s probably Tyrrish, but I can’t recall his name.

It’s much too late to be a standard mission for the Wing, but I’m too caught up in my own cloud of gloom to speculate much. 

I don’t think they see me, but with Xaden’s shadows, who knows? I decide not to say anything to Xaden when we meet to spar the next night, even when I see the three of them sneak in again four days later. I’m keeping enough secrets of my own to know better than to force out one of his. 

The last night before the official Gauntlet run, I am in the same familiar position, staring up at the same stars, asking the same question. I hear a noise from the courtyard and lean over the edge curiously to get a better look. 

Xaden is walking forward with none of his usual grace. His hair is a mess from running his fingers through it, and his posture is more slumped than he’d normally allow. I watch him settle with his back up against one of the stone walls and sit down with his long legs splayed out in front of him. 

I admire him from a distance. Just like our first conversation under the tree, Xaden looks fucking perfect under the moonlight. I try very hard to ignore it, but I'm so drawn to him some days that it threatens to drive me insane. Sparring with him is the ultimate test of my self-control. Even while fighting with everything I have, I can’t stop myself from enjoying being so damn close to him.

For most interactions, I can separate myself from the situation mentally in order to respond in the most logical way. It’s the way my survival instinct has developed. I respond rationally to a fault until I’m able to explode in private, like a good little spy. 

When it comes to spending time with Xaden, there is no hope for any separation. In fact, I feel more present than anywhere else in my life. It’s silly, but I feel more like myself when we’re fighting, or flirting, or just sitting next to each other in long comfortable moments of silence in between rounds.

Truthfully, it’d be easier if I only wanted to fuck him. Being attracted to him makes sense. It's physiological, evolutionary even. But wanting to make him laugh and learn everything I can about him? Not because I need to gather information, but because I just want to know? Dangerous. The feelings that I've been labeling as attraction may be turning into something much more troublesome.

I watch curiously as Xaden takes something out of his pocket and brings it to his lips… is that churam? I hold back my laughter, but it takes monumental effort. 

Here I am, pondering what my last thought will be if I fall to my death tomorrow, and Xaden is getting high. 

I stop myself from falling into hysterics. A very stubborn part of me wants to go catch my Wingleader breaking a rule… 

Fuck it, if there was any night I need a distraction, it’s this one. I move my legs so I can jump back down into the alcove and make my way down the stairs leading to the courtyard. Moving as silently as possible, I follow the path Xaden took. I clear my throat once I reach him and I’m surprised when he jumps and swings his head back around frantically. I’ve never seen him look so caught off guard before. 

“Did your shadows not see me coming this time?” I tease him, without stepping any closer. 

He shakes his head wryly. “They’re never good at following directions when it comes to you.” 

I try to keep the surprise off my face. His shadows react a particular way to me? I never thought of them as something separate than Xaden. I’ve always thought it was a good look on him, standing large and formidable with his powers radiating from him in subtle smoke-like wisps. Usually when he’s returning from some corner with one of the marked ones. I notice these things. 

I see the way they cling to him sometimes and react to his feelings. I had drawn the conclusion that they were emotionally responsive when I was laying in bed the night after I told him about Brennan and dissecting my day. I recalled watching the small shadows at his feet moving in flustered, choppy motions through my tears. 

Boys. Always weak to tears. 

“Interesting.” I enjoy throwing that word back at him on occasion, a reminder of our first meeting. 

He lifts the churam up in offer. “Would you care to join me?” 

I shake my head but move closer regardless. I settle next to him on the ground with some distance between us and face the quiet courtyard. I feel a sense of peace I’ve begun to associate with Xaden settle in my chest. “I’m good. It’s always made me sick to my stomach. What has our revered Wingleader breaking the rules on this beautiful night?” 

He presses the joint against the floor to put it out and returns it to a small container. Once he finishes, he rotates his head to look at me and I’m shocked by the look on his face from close-up. He looks… unhinged. His pupils are dilated from more than the drugs, and I can see the way the hair at the base of his neck sticks to his skin from sweat despite the cool night air. He looks flushed. “Would you let it go if I said it was dragon stuff?” 

I breathe sharply at my spike in curiosity. I’ve never stopped myself from asking him a question before. “I think you know me better than that by now. You may not have to answer, but I definitely have to ask.” 

Xaden just sighs heavily, leans his head back against the stone, and closes his eyes. “I thought so. Fine, but I want it on the record that you’re clearly taking advantage of me in my battered state.” 

I laugh softly and rotate my body to the side so I can look at him. “Your complaint has been duly noted.” 

He makes a soft noise of amusement and opens his eyes to meet my gaze without moving his head. I admire the line of his neck. 

“You’ll have to consider this the secret that I owe you. How much do you know about dragon bonds?” 

“Pretty much everything written about them in the Archives. Riders will die with their dragons, constant presence, shared emotions, and not something that riders like to talk about,” I tell him with a shrug. 

“Of course you know all that, you brilliant woman.” I try not to blush at his words, and find myself thankful for the cool breeze. “The thing that most people don’t know is that mated dragons come with a delightfully unique problem.” 

“Your dragon is mated?” I try to imagine the dragon who would be mated to such a fearsome creature like Sgaeyl, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Unfortunately,” he mutters. “And when mated dragons do what mated dragons do…” his voice trails off. 

My eyes widen as I reassess his condition with the added context. “You can feel her, when they’re doing that?” 

“We can shield against our dragons, but we’re not able to fully close the bond. On nights when Sgaeyl doesn’t shield on her end, I end up… like this.”  

This meaning extremely aroused. I suddenly wish I would have left him alone down here. No breeze can keep the redness from my face. My mind does not know what to do with the knowledge of how Xaden looks when he’s turned on. It is simply not information that I need to function normally, and now it’s all I can think about. 

There’s a difference between imagining what someone looks like in the heat of the moment, and stealing a glance when he’s… overcome. I wonder if churam is his only vice of choice. He probably had no issues finding bedmates to ride out waves of foreign lust. 

“I’m sorry I crashed the party then,” I try to joke, but it falls flat. “I can leave you alone to your churam or, uh, other activities.” 

He barks out a laugh and tilts his head towards me so his forehead presses more fully against the cold stone. “There are no activities to speak of.” I pretend not to feel a wave of relief at his words. Jealousy isn’t a logical emotion. Especially when I don’t have any claim over Xaden. “Just churam to try and gain some distance. It’s like walking by a brothel instead of being inside of one, or some other metaphor. I don’t really know. Gods, I love the look of your hair when it’s down.”

My head spins at the non-sequitur and my hands fly to my shoulders in surprise at his unexpected compliment. I forgot that I had taken out my braids while I was sitting in the alcove. It was a rare indulgence in a place like the Rider’s Quadrant. 

He reaches up a hand from the ground as if to touch the ends that whisper around my rib cage, but stops himself and curls it into a fist instead. 

“I’ve only ever seen it in a braid before.” He whispers like he’s letting me in on a secret. 

Xaden’s deep voice does things to me. Dangerous things. I can’t help but lower my voice to match. “It’s a liability in challenges. Dain keeps telling me to cut it.” 

His eyes flash with an unexpected anger. “Fuck Dain Aetos. Like every other thing about you, he is unequivocally wrong. Disastrously incorrect. A fucking fool, if you will.” 

I laugh at his surprisingly passionate defense for keeping my hair long. Well, that and his obvious distaste for Dain. Considering the man has tried to touch my face no less than three times in the past few months, I don’t feel much sympathy. Xaden has always treated Dain with extreme distrust. I suppose I’ve always thought it was just a confirmation of my suspicions about Dain being in his father’s pocket. 

“Well, good thing I don’t agree with him on much,” I whisper conspiratorially. “I like it long. I didn’t have a choice in coming here, but my hair is something I can control. The silver used to be this… symbol of my weakness and all of the insults I’ve brushed off over the years, but now it’s just another stubborn part of me. I’m not ashamed of it.”

His onyx eyes are still filled with heat, but there is a softness there too. A fondness that makes my heart race. “You’re an amazing woman, Violet Sorrengail,” he breathes out. I don’t see what I’ve done to deserve the reverence in his voice. 

I tell myself to break our eye contact before I do something foolish, but it is a losing battle. I allow myself to fall deeper into his gaze.“Is that the churam or the dragon lust talking?” I attempt to tease him, but my breath catches in my throat at the intense look in his eyes. The specks of gold almost disappear into a sea of dark onyx. 

I watch as Xaden’s entire body seems to flex at some external stimulus. It was a small reaction, but it was enough that I noticed. I ignore what it could mean. He shakes his head slightly, still propped up on the wall. “Just me. Xaden. Now before I do something foolish, you need to distract me. What are you doing out so late again? More berry-picking?” 

I try to ignore how closely his first statement mirrored my own thoughts. At least Xaden has an excuse for feeling so wildly out of control. I’m just stupidly attracted to him. “No berry-picking. When I can’t sleep, I usually just find somewhere high up to sit at night and watch the stars. A habit left over from when I was preparing for the parapet. My favorite lately overlooks the courtyard.” 

His eyes flash with something sharper. “You’ve been looking out over the courtyard recently? See anything interesting?” 

I almost roll my eyes at the obvious probing. “Nothing that needs to be repeated, Xaden,” I answer kindly. “A secret for a secret, remember? I’m not in the business of stealing yours without permission.”

His eyes flash with relief and something more. “But you are in the business of secrets, aren’t you, Violence?” 

I suppose that it’s the truth. Some would say I am in the business of secrets, others would just call it treason. 

It was the closest Xaden had ever come to asking me outright about the suspicions I knew he harbored. I wonder again how much he’s figured out about my motives here at Basgiath. The thought doesn’t fill me with fear like it would have months ago. “Not yours.”

“And how do you know that for certain?”

“Because the people whose secrets I care about… I don’t think they’re allies to either of us.” I state quietly but with finality in my tone. There is very little in this world I know for certain, but that is one of them. Most of my suspicions hint at the fact that the same people stole everything from the both of us. “If you want to know more, you need to be willing to share some of your own.” 

Xaden nods his head thoughtfully. “That’s fair.” 

I let the silence settle between us. It’s not accusatory, but there is a tension that didn’t exist before. We have never acknowledged the secrets we keep from each other so frankly. 

“I would, you know?” Xaden adds in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“You would what?” 

“Tell you anything you want to know. Everything.” His onyx eyes shine with sincerity.  

My heart stutters in my chest at the way he says the last word. Like he knows exactly what I’m looking for. Does he really know? I look him in the eye and I can’t help but believe that he does. “What is stopping you?”

Xaden leans forward to look deep into my eyes. “That gets harder to remember every day. One answer is that your mind is not guarded yet. Without shields, you will always be vulnerable. After you channel from your dragon, you will learn.”

I swallow at the intensity in his gaze. His answer makes sense. I’m wary of Dain, but there is always a chance he catches me off guard or a member of leadership has a similarly invasive signet. “And the other answer?” 

“You scare the hell out of me.” 

“What?” I ask in complete shock. “Why would I scare you?” 

“Because what happens if I’m wrong, Violence?” The vulnerability in his voice is palpable, like he’s been torturing himself over this for days. “What if I somehow fabricated this in my head? What if I’ve somehow just convinced myself that some version of the future exists where we’re in this together?” 

“You want to be in this together? Whatever this is?” I can’t help but ask. I have to be crystal clear right now. I feel my breathing quicken. 

“Of course I do,” Xaden groans. “That’s what makes it so fucking scary. I don’t want to lose you. But I know you, Violence. I can feel who you are down to the marrow of my bones. I can’t imagine a world where I’m wrong about you, but I’m still terrified.” 

“Xaden…” I trail off. My chest constricts with a rush of emotions, almost too fast for me to process. Frustration, that he can’t share the truth with me now. Anger, that we’re both in a position where the truth can cost us our lives. Lust, because he still has that absolutely indecent expression on his face that he’s worn since I walked out here. And genuine, ground-shaking, heart-stopping adoration for the person sitting in front of me. 

I can fool myself into just calling it a simple attraction to the most exquisite man I’ve ever seen in my life, but it’s not. It’s him. I really do like him so fucking much. It’s the least rational thing I’ve done since entering the quadrant.  

Every realization that I softly placed into a special box in my mind—each of them handled with gentle care as I packed away every time he made me smile, or laugh, or my heart skip a beat—comes spilling out. I am forced to acknowledge the depth of my feelings. They are too big to fit back in the box, which crumbles into nothingness.

He’s right. It is scary. I’m more terrified than I was to take my first step on the parapet, but the truth is that I can’t imagine a world where I’m wrong about him either. 

“Violence,” he whispers as he shuffles closer. I can feel the warmth of his body. “You come outside with your hair down, share more parts of yourself, and I want to fall to my fucking knees. How am I supposed to cope?”

He buries his face in the hair that spills over my shoulder and I can feel the loose strands flutter in time with his heavy breathing. 

“Xaden.” My breath stutters as he carefully brushes my hair behind my shoulder and exposes my neck. Each movement is slow and hesitant, as if waiting for me to push him away. “I know you too,” I add softly, and it feels… too mundane, too small, for the way he makes me feel. “I know you and I want you.” 

“Fuck,” he groans and buries his face directly in my neck. My hand comes up to weakly brace itself against his chest as I sit up on my knees so I can turn to face him fully. “I can hardly breathe from wanting you.”

He uses his nose to trace a line across my jaw that has my toes curling in my boots. I reach for my rationality and it’s hanging on by a damn thread. 

“Um, ahhh,” I hum at the sensation. “Not that I want to discourage this behavior at all, but...”

“Hm?” Xaden asks, but he seems thoroughly distracted by his current exploration. I bring my other hand to his chest, but do nothing to stop him. “What’s wrong, Sweet Violence? Fuck, you smell good.” I can feel the faint impression of the curve of his lips move against my skin with every word.

Holy shit. I force myself to get the words out in a rush because if I don’t say it fast, I won’t say it at all. “You’re high and you’re experiencing lust that’s not your own. I don’t think now is the time for this.” 

Xaden finally pulls back to look me in the eyes. “You think I don’t want you this badly every day all on my own?” 

I want to kiss him more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone. I lick my lips at the thought, and I watch his attention flicker down. Rational, Violet. Be rational. The thread frays even further. 

“I think that I wouldn’t be able to handle being a regret for you.” I answer as honestly as I can.

His eyes soften and I can see the moment lust gives way to higher thought. “You think I could regret this? That might be the first stupid thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

I bite my lip but I can’t stop my smile. “If this happens… I want it to be because of you and me. Nothing else. So let’s make a deal. If you still want me in the light of day, you can tell me after Threshing, alright? We’ll go from there.”

It was the closest thing to a promise of survival that I had ever given anyone. He gets a fierce expression on his face that leaves me fucking breathless, like he has never doubted me for a second. “After Threshing,” he agrees easily. 

The weight of our words hangs heavy in the air between us. Not a no, but a not yet. 

“And everything else?” I ask softly, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than flirtatious. I’m giving him more trust than I have anyone in a long time. “After Threshing, after I can learn to shield… secret for a secret?”

My real secrets. The difficult ones. The ones that I don’t dare to speak of even in the dead of night when I know that I’m alone. 

Xaden nods and drops his hands to grasp my own tightly. “I promise.” 

I nod slowly, and lose myself to my thoughts. An imagined future stands before me, but before I can see it, I need to survive the next few days. The Gauntlet and Presentation tomorrow, and then Threshing three days later on October 1st. 

If I can make it, I stand half a chance of gaining the one thing I’ve been wishing for before bed every night since I found that letter over a year ago: a single person that I can truly trust. 

Someone who will tell me the truth.

Chapter Text

The morning of the Gauntlet, I discover that I lulled myself into a false sense of security. After months at the Rider's Quadrant, I assumed that Dain had given up on trying to get me run away to be a scribe. I always shut him down quickly whenever the topic came up, and I forcefully kept my distance from all his attempts to rekindle our friendship. 

We still fight, to the shock of the rest of my squad. He'll storm over and yell at me for anything that comes to mind. You should cut your hair, Violet. You shouldn't talk to Riorson, Violet. You shouldn't talk back to the cadets who find it funny to harass you, Violet. You shouldn't throw your daggers around to make a point, Violet. I've heard it all again and again. 

Whenever our arguments take a personal turn, I always attribute all of my anger to the fact that he doesn't have any faith in me, since I can’t reveal the true gravity of my distrust for the man. But the truth is that Dain could magically turn into my biggest supporter, and I would still not be able to tell him anything real about me. 

It makes me sad to cut ties with my oldest friend, but it's another emotion that I have to put into the box. A remnant of the girl I used to be that comes back to haunt me. 

I thought I've been good at putting up distance. I really thought he was starting to let it go. 

But when I exit the tunnel towards the Gauntlet, I feel a hand grasp my shoulder and pull me roughly to the side of the crowd. I flinch at the tug, but I’m thankful I don’t hear it pop. 

“What the fuck, Dain?” I spit out at him and pry his fingers from my shoulder. “Did you want to pop my shoulder out before the Gauntlet? I know you don’t want me here, but sabotage is a bit much.”

Dain flinches at the venom in my tone. “I’m so sorry, Vi. I just had to see you, had to ask you again. Please, please, do not do this. I already received permission from Markham and he won’t turn you in if you leave to the Scribe Quadrant. By the time your mother finds out, it will be too late.”

Why would Markham agree? I thought he gave up his hopes of me being his successor.

I look at Dain's pleading eyes and I feel some measure of pity for the man in front of me. We used to be best friends, and I trusted him more than anyone else left in my life after my brother and father died, but I can barely recognize him now. 

This Dain leans into his rules and his obstinance and he refuses to see that I’m not the fragile, delicate, naive Violet that he grew up with. He doesn’t see the woman who took a life on the parapet, or the fighter who is undefeated in challenges, or the smartest cadet in her year. It will never be enough for him to see past the person I used to be, and she died a long time ago. I killed her myself. 

Yet Dain looks at me and he sees a fucking ghost. He doesn’t see a person who deserves to be here—someone meant to be a rider—but he should. 

Because I’ve decided that I am meant for this shit despite the body I was born into. I wasn’t supposed to spend my life wasting away in the Archives, stuck on the ground. 

I was meant to soar. I’m going to be a rider, or die trying. I’ve made my peace with that.  

“Enough is enough, Dain Aetos.” I try to inject finality into my voice. “There is no future where I tuck my tail between my legs and run.”

“Please, Violet. I’ve already lost so much here.” Once again, it’s about how my death will effect him. 

Dain doesn’t even know the true meaning of the word loss. He’s seen people, perhaps even friends, die in the quadrant. But he’s never had to mourn a sibling or a parent, while being ignored by his last remaining parent and separated from the last of his family who loved him. He’s never had it revealed to him that the greatest loss in his life was not a simple tragedy but a fucking plot.

He has never had loss and revenge intertwine themselves together so deeply in his heart that it’s hard to know where he stops and his thirst for blood begins. 

“It’s not the Gauntlet you’re losing me to today. This one is all on you.” My voice is ice cold. I turn to look for Rhiannon. After a moment, I pause and turn around again. “I’ll always care about you, Dain.”

Even in my anger, I’m not cruel enough to make my possible last words to him a vicious reproach. 

I see wetness shine in his brown eyes, but I don’t let it phase me. “I can’t watch you die.”

“Close your eyes then.” I respond to him firmly but not unkindly. 

And then I walk away. 

—

“Have you figured it out yet?” Rhiannon whispers very quietly as we’re next in line to begin. She’d never announce one of my weaknesses to a crowd full of people out loud. 

“Pfft. When do I not have a plan?” I bluster, fingers dropping down to brush up against the dagger at my side on instinct. 

Rhiannon squeezes my shoulder quickly and gets herself into a ready position. “Never doubted it for a second. My best friend always does.” She throws back a wink and starts on what I’m sure will be a phenomenal run time. I think I swoon a little. Rhiannon really is the best of us, and I’m lucky that I’ve had her help for months. 

So many people have helped me since I entered the quadrant. Rhiannon and Sawyer with sparring, Ridoc with lifting weights and avoiding Imogen’s glares, and even Ivan, who reminds me every day that my being forced here is a good thing. And Xaden. He’s helped me more than I have words to say. Before I started sparring with him, I was aiming for survival. Now I’m aiming to be a real fighter. I look at myself and my skills differently. 

I force down my blush at a memory of him from last night… or this morning technically. By the time I crawled into bed, the sun was only a few hours from rising. Gauntlet first, then confronting my feelings for Xaden second. Or fourth, after Presentation and Threshing. Fifth after shielding? Fuck. 

I physically shake off my nervous inner ramblings and loosen my muscles. It’s my turn now. 

Focus. 

My practice runs have been going flawlessly up until the final ascent, and today is thankfully no different. I fly through the obstacles with ease and I remember all of my timings like its second nature. As I approach the bane of my existence, I take a few deep breaths.

The time doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is survival. 

I can’t use the safety ropes to climb down without being disqualified, but there is no rule that says I can’t use them to climb up. I grab one of the ropes to pull it over the side of the leaning chimney and take a running start to get as high up as possible while pulling on the robe to keep it taut. 

The effort makes me grunt but I slowly pull myself up step by step. The leather gloves provide an invaluable barrier against the sharp friction and tough exterior of the ropes. All of my work to increase my strength culminates to this one moment as I force myself farther than I had ever been before. And I need to go farther still. I need to go all of the way. 

I don’t allow myself even a moment of relief when I reach the top. Even when I hear Ridoc screaming at the top of his lungs in support and I'm tempted to smile. The vertical wall looks just as brutal up close as it does at a distance. And I only get one shot. 

As my breathing calms down, I stretch out my legs and arms carefully. My joints ached, especially my shoulders, but it wasn’t anything unfamiliar. I take my dagger out of the sheath and hold it in my hands for a moment of appreciation. The Codex certainly did one thing right: these weapons are a part of me. Perhaps the most important part of me.

Before them, I was weak Violet Sorrengail, a scribe-to-be. After I first armed myself, I used them to carve a different future with painstaking work and endless practice. They saved my life in more ways than one and now they are going to do it again.  

I can do this. I take off at a sprint, faster than I ever thought my legs would be able to carry me. I had been working on flat-out sprints nearly every morning before breakfast duty since I officially became a cadet. It was different from endurance training, but I liked it. On long runs, my brain inevitably starts running through plans, contingencies, and theories regarding what Navarre is hiding. When it comes to sprinting, the high intensity makes it impossible to think so hard, and even my mind needs a break sometimes. 

I keep sprinting and pushing forward with every muscle of my once pitiful body as the angle shifts and I focus on identifying the exact moment I can go no further. My hand shoots forward without hesitation to embed the blade in the ramp at the peak of my trajectory. I scream at the tearing sensation in my shoulder as gravity pulls me down without mercy. Gravity, the one true enemy you face on the Gauntlet. There is no time to manage my pain or place it in a box. I can only live inside of it. With a gasp, I pull my body up with every last bit of strength I can and scramble with my feet to get any kind of control. 

Just a little bit further. My arm reaches the top of the wall and I grasp it desperately. For a moment, I can feel my limbs threaten to give up on me. I imagine my body breaking in pieces and falling to my death. I can almost taste the blood filling my mouth as my organs liquify on impact. 

I finally get the leverage needed to pull my leg up over the wall, and the rest of me follows. Before my hand leaves the dagger, I pull it out of the wall violently and throw my body backwards to lay down on the safe, flat ground. My breathing is so labored that I almost think my ribs will crack under the pressure. 

I distantly register flexing my limbs and trying to catalogue my injuries. I still have to face Presentation today after-all. Both of my shoulders are burning with exertion, especially the right one that I sacrificed to pull myself up, but nothing was dislocated. I close my eyes and visualize my body as a separate entity, one that is mine to control. Mind over body. My pain is unimportant. Insignificant. Temporary. Tucked away. 

When my eyes finally open a few moments later, I stand up slowly on shaking legs, and walk towards my waiting squad. Rhiannon is beaming as she rushes forward with Ridoc and Sawyer to pull me into a group hug. It hurts, but I can’t stop my wide smile. We jump and cheer at the realization that all four of us are really here. 

We did it. I did it.

Oh my gods, I actually did it. Well, almost. 

One of the other wingleaders comes rushing forward screaming about breaking the rules. Amber Mavis. I have two facts stored away about her. She was fucking Dain for the majority of last year, and from the three times I've caught up sneaking down from the third-year floor, it's still happening. The other fact is that her family is from Tyrrendor but they sided with Navarre during the rebellion.

She seems to actively display more of a grudge towards the marked ones than most despite being Tyrrish herself. I can’t help but think that she probably even knew some of them growing up, which makes me despise her on principle. 

I consider poisoning her on two separate occasions after seeing the way she speaks to them, but I hold myself back every time. The last time that I veered from a plan, I was discovered by Xaden. No matter how well that appears to have worked out, I will not be tempting fate a second time. 

I can hear her shrill voice yelling at Xaden and Garrick stepping forward to tell her to back off. Amber is complaining about my run and calling for disqualification but I don’t flinch. I know it comes down to my Wingleader to make a ruling on my actions. The Codex leaves my life in his hands, and as long as Xaden believes in my reasoning, she can’t touch me. 

It’s funny to think that he may have saved my life by stealing away my squad that first day. I can’t imagine finding mercy among any of the wingleaders beside the Fourth Wing, especially if they are anything like Amber Mavis. They’d see something different and assume it’s wrong. Xaden’s mind is sharper than that; he asked if I had a plan because he was excited to see what I would come up with. 

I walk over to stand in front of the man in question. I try not to fall deeply into his distracting eyes while I have a case to make. 

“Anything to say for yourself, Sorrengail?” The quirk in his eyebrow tells me that he's amused. 

“I expect a penalty for touching the rope.” I answer evenly. 

Amber huffs in annoyance but I barely spare her a glance before continuing. “Article 3, Section 6, Addendum B.” 

She turns an angry red that clashes with her strawberry blonde hair. “Are you trying to quote the Codex to me?”

“A rider may only bring to the quadrant the items they can carry and they shall not be separated from those items no matter where they may be, for once carried across the parapet, they are considered part of their person.” I recite clearly. 

“That was added to make stealing an executional offence,” she argued. Well, it’s a good thing that I’m skilled enough at it not to get caught then.  

“That doesn’t matter. This blade made it across the parapet with me and therefore it is a part of me.” I lift it for the perusal of the two wingleaders. It is an old blade from Major Gillstead, larger than my final one from Mira, and chipped away by overuse. My leather gloves are barely faring any better. I’ll have to steal myself a new pair soon; I feel a wave of appreciation towards Gillstead for the idea as well as the dagger.

I finally allow myself to examine Xaden’s eyes. His expression is as carefully disinterested as ever, but if I look hard enough, I think I see that softness reserved just for me hiding away. He's happy that I made it. Maybe even a bit of proud of my ingenuity, if I’m not fooling myself. I bite my lip to distract myself from how much I want him to tell me he’s proud of me. It’s a ridiculous thought.

I’m proud of me. And my father would be too. That is what matters.

“She has you, Wingleader Mavis.” Xaden decrees loudly and I have every confidence the matter is settled. There is some back and forth with Amber but I hardly register any of it at all. I can’t stop looking at Xaden. 

Despite the euphoria of conquering my greatest foe, I can’t help but remember there’s a chance this is the last time I see him. Presentation has the highest death rate out of any of the obstacles in a cadet’s first year, and I've never forgotten Dain's words about the dragons recognizing my innate weakness. I try to memorize Xaden’s features just in case.

Amber captures my attention with a fierce glare. “You think like a scribe.”

I blink at her. Does she think that’s an insult? My mind has saved me more times than I can count. “I think like a survivor. The Codex won't save you out in the field someday, Wingleader Mavis.” Even though it saved me today. 

I calmly nod at Xaden in thanks for his ruling in my favor and turn around to return to my squad without a glance back at him or the still fuming Amber Mavis. By the time we reunite and find a place to wait on the rest of the runs, Ridoc is doing an excellent impression of the way Amber's cheeks puffed out in anger. Sawyer is holding on to Rhiannon to stop himself from falling onto the floor in laughter. Rhiannon and I share a meaningful look but we both can't stop grinning wildly. 

We're all in a similar state of delirious happiness, and I'll allow myself to live within this bubble for the moment. 

In a few minutes, I need to focus and finish my mental preparations for the Presentation. One step at a time; one of the many lessons I learned on the parapet.

Chapter Text

Presentation does not go smoothly for the Iron Squad. We’ve managed to keep a shocking number of us alive since we were formed, with the exception of Aurelie during that first practice Gauntlet, and we earned a special patch out of it and everything. But dragons don’t give a shit about any of that. 

I feel at ease as we walk up the valley during Presentation despite being paraded in front of such dangerous creatures. I can see the tension line the bodies of my squad members, but I feel oddly at peace with everything. 

I have done everything I can since the day I found my father’s letter. Every hour, minute, second was spent living for this with no days off. From the first day, I never made excuses, or pitied myself, or prioritized anything more. I know that there was nothing that I had that I did not give. Today I humbly submit myself to the judgement of the dragons. If they find me lacking, I have my answer. 

My head turns slightly at the sight of Rhiannon clenching her fists at her side as we pass by a group of oranges. She needs to relax. 

“So do you know if you’re having a niece or a nephew yet?” I ask casually. 

“What?” Rhiannon blinks and she looks closer to flustered than I've ever seen before. 

“Your sister. I heard healers can make a pretty good guess once the woman is far enough along.” 

“Oh no, I’m not sure. I guess I won’t find out until we can write letters next year.” I sigh unhappily at the tortured look on her face. Fucking Basgiath. 

I screw up my face in frustration. “In a place full of nonsense rules, that one has to be the worst.”

Rhiannon laughs lightly at my typical response. I’m nothing if not sensitive to Basgiath’s failings, of which there are many. “You don’t think it inspires loyalty to the Wing?”

I hum thoughtfully. “None of that bullshit about distractions and priorities really makes any sense to me. Life is full of distractions, whether you’re in your first or second year. If you die because you’re wondering if your latest letter came in, that’s on you. Keeping us away from the people that matter to us doesn’t make us better cadets or make us love our families any less, so the rule is either because they don’t care we’re suffering or because that is part of their plan. Which of those makes you more loyal? Apathy or sadism?” 

I really don’t intend to go on a tangent, but the Codex and the rules in Navarre are a topic that I’ve considered in depth. Nothing tells you more about the enemy than the laws they force their citizens to keep. Rhiannon looks surprised at my passionate response, but nods in understanding. She's always receptive of my delicate probing into all of Basgiath's hypocrisies. 

“I’ve never thought of it—” She opens her mouth but Tynan cuts her off. 

“That’s a stupid way of looking at it,” he sneers. He’s had a grudge ever since I unknowingly started a squad-wide joke at his expense. Legend has it that jeers of ‘Tyler’ or ‘Tanner’ still haunt him around the quadrant. “They don’t let us write home for a reason. You need to trust in leadership more than that.”

“Don’t make me laugh at you in front of the dragons.” I dismiss him quickly and turn back to Rhiannon. 

“A boy would be good. Nephews aren’t too bad.” She continues like our conversation never took a turn. I smile at the new relaxed line of her shoulders. We continue walking while making casual conversation, pulling Ridoc and Sawyer into it while ignoring the most unfortunate members of our squad. 

I remember Brennan and Mira telling me about bonding with a dragon, and how they just immediately felt drawn to one. Like there was an invisible string connecting them that had always existed, but they only noticed it in that moment. I try not to get frustrated when I feel none of that. 

The dragons are beautiful and fearsome, but none of them call out to me. I rein in my disappointment. I’m not choosing a dragon today. Nobody chooses a dragon. I’m here to show them who I am in the hopes that they’ll choose me. 

We reach the end of the path, keeping our formation loose as instructed. As I move to turn away, a flash of gold catches my eyes. I can’t hold in my gasp. 

A golden feathertail, watching the procession with clear curiosity. I had heard rumblings that one had been seen, but I never thought I’d have the honor. They are famously reclusive and they do not bond with riders, so most of them are settled inside of the Vale. 

Maybe I’ve always identified with the small ones of the world, but I loved it when my father used to tell me about feathertails. They were even the subject of his research during his final years at Basgiath, at least officially. All of the illustrations I’ve seen are beautiful, but they pale in comparison to the creature in front of me.

I listen to my squad argue that they may have been misidentified, but I know they’re wrong. I can see a hint of the feathertail peeking out from behind them. Even more surprising, I can tell from this distance that they don’t even have claws. They have paws. Soft, perfect-looking paws. I have to fight the urge to coo. 

I pause and re-think my squad’s conversation. Maybe Sawyer is right and it is a hatchling, or a young dragon, and that’s why feathertails don’t bond. 

Given how small feathertails are, it would make sense for the feather to be at an earlier stage of development before adolescent dragons reach maturity and develop their unique tails we use to classify them. We actually don’t know very much about dragons despite having a mutually beneficial partnership for centuries. They are notoriously private and I imagine any researcher who asks too many questions would end up as dinner. It's the reason that I think my father's research was a front of his true findings about Navarre. 

Regardless, the feathertail is beautiful and I’m grateful I get the chance to see them. 

“You should totally bond it, Sorrengail. You’re both freakishly weak. It’s a match made in heaven,” Tynan snarls like his words have any power to harm me. 

“Just because you don’t respect where we are right now doesn’t mean I have to sink to your level.” I speak with a clear leveled voice. Sawyer looks ready to lunge at him, but I just shake my head. I don’t want anyone I care about to be anywhere near Tynan while we’re out here. 

Mostly because he never knows when to shut the fuck up. “Someone should kill it before it bonds. It’s just going to get its rider killed, and it’s not like we get a choice if it wants to bond us.” 

I repress the urge to reach for the dagger at my thigh. Killing a member of your squad is against the Codex. 

“Dragons don’t respect slayers, Tynan,” I tell him calmly. “Keep talking like that and whatever dragon bonds you won’t have to worry about keeping you alive at all, because I’ll kill you myself.” I just wouldn’t get caught. 

I turn away before he can respond and move in line to lead the group back down. My squad members, the ones I actually like, fall in behind me at the correct distance and I’m thankful to have a buffer between me and Tynan while he sputters out insults. I'm short, Tynan. We know. I'd respect him more if he showed any creativity, maybe some new material. 

I probably shouldn’t have threatened to kill him, especially in front of the dragons, but I couldn’t stop myself. 

To wish death upon something so beautiful for no reason? I think maybe I will poison Tynan after Threshing. Just a little bit, as a treat for myself if I survive. 

I’m not hurting for motivation to survive, but I can’t deny the idea brings me joy. My twisted smile at the thought doesn’t last for long. An argument breaks out behind me and I feel a gust of heat. I freeze in place but I do not scream. 

The dragons don’t give a shit about us being the Iron Squad. Pryor and Luca are killed by dragon-fire before we reach the bottom. I don’t look back except to make sure Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer survived. 

It’s a shame about Tynan, but at least there’s still a chance to poison him. 

—

The two days between Presentation and Threshing pass in a haze. I spend the time surprisingly docile, with no schemes or plans in motion. I don’t slip poison into anyone’s food, or sneak out at night to explore some new corner of Basgiath or go stargazing. All of my preparations were complete in the weeks before the Gauntlet, even the gifts I decided to work on.

It's a nice change to pace, but it also means I’m left with very little to do for the first time in a long time. I even sleep more than the recommended number of hours each night, to Rhiannon’s borderline offensive shock and awe. 

I avoid looking at Xaden like the plague, because I don’t want to think about what I’ll do if it turns out I missed out on the opportunity to kiss those perfect lips before I die. That’s going to be one of the last thoughts that come to mind if I end up being incinerated tomorrow. Agony that I never found out the truth about Navarre, guilt at failing my father, and disappointment to go out not knowing what Xaden Riorson tastes like. 

That realization is not my proudest moment, but there’s a reason I practice self-reflection so much. I might carry some regrets over not climbing that man like a tree, but I still stand by my reasoning. I want to know that Xaden wants me all by himself, and I don't want to make a big decision with my life hanging over my head. 

Because these fledgling feelings growing in my chest are too important to me. They matter too much to be reckless with them.  

I was always aware that I was attracted to him, but I had never imagined a future with him before. Maybe that’s the point. I haven’t imagined a future with anyone in a long time. I always figured that I’d die, or even if I found out the truth, there was never any guarantee who would be standing beside me after lines were drawn and sides were chosen. Why waste time on optimistic delusions when I could be thinking about my goals? 

But it’s different with Xaden. Since the beginning, I’ve been as honest as I could be with him. I always felt deep inside that even if I couldn’t tell him the full truth, I wouldn’t do him the disservice of lying. I gave more of my true self to Xaden than anyone else, even my squad, and he never once flinched. Along the way, I started to unwillingly trust him. I knew that he would have my back after the Gauntlet. Without asking, I was certain he would show up for me. Because he’s been doing it for weeks now. My improved ability to defend myself is just proof of that. 

There is also the fact that he got me a gift. For after Threshing. 

I’m not the naive Violet I used to be. I know he has secrets of his own. The late-night flights are only one of the reasons I suspect there is something deeper. But I trust him. I trust that the reasons for his secrets are ones that I will find righteous, in the same way that I trust that he will see the reason behind my own actions and choose not to spur or betray me. 

Or at least I have hope, which is a concept that feels foreign to me. The word sits almost uncomfortably on my tongue. For my entire life, and even more so after I found the letter, logic has been my center. But hope? 

Hope isn’t logical, it just is.  

Against all of the odds, I have hope that Xaden will watch me crack open my chest and admit to every dark, criminal, and manipulative thing I’ve done and still want me. 

I’ve been able to rationalize all of my actions, but I can’t deny that who I’ve had to become weighs on me. Sometimes, it is even hard to breathe. I have lied to family, to friends, to everyone I encounter on a daily basis. I have killed and spied and stolen and hurt and poisoned. It is a disconcerting fact that I haven’t found a line that I’m not willing to cross yet. I don’t know if I even have one. 

How could I see a future with anyone if I’m willing to lose myself to my cause? If I’m prepared to never be able to look in the mirror again someday? Will I even remember who I am after I’m allowed to stop playing pretend? 

But fuck, it’s different with Xaden. Even since we met, it’s like I recognize a part of myself in his shadows, in him. There is a kinship that draws me to him like a moth to flame. A tenable connection whenever we speak and laugh and play and even fight. If things go my way tomorrow and we are finally able to dispel the lies between us, maybe I could imagine a future fighting by his side instead of all alone. 

It took me until the night before Threshing, but I guess Violet Sorrengail finally has a little bit of hope. 

Chapter Text

The gifts were finished and tested thoroughly the week before the Gauntlet. I would never give anyone something that I wasn’t completely sure of. Unfortunately, this does mean that I ended up unconscious in a storage closet for close to half an hour, but at least I know it’s effective. Even on a very large attacker, it should manage to render them unconscious for at least a few minutes. Long enough to run away or do some serious damage. 

I locked and barricaded the door behind me before I dosed myself. I’m reckless, not stupid. I wouldn’t trust anyone in the quadrant with an unconscious Sorrengail.

Even after I have everything ready, I’m still not quite sure why I decided to do it at all. If any of them choose to hand their gift over to leadership, it could mean my death. I don't follow my friends around to make sure that their motives are pure. It would defeat the purpose of allowing them into my life. All I can do is bet on my impression of them and hope for the best. There is that silly little word again. 

It's a risky move. I know that. But I’ve been ready to die for a long time if that’s what it comes down to. They’re not allowed to die. 

I’m not ready to lose any of the people I’ve grown to care about here, especially when I used to lay in bed at night wondering if I'd ever be capable of trusting anyone again. On the morning of Threshing, I prepare to go on a quick tour to hand out my gifts. 

—

My first stop is obvious. I pull Rhiannon into one of the unused classrooms on the way to breakfast and hand it to her wordlessly. Her eyes go wide. 

“Is this…”

“A Violet Sorrengail original, free of charge,” I quip. She looks at the nondescript white powder like it’s going to blow up in her face, which is silly. I dabble in poison, not explosives. 

The caution fades to curiosity quickly. “What does it do?” 

I take a deep breath. “Save your life, hopefully. I don’t think you’ll need it, but if someone tries to kill you and you can’t fight them off, blow this in their face. And for the love of the Gods, do not inhale. It’s not fatal but it will give you a chance to get away. Or kill them if they deserve it.” 

Rhiannon nods seriously and puts the vial away in one of her secure pockets. “Thank you, Vi. I’ll always keep it with me.” 

A knot in my stomach loosens. I can’t do anything to save my friends during Threshing, especially when I can’t even do anything to save myself. But I can certainly make sure they are as prepared as possible for what may happen. 

With the notable exception of Tynan, I want Iron Squad to make it. 

—

I pull Ridoc and Sawyer away from the breakfast table once it becomes clear that none of us have any appetites this morning. It's hard to stomach oats when you're about to face Threshing. I grab an apple and slip it into my pocket so I can eat it on the way to the fields. Rhiannon smiles knowingly as we walk away. 

We end up in another empty classroom, and I hand both of them identical vials. 

“Is this salt?” Ridoc asks, screwing up his eyebrows. I have to laugh lightly. Sawyer is moving the vial back and forth to inspect it closely. 

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift of salt?” Ridoc confirms, and I just roll my eyes. Sawyer laughs at him. 

“No. It’s just a special little gift from yours truly. You don’t need to know what it is. In fact, it is better for you if you don’t. Just know that if either one of you finds yourself in a pinch, during Threshing or anywhere else you fear for your life, blow it directly into their face. Don’t be a fucking idiot and inhale. It will give you time to get away.” Or kill them, but I don’t want to say that. 

I watch while Sawyer’s eyes flash somewhere far away. It took weeks but he finally opened up to me about the story of his first Threshing. The way he was knocked out by another cadet and woke up with the sun already low in the sky. He missed his opportunity to bond with a dragon due to someone else once. He knows what this could mean in a lawless pit like Threshing. 

Sawyer looks emotional, and he wraps the small vial in one of his hands so tightly that I'm almost worried about the glass. “Thank you, Vi,” he whispers. 

Ridoc just looks excited at the new bit of information in front of him. “Violet Sorrengail, I am touched. You may look like a tough egg to crack, but I knew you were fond of us!” 

I laugh lightly and bump both of their shoulders with my closed fists. “Fond is one word for it. Now do me a favor and try your best not to get yourselves killed today.”

Ridoc’s brown eyes sparkle and he nods seriously while he stows away the vial. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

Sawyer reaches out and squeezes my shoulder silently. 

Two more knots loosen. Only one more stop on my tour left. 

—

Finding Ivan and pulling him away is a bit more difficult. He’s sitting with a few marked ones and some of the members of his squad. I try to catch his eye, but he must not have the same situational awareness that I do because he manages to look in my direction twice and still not focus on me. 

I heave a heavy sigh and prepare to walk up to a table of people who probably hate me. Oh, the joy. 

I walk closer and find the same bright-eyed blonde sitting next to him. Liam Mairi. He was in line with Ivan on the day I poisoned that group of cadets, and I learned his name from Xaden. He’s also proudly wearing the Gauntlet patch, which means he took the top time. As one of the only marked ones besides Ivan and Xaden who doesn’t glare at me, I’ll take it. 

“Hey, Ivan,” I greet casually, and pretend not to notice the way that the table goes silent. Violet Sorrengail walking directly up to a marked one might be the most interesting they’ve seen all week. Well, I live to please. 

I nod at Liam pleasantly with a smile before turning back to Ivan. He looks surprised. “H-hey, Violet. What’s up?” 

I gesture with my head towards the exit for the dining hall. “I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast, but I was wondering if we could talk real quick.” His food is just as untouched as the plates at our table. 

Ivan nods and moves to stand up. The other marked one, not Liam, glares at me and gives Ivan a serious look of warning. Threshing is in like an hour. What the fuck does he think I’m going to do? Kill Ivan in the hallway because I woke up feeling stabby? 

I avoid rolling my eyes, but only barely. It’s not the marked ones’ fault that they don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either. 

“It’ll just take a second,” I add brightly, in my Violet-Sorrengail-should-be-underestimated voice. 

Ivan follows me and I lead us a few corridors down. With a quick glance around, I gauge if anybody is in earshot and tug us into the same classroom I used to talk to Ridoc and Sawyer. 

Ivan startles and yelps a bit in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be overheard.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

I take a deep breath. “I am going to tell you something that would be very dangerous for me if it ever gets out. What you do with this information is your own choice and I will respect that.” 

Poor Ivan looks so lost, hazel eyes narrowed in confusion. 

I take out the final vial from my pocket and hand it to him. “I made this. I’m giving it to you as just another contingency. If you’re attacked and can’t get the advantage, blow it into their face—and do not fucking inhale, I swear—and you’ll be able to knock someone out to get away. Or whatever. It should last at least a few minutes at least depending on their size. I had limited opportunities to test it.” 

Ivan stares at the vial for a long time. I start to think that maybe I’ve offended him by insinuating he’d need poison to survive Threshing. Ivan has been physically training just like I have, and I do trust him to take care of himself. I just know he’s out there alone like everyone else, except with more people who hate him, and I can’t help but be protective. He doesn’t owe me his life by any means, but I’ve developed a vested interest in wanting to help him keep it. 

But he’s not offended. 

“I knew it!” he whispers. I’m surprised but I probably shouldn’t be. I know that I was highly fucking suspicious in the breakfast line. Shit, Liam has probably made assumptions too. He still smiles at me though, so I guess he’s not rushing to report me. I rack my brain but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Liam Mairi not smiling. He was probably grinning when he glided through the Gauntlet like it was built for toddlers. 

I use my free hand to rub the back of my neck. “Yes, a-ha, the eggs debacle was not very well-done of me. I promise that I am usually much better at not getting caught. There were extenuating circumstances in that case.”

Ivan nods in understanding. “The assholes that were bullying our first-years, right? One was in my squad and she talked about the beauty of karma for weeks.” Karma. Huh, I’ve been called worse things. “They just pissed you off enough to break from routine?”

Gods, he put that together just like Xaden did. “Am I becoming too predictable?” I wonder out loud. I should probably do something about that. 

Ivan just laughs loudly—still an objectively great laugh—and waves his hands. “Violet, you are quite literally the least predictable person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” 

I smile smugly. “I thought so.”

He shakes his head at me and grabs the vial from my hand. “So you’ve been poisoning people in your spare time?” He keeps his voice low. 

“Some people knit,” I tell him with a shrug. “We all have our childhood hobbies.” 

He keeps shaking his head at me. Rude. 

“You are going to have to tell me more about your childhood someday, Violet.” 

My grimace is reflexive. “We can exchange traumas and friendship bracelets after we survive Threshing.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ivan tells me seriously. He slips the vial into his pocket. “Thank you for this, by the way. I haven’t said it yet, but I’m glad I have you looking out for me.”

I can’t stop from smiling at the feeling of a sun rising in my chest. “Don’t die, Ivan,” I remind him teasingly.  

“You’re not allowed to die either, Violet.” 

I laugh lightly. “Oh, please. Me? Basgiath would never be so lucky.” I punctuate my buster with a wink. 

He pulls the door open and we slip back into the corridor. I look up and immediately lock eyes with Xaden, who is walking in our direction. A part of my mind recognizes that Garrick is walking beside him, but I am thoroughly distracted. It’s the first time I’ve looked directly at Xaden since I survived the Gauntlet. I try to savor it again, in case it’s the last time.

Xaden raises a single eyebrow and continues his casual pace down the long corridor while keeping eye contact with me the whole way. As he passes by, he tilts his head slightly and lowers his voice to a devastating timbre that Garrick and Ivan definitely still heard. “I’ll see you on the other side, Violence.”

There are so many unspoken promises in that statement. I nod silently and I can feel the way my body leans slightly in his direction without my permission. 

Like he never said anything at all, he continues walking towards the dining hall with Garrick. After they both turn the corner, I can finally exhale. 

“Uh, Vi?” Ivan starts. 

“Do not speak,” I tell him quickly, feeling a delayed heat rise to my cheeks. 

Ivan chokes on a laugh. “You and Riorson?” 

“We are not talking about this!” I repeat myself slightly louder. Yet he continues talking!

“You know, as much as it’s crazy considering the loaded family history there, it also makes sense.”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been training together, and I think you’re a lot alike. He’s scary but also fiercely protective. Sarcastic and a little bit mean. Ringing any bells?”

I gasp in exaggerated offense. “Ivan Luperco, did you just call me scary and mean? I am just a little girl, barely five feet of me. I couldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“Notice how you didn’t refute the sarcastic part.” 

I grin widely, having moved on from being embarrassed to being thoroughly amused. I know I’m sarcastic, and I’d fucking love it if more people thought I was scary and mean. But fiercely protective? That’s nice. After my poison tour this morning, I’ll wear that one like a stupid patch on my future flight jacket. 

We have to leave for Threshing soon, but there are worse ways to spend the morning of the day you might die.

Chapter Text

Threshing is an endurance run, not a sprint. I probably would have preferred another sprint, but unfortunately, I was not consulted. 

With that in mind, I try to pace myself as I systematically travel through the valley while staying on guard for dragons—or pesky cadets trying to take advantage of the lawlessness of Threshing to rid the quadrant of a Sorrengail. 

Thankfully, my so-called reputation after Jack and Imogen, and Xaden’s decree to the marked ones, has prevented most threats from progressing beyond the occasional nasty glare and unimaginative insult. I am under no illusion that the list of people who truly want me dead is any shorter.

And that is just for my name, not my nightly activities.

I follow the methodical path through the area that I planned in detail and I try to reach out with more than just my physical senses. I’m supposed to have a feeling, aren’t I? 

Is the fact that I’m not being pulled in any one direction a sign that no dragon has deemed me worthy? Except I can’t think like that if I want to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

I move on to the next area and give a wide berth to a pair of charred remains. They were the ones deemed unworthy. I still have a chance. 

Slowing down as I enter a small clearing within a densely wooded area, I scan my surroundings carefully. Dragons wouldn’t be able to maneuver on the ground here, but the trees provide enough cover to hide. 

My hair stands up on end when I hear leaves rustle behind me in a way that is in startling discordance with the natural rhythm of the wind. My shoulders tense and I quickly arm myself with a blade in each hand. I slow my breathing and listen more closely. 

Footsteps. They’re closing in on me fast with no hesitation in their rhythm, which is suspicious enough. No hesitation means that they’re probably not looking for their dragon. It’s more like they saw me enter the wooded area and quickly followed in the most likely direction I would take. This person is here for me. 

I turn slowly in the direction that I hear the sound and I can’t stop myself from freezing in confusion. 

He’s not a first-year and he definitely isn’t one of the executive officers tasked with keeping an eye on things. A rider on watch wouldn’t be so far away from his dragon and he’d have his position clearly displayed. I can’t remember having seen this man before at all, and I try to make it a point to try to learn faces. You never know who is out to get you. 

The rider is tall and pale, with short dark hair and a sadistic smile that reminds me far too much of Jack Barlowe. He’s holding a large sword in his right hand and I can clearly see the remains of blood on it. Blood that he didn’t even bother to try wiping off. 

He better not have found anyone I care about before he ran into me. 

A part of me recognizes the coldness of that statement. From the amount of blood, I know he’s claimed a life, and I can’t muster a moment of sympathy for whatever hypothetical person met their end. All I can do is hope he didn’t claim that life from me. 

“What is a second-year rider from Third Wing doing out during Threshing?” I accuse him loudly. “You shouldn’t be in the fields.”

His smile twists into a sneer and he finally steps out from the shadows of the tree cover. There are no informative patches on his jacket besides his wing and year. His dark eyes are surrounded by a ring of sickly red that makes him appear deranged. Is he fucking on something? 

“You shouldn’t be in this quadrant at all.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I quip, but I’ve already started analyzing him as an opponent. “Interfering with Threshing is against the Codex, you know?”

I try to expand my senses while keeping an eye on the man. I don’t hear any out-of-place noise in the surrounding area, so he is likely alone. There being no other attackers is great, but having a third party around to witness this very obvious breach in the Codex would be better. 

It’s easy not to fear the rules when there are no witnesses. I speak from experience. 

I place myself on the mental map I created of the valley, and try to deduce where I am most likely to run into any possible allies. Hell, I’d settle for some unwilling bystanders. I orient myself with my back facing west so I can make a run for a nearby field with a small lake. It’s in the next quadrant I was planning on searching. 

It’s as good of a place as any, but I will need to slow him down first. I can think of a ligament or two in his leg that will do. 

The rider takes several steps forward and I keep a consistent distance between us while taking steps backwards towards the tree line. I flip both of the daggers in my hand so I am gripping the tips and ready to strike. 

“You’re a threat to people in high places, Sorrengail. But I’m still going to enjoy this. We must eliminate the weakest parts of the wing to fly.” 

I freeze and consider his words and their implications. This rider was sent to infiltrate Threshing and get rid of me during the chaos. He’s not a deranged cadet with a grudge. He’s an fucking assassin. 

All thoughts of mercy and aiming to neutralize die a swift death. 

I let both blades fly. My aim has always been impeccable and they land exactly where I want them to, one in the ligament that allows him to move his sword arm, and one in the side of his neck on the opposite side of his body. The location of a major artery. 

I continue taking small steps backwards in the direction I’ve planned to run if needed. Until I see his dying breath, I can’t let him catch me off guard. A wounded animal is the most vicious. 

The rider’s eyes flash with anger, but I don’t see the telltale wince of pain even as his sword drops to the ground when I render his arm useless. There is no fear of defeat in his eyes as blood seeps from the fatal wound in his neck. 

He kneels low and braces his limp arm against the ground palm-side up. His dark red-rimmed eyes meet my gaze head on and he slowly reaches to pull out the dagger embedded in his shoulder without flinching. To my horror, I can see his right arm twitch like it was regaining function, which should not be fucking possible. 

What the fuck. 

He tosses my dagger to the side and then grasps the one in the neck to liberate that one as well. Instead of gushing, the blood seeps out slowly. Like a papercut. He adjusts his grip on the second dagger and stands while picking his sword right back up like nothing happened.

Oh great, I just gave him another weapon, I complain to myself as I absorb that last bit of information. I spin quickly and sprint through the tree line and towards the lake. Or where I think the lake will be. I try not to let panic cloud my mind and my judgement. 

I focus on the ground so I don’t trip and give him a chance to catch up. I gain some distance, but not nearly enough to breathe easy. This isn’t an attacker I’ll be able to outrun forever, no matter how fast I’ve become. Focus, Violet. Think, think, think. 

I am down to six daggers and from the pace of his footsteps, his injuries are not slowing him down at all. What the fuck is he on? I’ve read about performance-enhancing substances, but nothing like that. His red-rimmed eyes, his pain tolerance, his ability to survive both debilitating wounds and recover from muscular damage. That had to be magic.  

The problem is that magic like that shouldn’t exist, no matter what his signet may be. Even menders have trouble working on themselves. The terror that runs through me threatens to make me catatonic if I allow it. 

That is not a normal opponent. He should be on the forest floor right now bleeding out, not chasing me. Even if I get to the lake, I’m still going to have a huge fucking problem once he reaches me. I remember Xaden’s words when he first started training me.

Trying not to lose and trying to win are two different things, Violence.

I can’t keep running forever. I need a plan to win. A good one preferably, and on short notice too. No pressure. 

I don’t even have the time to consider what kind of fucked up monstrosity he is and who sent him sent my way, but I certainly have my suspicions. All I can worry about for now is killing him before he kills me. 

If daggers aren’t effective, I’ll just need to go with Plan B. Without slowing down, I use one hand to reach into the hidden pouch on the inside of my jacket and pull out one of each of my most vicious poisons and place them in my front pocket for easy reach. 

These are not poisonous berries or hallucinogenic mushrooms. They are the kind of chemical concoctions that I would never dream of using on another cadet because contrary to what some people believe, I don’t actually want to rack up the highest death count before graduation. These poisons are only possible with the ingredients I stole from the Healer’s Quadrant and purchased in town after sneaking out one night last month. 

I had never tried this chaotic blend before, with all three, but hey, you catch more fish with a wide net, right? Or something like that. 

No, no, unstable chemical reactions for an obviously unstable attacker. That sounds better. 

Focus, Violet. 

I rest my hand on the special dagger that I keep in the now-reinforced sheath at my thigh. I had modified the case to soak the blade in a very potent concoction with paralyzation properties. It was adapted using one of the strong anesthetics that the Healer’s Quadrant keeps in stock for surgeries. I haven’t been able to test it for obvious reasons but according to my calculations, it should be able to at least paralyze a normal person for up to thirty minutes depending on their size. In theory.  

I break through the tree line and the lake I was searching for comes into view. It looks bigger than all of the maps of the valley I had studied, and I don’t see any evidence of any fellow cadets. Across the lake, I see a large cave with an entrance that is definitely big enough for a dragon. 

My heart threatens to stop at the diverging road in front of me.

There is no perfect option here. If I had explored this area without the threat of death, I likely would have left that cave alone. 

Well, most likely. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t have explored the dark portal into the unknown but I probably would have gotten curious. 

I run through the facts in my head as quickly as possible. 

If I stay out here and fight that monster in an open area with no cover, it will be near-impossible to gain an advantage, let alone administer poison. If I go into that cave, I introduce unknown territory for the both of us, which could be a good thing if I’m able to analyze the environment faster than him and use it to my advantage. Or it could be a really fucking bad thing if I run into a hungry dragon with no interest in my survival. 

I risk a glance behind me. I don’t see him, but I can hear his clumsy, lumbering steps closing in. He can’t be more than a few minutes behind me. 

“You are a fool if you do this, Violet,” I mutter to myself. But that hasn’t stopped me before. 

I break out into a fast sprint, even faster than I sprinted up the vertical wall. I slow down slightly as I reach the cave entrance and slide inside with quick yet quiet steps. After all my time slinking around in the dark, my eyes adjust quickly to the dim cavernous space. The distant corners are shrouded in persistent darkness and that is enough to make me wary. This could easily be one part of a large cave system, even if I don’t remember seeing one on all of the maps I looked at. At least the terrain is rocky, and I think I can make it work. 

I can’t let this turn into a slugfest. A drawn out conflict with an attacker of his size and unknown abilities would be unwise. I can’t take as many hits as he can, and I certainly can’t recover from torn muscles and broken bones. If I can’t beat an opponent head on, I’ll just have to plan my first ambush. 

Sticking close to the cave wall so nothing dragon-sized can sneak up on me from behind, I circle the space as quickly as possible to scan for a good position. I identify an angled rock that slopes towards the ceiling and rises at least eight feet off the ground with a semi-flat surface on top. It was wide enough that I could probably crouch down and the surface was rocky enough to serve as footholds. Regardless, it would have to do. I am running out of time. 

I run forward to begin my sixth ascent of the week, which somehow does the impossible and manages to be even higher stakes than the leaning chimney or vertical wall. I climb like my life depends on it, because it definitely does. As I scamper up the rock, I feel a sharp edge dig into the skin of my right hip and drag down the length of my leg but I ignore it. 

Once I get to the top, I carefully drop into a low crouch to make myself as small as possible and prepare. I pull the poisoned dagger from its home to hold it in a ready position and allow myself a few seconds to close my eyes. 

Mind over body. I force my breathing to regulate and I take my oft-used, battered, but well-loved box in my mind and I shove in every bit of confusion, terror, and pain. They have no place in this cave.

My eyes flash open when I hear the sound of ungraceful footsteps against the stone floor. He’s here. 

Unlike my measured approach, he walks straight forward into the cave without fear, or any sense of caution. It means he’s an idiot, which is good for me. It also means that he is approaching at an excellent angle to conceal my position. 

I start running simulations in my mind for how to dislodge from my position smoothly and tackle him without giving him the chance to react. Close to major blood vessels would be best to get it into his bloodstream more quickly. Given my height advantage—and isn’t that funny? Me with a height advantage—his neck is my best bet. 

My aim ultimately doesn’t matter. I just need to get my dagger into him, and I can’t stop to consider whether or not the poison will even be effective. It has to work. 

I’m distracted from his approach when a ray of light from outside catches on something inside the cave and I see a flash of gold. My head whips in the opposite direction of my opponent and I see the golden feathertail stepping out from behind one of the large rocks in the cave a short distance away. The one with paws instead of claws. The one I couldn’t stop staring at. 

Neither can the assassin. Except the look on the rider’s face right now is much different from mine during Presentation. He is looking at the dragon like he’s… hungry. It makes my skin crawl. 

“This is a nice surprise. I wonder how much power there is to drain from a defenseless feathertail.” He muses about his evil plan out loud like he’s some kind of fucking villain. “I could probably ascend with the magic from even a weak dragon like you.” 

Once again, I find myself thinking: what the fuck. All I know is that he’s going to do something, something horrific, to the feathertail and they need to get away now. I look at the dragon with wide eyes and try to urge them to flee with my mind. The cave is wide enough that they can maneuver around him, right? 

They blink at me and, as if they thrived on being obstinate, walk several feet closer to the both of us and directs the path of my assassin that much closer. Are they trying to help me? I’d rather they help themself. If I cared that much about my own wellbeing, I'd be making a run for the entrance while my attacker is distracted. 

Why don’t you know what’s good for you, little one? 

The assassin laughs and prowls forward. Even as the dragon shifts his path closer to my hiding place with their movement, the rider is still too far for an ideal tackle. It’s too bad that I can’t wait for a better opportunity. I can’t let him hurt the feathertail, and that means I can’t hesitate. 

I quickly rotate my body over the closest edge of the rock and hold myself up with one arm so I can use my feet to push against the stone and propel my body forward. I ignore the twinge in my shoulder at supporting my body weight. At least it’s not the one I almost destroyed in the Gauntlet. 

That one hasn’t felt right since—the one holding my dagger of course. 

While his greedy eyes are still set on the feathertail, I launch myself as far as I can and barely manage to wrap my arms around his neck and wrestle my legs around his torso without stabbing myself in the arm with my own damn poison. Without pause, I tighten my legs and reposition the blade to slash, clearing my other arm from the area by tangling it in his hair and giving it a vicious pull to expose his neck. 

I try to extend my arm forward but he is unusually strong and trying his best to shake me off. I feel a distant shooting pain when he reaches behind and stabs me in the left thigh several times in quick succession with my own fucking dagger. 

Somehow, that fact is the boiling point of my rage. I refuse to allow my legs to loosen. Mind over body. It’s my fucking body and it needs to listen to me right now. 

With a fierce scream, I ignore the pain of my shoulder and use my flexibility to bend my arm out in front of us. I force the dagger up to his neck near his carotid and administer a deep cut before I drag it straight across his jugular. 

He makes a disgusting gurgling noise and releases both the dagger and his sword. I hear the clash of them falling to the cave floor, and I distantly find myself thankful that I didn’t have to pull my dagger out of my thigh on my own. The idea makes me unusually squeamish. 

His body falls forward hands first but I drop my legs and kick in the back of his knees so he is forced into a kneeling position instead. Without letting go of my grip on his hair, I take the poison dagger and drive it straight into his heart from behind. There is no more direct way into the bloodstream. 

I wait with baited breath until the moment his body goes limp and he slumps forward. With shaking fingers, I reach my empty hand out to check his pulse and sure enough, it is faint but still steady. 

“That is not possible,” I mumble to myself. “This is just the paralysis from the dagger. He’s still not dead.” 

I turn to the feathertail with frantic eyes and find the little dragon sitting a few feet away, as if they did not have a single worry in the world. “You need to get out of here, Goldie. This thing is not going to stay down and I don’t know how to kill it.” All I have left are my other poisons.

Another blink, and no movement. I sigh heavily. “Fine. You better hope this next plan works then. I don’t have too many left.”

I pull out the vials I had ready and use my nail to uncover each of them quickly. I carefully pull his head back by his hair and pour all three of them directly into his mouth. With a grimace, I shake his head to try to stimulate swallowing. I was not going to touch his bloody neck again. I wait until all of the liquid slowly seeps down his throat. With his eyes closed, it’s hard to remember that I didn’t just slice another cadet’s throat and stab him in the heart. 

I remind myself he was an assassin sent to kill me. I’m doing what it takes to survive, the lines be damned. 

Grunting, I roughly pull him onto his back so he’s slumped awkwardly with his knees still underneath him. I try to analyze his reactions. 

To my surprise, his red-tinted eyes fly open and frantically circle around the cave. 

“Fuck!” I almost jump out of my damn skin. 

Unfortunately, there is no gasping for breath, no turning blue, nor physical reaction of any kind even after a couple minutes. His heart rate stays slow yet steady, his body temperature stays normal, and there is no evidence of any marks on his skin besides those made from my blades. 

It looks like poison can’t kill him either. Not one that I've developed yet. Pity. 

Fortunately, he still appears to be paralyzed from the dagger. At least one thing is going right today. 

“Fuck you,” I can’t help but tell him while looking him directly in the eyes. It’s easier to remember he’s not just another cadet now. “I’ve tried bleeding you from your major arteries, disconnecting your ligaments, slicing your throat open, stabbing you in the heart, and giving you the three nastiest poisons in my arsenal. I have to say that I am beginning to get a little bit frustrated here.”

I grit out my words with barely contained rage. “Your continued existence defies all logic. And I can’t abandon you and run because this beautiful creature that you want to drain does not want to leave. You heard him earlier right, Goldie?” I turn to glance at the dragon as they watch the proceedings carefully. “He wants to drain you, and I am out of plans to kill him, okay? Who the hell even says a thing like that? It’s like something out of a storybook and I—” 

I feel every muscle in my body lock in place. It’s like something out of my storybook.

My brain flashes back to The Fable of the Barrens. I used to ask my father to read it to me every night until I was able to read it myself. I even remember being scared once when the General came home from work in the middle of the night, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion. I screamed loud enough to wake up my entire family and shouted that mom was a venin. Brennan laughed so hard that he cried. 

Folklore doesn’t typically try to kill you, but the evidence would support it right down to the red-rimmed eyes. 

I turn back to look at the unnamed rider. “You’re venin,” I whisper. I see the look of surprise flash in its eyes and I know I’m right. That’s the reason my father told me the book was so important. “Holy shit, it’s all real.”

But I don’t have time to ponder a massive realization when I need to kill or incapacitate this thing before it hurts the golden dragon. Then I can drag myself out of this cave and figure out my next step. To deal with Threshing and then to deal with this huge epiphany. 

The blood from the wounds in my legs makes my leathers stick to me uncomfortably but I force myself to stand tall and alert. I can’t feel that pain yet. Today isn’t even close to being over. 

Your mind already knows the answer, so just calm down and let it remember.

My father’s words. The advice I hold the closest to my heart. I have to trust that he gave me everything that I need to succeed. 

I review what I can remember about the book. The story of venin and wyvern, of power stolen from the land instead of gifted, and all of the typical moral lessons that accompany childrens’ tales. Except they apparently are not moral lessons, and the venin are certainly not a metaphor. 

My eyes flash back to my attacker when I spot the slightest twitch of its finger. It looks like thirty minutes was a very naive estimate, because it’s going to be able to move soon. 

As I stare at its hands in horror, it hits me. Power stolen from the land instead of gifted. It had knelt down and pressed its palm to the floor after I struck it in the forest. 

Venin need to channel from the earth for their powers. That requires contact. Of course. 

“Gods, that’s so obvious,” I mutter to myself. “Look away, Goldie. This is going to get messy.”

I pull my largest and most obnoxious knife I won from a challenge and get to work sawing off its hands at the wrist without allowing myself to hesitate. I can't consider what I am doing beyond that it is necessary. I sacrifice the material of my jacket to act as a barrier against his palms. Better safe than sorry. Over time, I feel its body start to wince and wiggle as sensation returns and I speed up. 

This is definitely the most fucked up thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I ignore the disconcerting feeling of sawing through muscle and sinew until I can expose the bone. With a loud snap and a final slice of my dagger, I dislodge one of the hands and move on to the next one. 

Now that I know what to expect, I move faster and I’m able to ignore the way it twitches. In a few minutes, I’m holding both my attacker’s hands gingerly in one of my own by the meaty fingers. 

I can feel blood sticking to more than just my leathers now, along with the pieces of his flesh sticking to the dagger I kept clutched in one hand.  

I toss both of the appendages away from us deeper into the cave, kick the weapons away as well for good measure, and turn back to gaze into its enraged eyes. It’s looking at me like it’s picturing all the ways it can hurt me with only bloody stumps to work with. I’m happy its eyes are still open. The red reminds me exactly what I’m dealing with and makes it easy to numb myself to the violence. 

Its body begins to roll and shift until it sags down uselessly onto its back. Definitely not thirty minutes. Or maybe the other poisons ruined this sample case. 

I muse out loud. “This is how I see it. You can’t heal if you can’t channel, right? So if I were to say, damage you beyond recognition, it stands to reason I can move you at least closer to death, if not all the way there.”   

I hold up the bloody blade and stab it directly into its heart without another word. I pull it out and then push it back in again at a different angle several times. I pull the knife out one final time with zero emotion in my eyes and plunge it straight into the open wound in its larynx and leave it there. His eyes finally start to drift closed, and I’m almost disappointed. 

“Can you heal from that without channeling?” I ask curiously. I tilt my head and lean closer, wondering how else I can hurt it. I dissociate as bloody images float through my mind of all the best, most efficient ways to maim and injure. I could always try decapitation, but that’d be difficult with my daggers. I may have kicked away its sword prematurely. 

Before I can think to turn around and look for it, the golden feathertail surprises me by nudging their head into my back gently. I startle at the sensation, since I didn’t even hear them approach at all, fully invested into the pain I was inflicting.  

Fuck. 

Without realizing it, I had retreated into my mind and distanced myself from my behavior with surprising success. I’m horrified at the callus and bloodthirsty persona I had slipped into, and I gratefully focus on the feeling of the dragon’s warm breath across my back to slowly bring myself back to reality. 

My breathing stutters and I struggle to get control of it for the first time in a long time. My desperate gasps echo in the cavernous space. Just like the sounds of my daggers slicing and bones snapping. 

As I always feared, I had to confront all of the worst parts of who I am deep inside, only to find out that they were even worse than I imagined. 

With a frightening slowness, I bring myself back under control. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry about that, little one. I’m back now. Thank you for pulling me out.” I turn to face the dragon and usher us both several feet away from my bleeding lump of an attacker. I ignore the painful twinge in my legs. “I don’t think it can channel anymore, but it’s still not safe here. I don’t know how much you know about venin, but my knowledge is just above zero and I can’t guarantee you aren’t in danger.” 

I dare to reach a hand towards the little dragon with paws and tentatively press it against their shoulder. Even if they are small, I’m sure their teeth are still very sharp. Small things can be incredibly vicious. All one needs to do is look behind me to know that. 

I try to avoid staring at the bloodstains on my hands and how they look so wrong pressed up against the golden dragon. Like they were tainting something perfect. 

“Will you leave with me?” I ask softly. “You’d be safer anywhere that’s not in this cave. I can’t let you get hurt, and I’m on a bit of a deadline here.” 

The feathertail stares off somewhere to the right of me, deeper into the cave.

I feel a shiver down my spine when I sense a large presence shifting in the dark shadows. My entire body spins and I freeze in place, eyes dropping immediately to the ground in deference. From the blackness crawls the largest dragon I have ever seen, scales blending into the shadows with ease. I recognize him instantly, from his scarred wings and his fearsome morningstar tail. 

Tairn, the only black dragon in the Vale, who hasn’t been seen in over five years, since his last rider died. If Professor Kaori was to be believed, he burned out trying and failing to save my brother’s life. I’m impressed at how well he was able to conceal his presence, considering his shoulders at full height almost reach the top of the cave. What is he doing in the valley during Threshing? He never indicated he was willing to bond. 

My eyes stay glued to the floor. Black dragons are the rarest and most cunning. It would be impossible to outsmart him and escape this cave if he wants me dead. And he is already staring at me like he can see right down to my very soul. I steel my spine and wait for judgment. 

“You might want to back up, Goldie,” I whisper while barely moving my lips. “This might be a dangerous place to stand very soon.”

‘Do not fear, Silver One,’ a deep voice in my head rings out. ‘You have shown great cunning today. I will not reward intelligence with death.’

Is he talking to me? Inside of my head?

‘Yes, I am talking to you.’ The voice sounds exasperated, which I admit I take some offense too. I had just been through a very harrowing and very disgusting experience. And more than that, I need time to reassess every single thing that I ever thought I knew. For the second time in less than two years. 

A girl can’t catch a break. 

“Do you know if he’s finally dead?” The first thing out of my mouth is a question. Even traumatized, I’m still me. 

‘This one was not very strong, and without the ability to channel, the damage you inflicted will be enough. It will die in this cave.’

“Oh… that’s nice,” I mumble, not sounding very intelligent at all. “Wait, that was a weak one?” My mind flashes to the venin’s mention of ascension. It makes my blood run cold. Actually, that might be the blood loss.

‘You’re bleeding, Silver One. Stop it.’

I think about arguing that I have more important things to worry about, but he’s right. You can’t theorize if you’re dead. 

“Good idea… sir.” I’m still not convinced he won’t kill me. 

Can dragons roll their eyes? That’s the distinct impression I get for some reason. 

I reach into my small pack to grab my spare wraps for my joints and use them as a bandage around my right thigh. Upon further inspection, I see that the venin turned me into a pincushion. I spot at least 6 separate wounds oozing blood. From my own damn dagger, which somehow makes it worse. I wrap the bandage around several times tightly to try and stop the bleeding as much as I can. I can’t do anything about my other leg for now. The long gash was bleeding, but not profusely. 

I peer at my bloodstained hands once more and remember the lake outside of the cave. I will need to clean myself before going anywhere. I can feel splatters of blood sticking to my face and the skin of my neck, and most of my clothes are a lost cause. Walking around the valley during Threshing covered in blood is not a good idea. 

‘Let us leave this cave. You will wash and then we all must go.’ 

“Leave?” I question him and file away the fact that he is definitely responding to my thoughts. “I thought you said he was staying dead.”

Well, I guess dragons can definitely sigh dramatically, because that is definitely what he just did. ‘We must go to the flight fields and declare our bond,’ he explains with forced patience. 

My eyes blow wide open. “Our bond?” I repeat loudly. “You’re bonding with me?”

There’s another sigh. ‘Yes, Silver One. Dragons do not speak into the minds of humans they do not claim.'

My heart stutters at his words. On some level, I have always known that. But the stress of the attack, and probably my own sense of inferiority, prevented me from recognizing the truth. 

“Are you sure?” I can’t help but ask with a small voice. I’m not exactly a model rider, and I am definitely not worthy of the honor of being his rider. That’s not even to mention the way he just watched me mutilate a paralyzed yet fully conscious body, which I will have to take some time to process later. 

‘Dragons do not make mistakes.’ He answers calmly and then stalks out of the cave with an unexpected grace. I feel the ground shake and hear loose pebbles shaking with each of his steps. I take a moment to carefully grab my poison dagger that had fallen to the floor, wipe it clean, and replace it in its sheath with more poison so I would be ready for any more surprises. Breaking into the Healer’s Quadrant was definitely worth it. 

I limp after my dragon helplessly, aware of the feathertail following right behind me. I hear his voice continue speaking in my mind. ‘My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line. But I’m not going to assume that you’ll be able to remember that once we reach the field, so Tairn will do until I inevitably have to remind you.’

“Tairn,” I repeat out loud. A dragon had chosen me. And not just any dragon, but one as fierce and legendary as any cadet could ever dream of. Tairn had claimed me and I was his now. 

I feel a rush of agreement in the bond that wraps around my shoulders like the best hug I’ve ever received. A sense of rightness settles in my bones. There it is. That connection Brennan and Mira talked about. A deep black thread connecting his life to my own. Distantly, I can feel other lights far in my periphery. I focus on his overwhelming presence, speechless at how right it feels and how very easy it is for him to slip into place in my mind like he has always belonged there. 

I come to a halt in front of the lake and stare into the water mindlessly. I survived Threshing. Venin are real and I killed one. I have a dragon. 

I hear a light, feminine voice speak in my mind. ‘Actually, you have two dragons.’  

My head spins around to face the feathertail in surprise. “Did you just talk to me, Goldie? And did you just say two dragons?” 

‘My name is Andarnaurram. Andarna for short.’ Her sweet voice greets me and I can’t help but smile. I can recognize her now. That distant gold thread. She told me her full name, which meant I was hers too. 

“Hello, Andarna. Wait, are you both allowed to claim me?” 

Leadership is not going to like this. Hell, most of the cadets are not going to like this. Especially those who were not chosen today. 

‘Humans do not dictate the actions of dragons,’ Tairn grumbles. ‘They have no say in this. You are ours and we will be yours.’

I almost laugh out loud imagining what the General’s face will look like when I arrive alive with a dragon, let alone two. But there is a rightness to his words that I can’t ignore. Tairn and Andarna both feel more like mine than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

Tairn blows out hot air in impatience. ‘Now clean yourself, Silver One. We have much left to accomplish today.’

I nod and gingerly drop to my knees so I can scrub my hands in the water. I pay careful attention to the blood caught under my nails. My jacket is a lost cause, but I had long since sewn hidden pockets into my spares, so I could abandon it. Being cold on the flight to the field was worth not slipping into the heavy, blood soaked fabric. I take the remaining vials of poison from the inside, and store them away in my small bag before cleaning my hands again. Part of me thinks that I will never be truly clean again. 

I rip one of the sleeves of my long tunic that was already tearing at the seam and wet it to wipe down my face and neck from any blood splatter the best I can. I can’t do much about the rest of my clothes, but at least I looked like less of a murder victim at a distance.  That’s one thing about rider black. It hides bloodstains well enough. The visible bandages tell enough of a story. 

“Okay,” I say loudly and push myself to my feet with a decisive nod. I ignore the stabbing pain in both my legs. “Time to fuck with leadership. One of my favorite hobbies.” 

Tairn grumbles in what I think is amusement. ‘I know all about your feelings towards Navarre, Silver One. We will talk about everything, including what happened here today, in time. Now climb on before I get impatient.’

This is him being patient? I ignore his answering chuff and walk forwards, bloody jacket abandoned behind me. He really is fucking massive. 

“How am I supposed to climb on? I know physics isn’t my best subject but I’m not sure it’s possible… it’s not too late to change your mind, you know?” I offer half-heartedly. I don’t want to be a disappointment to him. 

‘You are a rider, are you not?’ He bends down and extends one of his long legs forward to act as a ramp so I can mount. My eyes prickle with tears at the gesture. Dragons are not meant to supplicate to anyone. 

“I am,” I whisper, before I repeat myself louder. “I am a rider.” 

After coming this far, I have to believe that. I feel a fluttering against my neck from the pieces of hair that had fallen loose from my braid as Andarna flaps her wings and rises to the sky behind me. I take my first step onto Tairn so we can join her. With clumsy movements, I work my way up and do my best to settle on his back and find a secure hold. 

I’m grateful that my arms made it through the day relatively unscathed, but I can hardly press my thighs together with the stab wounds on one leg and a long shallow gash from the rocks on my other side.

Tairn rises to his full height and I watch with wide eyes as the valley suddenly become a much smaller place from the back of such a creature. I feel a shift in my reality. The world will forever look different to me after seeing from the back of a dragon. He flaps his battle-scarred wings and takes us up into the air where Andarna awaits. I am soaring in the sky with my dragons and everything is as it should be.

Chapter Text

Everything is as it should be… until I fall.

Tairn evens out after we climb high enough that I can see the fields we’re meant to fly to in the distance. Just from the climb, I can feel my limbs giving out, especially my legs, and I attempt to lock my muscles and hold on tight. Mind over body. But then Tairn banks left sharply. With the wind, the angle, and my injuries, I have no hope of holding on. 

“No, no, no! Fuck!” I scream as I watch the ground get closer.

I am going die and it's all due to my traitorously weak body as I’ve always feared. My worst nightmare: proving everyone right about me. 

Except I feel large claws wrap around my shoulders and pull me up sharply. My body jerks with the force of the whiplash, but I'm not complaining. Being sore is better than being dead. 

Tairn’s claws are holding me more gently than I would have thought a massive dragon to be capable of. He caught me. He didn’t let me fall. He didn’t let me die. 

‘You are making us look bad. Stop it,’ he grunts before tossing me high up in the air above him. I only feel panic for two heartbeats before he flies below my trajectory and I land perfectly in place on his back between his wings. My dragon has excellent aim. That makes me smile, even as my legs protest at the harsh treatment. ‘If you can’t keep your seat, no one will believe that I’ve actually chosen you.'

“I still can’t believe you’ve chosen me!” I yell over the rushing wind. I can hardly see or hear when he picks up his pace. 

‘You don’t need to shout, Silver One. I am inside of your mind.’ 

Oh, right. I try to focus on sending specific thoughts through the bond as he banks again, softer this time, in the direction of Basgiath and all of the people who want me dead. 'Thank you for catching me. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold on for any more acrobatics. I can barely keep on now.’

My own inadequacy sits so heavy in my chest that it threatens to choke me. I try not to sound like I’m pitying myself to the very large war dragon, because I don’t think I am. I’m just built differently and maybe I was fooling myself that I’d ever be able to bridge the gap enough to truly ride a dragon, let alone one so large. 

'I’m sorry my body is still so weak. I’ve been trying to improve, but it doesn’t help that I allowed myself to be injured in the cave. I… I’m not like other riders.' My voice sounds weaker, even in my mind. 

‘I know exactly who and what you are, Violet Sorrengail.’

I feel invisible bands appear from nothing and wrap tightly around my legs and torso to keep me safe in place. My legs immediately stop shaking from the pressure of holding my body in place. Even as I slump forward in relief, guilt weighs me down. Tairn has to use his magic to keep me seated because I’m not good enough to be his rider without help. Would he have chosen another rider if he’d known I’d be such a hassle? 

‘I did not plan on finding another rider at all. I had resigned myself to solitude before I saw you. Do you understand the fortitude it takes to change a dragon's mind? You must believe that I did not make a mistake. That the Golden One did not make a mistake. You carry more on your shoulders than almost any cadet in the quadrant, but now we will carry that burden together. We will carry everything together.’

I cast my gaze to our left and I see the little golden feathertail flapping wildly to keep up. I won’t be carrying my burdens alone ever again. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life.

‘We are going to have to put on a show.’ Tairn grumbles in warning but somehow I can just tell he secretly likes it. 

I roll my eyes, but it’s undeniably affectionate. ‘I didn’t know dragons were into theatrics.’  

‘Hush, Silver One. I will never allow you to fall. You must trust me.’ 

Trust. I don’t have much recent practice, but I could certainly try. 

‘Before the show, can you tell me why you chose me? I don’t mean to sound like the pathetic human I am, but I really need to know. That’s kind of my whole deal. Needing to know everything.’

He slows his wings and we settle into more of a glide. I'm happy my dragon is willing to humor my questions, of which I will have many. 'Perhaps that is why I chose you. Your hunger for knowledge. Black dragons have always favored cunning in our bonded. Using tools that you crafted with your own hands, you made an efficient plan to save both yourself and the Golden One. You may view your actions in the cave as brutal or even cruel, but my eyes see intelligence that overshadows the rest of the quadrant. You were meant to be my final rider.’

Tairn witnessed me at my worst, lost in a haze of my own rage. He saw me at the exact moment I was forced to undergo the realization that I was right all along. There was no line I wouldn’t cross. 

And yet instead of shunning me or killing me with half a thought, Tairn looked at me and saw the traits he valued. Cunning, efficient, intelligent. My self-pity doesn’t make me blind; I knew I have those traits. I wouldn’t have survived this long without them. But the brutality and cruelty that I had seen in myself and feared? Maybe Tairn values those too. The thought soothes me. If my dragon can find value in the darkest parts of my soul, perhaps I was not so doomed after-all.

‘I will never judge you for the actions you take to survive,’ Tairn adds more softly in response to my thoughts. 

‘Thank you.’ I try to tell myself that the tears that leak from my eyes were from the wind.

‘I chose you because I saw you and I knew you were mine.’ Andarna chimes in. Her bright, chirping voice makes me smile through my tears. Not exactly a logical argument, but it makes my chest feel light and airy. Andarna doesn't need to be logical, I decide quickly. She just needs to be mine. 

‘Now,’ Tairn grumbles. ‘Can we move on from the emotional human nonsense? You are my rider now, and must take pride in that or you will bring dishonor upon my entire family line.’ 

I can’t stop myself from laughing. He’s grumpy as hell, but I am increasingly certain that Tairn was meant to be mine. Andarna too. My dragons. I belong to them now.

And if my dragon wanted to put on a show for the other dragons and all of Basgiath… ‘Consider me a willing costar. Give them hell.’

Tairn answers me with a fierce roar of approval and then dives forward into a spiral that leaves me breathless. 

I have spent so long living in the shadows that the idea of surprising them—the General, Markham, Colonel fucking Aetos—makes me giddy. 

Given the information I have available to me, I've reached the conclusion that Dain’s father wants me dead. I realized sometime in between running for my life and washing blood off my hands. There are other possibilities, but none that make quite as much sense. Mildly surprising, considering I've known the man since I was five, but not exactly out of character. Even when I was a sweet little scribe-in-training and knew him through Dain, I never trusted the calculating look in his eyes. 

Tairn is not the only one with a message to send. It will be good to let the Colonel know that it’s not going to be that easy to kill me. He might have thought it’d be simple to get rid of the weakest Sorrengail at Threshing, but all he has done is show his hand. 

With that thought in mind, I relax into every loop and spin of Tairn’s audacious display. The force of the wind in my face as he dives forward hints at his true magnificence, the kind of power that could change the tide of battles. It would have to. I would need to become strong enough be a good rider for Tairn, because I received a glimpse today of the true enemy. They are not the kind of opponent that one could meet on a battlefield with dragons and dominate. 

If venin are real, so are wyvern. I would bet my fucking life on it. We need to be ready. 

Especially now that I know that they have connections close to home, and I have no idea how deep they run. 

It’s funny that part of me thought the Rider’s Quadrant would be a less dangerous place after I claimed a dragon. But I’ve just survived an attempt on my life that I’m sure is the first of many. The unbonded would swarm me for a chance at Tairn. There is no way that the person who sent the assassin gives up, even on the off chance that I’m wrong and it’s not Colonel Aetos. Oh, and that venin? He was one of the weak ones. 

The odds aren’t looking too great for Violet Sorrengail. I struggle to see a future where I do not die, but I’ll work on that. 

‘You will not die.’ Tairn growls in my mind, as if I needed the reminder. ‘You will survive. You must stay close to the wingleader when I cannot protect you.’ 

I blink through the wind beating against my face. ‘Xaden?’

Why would Tairn mention him? Is it because he knows the truth? I assumed that venin will not be news to Xaden, given the gravity of his promises to tell me 'everything' one day. 

‘Yes. You must both keep each other safe from now on. All of our lives depend on it.’ 

My mind goes blank, and then starts firing again rapidly. 'All of our lives... Xaden... you... the fucking dragon lust.’ I swear colorfully. 

‘Excuse me.’ Tairn growls in warning, but I ignore him. We’re finally landing in the flight field, to the shock and awe of every rider and dragon there. I ignore their attention and wipe the remains of tear tracks from my face before anyone can see. 

‘You and Sgaeyl are mates.’ I know that I’m right. I try to ignore the resulting conclusions my mind draws about the night before the Gauntlet. There are few topics that I'm not curious about, but the things that Tairn gets up to Sgaeyl is definitely one of them. 

Xaden and I have mated dragons. It’s the only bond more powerful than dragon and rider. Dragons died with their mates. While a rider would die if their dragon did, a dragon would only die if their bond to a human was particularly strong. Except that strong dragons had strong bonds and Tairn and Sgaeyl were two of the most powerful in Navarre. Tairn even called me his final rider. If any of us were to die...

‘I knew you were intelligent.’ 

If I get myself killed, it could set off a chain reaction that rid the continent of two of its most powerful dragons and the most powerful rider of our generation. Oh good, I was beginning to think the stakes were too low. 

I made so many jokes about mutually assured destruction between the two of us, I almost feel like I jinxed it. Xaden and I tied together in a strange twist of fate. We’ll have to be stationed together after I graduate, and we’ll never be able to spend long periods of time apart. We have nowhere close to the level of disclosure required to plan a fucking life together. 

Xaden and I definitely needed to talk. A talk that is suddenly way more daunting now than it was before Threshing. The idea gave me butterflies this morning, but now I just have a stomach ache. There are so many items on the agenda before us.  

Because if he knows, then that means he has information about everything I glimpsed today. Much more than I'm currently operating under. If he forces me to wait an undetermined amount of time until I can shield, I might have to stab him. Just a little bit, nothing lethal. I’ll definitely stab Dain if he gets anywhere near my face after today. 

There is also the small fact that I have to figure out how I'm going to look Xaden, or anyone else, in the eye again after the things I’ve seen. After the things I’ve done.

I stay frozen on Tairn’s back and I give myself a full minute to breathe and reorganize my mind. Re-pack my box, if you will. 

The pain in my legs, the fear of what the future will hold when I descend, my lingering doubts about Xaden and his role in everything, even my resentment towards the General and the rest of leadership. Now was not the time for any of that. I may not be in the valley any longer, but Threshing is nowhere close to over. 

After my allotted sixty seconds, I open my eyes and gently maneuver my legs to climb down. It’s ungraceful to say the least, but I manage. 

‘You must go to the roll-keeper and say—’ 

‘I know,’ I interrupt gently. I had to claim him, both of them, the way they claimed me by declaring their full names to prove the bond. ‘And if they try to kill me for my insolence of claiming two dragons?’ 

‘They will have to go through me,’ Tairn growls. 

Andarna chimes in. ‘And me!’

I smile and lean in closer to their soothing warmth. That does help. I was in front of one of Tairn’s massive legs, and Andarna had settled close behind me to offer a shield to the rest of the field. The whispers and grumbling let me in on the fact that I was a hot topic of conversation for humans and dragons alike. 

'The humans will have no say. The dragons will gather and the Empyrean will come to a decision. Things will be as they should be.’

Tairn speaks with over a century of confidence and I choose to believe him. With a deep breath, I press a hand to each of them. ‘Thank you for choosing me,’ I whisper in my mind.

Without looking back, I step out from behind Andarna and walk towards the roll-keeper with my chin up. I ignore the new riders that I’ve never spoken to before who had ventured to get a closer look. I aim for stoic and unaffected even as my legs threaten to topple underneath me with every step. I don't dare to look for Xaden or any of my friends. 

I am unnervingly aware of the blood sticking to my clothes that is clearly visible from a close distance, and the streaks I missed along my face and my neck. I'm sure I look like I just went on a rampage, if it wasn't for my obvious injuries.

By the time I arrive on the dais and face the surprised roll-keeper who keeps looking between me and Tairn, I have already decided on what I’ll say. It will definitely be a bold move. I’ve usually saved my recklessness for my covert activities, or a bit of trash talk, and definitely my flirtations with Xaden. This will be a much larger stage to get mouthy. 

I avoid my mother’s eyes pointedly and stand before the rest of the assembled leadership while facing the roll-keeper. 

“I’m here to claim my dragons. Tairneanach and Andarnaurram.” 

'The pronunciation could use some work,' Tairn tells me but there is an unmistakable pride in his voice. 

Why not just go all in? The crowd, already struck silent, breaks into chaos. The roll-keeper goes white. I repeat their names with a purposeful slowness for the benefit of his shaking hands. I wouldn’t want him to misspell anything. Several members of leadership and a particular Colonel go red at my insolence. 

It might not have been the most delicate way, but it was the most satisfying. 

“You can’t—” one of the General sputters. 

I steel my spine and interrupt coolly, wearing my insolence like blood-soaked leather. “They have chosen me. The Empyrean will make their decision.” 

With a small nod, I turn away from the assembled leadership without being dismissed and move towards the healer’s tent. I don't care to see the General's reaction, and I cannot continue to posture without some kind of medical treatment. I’ve already lost too much blood today.

Threshing is a dangerous place, and that doesn't even account for the amount of dragons who choose to scar their rider with their claim. I'm not surprised to find several cadets laying around in the tent, but my eyes immediately zero in on one familiar face.

“Shit,” I curse loudly and stride forward, forgetting about the pain in my legs. 

Ivan is lying on one of the cots and his torso is covered in bandages. But at least he’s awake and alert. “Violet!”

“What happened?” I demand. I don’t smell burned skin and the injury isn't visible enough to be a typical dragon's claim, so I assume it’s a wound from a weapon. I’ll kill whoever it is, and I won't feel bad about it. 

Ivan tries to shrug it off and winces. “Well, I got attacked by this piece of shit from Second Wing. But your little gift came in handy.” 

I force myself to relax. Ivan is okay. He’s here and he’s alive, and I was able to help him even if I was not there. I want to ask if the cadet was dead, but I stop myself. I’ll figure out if the cadet with a death wish survived Threshing later. If Ivan or one of the dragons didn't take care of him, it's a wish that I am happy to grant.

That's one name crossed off the list of people who needed to survive today. 

“Thank the gods,” I whisper. “What’s the damage?”

“Shallow slice across my chest. I moved back fast enough that it only grazed me and then I dosed him.” His nose wrinkles. “I brought supplies to bandage the wound in the valley, but I still had to be mended.”

I laugh at his expression. “Hurts like a bitch, huh?”

He nods. “Excruciating. I'd rather take another sword. Now what the hell happened to you?”

That reminds me. “I got a little bit stabbed.”

Ivan’s eyes widen and he looks down at my bloodied and trembling legs. He curses and calls for a healer loudly. 

Before I can ask Ivan about the rest of my squad, I’m ushered to sit down behind a curtain so I can remove my makeshift bandages, joint wrappings, boots, and leathers. The blood had seeped down from my wounds and covered the wraps around my knees too. I examine my leathers after I remove them and they have seen better days. They have one large hole on the left side that goes all the way up to my hip and a series of medium size gashes on the other thigh. There are also small tears from several other areas that I didn't realize caught on the rock while I climbed.  

“Shit,” I curse. “Any way Nolon can mend leathers?”

“Are you asking about your pants right now and not the wounds on your legs?” the healer asks incredulously. 

I blink. “Well, I mean… I’m going to have to go back out there.” 

She shakes her head at me and calls for the mender while another healer works on cleaning the stab wounds and the gash that ran from my hip to several inches above my knee. While impressively long, most of it was pretty shallow, with a few areas that dug a bit deeper into the tissue and needed stitches. It wasn’t life-threatening or urgent, but it would be annoying. 

I’d worry about looking weak for needing mending, but I had to be on guard for attacks. I needed my legs for that, and even if the gash from the rocks is not severe, my right thigh was sporting at least six nasty and deep wounds that would definitely impede my movement for weeks or even months without help. I didn’t look to update my information on if the amount of marks I had counted in the valley was correct. 

Nolon walks in and starts his usual fussing. Two of the knife wounds had hit the bone, he tells me with clear concern in his voice. I retreat into my mind at the pain of cleaning and stitching the rest of my injuries. When it comes time to be mended, I take the leather strip from the healer gratefully. 

I clench my teeth around it while Nolon does his thing, but only on the stab wounds in my left leg due to their urgency. I grunt deeply, but I don’t scream. I can still hear arguments outside of the tent about my future. They will not hear any of my sounds of pain if I can help it. 

Nolon finishes with my stab wounds and tells me to stop by for any additional mending another day. I feel like I am going to pass out but I force myself to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I need to focus on something else. “So, can you mend clothing?”

He blinks and chuckles to himself. “Best save the mending for new riders today.” 

I nod in understanding and look at my leathers in disgust. I wish I could burn them. “That makes sense.”

Nolon leaves so I can hobble into my pants and boots again. My injuries would still scar, and all of them still hurt like a bitch, but at least I can walk easier. At least I have the chance to re-wrap my knees with clean material. It helps but I need a shower, maybe several, to finally feel clean again. 

The mangled fabric makes it clear than my entire lower body is covered in a very telling layer of bright white bandages and torn leather. It feels like a stark contrast to my upper body. The long-sleeved tunic under my corset is missing the arm that I tore off to use to clean my face, and I can't do anything about that. I was also down one jacket.

I walk towards a small mirror and a bowl of clean water they left behind to finish cleaning the blood off that I missed, or at least as much of it as I can. The mirror makes my stomach clench and I rush through the process as quickly as possible. 

There’s no use delaying the inevitable. I walk out into the main area of the tent and I’m surprised to find a small crowd waiting on me by Ivan’s bedside. 

Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Ridoc had shown up since I went back for treatment. I'm ecstatic to see all of them in one piece and I can't stop myself from running my eyes over their forms to make sure none of them are injured. 

“Violet!” their voices blend together in excitement. Ridoc’s voice breaks through. “We saw you rush straight to the roll-keeper, and then things went crazy, and then you came here!” 

I cringe and shrug slightly. “They were, uh, discussing my bonds.”

It’s surreal to watch a group of four fidgety riders, Ivan included, go completely still. 

“Bonds?” Rhiannon asks, the quickest to recover. 

“I was claimed by the black dragon Tairn, and I was also claimed by Andarna, the golden feathertail.” The honor in my voice is unmistakable, and I feel two rushing pulses of pride in response. 

They all hurry to speak over each other so quickly that I can't identify much but the message is overwhelmingly positive. I laugh and rub the back of my neck with my bare arm. “A lot happened out there.”

Rhiannon nods. “We’ve all been back for a couple hours now.” 

I sigh. I want this day to end, but there are so many things left to do. 

“I have to go,” I start hesitantly. “I have to get back to Tairn and Andarna. Everybody here has bonded, right?”

Part of me relaxes at all of their wide, triumphant grins. I can’t wait to see which dragons bonded them, but I would have to do that later. 

I look at Ivan, who is looking surprisingly content for having just survived an attempt on his life. “Can you return to the dragons?” 

He nods. “Clean bill of health. We just wanted to wait for you.” 

I thank the gods they all survived and that it was none of their blood that was decorating the assassin’s sword when he found me. I can’t help but wonder. “I’m a bit scratched up but I’ll be fine.”

“You did not just call those scratches,” he grumbles, but I cut him off quickly. My appearance already tells a gruesome enough story. 

“I am so glad to see you all alive,” I say very seriously. “You all deserved to be chosen. And if anybody else needs a refill, I will be taking those requests.” I emphasize the words meaningfully and they all share a moment of understanding between each other before breaking into laughter. 

“Vi, you are terrifying,” Rhiannon tells me for the second time. I shoot her the same wicked smirk that breaks into a laugh that makes my stitches hurt. Worth it. 

“I think I’ll be occupied until the end of Threshing,” I warn them. “I have to talk to Xaden.”

I don’t mean to use his first name, but my mental filter is suffering from exhaustion. They all look surprised but they don’t argue. They’ll connect the dots about our dragons soon enough. Or Rhiannon will let it slip how crazy our tension is and I’ll have to field a whole other type of questions. 

Us training together wasn’t a secret by any means, but nobody really knew what to make of it. We were both very private people and trained late at night, so we avoided most eyes and I avoided questions I didn't want to answer like a champ. 

Speaking of, I ignore the annoying sparkle in Ivan’s eyes at my words and I rush out of the tent. I am definitely not dealing with that right now. 

I follow the direction where I know Tairn and Andarna are waiting for me. Even if Tairn wasn’t visible from across the entire field due to his sheer size, I could find them with my eyes closed. 

The rest of the dragons give Tairn a wide berth, but one has settled nearby confidently. A familiar blue daggertail and her devastatingly handsome rider. Xaden clearly positioned himself with his dragon between him and Tairn. 

I keep a steady pace with my chin up for any bystanders with their eyes on me. 

Xaden notices my approach and rushes to meet me with long strides, and I try to stop from flinching. I know Xaden would never hurt me, especially now, but it’s been the longest day of my life and my survival instinct has been operating at max capacity for too long. I can’t stop myself from tensing noticeably at his fast approach. 

Tairn growls at Xaden menacingly, but he ignores the warning. I think I see hurt in his eyes when I instinctively step back. Xaden freezes in front of me, as his eyes scan over my appearance quickly. 

‘Stop, it’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘I believe he cares about me. I’m just… jumpy.’

Out loud, I reassure him. “Sorry, I’m just… today was a lot.” 

He nods in understanding, but his jaw is clenched. “I got that.” There is a double-meaning in his words. 

My eyes widened. “Your dragon told you?”

He nods again. 

“How much?” My eyes narrow. That was not his place nor his dragon’s to expose the darkest parts of my soul without permission. 

“Just the basics, I swear. I just had to check that you’re okay.”

‘My mate has not shared what occurred in the cave.’ Tairn assures me silently. ‘Only that you were attacked by a dark wielder.’

I risk a glance at Xaden’s eyes. They’re still beautiful pools of onyx with flecks of gold, filled with concern. Huh, black and gold. Just like my dragons. 

“I don’t think okay is on the agenda for today. But I’ll get there.” I look up at Tairn and the way that he positions himself so I would only have to step back several feet to be protected by his legs. Andarna is standing beside him and looking at us carefully. Her body language is less outright threatening, but I do not doubt that she'd threaten my Wingleader on my behalf as well. 

I turn back to Xaden. “We need to talk. Soon. A secret for a secret.” 

Xaden shoulders tense but he nods tersely. “We will talk.” 

I break into my first small smile. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not thrilled to see you. I am. I’ve just been through hell.” 

His eyes soften and he nods more easily this time. “I know, Violence. I’ll be here. We’ll talk about everything.” 

“I claimed a dragon. Two of them. But I don’t think I’m any safer here,” I confide softly. I don’t know how much he’s been told. “I spoke to Tairn and I fear that is very much going to become your problem as well.” 

Xaden’s face twists into a grimace. “I’ll deal with it. We’ll deal with it.” He corrects himself hastily, which I appreciate. 

My smile grows. “We will,” I tell him confidently and try to believe it. 

Tairn growls and I whip my head around to see a large black dragon even larger than my own stalking towards us from the opening to the valley. 

Codagh, General Melgren’s dragon. 

Xaden wisely backs up towards Sgaeyl as Tairn walks forward so I’m standing between his massive claws. I can’t understand their growling conversation, but I can make some inferences. They're talking about me.

'Yes, we are!' Andarna informs me with a bright voice that does little to sooth my fear. 

I count my heartbeats through the entire terrifying exchange. I assure myself that Tairn will protect me. I trust him.

The largest dragon on the continent stalks away just as angrily as he appeared, and Tairn gets my attention. 

‘Stay in the field while we are gone. The wingleader will protect you.’

All of the dragons prepare to take off and the humans are left alone with a series of large gusts of wind. I turn back to Xaden and we stare silently at each other for a long moment. We both move to close the distance, but I hear a voice calling my name. 

“Violet!” Every muscle in my body tenses, and it pulls at my fucking stitches. I wince and turn to greet Dain before he gets any closer. “You made it!” 

I offer him a tense smile at the disbelief in his voice. His genuine surprise makes me want to stab him. Dain’s eyes run up and down my body to scan my appearance. I see real concern there, but I do not let it sway me. 

"Why are you covered in blood?" 

"Several reasons," I answer with purposeful vagueness. "I was attacked by a cadet before I was chosen." 

Dain's eyes look over at Xaden standing nearby and narrow. “Can we talk? Privately?” 

I shake my head. “That’s not a good idea, Dain. I'm tired and my patience is running thin.”

“Please, Violet,” he begs and I can see the remnants of the Dain I grew up with in his eyes. But that was before his father tried to have me killed. “It’s important.” 

I take a deliberate step back at his approach and his face crumbles. “It has been the longest day in recorded human history, Dain, and the sun hasn't even set. You can say anything you want to me right here.” 

I watch his spine stiffen. "I need to know what happened out there. Cath is telling me a crazy story that you've claimed two dragons." 

Do you need to know as my squad leader or the man who won't leave me alone? 

"Tairn and Andarna both claimed me." It's as simple as that. 

“Leadership is meeting right now about your… dragons.” He spits the last word like it’s an affront and I can’t stop myself from bristling. “They’re going to make you choose, Violet. And you should choose Andarna.” 

I shake my head. The thought of picking between them is awful. I can’t do it. 

“Have you been skipping Dragon Lectures? Nobody chooses their dragon and I will not be the first.”

“Come on, Violet. You already toed the line of the Codex for the Gauntlet.” To fucking survive, Dain. I wonder if his pillow talk with Amber Mavis included discussions on my lack of adherence to protocol. “They’ll make you, and you need to choose Andarna instead of Tairn.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Why?” I spit out. 

“She’s too small to ride into battle. You could get a permanent position teaching after graduation. It would be perfect for you. If you choose Tairn… well, you’ll die.” 

I huff out a laugh. After everything, he still doesn't believe I can be a true rider. I can see where this conversation is going. “Enlighten me, squad leader.” 

Dain lowers his voice, very aware of how close Xaden is standing. I have a feeling that he can still hear every word of what Dain is saying. “He’s mated to Sgaeyl. You’ll be at the mercy of Riorson for the rest of your life. You’ll never be free of him.” 

There it is. “Did you think that I was unaware of that connection? I'm incredibly curious about your reasoning about how I’ll be at his mercy. Because it appears to me that he’s one of the few people who would probably lift a finger to help me survive.”

His eyes flash with a jolt of anger. At least it's honest. “I’ve been trying to keep you alive this whole fucking time, Violet.” 

I sneer at him unapologetically. “To keep me alive, sure.” I shrug. “But he’ll try to help me survive, not try to hide me away from the real fight. Not just because he’s more than this picture you have of him, not just because his life is now likely tied to my own, and not just because he’s already been doing it for weeks. Because he believes that I can, something you never quite managed.” 

Dain’s face twists in disgust. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Violet. You don’t know him.”

I laugh and it comes out condescending even to my own ears. “Oh, I assure you, Dain, I will survive. And even if one of the people who want me dead gets their way, it won’t be my own damn wingleader.” It’s more likely to be his father. 

His eyes take on a calculating air and he shifts into a soft expression. It was too quick, too obvious. Still lacking subtlety, Aetos. 

“Please, Violet. I only care about your health and happiness.” He holds a hand to his heart. “You have to know that I’ve always, always cared about you. More than anything. In fact…” his voice drops meaningfully and I follow his gaze to my lips.

Maybe if it was two years ago, I would have let him approach. Before he left to the Rider's Quadrant. Before I found out about the snakes hiding in the grass of Navarre. Before I realized that Dain would never take my side if it went against his precious Codex—he resents my plan for the Gauntlet because I didn't do it the right way, even if it saved my life. Before I realized that I can take care of myself and all I really need is someone to believe in me. 

Before I started dreaming about what it would be like to kiss Xaden Riorson. I don't know if I can reach anything with Xaden that resembles a relationship, but that doesn't matter. Dain isn't the one I want anymore, and I'm not quite sure how he ever was. 

Despite my clear lack of a response, Dain tries to close the distance between us with his arms outstretched. My hands twitch towards one of my few remaining daggers. I only have five left. I didn’t recover the one from the venin’s larynx, and there were the two I lost in the forest. One of which stabbed me. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to recall that without being furious on principle. I focus on my anger as a distraction and take another intentional step back from his approach. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dain. I’ll always care about you, but I don’t know if we can be friends right now... and as for anything else, that is not going to happen.” I try to keep my voice kind but firm, and I watch his eyes shutter like a closed door. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Violet!" Dain yells and turns away to run across the field. I can see new riders looking over at me curiously. Why would he even try to kiss a member of his squad in public like that? 

He's always been dramatic. I sigh heavily. 

I turn to Xaden and he discreetly tilts his head meaningfully in the direction of a mostly secluded area behind a patch of trees. I nod imperceptibly and turn away from him. In my periphery, I watch him walk away. I’ll follow in a few minutes. I take a moment to assess the crowd. 

Most of the new riders that are a reasonable distance away are staring at me. For my appearance, my dragons, or because I just got into an argument with my squad leader? 

I sigh again. My long day is not over yet. I have to talk to Xaden and settle down somewhere to wait for my dragons. Because they are both mine and I’m not fucking choosing. After enough time has passed and most of my audience becomes bored, I follow a roundabout path to go after Xaden. 

He’s waiting while leaning up against one of the trees. His shadows are gathered around him, but they don’t look menacing. His body just looks... tense. But his eyes? I can see fear there. 

Maybe I’m getting better at recognizing his feelings through his eyes. A crack in the ironclad gates. 

“Can we start with you telling me how bad you were hurt?” He takes a few steps forward and asks in a small voice. 

I swallow. “It was mostly my fault.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“Gash on my side from climbing rocks. Other little scratches. Stab wounds on my other thigh because I let him get his hands on one of my daggers.” I explain as generally as possible. 

“How many?” he barks. “How many stab wounds?”

I hesitate. “I counted six when I bandaged it out there. I didn’t double-check when it was mended, but I suppose I’ll count the scars later.”

Xaden huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Violence,” he whispers. “You could have been killed.”

My voice goes icy at the thought. “That was definitely a part of someone’s plan.” 

He closes the distance between us. “Do you know?” He doesn’t have to elaborate. 

“I have a theory.” It’s in my best interest for him to know exactly who is trying to kill both of us. “It’s not good.” 

Xaden laughs but it’s not the soft, gentle chuckles I’ve begun to hoard. This one is just evidence of his own exhaustion. “It never is. But we’ll deal with it. First we need to take care of you. You need time to heal and we need to talk privately.”

I nod. “Can we wait here for the Empyrean to reach a decision? Then after all the proceedings, I need to take a shower. We can meet tonight.” 

He looks hesitant. “Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep tonight? You went through hell today, remember?”

“I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. Not without talking.” 

“Okay. Tonight then. We’ll meet in the courtyard after ten and head down to the river.” 

I nod and move to sit along one of the other trees so I can rest my back against it. I exhale as soon as I'm finally able to relax the muscles in my legs. He sits down in front of the tree he was leaning against.

We’re only a few feet away from each other. I notice wisps of his shadows start wiggling towards me along the ground. 

I can’t help but smile. Xaden’s words from the courtyard about his shadows not doing what they’re told around me come to mind. 

They make their way forward until they’re just a few inches away. 

Unable to stop my curiosity, I reach out one of my hands to gently run my fingers over the top of one of them. In my periphery, I see Xaden’s head swing in my direction, but I ignore it. Tactile feedback theory confirmed. It shifts from a more ghostly appearance to something more substantial. 

I move my finger slightly and giggle when a few wisps surge to wrap around in my fingers. One particularly bold shadow wraps softly around my wrist several times and gives a light squeeze. The grip is completely soft, but undeniably solid. Interesting. 

“They’re kind of cute, you know?” I start conversationally. 

He scoffs. “You did not just call my shadows cute.” 

I roll my eyes at his typical boy response. “Oh right, sorry. They are very scary and intimidating. To other people.”

“Not you?”

I nod. “They’ve never given me any reason to be scared. Besides, they’re a part of you, right?” 

“They are.” He admits. 

“Then I know they won’t hurt me. We've managed to reach mutually assured destruction in the most literal sense.” 

“They wouldn’t have hurt you before today. I’d never be able to hurt you.” His eyes bleed honesty and just a hint of desperation, like he needs me to believe him.  

“I know that. We’ll talk more.” I try to offer comfort, but it’s getting hard to look him in the eyes again. The events of the day, dealing with leadership and my injuries, the confrontation with Dain. It’s all catching up to me. 

“The dragons could be a couple hours. Did you want to sleep a bit?” Xaden asks. 

“That wouldn’t be a great idea. Good girls with prices on their heads do not fall asleep in vulnerable places.” 

“I’ll be here.” Xaden promises with a serious voice. “You don’t have to, but I’m offering. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

I hesitate. “I don’t want to appear weak.” To him, or anyone else in this damn quadrant. 

Xaden raises a hand slightly and his shadows grow in size to fully cover my legs. I gasp at the sensation. It wasn’t a solid presence, more just a whisper. “People only see what I want them to see.” 

I can believe that. But I want to see every fucking bit of it when it comes to him. Today has changed so much, but that remains the truth. 

“Not very inconspicuous,” I muse, and lightly move one hand through the haze of shadows. 

“You might have a bit of trouble aiming for inconspicuous today.” 

Shit, he's right. I groan and let my head fully rest against the bark and shiver at the cold sensation on my neck. Abandoning my jacket is turning out to be more of a loss than I thought it would be. 

“Closing my eyes for a bit would be nice.” I reluctantly agree. I need to be sharp for whatever happens when the dragons return. I rub my arm without a sleeve for a little bit of warmth. 

I feel a heavy weight of a bundle of leather fabric fall on my lap. I’m really out of it if I didn’t even register him standing up and walking over to me. 

“Tairn will eat me if I let you freeze to death. It’s getting colder out here.”

I feel my eyes crinkle from my smile. The air was cold, but I wouldn’t freeze by any means. He’s just embarrassed. 

The man told me he wanted to fall to his fucking knees in front of me. I know there was the drugs and the dragon lust, but really? How can he say something like that with a straight face and then get shy at offering his jacket? It’s a funny enough thought that I manage a quiet laugh. 

“Thanks, Xaden,” I whisper. 

I slip it over my shoulders gratefully and try valiantly to ignore that it smells like him. Leather and mint. 

I can’t truly sleep, not really, but I close my eyes and try my best to clear my head and rest my eyes. In a form of practiced meditation, I focus on nothing and allow my mind a chance to rest and recuperate. 

It was something close to being asleep, but my awareness refused to completely leave. I must have been settled like that for more than an hour, barely moving as I count my steady heartbeats. Xaden’s shadows stay stationary but alert at my legs, ready to cover me if anyone ventures close by. 

My eyes snap open at the sound of wings beating in the distance. “The dragons are returning.” Xaden’s voice echoes my thoughts. 

I jump up to my feet quickly and flinch. I rest my hand on my hip and grimace. The movement of my legs aggravated the stitches. I really hope I didn’t tear any of them. Xaden steps closer at the look on my face. 

“What happened?” His voice is surprisingly demanding. 

“Stitches pulled,” I mumble, voice gravelly from disuse. I clear my throat. “I'm fine. Let’s go.” 

I move to walk forward and then pause. Xaden’s flight jacket hung heavily on my shoulders and went down more than halfway to my knees.  “Oh, your jacket.” I move to shrug it off and he takes it wordlessly. “Probably shouldn’t walk around in this.” 

Xaden’s face is dead serious. “You need to know that there are 41 unbonded cadets this year.” 

“That makes at least 42 people who want me dead. And that’s not counting any riders with a grudge against a Sorrengail.” I reply with fake cheer. Sarcasm is a familiar blanket by now. 

“We will come up with a plan.” Huh, this will be the first time I’ve had to consult someone else on a plan. I can’t say with certainty that it’ll be something I’m good at. 

“Tonight.” I agree easily before we separate to join our dragons. Tairn and Andarna are waiting for me and she bounces forward to greet me happily. Fuck, she’s so cute. 

‘All good?’ I ask Tairn while my eyes travel up towards the dais holding leadership. Melgren steps forward to address the crowd. 

‘It is all as it should be.’ I relax at my dragon’s words. 

Melgren’s dragon’s hulking form takes up the entire space behind the dais, and a hush falls over the crowd. He uses lesser magic to amplify his voice to reach all corners of the field. 

“Codagh has relayed that the dragons have spoken regarding the Sorrengail girl. While tradition has shown us that there is one rider for every dragon, there has never been a case of two dragons selecting the same rider, and therefore there is no dragon law against it. While we riders may not feel as though this is… equitable, dragons make their own laws. Both Tairn and…” He looks over his shoulder and his aide rushes forward to whisper in his ear. “Andarna have chosen Violet Sorrengail, and so their choice stands.” 

Tairn was right. Humans have no say in the laws of dragons. I do still want to poison Melgren a bit for calling me ‘girl’ and treating Andarna so disrespectfully. I feel her golden thread pulse in agreement, but I send back caution and disappointment in equal measure. That would be much too reckless, even if I suspect one of my dragons will be an true enabler. 

My shoulders sag in relief. I am truly theirs now. Well, almost. 

The General finishes her speech that I have been actively ignoring. “Welcome to a family that knows no boundaries, no limits, and no end. Riders, step forward.” 

‘Five steps or so,’ Tairn prompts and I follow his directions. 

“Dragons, it is our honor as always. Now we celebrate!” The General yells. I can’t even fucking look at her, knowing what I know now. I focus on my resentment growing and burning through me to distract from what was coming. Tairn releases fire against my back and I hiss in pain while the riders on either side of me cry out. 

The heat is excruciating but I can feel the presence of powerful magic. My relic. 

‘I think it’s pretty!’ Andarna chimes. I try to look over my shoulder but I can’t see my back, and most of the design is hidden by the lines of my armor and the remains of my shirt.

Shit, I want to see it. I can sense Xaden walking towards me as I reach back to the ties of my corset. 

“Need a hand?” He raises an eyebrow. I nod in thanks and he walks behind me to start unlacing it. My remaining sleeve is barely hanging on without the tension from the corset. I finish tearing it to the neck and pull it off my arm so the material can slide down and reveal my back more easily. I’m still wearing my bindings but I hold the material along with the corset up against my breasts to be safe. 

“How do you get yourself into this every morning?” Xaden asks. 

“I’m freakishly flexible.” I take pleasure in his sharp inhale. Probably too much. “It’s one of my body’s quirks. Certainly more fun than the joints popping.” 

He laughs softly and steps back once my back is exposed. “You’re going to love it.” He sounds confident that he’s right. 

Tairn chuffs and sends hot steam in Xaden’s direction and he clearly receives the message. He backs away and suddenly I am looking at the world through Andarna’s eyes. There is a glistening black relic of a dragon mid-flight that stretches between my shoulders blades and stands in stark contrast to my pale skin. In the center of the black dragon stands a shimmering golden silhouette of a smaller dragon. 

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. Now I’m completely theirs, and I have the touch of magic to prove it. 

‘We know,’ Andarna answers. I blink back into my own body. I pull up my remaining sleeve and gesture for Xaden to lace me back up. 

“Thank you,” I whisper as I turn around to face him. He’s still standing so close to me. He lifts up a hand like he’s going to touch my face and my breath catches. 

I freeze to stop myself from flinching away. He’s not Dain. I can let him touch me, I remind myself. 

His arm drops quickly without making contact. I find myself oddly disappointed. 

“You’re welcome, Violence.” He moves back. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

I nod gratefully and he starts walking towards the direction of Sgaeyl. Garrick and the second-year rider that they sneak around with are waiting for him at a safe distance. I really do need to learn his name. 

‘What about you, big guy?’ I call out teasingly to my grumpy dragon. ‘When am I getting my share of answers from you? Xaden isn’t the only one on my list.’ 

Tairn chuffs in amusement. Huh. I think he finds my curiosity charming. Well, I’ve got good news for him then. 

‘Yes, Silver One. We will talk soon.’

‘How soon?’

He heaves a heavy sigh and grumbles at me. ‘Very well, impatient human. After you finish with my mate’s rider, meet us at the flight fields. I trust you know your way.’

I treat him to a cheeky smile. ‘You could say that.’

‘We can speak tomorrow if you need rest. Humans are… fragile.’

I snort a laugh. ‘I’m more fragile than most, but no. I should be good. They mended the worst of it in one leg and the rest of it will take time.’

I didn’t want to accept mending at all because it would show weakness to the other cadets, but I can't be caught unaware if they send someone else soon to finish the job. I’m more worried about another venin assassin than what any cadet thinks of me. 

‘You are clever enough not to value the opinions of others over your own life.’ 

I flush at the compliment. I’m not used to feedback on my thought process.

When we’re finally allowed to leave the flight fields, I am eager for a shower. However, I know the bathrooms will be busy, so I decide to wait a while with my dragons.

I also don't think I'll be able to sit down for dinner with my squad, not while my mind is running in a dozen different directions and most of them end in probable demise. Andarna curls up near Tairn's hulking form and I settle between them happily. 

‘Andarna, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course!’

‘Are feathertails hatchlings?’ I feel Tairn's tension through the bond. ‘I don’t want to be rude. I just heard someone say you looked like you could be a baby dragon, and I thought it made sense.’

‘I’m not a hatchling!’ she complained loudly. ‘Hatchings can’t even fly!’ 

I smile at Andarna’s long-suffering whine. ‘Of course you’re not,’ I soothe with a hand to her head as I lean closer. ‘But you are young?’

Tairn answers for her. ‘Feathertails are not hatchlings, but they are juvenile. The Golden One will continue to mature.’ 

‘How old are you?’ I ask Andarna curiously. 

‘I’m two!’ Andarna calls out loudly in my mind. Shit, that is young. I wonder how long she’ll look like a feathertail, and what we’ll do when leadership discovers she has changed.

‘She’ll grow at a much faster rate than humans. She’ll be fully grown in around a year or two, but it differs greatly between dragons. We will deal with what comes.’ 

I risk asking the question that has been hanging around in my subconscious. ‘Is she… yours and Sgaeyl’s?’ 

‘No. Her parents passed before her hatching,’ Tairn explains. 

My eyes soften and I reach out to brush my hand across Andarna’s neck. ‘I’m sorry, little one.’ 

‘I have a lot of elders,’ she insists. I imagine that having powerful dragons to look up to like Tairn and Sgaeyl helps, but after losing my father, I know nothing can replace that bond. 

A thought occurs to me. ‘Is it different being bonded to a feathertail? There are no stories of one choosing to bond.’

‘That is for good reason, Silver One. We will talk about this later.’ 

I nod in understanding. If it’s a sensitive topic, I would prefer to have complete privacy as well. I decide I’ve put it off long enough and move to head back towards Basgiath. 

‘I will see you both tonight.’

‘Bye!’ 

‘Stay safe, Silver One.’

Chapter Text

As a consequence of staying in the fields longer than my squad, I have to walk back alone. The sun had already made its descent. I’d be feeling much better already if not for my shaking legs and the stares that seem to accompany me everywhere. Lingering leadership and cadets walking through the corridor alike stop and appraise Tairn's new rider.  

I grab my bag from the barracks as quickly as possible, and after my stomach makes a questionable noise on the way back, I decide to sneak into one of the unoccupied kitchens and grab a snack. Just some bread and cheese. There are some cadets still eating dinner, but I'm able to make it in and out undetected. Food and belongings in hand, I finally get to unlock my new private room. Being a rider certainly has its perks. 

Once I finally have a door between myself and the rest of the world, I eat quickly and then take the time to carefully hide anything important or incriminating from my personal belongings under my mattress. I take stock of what I’ll need to grab from my stashes around Basgiath now that I have my own space. 

Collecting my father’s research from Jesinia is a priority. I haven’t had much time to improve my Morrainian in the last few months, but I need to make some sort of progress. Especially given the breakthrough I had today. 

The breakthrough being that venin are real and my father knew all along.

I freeze as the memories assault me. The feeling of slicing through a person’s jugular. Stabbing someone in the heart from behind. Red-tinted eyes staring back at me hatefully as I tore their body to shreds without mercy. The sounds of blades cutting into flesh, and tearing muscle, and splitting bone. The smell of blood filling my nostrils and the sick feeling of it spattering against my skin with every movement of my dagger. It was hot and clung to every surface of my body like a filth I'll never be able to get rid of. 

“Fuck!” I yelp and look down at my hands. My nails had left crescent shaped marks in my palms from clenching my fists too tightly. Some of them were bleeding. 

I shake my head quickly to snap myself out of my stupor, grabbing my bathroom supplies and a fresh change of comfortable clothes so I can finally shower. I’m both relieved and suspicious to find that I’m alone. I check every stall and observe the corridor outside to make sure I’m not being followed. I won’t let them get me in the shower. 

Fuck that. If they find me dead, I better be fully clothed. 

Once I am satisfied that I am truly alone, I carefully remove my corset so I can rinse the blood off of it, but I keep my daggers handy even as I fully undress and remove all of my bandages to toss everything besides my corset in the trash. I don’t care that I put the bandages on hours ago, or that I could stitch the leathers. I have more than enough spares, and I needed them off of me forever. 

With a heavy sigh, I reach up and finally release my hair from the tight braid around my head. It takes me a while because my arms are shaking from being held up for too long. My right shoulder is still aching from the Gauntlet and the exhaustion coursing through my body threatens to send me to the ground. My breathing picks up in pace. As soon as my hair is free, I take a deep breath and try to calm down before I start to hyperventilate. I can’t pass out in a vulnerable place. I can’t. I won’t let them get me in the shower. I have to go. But I need to get clean. I can’t go on like this. I need… 

Fully naked, I collapse to the ground under the hot stream of water and my muscles cry in relief. I take a shuddering breath and wrap my arms around my legs to pull them to my chest. I’m still holding a dagger in each hand. 

I won’t let them get me in the shower. 

I curl forward so my hair can get wet along with my face and neck and I stare mindlessly at the water that pours over my body and into the drain. The fascinating shift from red to pink to clear as it cleanses my skin of the blood that had started to dry uncomfortably against my body like scabs. 

It’s somehow funny that I can’t tell whose blood it is. Mine, or the venin? Despite giving up their souls, our blood is still the same color. 

With a deep breath, I carefully place one of my daggers down beside me and reach for the washcloth and soap. I scrub at my hands and by the time I’m finished with them, my cuticles are red and my skin is pink with irritation. The cuts on my palms had stopped bleeding, but only barely. 

I wash my hair next. I don’t know if it’s real, but I can feel a layer of gore sticking to my scalp and I use my fingers to comb through it with soap so roughly that it brings tears to my eyes. 

By the time I finally drag myself to my feet, it’s already been at least an hour and I barely have enough strength to run the washcloth over my arms and legs, careful of the open wounds. I grab my daggers, turn off the water, and I pause to listen carefully before I exit the stall. 

I won’t let them get me in the shower. I dry off as quickly as possible. 

It’s uncomfortable to slip into my damp corset, but I can’t afford to take the risk. I’ll let it dry more before I go to sleep. It was better to wear it damp than to put it back on without washing off the blood. It leaves a wet mark through my large, thick black tunic with long sleeves, which I had modified in order to access my weapons when it starts to get colder. I carefully re-wrap the wounds on my legs with fresh bandages, and I count the scars absentmindedly. Seven stab wounds. It appears I miscounted in the field. 

I slip on a pair of comfortable black pants and two pairs of socks underneath my boots. I would be leaving the Citadel, and I’ll be thankful for the additional layers, especially with my wet hair. I don’t have the energy to braid it. 

The walk back is slow as I listen to every small noise around me, cautiously checking each corner between my room and the bathroom before continuing. I walk faster when I hear the familiar bell. My internal clock is off, and it’s already around the time I promised to meet Xaden. 

I quickly drop off my bathroom supplies, run a brush through my hand and try to absorb all of the water that I can with a fresh towel. I grab my thickest cloak to tie over my shoulders. I take each of my daggers and place them on my corset. Without hesitating, I grab my poisoned dagger and adhere the thigh sheath carefully over my soft sleep pants. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere without it again. 

With a quick mental checklist of questions, I finally rush out to meet Xaden in the courtyard. He’s pacing in front of one of the entrances and I can’t help but admire him for a moment. Everything about him, from his face to his mind to his body called out to me. I crave the uncomplicated feelings of elation I felt when I saw him this morning before Threshing. 

“Violence?” He turns around quickly to meet my eyes and I give him a hesitant smile. 

“Hi.” I offer quietly. Xaden closes the distance between us and steps forward into my space so I have to lean my head back to look up at him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” 

I sigh and nod my head. “Definitely. I also have a date with the dragons tonight, so let’s get a move on. I don’t know if you’ve realized yet, but Tairn is kind of impatient.”

I ignore the grumbling feeling I receive in response, and it makes me smile softly. 

He nods in understanding and starts to lead us to the entrance to the Citadel. I shake my head quickly. 

“There’s a better way.”

“A better way?” He questions. I can feel the uncertainty dripping off of him, and it brings a real smile to my face. I find myself slipping back into our usual banter with ease. 

“Don’t be so scared, Wingleader. It’ll be quicker. You might even learn something.” His eyes shine with a familiar sparkle and for a moment, I feel the same unfettered affection between us again. I’m relieved that it didn’t disappear forever. 

“Well then, lead the way, Violence.” 

At first, he looks around confused when I guide him down a barely used corridor and down stairs that look like they haven’t been used for decades. There is a hidden door that is partially obscured by an old dragon statue in front of it. Basgiath has a sprawling system of underground passageways and facilities if a person knows where to look. 

“Magelight, please,” I demand quietly once we’re surrounded by darkness. “Usually I’ll just steal one or muscle through it, but I’m feeling like I’d love high visibility tonight.” 

Xaden quickly nods in agreement and summons a bright light that floats in front of us. His surprise turns to awe when I show him through the hidden passages that open up outside of Basgiath along the cliffside that houses the Citadel.

“Sgaeyl told me about the shortcut to the flight field, but I didn’t know…”

“Oh, I knew the long one was to the flight field! I stayed away from that to avoid being dragon food. But the rest of them are pretty useful. They run through the entire Citadel including parts we’ve fully abandoned using,” I explained casually. “There are some small paths that break off and I haven’t explored all of those quite yet, but my mental map is pretty extensive.” 

Xaden looks extremely interested in all the new information, almost like a little kid caught up in his excitement. “Could you show me more of the tunnels?” He asks as we reach the tree where I caught him during his club meeting. 

I look up at the branch I had sat upon while I teased him. I thought he was hand-crafted to drive me insane, but I never could have imagined what Xaden would grow to mean to me. I try to be optimistic about a fully honest conversation between us. I like him more than could be considered logical, but if I can open up and let him in, maybe he's right and there's a future we're in this together. Maybe that can still be true, even after the upheaval today has been. 

I shrug teasingly. “Sure, someday. I’ll have to write you a copy of the patrol schedules though if you’re planning on using them for your own activities. I’d hate for you to get caught popping out somewhere you shouldn’t, and I only keep them in my head.” 

“You have the patrol schedules?” I enjoy his expression of intrigued surprise. 

I laugh lightly and lift my eyebrows. “Alright, alright. Enough of my secrets. It’s your turn.”

I can’t stop my involuntary cringe as the curious spark in his eyes is replaced by something much more severe. Regardless of any optimism for how it all turns out, I know this conversation will not be an easy one. 

Xaden sighs heavily. “Venin are real.” 

I shake my head immediately. Old news. “That one doesn’t count. I figured that out already. I want to know what they want.”

“That’s not a simple answer. They’re savagely attacking Poromiel and other areas not protected by the wards but we don’t have a real idea of their ultimate goal. They attack and destroy and steal power, leaving behind grey and desolate wastelands. Now who the fuck tried to have you killed?” 

I inhale sharply at his sharp tone, even if I know it's not directed at me. I shouldn’t have expected an easy question out of him first. “My theory is that it was Colonel Aetos.” 

He hisses in surprise and I watch his eyes light up in anger. “Dain Aetos’ father? Your mother’s aide?” 

“Yes. I won’t consider that one of your questions. How do you kill a venin?” 

“How did you kill one?” He asks instead of answering.

“It’s not your turn.” Follow the rules, Xaden.

“These are alloy-infused daggers.” He pulls out a green-tinted dagger from his pocket and I can see it ripple with magic. “These are the only weapons that stand a chance, and they can only be made in a few select locations, like the luminary here at Basgiath. They also have to be imbued with magic to work, so limited use impacts their effectiveness.”

I stare at it for several long moments. “Ask your question, because I’m ready with my next one already.”

“Why do you think it was Aetos?” he asks immediately.

My brows furrow. “This is kind of a long answer, but bear with me. I broke into the Healer’s Quadrant a few weeks ago for very good reasons, and ran into him when I was going for reconnaissance earlier in the day. He seemed oddly suspicious of me where he usually just assumes I’m weak and naive. It was something in his eyes. It made my skin crawl. My best guess is that they did inventory since then and noticed that things were missing. Admittedly, many things. All of that alone wouldn’t have been enough to convince me that my oldest friend’s father wanted me dead, if it wasn’t for the door.”

“The door?” Xaden asks immediately. 

“It was an unfamiliar room that connects to the surgical area. I was able to make it through the main ward to enter without issue, but this one was different. Even after only examining it for a minute, I could tell there was a magelight on the other side, and from the strength of the magical protections, there is something in there that Basgiath doesn’t want us to know about. Why was Aetos there that same day in the Healer’s Quadrant? Before crossing the parapet, I had been watching him on and off for months, and he hardly ever veers off schedule. His role has very little overlap with the Healer’s Quadrant and he didn’t have any visible injuries. Did I mention that this also just so happened to be one of the weeks that the General was in Calldyr? I think that Aetos is up to something, the Healers are involved somehow, he suspected I knew something due to my proximity to the stolen goods, and then he used his connections to the venin to try and have me killed without the General’s knowledge.” I summarized.

Xaden blinks at all of the new information. He opens his mouth to reply, but he still looks a bit stunned. I allow him a few minutes to process everything from my report, until my patience runs out. 

“My turn?” I ask after a while and he nods, but I can still see his eyes moving rapidly in consideration of all the new information I had presented. I work from the new question off my list. 

“Why are the gryphon riders wasting resources attacking the wards if they are fighting venin? If they just need the weapons, why not establish a trade deal with a supplier?” 

“They’re called fliers,” Xaden corrects and I file that away. “And it’s because Basgiath is not just one of the places that can supply those weapons. They are pretty much the only place right now that has all of the pieces of the puzzle necessary and they’re not willing to share. Gryphon fliers risk attacking outposts because it’s the only way for them to get a hold of the daggers and stand half of a chance against the true enemy.” 

“If that’s true, why does Navarre even stock the outposts with them? It’s not in their best interest to tempt… the wards. The same thing that kills them repels them.” I gasp at the realization. “They’re made of the material that helps extend the wards, aren’t they? It’s the only logical reason to keep them stocked in outposts and border towns.” 

For a moment, I think about Mira's signet. I am suddenly pathetically grateful that she has the best defense in the world against an attacking venin. 

Xaden nods grimly. “Brilliant as ever. Navarre will never sacrifice anything or lift a finger to help the rest of the world outside of its wards. They are killing gryphon fliers who are trying to find a way to help their country survive an enemy that Navarre retreated from like cowards hundreds of years ago. Navarre enjoys centuries-long safety and yet doesn’t even allow innocent civilians to take cover while sentencing their lands to desolation. All news and information is scrubbed before being released and the people who dissent are painted as enemies.” 

My mind races at the new information. Navarre is even more wicked than I ever could have thought. Killing people who are trying to save themselves from such a vicious enemy. Turning away foreigners seeking refuge behind the wards. Rewriting history and spreading lies to suit their own nefarious purposes. 

“Your turn,” I mumble distractedly. 

“Why are you doing this? I know you’ve been spying since you got here. The thing I can’t figure out is why. Little scribes-in-training don’t suddenly pick up espionage just because their mother is sending them to be a rider. ” 

My breath catches in my throat. This is it. The one secret that I hold closest to my chest. As soon as I say the words, I won’t be able to take them back.

I tell myself that this is worth it. That Xaden is worth the risk. I look him in the eyes and hand over the most precious piece of my soul. 

“Navarre had my father killed when he stumbled upon the truth. I don’t know the depth of my mother’s involvement, but she knows something and did nothing, so she’s dead to me.” 

Xaden’s eyes widen and his breath catches. He takes a step closer to me and raises a hand, but doesn't continue to approach. I hold my arms to my chest more closely underneath my cloak and try to stop myself from shivering.

“What makes you think he was killed?” Xaden asks gently. 

“Besides the strange circumstances of his withdrawal from society and the conflicting details of his illness? I found a letter in a book he left me, which I thought was just of venin folklore, telling me that I needed to be careful once I entered the Scribe Quadrant. He thought I would find out some terrible truth and get myself killed. He told me to find his research, which I have, but it’s locked. I’m working on getting access, but he used one of the few languages that I don’t know. Fucking Morrainian. Nothing that I’ve translated so far has made any sense.” 

I look down at the grass being crushed under my boots. “I just know there is something important there. He left me The Fable of the Barrens, which led me to the truth and saved my life out there today. His research has to have some kind of clue. More ways to stop them, how they’re made, maybe even what they want. I don’t know. It might be wishful thinking but I’m going to figure out what he was trying to tell me.” 

I am breathing heavier by the time I finish speaking, and I can't stop my eyes from watering. I blink to stop tears from forming. 

"I'm so sorry, Violence," he tells me quietly and I shake off his words visibly. I don't want apologies. I want the truth. I want revenge. I want Xaden. But I don't want apologies. 

Xaden examines me silently. “You definitely owe me two questions now.” I tell him stubbornly. I'm feeling vulnerable at the cool breeze brushing up against my freshly, cracked chest. I let him see my true purpose. 

He remains silent for a few moments after my probing. “Which two?”

“What really happened during the Tyrrish Rebellion? I have my theories, but I want to hear it from you.” If he's going to ask me the most important questions about my past, I want to do the same. I want to know exactly what events made Xaden into the person he is. 

“My father sided with the people outside of the wards against the venin. He begged the king, begged him, for any kind of support in the real war, but was constantly rebuked. Navarre was not interested in helping with a conflict that they had already eradicated the existence of in their minds. He declared succession as a last resort so he could better support his people, and he was declared the Great Betrayer. Your mother’s forces were sent to destroy Aretia and any remnants of the rebellion that could spread the story of Navarre’s lies.” Xaden reports apathetically with a mostly hidden snarl on his lips. 

I can feel my eyes water at confirmation of all my fears. “F-fuck. That’s horrifying. I am so sorry, Xaden.” 

The tears finally fall from my eyes in a heavy stream that I can’t do anything to stop. Xaden finally bridges the distance between us and pulls me against him. My hands stay locked to my sides but I gratefully bury my face in his chest. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We all know the price that was paid, and why our parents chose the side that they did.” 

I sniffle and pull back slightly. I wipe my face roughly. “Next question is still mine. What are you doing about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not sitting on your ass while people are dying, Xaden. Are you forgetting I'm a spy? I’ve caught you coming back at odd hours with other marked ones at least four times since I crossed the parapet, and I wasn't even spying on you. Not to mention that I know you. What are you doing about the venin? Do the younger marked ones know?” 

Xaden hesitates, and it makes my stomach clench. He’s going to shut me out after acting like we were both going all in. He already asked me to share the most sensitive secrets that I keep close to my soul, and now he’s going to tell me that he can’t tell me his own. Fuck. The tears in my eyes pick up in volume, but I refuse to let them fall again.

I can’t believe I fucking fooled myself like this. I told him about my father. 

“That’s… alright, look, Violence,” Xaden starts, but I’ve already pulled away from his arms so I can step away and look up towards the moon while he rips my heart out. 

“Go on,” I urge him carefully. “A secret for a secret.”

If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have my answer. Any imagined future where we’re in this together is a lie. Shielding be damned, my life is in danger and I need to know what I’m up against now. If doesn’t trust me after everything I’ve revealed, I’m the fool. 

“This isn’t just my secret,” he starts and I scoff, taking a few steps away from him. 

“It’s my life now too, Xaden,” I retort quietly without looking away from the sky. It’s just as beautiful as it was last night, or last week, or even last year, which feels wrong since the world today is a much different place than the one I last went to sleep in. “I don’t begrudge you your secrets, but after what I went through today, I need you to share the things with me that can come back to get either of us killed. I can’t wait months until I can shield myself to learn the truth while you pick apart all my secrets without reservation. It’s not fair.” 

He looks pained. “I know, Violet. You've never gone out of your way to violate my privacy, and I hate that I have to ask you to do this. But please trust me. There are just some truths that are not my own, and ones that I can’t share with you quite yet. I’m not saying never. I'm just saying that I can't yet.” 

I nod my head at his expected response. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks in confusion. 

“I think we’ve reached the end of the productive part of this conversation. You know about Aetos. You know about why I’m really here. Your dragon already told you what happened during Threshing. Tell me if anything comes up that concerns my safety, since our lives will remain tied to one another regardless. I’ll do you the same courtesy.” 

“Violence,” he tries to interrupt me, but I’ve always been stubborn. 

“I need to talk to my dragons.” I turn around so I can head back into the direction of the tunnels. I walk fast, but I can hear Xaden catch up to me in quick strides. 

“Violet, please.” Instead of grabbing me by the shoulders like I half-expect, he circles around to cut off my path with his body. “I want to tell you everything.” 

“You said that already,” I observe coolly. “I hope I live long enough to earn that privilege someday.” 

He flinches like I took a cheap shot during one of our sparring matches. “Don’t walk away. We need to talk about what we’re going to do. You have to tell me what you know so I can figure out a plan to keep you safe. You can’t just go off alone.” 

Now it's his plan, not ours. I sigh heavily and look at his chin so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “I’ve been keeping myself alive for a long time, Wingleader. I’ll keep at it. But I’m going to find out what else is going on here, whether we’re in this together or not.” 

“Of course we’re in this together—” he starts, which makes me finally lose my temper. 

“Of course we’re in this together, he says! I want to tell you everything, he says! A secret for a fucking secret,” I yell, voice lined with cruelty. “I might tell more lies than truths to the people around me most days, but I’ve never been dishonest to you. So do me a favor. I’d rather you not speak to me at all than lie.” 

“That's not fair, Violence. I’m not lying to you. The world isn’t black and white, and you need to learn how to shield! It could take months before you channel, let alone keep a shield that would hold up against someone like Aetos. I can let you know more once your mind is protected.” Xaden argues, and I can sense his rising frustration. 

I groan and take several steps back so I can put space between us.

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve made a home inside of the shades of grey. But I actually have to live long enough to learn how to channel and shield, Wingleader.” I sigh heavily. “Saying we’re in this together when you get all of my information and refuse to disclose your own is a lie as well as the most fucking infuriating thing in the world for a girl like me. I took a chance on you and held nothing back, told you things not another soul knows, and you shared the aspects of Navarre’s sordid history that I could probably learn from Tairn. Do you see how those are not the same?” 

He opens his mouth, but I’m not finished yet. “I cracked open my chest and you took a greedy look and have the audacity to ask for more and more, but you’re not willing to take a chance on me despite your claims that you know me. You know me, but you don’t trust that I’d guard your secrets as closely as my own. You don’t trust that maybe I could help?”

Xaden’s eyes flash with something indiscernible. Maybe anger? Fear? I thought I was learning to read him better but I may have been wrong. “I know you want to help. It's not that I don't trust you. I know exactly what kind of person you are and what you stand for. I just can't handle the idea of putting you in any further danger. Can’t this be enough, just for now? I care about you, Violet. We’re on the same side here. Just because I can’t tell you all the details, that doesn't change anything. Please tell me you still believe that we’re not enemies.”  

The problem is that I don’t even know what his side would be called. Who or what is Xaden fighting for? Poromiel? The ruins of Tyrrendor? Some entity I’m not seeing? How can I trust him if I can't even answer that? 

The audacity of this man, to give me a history lesson and expect it entitles him to pick and choose the things I deserve to know. Fuck that. I’ve had enough with Basgiath and Navarre doing the same thing for a lifetime. We need to keep each other alive because of our dragons, but I’m not going to put my blind faith in someone without reservation when he doesn’t trust me in return. Especially with something as important as his true allegiance.  

The exhaustion weighs on my limbs. If I was less tired or less broken after the day I had, maybe I could try and understand him better. 

“You’re not my enemy but it’s just not enough. You seem to be forgetting exactly how much I see. It doesn’t escape me that the information you’ve shared is separate enough from you that if I go down, I can’t take anyone else with me. You’re protecting yourself and your people, and risking my life and my trust in the process. It’s not exactly something I can hate you for, but it’s also not the foundation for a healthy partnership.” 

Xaden flinches at my words. “I thought you understood the importance of shielding, Violence.” He murmurs weakly. 

“I’ll admit that I was optimistic about waiting for you to decide I was ready. That was before Threshing. Before I saw what I did and did the things I had to do in order to survive. Or maybe I never would have been able to wait, because that’s just the type of girl I am. We’ll never know.” 

“What the fuck happened out there?” His voice begs me to tell him, but I can’t. At first I was hesitant to show him the depth of my brutality, but now I'm just convinced that he doesn't deserve any more pieces of me. “Sgaeyl didn’t tell me anything besides the fact that it was a dark wielder.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on getting any more secrets out of me tonight, Wingleader.” I tell him plainly. 

“Gods, would you stop fucking calling me that? Say my name, please. I feel like you’re trying to walk away from me forever, Violet, not just until you can shield. I thought that after Threshing, we’d…” his voice trails off and I’m reminded of a simpler time. I feel a wave of sympathy but I try not to let it soften me. 

I sigh and tug my damp hair from where it's begun to dry uncomfortably against my neck. “I thought so too, Xaden. I’m sorry that I can’t just offer bits and pieces of myself. Not to you. You get the whole messy lot, or nothing at all.”

“I want it all, I swear." He argues back. 

I look up at the moon again. He’s telling me that he wants me but it’s still not the light of day.

I wish that I believed him, that what he was willing to offer me could be enough. 

“But I’m selfish, Xaden. It may be silly but I want all of you in return. I want my secrets and your secrets to be ours. I want to look at you and know I’ve held nothing back from at least one damn person in my life, and I’ve been given the same in return. This isn’t your fault. I’m not angry at you—”

“It feels like you’re angry.” Xaden interjects. 

I sigh again. I’m so fucking tired. It’s heavier than my anger right now, and it loosens my tongue. “I’m just disappointed that I let myself hope for something when I should have known better. You ignore the fact that I’ve been protecting my memories by myself for months now even without shields, and I would bet that the first-year marked ones have damning truths floating around their unprotected minds that are just as vulnerable! Ugh, I’m getting off topic here.” I move to begin pacing but I cut off the motion abruptly. I hang my shoulders and drop my head.

It's not his fault. He's been protecting them for years longer than he's even known me. I can't expect him to prioritize me, but that doesn't stop the sting. I should have asked the important questions before I told him about my true purpose here. I trusted him prematurely, and it's my own fault. I try again to make myself clear.

“Look, you’re allowed to make your own decisions and I’ll try not to be angry, but I don’t have to trust you with any more of my secrets either. I’m just not going to wait around for you to make some arbitrary ruling about when I’m ready for the full truth and just hope that you won’t have another excuse not to tell me everything after I finally can shield.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re acting like I enjoy not being able to tell you the full truth. It’s fucking killing me." He groans, before he seems to register the rest of my words. "And what do you mean not waiting around? What are you planning on doing, Violence?” He continues nervously. 

“What do you think? If nobody will tell me the things I want to know, I’ll figure it out by myself. It’s worked out well enough so far.” 

“Somebody tried to kill you hours ago.” 

Like I need the reminder. I barely handled taking a shower on my own. 

“And yet I’m still here.”   

Xaden hesitates for several moments but he refuses to let me move around him. He sidesteps to stay in my way every time I move. 

“Are you going to let me go, Xaden? I want to see my dragons.” 

“I’m scared again, Violence.” He declares softly. “I’m afraid that if I let you go, this door will shut between us and you’ll lock me out for good.”

“I guess that depends on you.” I dig my nails back into the open wounds on my palms and avoid his searching gaze. “I wish things were different.” 

“Why can’t they be? Can you just give me time?” Xaden ask searchingly. 

Time. It seems like an unlimited resource until there is a price on your head. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Xaden. I’ll still be here at Basgiath trying to survive my first year.” I try to speak kindly but I can hear the lump in my throat. “But as long as you insist on doing everything on your own terms, we’re not in this together. I’m not some pawn to be moved around as you see fit by controlling what I’m allowed to know.”

“Our dragons—”

“That keeps us in each other’s proximity after graduation. It doesn’t equate to trust when you don't let me in. We haven't made any promises to each other, Xaden. I don’t consider you my enemy. Maybe not quite the ally I was hoping for, but certainly not my enemy. We can have this terrible conversation again once I learn to shield if you want, but maybe we just need to keep our distance for now and see how it plays out.” 

I can't continue to spar with him, and spend time with him, and fall for him. Not now that I've learned exactly where he draws the line in the sand. 

Xaden reaches his hands up, and I allow him to cup my face with heartbreaking gentleness. I risk a glance at his onyx eyes and I’m somehow surprised by the naked pain I can see. “Violet…” he trails off. 

I lift my hands to surround his own. Mine are so much smaller. I can feel my heart beating against my chest. For just a moment, I let him see the fractured look in my eyes. I show him the loneliness and the fear and the shame and everything else that I can’t push away as easily as something simple like pain. The ways in which I am broken and likely beyond repair. 

He brushes his thumb along the curve of my cheek and the bridge of my nose. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I’m the one asking this time. “To distance?”

It hurts but I'll survive it. Nothing else has killed me so far.  

Xaden flinches and his lips curl in anger. “What? No, fuck that. Fuck distance. I tried that and I hated it. I’ll answer your question. Just… don’t walk away. Don’t do anything reckless without letting me watch your back. I wouldn’t be able to survive something happening to you. And the dragons have nothing to do with it, Violence.” 

My breath catches at the intensity in his voice. “You’ll tell me?”

“I’ll tell you everything about me and what I’m doing here. I’ll let you in. There are some things that I can’t tell you yet. But I can promise that they aren’t things that will risk your life here at Basgiath. I just want you to find out a better way, not like this. Not tonight, after the day you had. Please trust me enough to be patient, and I’ll do the same.” His eyes beg me to believe him. His thumbs continue to rub light patterns against my cheekbones.  

My eyebrows furrow in confusion at what he could be holding back, but I feel a knot loosening in my chest at the sincerity in his eyes. 

Part of me wants to rebel against half-measures and false promises. It's not logical to blindly trust that Xaden will fulfill them someday, but I can't help but want to believe in him. To trust the man that told me he couldn't imagine a world where he was wrong about me. Who told me that he could feel who I was down to the marrow of his bones. I cling to my memories of the night before the Gauntlet. 

Maybe I can do it. I can hear him out and if he shows me that he is willing to trust me, I can compromise. I ache to consider him a true ally and I try to convince myself that it doesn't make me weak. 

“I trust you,” I speak softly but there is no hesitation there. 

Xaden takes a shuddering inhale. I clutch desperately at his jacket so he can’t move away. “We’re rebuilding Aretia and remnants of the rebellion have picked up the pieces as best as they can. It’s my job and the job of the other older marked ones to smuggle as many daggers as we can out to meet groups of fliers so they don’t have to attack the outposts. That’s what you’ve caught us doing. It’s dangerous and the rest of the group doesn’t know. Only Garrick and Bodhi. Liam and Imogen are on a need-to-know basis until they take over drops with Bodhi after graduation. It is the only thing we can do to help right now, and it’s not nearly enough, but we try.” 

Fuck. I can understand his hesitance. That is more than treason.

I may be a spy, but he's leading a hidden rebellion. 

My eyes water against my will and I can feel Xaden sputtering out more apologies but I don’t care. I was right about him. 

I jump and throw my arms around his neck the best that I can, even as one of my shoulders pulls uncomfortably. I bury my face in his neck and inhale his familiar mint and leather scent deeply to calm my quickening heart rate. He trusts me. He really trusts me. 

After a second of hesitation, Xaden returns the hug with equal fervor and I can feel his big arms wrap around my waist and lift me even closer. Even if my feet are dangling, his tight hold stops my shoulders from aching at the pressure of holding myself up. I sigh in relief at our closeness. It’s everything that I’ve been craving for weeks. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” I whisper into the dark skin along his collarbones. “I swear that I’d never do anything that would risk you or the people you’re protecting.” 

“I know, Violence,” Xaden whispers into my hair along the crown of my head. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t know that.”

My heart sings at the quiet confidence in his voice. I pull back to look him in the eyes, but he doesn’t release his grip on my waist. Good. I never want him to let me go. I think I’d go to class like this if it wouldn’t make it difficult to take notes. 

I grant him a watery smile. “I hope you know that I want to help. However I can. If you have my back, I have yours.”

Xaden smiles softer than I’ve ever seen before. “I never doubted that for a second, Violet.” 

My smile widens and a few stray tears fall down my cheeks. “You’ll let me?” 

“I’ve never let you do anything, and I doubt that’ll change. But yes, you’re stuck with us now.” 

Us, meaning him and the rest of the marked ones. I’ll take that on happily. Most of them still hate me, but I’ll work on it. I nod and dip my face forward to return to his tight embrace.

He waits several long minutes to speak. “Will you tell me what happened today?” 

I know he feels the way that my entire body tenses and he only pulls me closer in response. “I was attacked by a second-year rider. I realized he was an assassin and tried to kill him and it didn’t work. Over and over again, nothing worked. I finally realized what he was and I did what I had to do.” 

My words come out bleak with no emotions. Xaden gently sets my feet on the ground so he can look me in the eyes, but he doesn’t pull any farther back as he keeps his arms locked around me. 

“Tell me,” he gently tries again. “Please.”

I sigh heavily and try to turn my attention to his chin again, but he lifts one hand from my waist to tilt up my face to meet his eyes. “I’ll never turn away from you for doing what is necessary to survive, Violet. Never.”

His words remind me of Tairn’s grumpy reassurance. I want to tell him everything. I should tell him everything. This isn't a secret for a secret anymore. This is just me sharing the most traumatic experience of my life. 

“I’m afraid,” I whisper almost soundlessly. “I don’t want you to think about that when you look at me. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Xaden nods kindly and brushes away the tracks that my tears left on my cheeks. “We can wait if you need time. But I told you weeks ago that I wanted to know everything about you. Not a single fucking thing has changed, Violence. Not for me.” 

I don’t know if I nod or if it’s just my body beginning to tremble, but either way Xaden pulls me into another hug. This time, his arms circle behind my shoulders and I find myself face-to-face with his admittedly magnificent chest. 

“I tried to kill him once I realized he was an assassin,” I began after taking a deep breath. “One lethal shot to the artery in his neck and another to the ligament that allows him to move his sword arm. I hit dead on, and it was like they were an annoyance. He threw the dagger from his shoulder into the forest and grabbed the one from his neck and kept it. I started running after I realized he could somehow move his arm again. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

Xaden rubs small circles on my back and gently prompts me to continue. “Where did you run?” 

“I memorized a map of the valley and I knew there was a lake nearby. It was as good of a place as any to try and find more people or buy myself time. When I finally got there, I was still alone. All I could see was a massive cave entrance. I knew that it was dangerous, but I just kept thinking of what you told me about fighting to win instead of fighting not to lose. I knew that I couldn’t get the advantage in an open space.”

“My Violence never forgets a lesson,” Xaden softly whispers as his hands continue their comforting motion. I stifle a hint of laughter and dip my head down to hide the flush on my cheeks from being called his. “You went into the cave?”

“Yes. I knew that I couldn’t overpower him, especially when my daggers barely did any damage.” 

“What was your plan?” 

I take another shuddering breath. “I climbed up on one of the rocks to hide and thought I’d ambush him when he arrived. That’s how I got the gash on one hip. I had my special dagger.” I take a small step back so I can pull it out and show him the modified sheath. “I made it. It soaks the blade in a poison that I adapted from a type of anesthetic and muscle paralytic. It’s designed to immobilize victims when it hits the bloodstream. I theorized that it should last up to thirty minutes depending on their size, but I haven’t been able to run any tests. The plan was that once he couldn’t move, I’d try my other poisons and hope something works.”

I risk a glance up and instead of horror, I’m pleased to find pride in his eyes. “That’s why you broke into the Healer’s Quadrant. That’s brilliant, Violence.”

I smile weakly, but this next part is still difficult to remember. “I was waiting, and then Andarna appeared out of nowhere. I heard him talking about draining her and ascension, and I was confused but I knew it wasn’t good. He went for her, and I couldn’t afford to wait for my best opportunity. So I tackled him when he passed by close enough that I could get my arms around his neck. I couldn't pause to wonder what I would do if it didn't work.” 

Xaden stayed quiet while I worked up the nerve to continue, his hands never pausing their soothing strokes along my back. “I was holding on for dear life and he kept trying to shake me off. He managed to use my own fucking dagger and got me in the leg six… no, seven, I counted in the shower. He stabbed me seven times in the leg before I managed to pull the poisoned blade across his jugular. Before he fell, I stabbed it directly into his heart.”

“Did it work?”

I nod slightly and move back to show him a handful of the vials I keep with me. “Yes and no. He was paralyzed, but he still wasn’t dead. So I poured my three most vicious poisons straight down his throat. You have to understand that they aren’t the ones that I’ve been using on cadets. I’m talking about respiratory failure, liquifying his gastrointestinal tract, other shit people don't recover from. He shouldn’t have been able to survive one of them, let alone all three. And all he did was open his red-rimmed eyes and stare back at me, completely frozen and yet unaffected.” 

A shiver runs down my spine as I remember the hatred in his gaze. “I tried to get Andarna to leave, but my stubborn girl didn’t want to listen. I was emphasizing that he wanted to drain her, and then I remembered the storybook. I called my attacker a venin, and the look in his eyes made me realize that I was right. My father had given me the answer from the very beginning.” 

I reach up to shove my hair back from my face roughly. “I knew that we were both dead if the poison wore off and he was able to heal again. I remembered that he touched the ground in the forest when I first stabbed him, so I worked out that he needed contact to channel.” 

My stomach threatened to empty itself at the memories of what came next. I fully pull away from Xaden so I can take several steps back and turn around. I look up towards the moon as he patiently waits for me to continue and I wait for the nausea to settle. It could have a minute or an hour, but I finally felt ready to speak. 

“Things are a little blurry after that. I remember being angrier than I’ve ever been. I’m usually angry, but this was different. It was red hot and pounding in my ears. I, uh, cut off his hands at the wrist. I figured that if he couldn’t channel, he couldn’t heal. I still hear the sounds it made and feel the way he twitched while his sensation returned slowly. Then I stabbed him over and over again in the chest, and left my blade in his throat. The whole time, I was… taunting him and being cruel.” I clench my fists at my sides and I can feel blood gather in my palms as I aggravate the still-open wounds. “My mind was focused on how I could best mutilate him. How I could find something he couldn't heal from. My daggers presented an issue. I had just begun to weigh the benefits of decapitation with his own sword when Andarna nudged me and pulled me back to reality. I was covered in blood and I couldn’t tell what was from him and what was from my own wounds.”

Xaden stays quiet but walks closer so his chest is pressed up against my back. He leans down to grab both of my hands and gently opens them to expose my bleeding palms. He keeps my hands held prisoner so I can’t continue to brutalize myself. “What happened next?” he whispers. 

“Tairn crawled out of the shadows and I almost passed out. I didn’t even register his presence but he was there the whole time, just watching me. He told me he wasn't going to kill me. That I had shown great cunning and he wouldn't reward intelligence with death. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize that hearing him meant that he was choosing me. After what I did, I think that I had already given up the possibility of any dragon choosing me, let alone two. I felt…” My words trail off and I squirm uncomfortably. “I turned into a monster, not a rider.” 

“You’re not a monster, Violet. You said it yourself. You’re a survivor. I see that. Your dragons see that. Tairn is a cantankerous bastard, but I can’t fault his taste. You are every bit of the cunning, intelligent, and powerful rider that a black dragon like him deserves. There was no other choice in the valley that could come even close." 

‘He’s right. But do tell the wingleader that I won’t hesitate to burn off his eyebrows for his disrespect.’ Tairn grumbles and I smile at hearing his voice again. No matter where we are, I’m not alone.  

I turn around in his arms so I can laugh softly in Xaden’s face. “My grumpy dragon is threatening to burn your eyebrows off. Better tread lightly.”

Xaden laughs good-naturedly and grabs my hands again once I’m facing him. “Not the first time I've been told that today, if you can believe. And I said he had good taste, so I don't know what he's complaining about. Sgaeyl as a mate and you as a rider. My girls.”

His last two words were spoken softly, almost hesitantly. I know that our future is up in the air. We hadn’t acknowledged our feelings since the night before the Gauntlet, and so much has happened since then. Xaden clearly hasn't forgotten our promise.

I remember his words from before I started my story. Not a single fucking thing has changed, Violence. Not for me.

I drop my gaze so I can look up at him coyly through my lashes. “Your girl, huh?” 

Xaden lifts my injured hands to cup them softly with his own. He raises them to his lips and presses soft, barely there kisses against the unbroken skin of my knuckles. “It’s not quite the light of day yet, but I can always remind you again in the morning.”

I raise one eyebrow and hope there is not enough visibility for him to see the rising flush on my cheeks. “The morning? Quite presumptuous of you.” 

Xaden’s lips twist into a wicked smirk, and I can help but trace the curve with my eyes. “I guess that I’m an optimist after-all." I smile, remembering my words from the day we first shared secrets in the sparring gym. "One of the many things I’ve discovered about myself since you crossed the parapet.” 

“I didn’t know I affected you so much.” I laugh loudly and feel another one of the knots in my chest loosen. I let him pull me into another tight embrace. 

“Violence, you drove me crazy from the beginning. From the first time we spoke. From the first second I saw you even. Strong and gorgeous and snarling at the asshole behind you in line. Fucking perfect.” I flush happily with his praise and pull back slightly to smile at him. It’s such a stark contrast to how I felt only minutes ago. 

His words fade into a quiet whisper as he drops his face closer to mine slowly, with more than enough time to pull away. I lightly squeeze his chest where my hands have settled as he closes the distance between us and drops his arms to circle my waist. 

My eyes close at the sweet sensation of his perfect lips dropping sweet pecks on my forehead, along the bridge of my nose, and across my cheeks. I giggle when he presses a kiss to each eyelid, softly as if he feared he would break me. Just when I’m about to open my mouth to tease him, he captures my lips with a ferocity that leaves me gasping. 

Mouth falling open in surprise, I cling to his shoulders and try to stay standing under the onslaught as he takes it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His mouth is hot and insistent as he pulls me up against his body until I’m barely supporting any of my own weight. I kiss back just as fiercely. I can’t stop myself from caressing the hard muscles on his chest and fisting my hands in the rough material of his jacket to try and stay upright as I give as good as I get. 

One of his hands rises from its position on my hip to tangle in my hair at the base of my neck and gives it a light tug. I distantly hear myself make a delirious sound of pleasure. Xaden pulls my head back for a better angle and his tongue explores my mouth almost lazily, in sharp contrast to the almost bruising feel of his fingers digging into my waist and tugging on my hair. 

I have never been kissed like this. Fuck, I was right. It would have been a tragedy to die without knowing what Xaden Riorson tastes like. Just one taste and all I want is more. 

Just as I start to consider wrapping my legs around his waist for a better angle, Xaden accidentally nudges the long gash on my hip and my gasp is one of pain and not pleasure. Xaden freezes and immediately pulls back.

I pout and try to pull him back down towards me, mumbling incoherently. He’s so tall that I can’t reach without help. “Shh, I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

Xaden’s look of concern fades into a self-satisfied smirk even as he evades my efforts. Part of me wants to punch him for being so smug, but his mouth is tinted red from my efforts and his dark eyes are dripping with desire. I feel a bit smug after putting that decadent expression on his face too. 

My pout fades into a wide grin as we stare at each illuminated by the moonlight. 

He reaches up and gently wraps a strand of my quickly-drying hair around his fingers, looking fascinated at the silver color against his skin. “Do you think you can meet with your dragons tomorrow night instead? I’ll go with you.”

“Why tomorrow?” I can help but frown slightly. I’ve always been bad at putting things off until later. When there are things to be done and questions to ask, it’s nearly impossible for me to spend time doing nothing. 

“Because you have been through hell today. You need to wrap your hands and get some sleep.” I had forgotten about my hands entirely during our kiss. “You can get back to saving the world and spying on your enemies tomorrow, okay?” Xaden injects just enough pleading into his voice that it makes me want to give him anything he could possibly ask for. 

“You are a dangerous man, Xaden Riorson,” I sigh but it’s filled with nothing but affection. He smirks, knowing that I'm about to give in. 

‘Tairn? Can we meet tomorrow instead?’

‘I am glad that the wingleader was able to convince you to rest. It appears he is good for something after-all. There is no need to figure out everything tonight. We will be together always.’ I smile at his words and send agreement and appreciation through the bond. 

“Okay, you win. No meeting with the dragons tonight.”

Xaden smirk fades into a genuine smile, completely unguarded, and I can feel my breath catch. I’m not used to receiving so many of his sweet expressions dripping with affection in such a short timeframe. This cannot be good for my heart. “Good. Now let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” I ask. 

“If you’re taking suggestions, how about my room? I have wards that will keep you safe. Speaking of, I’ll ward your door tomorrow night before we go meet the dragons.”

I want to ask him more about wards, but I hold myself back. I'm still flushing at the idea of spending the night with him.

I tell myself it’s for safety purposes when I nod shyly, but I’m self-aware enough to know that I don’t want to be alone. More than that, I want to stay with him. I don’t want to break this spell that has settled between us. Part of me fears that I'll wake up in the morning and all of today will have been a beautifully tragic dream. 

“Okay,” I whisper. “Take me to your room, Wingleader."

Chapter Text

Xaden and I make a quick stop on the first-year floor so I can pick up a few things, and I watch as Xaden looks around my space carefully. The room is practically empty and I have already hidden most of my private belongings, but The Fable of the Barrens is sitting on my desk. 

“May I?” He gestures towards the book. I swallow my instinct to keep my most precious possession hidden and nod silently. Xaden already knows the most important and gruesome parts of my heart. It seems silly to draw the line at my book, especially when I already told him how precious it was to me. 

Xaden sits down at my desk and flips open the carefully repaired book with a tenderness that I appreciate more than words can describe. He scans through the pages as I try to look for the brush I had discarded in a rush earlier on my way to meet him. I need to pack for the morning so I don’t get caught on the third-year floor in my night clothes. I shed my outdoor cloak on my bed so I’ll have less to carry. 

By the time I’ve found everything I will need, Xaden is still in the same position. His face is frozen solid, staring at a carefully painted illustration of a venin riding on a wyvern. 

“So are those real?” I ask casually and Xaden turns slightly in the chair to face me. I step closer to look over the illustration with him. 

Xaden's eyebrows furrow in concern. “Not that I know of, but home doesn’t share all of the information with cadets.”

“I think they are. I have a feeling that everything in this book is."

He shifts uncomfortably but nods seriously. “I will ask the next chance I get.”

I stop myself from asking when that would be and how he communicates with Aretia. I will be as patient as I can be with Xaden, as long as he doesn’t withhold information that threatens the both of us. 

“Do you think I can get one of those daggers? I know they are in short supply but I’d like to study them.” I ask instead.

Xaden nods easily. “Of course. The one I brought with me today is yours. You can’t let it be seen by leadership, but you need to keep it on you after today.” 

I try and fail to hold back a smile. The first few times that I spoke to Xaden, I couldn’t help but see him as an enigma. Like a mystery to solve, but much more fun. He had this disinterested persona that kept everyone at a distance, and everything about him from his ruthless dragon to his shadowy powers sent a message that Xaden Riorson was not to be fucked with. He was sarcastic and often too blunt for polite conversation, but he was also fiercely protective of his people and a natural-born leader when taking charge of Fourth Wing. His answers in class and skill in instruction spoke of an intelligent and battle-trained mind. Truly, he was fascinating to watch. 

As a self-taught spy, I usually watch people indiscriminately to collect information. I can’t take my eyes off Xaden because he’s a fucking joy to behold. 

The more I watch and learn, the easier it is to understand him. It took until we were training together for weeks to realize that he was a man who spoke through his actions. His kindness bleeds from him just as surely as his brutality, if one is patient and observant enough to see it. 

Xaden’s actions towards me since I crossed the parapet spoke volumes. He didn’t kill me or blame me for the General’s actions. He didn’t turn me in when he found out the truth about my challenge wins. He trained me because he didn’t want to see me die on the battlefield. He sided with me on the day of the Gauntlet because he believed in me. His first question when we were alone on the flight fields was about my injuries, and his first question when we were exchanging secrets was about who was out to kill me. 

Xaden Riorson was a powerful man, and one that felt most comfortable taking action. He wants to protect me, which fills me with equal amounts of affection and apprehension. I’ve been protecting myself for a long time and I’d like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with him making unilateral decisions on my behalf, especially while he’s still holding things back. However…

It would be a lie to claim that him protecting me doesn’t fill me with a silly giddiness that can’t be explained away by mated dragons or mutually assured destruction. He’s been showing me he cares since before Threshing, and bringing me a venin dagger is just the latest sign. 

I can’t help but open up to him like a flower to the sun. The gentle smile I send him is full of affection and untapped promises. His onyx eyes soften and he fully turns around. 

“Good,” I whisper as I lean closer. I aim for a confident voice. “That will make the next one a little easier.” 

He reaches his hands up to wrap around the back of my thighs and pulls me closer so I am standing between his outstretched legs. From this angle, I’m taller than him, but I’m sad to report that it’s not by much. 

“You were able to do what most people can’t even with one of those. You killed one of them.” Xaden tells me quietly. “It’s incredible, the way your mind works.” 

I shrug off the compliment easily. “Tairn told me that he was a weak one. I don’t think he’s been one of them for very long. If there is somebody turning cadets inside of the wards, there has to be some kind of trace somewhere. It also begs the question if we’re as safe here as we think we are. Safe being relative, of course.” 

Xaden squeezes the back of my legs comfortingly and I try not to collapse on top of him out of sheer delight. His hands are so large and warm enough to feel through my clothes. I sigh happily at such a pleasant sensation on my thoroughly abused legs after hurting most of the day. Xaden assumes it’s a sigh of frustration and starts rubbing his hands up and down the back of my legs gently to soothe me. I edge closer until we’re practically pressed up against each other. 

“I know. This could become very dangerous very quickly. My people will look into it, I promise. I’ll let you know what I hear.” 

“That’s good. In the meantime, I’m going to look in the records room and try to figure out if I can find out who my would-be killer is. If they read his name on the death roll at formation, it will save me time, but I somehow doubt it will be that easy.” I tell him absent-mindedly. I'm still thinking about the feeling of his hands on my legs. 

“How are you planning on getting into the records room?” He raises an eyebrow in question. I smirk at his surprise. I told him I broke into the Healer’s Quadrant. This one doesn’t even have any wards. 

“It’s a strange oversight that cadet records aren’t stored in the Archives. It’s mostly mundane information available with a high enough security level, but it’s not closely guarded. I might have stolen a key last year.” 

“Might have?”

“Might have stolen many keys.” I snicker as I think about the extensive and carefully labeled collection of keys that I currently have hidden away under my mattress. “You’d be surprised how many people lose things and never report it here, especially infantry on patrol duty. For as many as I steal, they never seem to replace any locks. Saves me time from having to lockpick everything.” 

Xaden laughs loudly with his entire chest and I can’t stop myself from smiling from the feeling of his warm body shaking. He leans down to press his forehead into my stomach and squeezes my legs affectionately.

“Gods, Violet Sorrengail, you are full of surprises.” I smile and wrap my arms around his shoulders so I can squeeze him in return. 

“Come on, Wingleader,” I pull away gently and offer a hand. “Let’s go to bed. I’m sure yours is bigger than mine.” 

He inhales sharply. “Another one of your brilliant plans.” 

We walk up the stairs to his room holding hands despite the fact that it’s not exactly wise. It’s late enough that I don’t worry about being caught. There is also the added security of his shadows creeping around us to warn of anyone approaching. I smile at the sight. “So how much of my activities have your shadows picked up?” 

Xaden shakes his head begrudgingly. “Both many things and not nearly enough to draw any conclusions. You’re quite the devious little spy, you know?” 

My answering grin splits across my face. “I am, aren’t I?” 

Most of my skills were acquired through the colorful and ambitious lessons I received from my father and Brennan, but applying those abilities in new ways and learning to spy across all four quadrants of Basgiath? That was all me. No teacher or guidebook, just my hard work, creativity, and a little bit of recklessness. 

He looks back at me while he lets us into the ward surrounding his door on the third-year floor. “I want to hear more about your misadventures someday.” 

“Maybe if you’re good.” I tease him with a smile as he unlocks his door with a gesture. 

I follow him into the unfamiliar room closely and he shuts it behind us. Wingleaders have it good here. His bed is double the size of mine, and he has a small sitting area with a table along with another door. 

“Is that a private bathroom?” I gasp as my eyes narrow at the unknown door. Shit, if I didn’t have such disdain for the games that Basgiath plays with our lives, I would try to go for an executive role. 

Xaden laughs lightly. “Should I worry about you taking advantage of me for my room?” 

My head swivels to look at him from where I had already crossed the room to admire his wall of weapons and challenge blades. “If I’m taking advantage of you, you shouldn’t worry about anything. You should just sit back and enjoy it.” I punctuate my words with a cheeky smile. 

Xaden immediately crosses the room to stand right beside me and presses up against my back suggestively. “My girl and her brilliant plans. They never stop coming.” 

I hold back an even dirtier response to that and turn back to his weapons. Xaden wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. My body relaxes into him gratefully. 

“How many challenges blades do you have?” I ask curiously. 

Xaden shrugs. “I don’t keep track. In my first two years, people raced to try and kill Fen Riorson’s son. I’ve never lost a challenge.”

My heart aches when I think about what he must have faced during his time here, and in the years he was fostered, surrounded by people who judged him for a history steeped in lies. I’m only thankful he was strong enough to bear the weight of Navarre’s sins without breaking. I lean my body closer towards him. 

“How old were you?” I ask quietly. “During the Rebellion?”

Xaden stiffens but he doesn’t pull away. “I was seventeen when they executed my father.”

“You’ve had to be very strong to survive, Xaden. Number of challenge blades aside, I think you’re incredibly impressive and I’m thankful to have you looking out for me. I know that you want to protect me, but I hope you know that I’m in this for you. It has nothing to do with your ability to keep me safe.” I lean back so I can look up at him earnestly. Xaden opens his mouth, but I interrupt gently. “I don’t know if I said it, but I really just like you so much. Everything about you.”

His eyes widen and his mouth hangs open for a moment longer before snapping shut. He inhales deeply and brings up a hand to brush against my cheek. “The feeling is mutual, Violence. I can’t walk into a room you’re in without being drawn to you.” 

I turn to smile back in the direction of his weapons and lean back into Xaden’s side. “Good. I’ll still take my reminder in the morning.” 

Xaden’s chuckles fill the room as he leans in to whisper against the crown of my head. “Deal. Did you want another shower?” 

I take a moment to think about it. I had a terrible fucking time earlier in the public bathrooms, but I don’t feel the blood sticking to my skin anymore. That went away sometime during my conversation with Xaden. 

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I already changed the bandages on my legs.” 

His arm tightens around me at the reminder of my injuries. “Let’s take care of your hands then.” 

Xaden opens the door and walks into the bathroom, returning with a small kit of medical supplies. He guides me to sit on the edge of his bed and I drop my bag on the floor unceremoniously. I watch as he kneels in front of me and methodically cleans the crescent-shaped marks caused by my nails before wrapping my palms in a thin bandage. 

I stay silent as he works. I don’t think I’ve had anyone treat my injuries with so much kindness in a long time, as if any twinge of pain would be his own. Not since I lost Brennan. 

“There,” he whispers and pulls my bandaged hands up so he can pepper a few delicate kisses along my knuckles again. He reaches down to pull off my boots and then gestures for me to stand with him. “Can I help you get dressed for bed?” 

I raise an eyebrow. “My big and scary wingleader has me all to himself, and he wants to put clothes on me?” 

He chuckles and reaches towards the hem of my tunic to lift it over my arms slowly. His movements are so gentle that I don’t feel any strain on my shoulder from the motion. I gasp at the feeling of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my waist between my pants and my corset. “There will be time for that later.” 

Xaden kneels again to unhook my sheath from my thigh and places it on the small nightstand next to the bed. I appreciate his consideration and the peace it provides me to know that my greatest weapon against them will be within reach. His fingers play with my waistband and I nod slowly. He tugs them down my legs with reverence. 

I watch as he examines the bandages covering my thighs and across one of my hips. He pushes me back softly so I am sitting down on the bed again and he assesses the wraps around my joints.

“Do you wrap your knees and ankles every day?” 

I nod with a grimace. “They subluxate easily, so I’ve gotten in the habit of it. I wrap my ankles every day and I wrap my knees on days I’m going to run or do intense physical activity. Which has been most days. I used to wrap my wrists too, but it messes with my range of motion when it comes to using daggers.” 

Xaden dips his head in understanding. With a surprising tenderness, he slowly removes both of my pairs of socks and unwinds the material around my ankles. He runs his fingers lightly over the exposed areas, paying special attention to the marks the tight wraps leave behind on my pale skin. He rubs the skin lightly to encourage blood flow, the same way I usually do after a long day. 

I keep quiet as he repeats the same process unwinding the material around my knees, caressing all the marks left behind in the same way. I giggle when he lifts my legs and punctuates each one with a kiss above my knees that tickles slightly. He even folds each of my wraps carefully so I can easily use them again in the morning.

Xaden looks up at me from his position with a surprising reverence, and I realize that I’m clad in only my corset and underwear and he’s still on his knees in front of me. I stop from clenching my thighs together and force myself to stay relaxed and pliable. 

“Can I see your injuries? I’ll re-wrap them.” Xaden asks me with a feeling of desperation in his eyes. 

I swallow at his request, but I nod in understanding. Xaden needs to see my injuries and know that I’m healing, or they will always be worse in his mind. He pulls out the black nightgown in my bag that I grabbed from my room and places it on the bed as he pulls me to stand again. 

Even more slowly, he unwraps the bandages around my right thigh and counts my seven knife wounds with careful brushes of his lips that make me feel like my knees will give out. He seems to understand that instinctively, and he braces one hand behind my other leg to keep me steady. I try not to think about the way that his spread fingers seem to cover an unbelievably wide expanse of my skin. How is it possible for his hands to be that big? 

He re-wraps my thigh gently and moves on to the larger gash running up my opposite leg. “This one looks worse than it is,” I warn him. “It’s pretty long, but most of it was shallow and didn’t even require stitches.”

Xaden nods and continues to unwrap the injury to see for himself. Since it wasn’t mended, the gash is still red and inflamed, looking angry against the pale skin of my legs. He carefully uses his thumb, not quite touching the wound, to trace the line that follows from my hip all the way down to a couple inches above my knee. He presses one more kiss against the dip of my hip bone before he moves back to re-wrap that one as well. 

Compared to the haphazard wrapping that I rushed through after my shower, he uses the perfect amount of tension so it no longer pulls at my wound or digs into my hips uncomfortably. 

Xaden finally, finally moves to stand again. My breath stutters as he takes in the sight of my barely covered form, wrapped only in a bit of leather, a bit of fabric, and the bandages around my legs. He runs a finger along my collarbone and down to the neckline of my corset. 

“Do you usually sleep in this?” 

I nod and run my own hand along one of the seams. In that moment, with quiet intimacy suspended between us, it is easier than breathing to offer him another one of my secrets. “It was a gift from Mira. She had it made with Teine’s scales, which I’m thankful for. Imogen probably would have killed me on day one without it.” 

Xaden’s eye darken at the reminder, even as he pulls the four daggers I have left from the corset and places them along with my poisoned one on the side of the bed. “She will never do something like that again.”

I shrug lightly. “I don’t blame her, Xaden. Imogen has just as much of a reason to hate me as the rest of the marked ones. I’m just glad I had the protection.” 

He stubbornly grimaces but eventually nods in agreement. “I’m grateful for anything that will keep you safe. Now turn around. You have your big and scary wingleader to protect you tonight.” 

I giggle at his words and turn while he unlaces my corset for the second time today. Or was Threshing technically yesterday at this point? My internal clock barely functions when I’m this close to Xaden. I barely function. 

A soft sigh escapes at the feeling of his fingers caressing each new inch of skin he reveals, as I went without breast bindings after my shower. His fingertips pause over my brand new relic, tracing the shapes of my dragons lightly. I make a sound in relief at the corset falling to the floor. It is still damp, and it feels great to have the clinging material off my bare skin. “Can you hang it to finish drying?” 

Xaden leans down by my feet to pick it up, but I don’t turn to look at him. My skin prickles at the cool air against my chest. I immediately feel warmer when he returns quickly to stand directly at my back and leans forward into my space. The whisper of his bare chest against my back makes my heart beat faster. 

I hold my breath wondering if he’s finally going to turn me around and expose my chest to his perusal, but he is only leaning down to grab my nightgown. I stifle my pout as he gently directs my arms up so he can pull it over my head and drag it down to sit comfortably over my hips in one swift motion. 

The nightgown is the shortest that I own, because I was feeling devious when I packed. The bottom barely reaches the tops of my thighs and the straps holding it in place are negligible. The black fabric stands out against my pale skin, and the woven designs reveal flashes of my ribs. I turn around and shiver at the half-bitten off groan Xaden releases. 

“You are so fucking tempting,” he tells me quietly, eyes eagerly running over my scantily clad figure. That is very much the point of a little nightgown like this. 

“And you are so fucking overdressed,” I tease in return. It’s true. I’m almost fully exposed and Xaden hasn’t even taken off his boots yet. Xaden makes a sound of amusement and takes several steps back so he can rid himself of his clothes and the weapons still strapped to his person. 

Entranced, I watch as the cool and collected wingleader I’ve grown to adore strips down to something more honest and vulnerable. I lay back down on the bed and scoot backwards, leaning up on my elbows to enjoy the show. Weapons stowed away, he’s left in only his thin tunic and pants. I hold my breath again when his hands reach down to the hem of his shirt and pull it upwards. 

His pants soon follow but I’m too busy running my eyes over his chest and the ripples of muscles in his arms to even notice when he’s left in only his undershorts. I want to follow the new path of dark skin revealed to me with my tongue. 

Xaden clears his throat in response to my staring and my eyes snap to his. “Violence?”

“Oh, sorry,” I shake myself from my stupor. “I was just coming up with a few more of my classic plans. Very, very important ones.” 

His eyes sparkle as he closes the distance between us. “Plans that require me without a shirt?” 

My voice drops to a suggestive lilt. “Plans that require you wearing nothing at all really,” I purr in return. 

The growl he releases seems to reverberate through my spine before he finally pounces. I smile wickedly into his hungry kiss and try to push myself to be even closer. As close as I can possibly be. A fire starts in my gut and spreads to my chest and throughout my limbs with rising intensity. 

He braces his weight on top of me with his arms, and I can tell he’s being careful not to place any pressure on either of my legs. I want to groan at his consideration, no matter how sweet it may be. There is nothing I would like more than feeling him pressed up against the cradle made by my hips. Despite my whining, he pulls away to rest his forehead on my own. 

We're both breathing heavily. I stare at his reddened, kiss-bitten lips and I want to reach out for another taste.

“We have a few more things to talk about tonight, Violence. You can’t go around distracting me.” 

“It’s been working out well enough for me so far,” I grumble in frustration, but I allow him to pull me up into a sitting position. 

Xaden shakes in head in amusement reaches for a bundle of fabric he was keeping under his bed. “There will be time for that later,” he repeats. 

“I am loving the sound of this mythical ‘later’ but I would like to kiss you now.” I can’t keep the whine from my voice. I just had to sit there silently while this beautiful man unwrapped me like a present and then he pulled clothes back on me. Absolutely despicable of him. If it wasn’t so lovely, I would stab him for it. 

“Violence.” The word carries an edge of warning to it that makes my heart race. That isn’t his Xaden voice. That is all Wingleader Riorson, the voice that intimidates every cadet in the quadrant. I shiver in delight. 

With a sigh, I pull myself up dramatically and settle with my legs crossed comfortably. “Okay, okay. I’ll be good.”

“Well, I never said that.” His eyes darken as they trail over all of my bare skin. “I like it when you misbehave.” 

How am I supposed to not kiss him at every opportunity? 

“You are evil,” I declare, and I look away pointedly but do nothing to hide the flush on my face.

“Is it evil to give gifts?” He passes me the bundle of fabric he pulled out.

My eyes widen at the reminder. “Oh, my gift! That’s right. I completely forgot.” 

Xaden gestures for me to open it, and I unwrap the package. I gasp quietly. A dozen identical, perfectly crafted daggers. I pick one up carefully to examine it, weighing it in my hand and smiling at how perfectly balanced it is. I flip it and catch the tip easily, before flipping it again to grasp the hilt. The feeling of the grip is absolutely perfect, even better suited to my small hands than the one I stole from Mira. 

“I don't have the words to thank you, Xaden. They are beautiful,” I whisper. I move the blade to admire the way that the steel shimmers under the reflection of his magelight. Each of the handles is decorated with a unique shape. It’s not any language that I’m familiar with, but they’re similar to the symbols I’ve found carved into the foundations of Basgiath while exploring the hidden passages. I had copied them to reference in the Archives but I couldn’t find any information. “Are these… runes?” 

Xaden smiles proudly at me like he’s impressed by my brilliance, which is definitely one of my favorite expressions he makes. It makes me feel warm and soft inside. “Why am I not surprised? These weapons were tempered with Tyrrish runes.” 

I run my fingers along the rune on the dagger I’m carrying. “What do they mean?” 

“Oh, this and that,” Xaden answers vaguely. “The magic has already been imbued so they are just normal daggers until the runes become necessary. Some of them provide additional elemental protections, defense from particular abilities, and a few other helpful tools. I can replace the daggers or reimbue them with more magic if they are used.” 

My heart stutters. He’s been planning this gift since we began training together, probably since our first spar when he insulted the big, ugly daggers I won from challenges. For months, he’s been working on ways to keep me safe. Not just training me, but helping me prepare to keep myself alive moving forward. 

“You can delay magical effects?” I ask curiously. “That’s fascinating. I tried looking into runes at the Archives before I crossed the parapet and I couldn’t find anything.” 

“In Tyrrendor, they are called the great equalizer because runes can be used by anyone with magic, unlike signets which are unique to riders. I imagine that is part of the reason that Navarre does not care to include them for instruction. I can teach you if you want,” Xaden offers casually, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he already knows my answer. “After you begin to channel.” 

“Please!” I reply instantly. I haven’t been this excited to learn something new in ages, maybe since I stole that lockpick kit and I would parade around at night looking for locked doors as practice. “I have been told I am an excellent student.” 

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Violence.” Xaden smiles and tugs the dagger away from my hand so he can place it with the others and close the bundle. “You can start wearing these tomorrow.” 

I nod without any protest. I know that I’m supposed to earn my weapons, but I don’t care. Having daggers perfectly suited to me could be the difference between life and death in combat. Plus, I am running low on sharp things to throw after today. 

“Thank you.” I repeat myself seriously. I stare deep into his eyes to try and communicate how much his gift means to me. “Two dragons and twelve daggers, no, thirteen actually. It’s a good day to be Violet Sorrengail.” 

Xaden huffs in amusement and pulls back the blankets so I can crawl under. I turn to look at him while he moves away from the bed to place the bundle directly on his desk. I gasp softly when I see his bare back for the first time, and I can see his entire body tense at the noise. 

His relic from Sgaeyl is strikingly beautiful. It’s the largest I’ve ever seen, a navy blue dragon in flight spanning from the base of his back and stretching to his shoulder blades. It almost meets the place where his rebellion relic winds up his neck. But the beauty of the image isn’t what surprises me. 

Under the design, I can see dozens of small scars spanning his entire broad form. They are not perfectly uniform, but they are purposefully spaced as if they were inflicted one after another without mercy. From Xaden’s reaction, I know the story is one that he does not share with others. He stays frozen for several long moments. 

“Xaden?” I whisper, like making too much noise will shatter us both. “Will you turn around?” 

He slowly rotates to look at me, and my heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes. “Thank you,” I tell him with a small smile when he meets my eyes. Xaden smiles back weakly and takes several steps forward to stand at the end of the bed. 

I debate my next move. I want to ask about the scars. Desperately. My mind is already buzzing with theories that I try to silence out of respect for him. 

But today has been the longest day of my life, and I can’t imagine Xaden is faring much better. He has shown me such kindness and gentle affection today, and I can only endeavor to do the same. 

I lift the blankets expectantly and sigh happily when Xaden joins me without protest. I wait for him to settle on his back and I immediately curl up against his side. Before I lay my head down on his chest, I lean down to press a soft kiss against the slight stubble on his cheek. 

“You can tell me when you’re ready, Xaden,” I tell him quietly. I smile softly at the blatant look of relief in his eyes when he nods. “Let’s get some sleep. I don’t have breakfast duty anymore, but we have an early formation in the morning and I will have to sneak out of here.” 

I rest my cheek against his chest and listen to the sound of his heartbeats. They're faster than my own, but the rhythm is soothing. “How will you poison people without breakfast duty, little spy?” Xaden asks teasingly. 

“If you think I need breakfast duty to poison people, you haven’t been paying enough attention to me.” 

Xaden’s arms tighten around me in response and I can feel the way his muscles tense. I have to physically stop myself from climbing on top of him and turning ‘later’ into a ‘right the hell now.’ 

I want Xaden more than I've ever wanted anyone. But I’m exhausted, and something tells me that this quiet intimacy is something he needs tonight, or perhaps it’s something that we both need. 

“Impossible. I can’t take my eyes off of you, Violence,” he responds as he gestures to turn off the mage light and darkness falls over the room. 

“Good,” I retort sleepily. I try and fail to stifle a yawn as I snuggle closer to get comfortable. I toss my leg over his hip and hold him impossibly closer. “That is exactly where I want them. Only yours.” 

His next words are too quiet for me to catch before sleep fully pulls me under.

I fade away peacefully to the feeling of his large hands tracing invisible patterns up and down the ridges of my spine through the thin material of my nightgown. Despite my fears regarding the horrors I’ve seen in the last twenty four hours, I don’t wake up to a single nightmare. 

Chapter Text

My scribe tendencies serve me well the next morning when I wake up several minutes before Xaden. It’s no surprise that I had kicked off the blankets at one point, but I hadn’t moved away from him at all. In fact, I don’t think my head left his chest for the entire night. Humming happily, I take the time to enjoy the warmth he seems to radiate naturally. 

I prop my chin up one of my arms but I don’t move away from him while I stare at his relaxed features. He truly is beautiful. I reach up my other hand to trace the scar that bisects his eyebrow and I follow its path towards his jawline and around to his perfect lips. I gently tap my fingertips against his lax mouth a few times and giggle at the way his nose crinkles in response. 

I’m treated to the sight of Xaden grumbling softly and slowly blinking into awareness. My wingleader might be one of the most intimidating people I’ve ever met in my life, but at this moment, he’s warm and soft and I want to fall into him helplessly. 

I giggle again as his adorably confused expression at the weight on his chest slides into a soft little smile that’s just for me. 

“Hi,” I whisper. “I daresay I see the light of day. Any regrets?” 

I shriek wildly when Xaden grabs me by the shoulders in answer and rolls us around quickly so he’s on top. I notice how he carefully settles himself between my legs and checks to make sure he’s not putting any pressure on my wounds.

“None whatsoever.” He declares confidently with a deep, gravely morning voice. 

“Good,” I speak softly and lean up to press a sweet chaste peck on his lips. “Because I forgot to give you a kiss goodnight. It would be a shame if I missed my chance.” 

His onyx eyes shine. “A shocking oversight on your part.” 

I roll my eyes playfully and sink into the pillow underneath me with a happy sigh. “Last night was exactly what I needed, Xaden. Thank you for sharing your room.”

“You don’t have to thank me, little spy. Just don’t go running off and doing dangerous things alone.”

I’d roll my eyes again but my track record for doing dangerous things alone is pretty damning. 

I bite back a smile at Xaden calling me his little spy. I had valiantly ignored my new nickname last night before bed because I was tired, but I am struck by the fondness in his voice. It’s disarming in more ways than one.

“You don’t need to protect me all the time.” I can’t help but tell him. “I’ve gotten good at taking care of myself.”

“I know,” he agrees easily. “But I’d like a go at it too.” 

I smile at the confidence in his words. “Okay, Xaden. I’ll tell you if I have any worries, or dangerous schemes on the agenda. We’ll make any plans for my safety together.” 

“Thank you, Violence."  

I continue speaking in a joking tone. “I remembered that the unbonded are given breakfast duty, so I will stay away from foods that are easy to poison. Though I doubt I’d fall for anything from an amateur.” 

For as much as I just wanted to make him laugh, there is truth to my words. I’ve worked hard on the art of poison and I’m proud of my skills. Xaden huffs in amusement at my superior tone and leans down to nuzzle at my neck where my hair is gathered over my shoulder. “You're the best poison master I know, little spy. Make sure you’re eating enough. You need to put on muscle, not lose weight.” 

I never would have suspected that Xaden would turn into such a mother hen. The tender way he's embracing me holds back any serious protests. 

“Xaden, I could get into the kitchens undetected from three different quadrants.” I remind him. “I will not be starving.” 

He pulls back to shake his head but I can see the crinkle in his eyes. “That's right. Who do I think I'm talking to? I’ll meet you at your rooms tonight to ward your door before we go meet the dragons.” 

I quickly agree. I already miss Tairn and Andarna. At the thought, their twin voices ring out in my ears. 

‘Hello, Silver One. We have our first flight lesson today.’

‘Hi! I’ll see you tonight!’

“Dragons?” Xaden asks at seeing my distracted smile. I nod happily and push against his chest so I can finally get up and go to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Gods, I love a private bathroom. When I return, I grab my bag to get dressed in the spare uniform I packed. 

“It’s strange to hear a voice in your head, let alone two, but it also feels very right,” I muse while I look for my brush at the bottom of my bag. I take the time to slowly brush my hair and tie it into two braids. When I look up to search for my hair pins, Xaden is watching me intently with darkened eyes. He still hasn’t moved from bed. 

“Yes?” I prompt. I notice the serious expression on his face. 

“Just enjoying having my fantasies come to life. You brushing your hair in a skimpy little nightgown is pretty high up on my list.”

I giggle at his words and reach for my wraps for my joints, exactly where Xaden had carefully placed them last night. With a coy smile, I walk over to join him and sit on the edge of the bed. 

“You like my hair,” I tease him as I bring my legs closer to me to wrap my ankles one at a time. I’d love to play with Xaden all morning but I have places to be.

“No, Violence. I like chocolate cake. I love your hair.” 

I file away the fact that he has a sweet tooth and smile at his dramatics. 

Before I stand to wrap my knees, I reach over and run my fingers through his messy bed head. Xaden dips his head towards my hand and I bite my lip to resist the urge to climb back into bed with him. 

“I’m happy to know one of your weaknesses. It will make it easier for me to get my way.” I wink and rise from the bed to finish getting ready.

“I’m never winning another argument with you again, am I?” Xaden groans playfully. 

“Have you ever?” I raise an eyebrow. 

“Point taken.” 

Once I finish with my last wrap, I slowly tug on my leathers over the layer of bandages so they do not bunch uncomfortably. It’s an awkward fit around my hips with the extra fabric and I have to jump in place a few times to get them to sit right. I huff in frustration. I can’t wait to be able to remove them. 

I look up and Xaden is looking thoroughly amused at my antics. “Save it, shadow wielder. Come lace me up and maybe I’ll let you take it off of me later.”

With every bit of speed that I know he’s capable of, Xaden quickly moves to stand and I reluctantly turn my back to him while I shed my nightgown. I wanted to rile him up last night, but we definitely do not have time for anything fun this morning. Without glancing in his direction, I slip into my bindings and one of my favorite long-sleeved tunics that I like to layer underneath my armor. 

I maneuver my corset into place and hold the front as he saunters over to lace it. Even through the layer of my shirt, I shiver at the feeling of his fingertips brushing up against my back. As he works, I pin up my braids in their signature style along the crown of my head quickly. I wear the hairstyle so often that my fingers move instinctively without a mirror.

Once he’s finished, I turn around to face him. “Pass me my gifts?” 

Xaden’s eyes light up at the reminder and he walks over to his desk to pick up the bundle he deposited last night while I buckle both of my thigh sheaths in place. He carefully unrolls it and starts to place my new daggers everywhere they fit. 

His hands travel very slowly and caress me in between measured movements. Eight daggers along my rib cage, with four on each side. Two more in each sheath along my thighs. One of them is occupied by my poison dagger, so I store it in my boot instead when I lean down to pull them on. It would be a shame to leave behind even one of my new beautifully crafted weapons. I need to get new thigh sheaths or a more functional belt to wear along my waist, preferably one with more room for daggers and easy access to my poisons. 

I’ve always been cautious, but I don’t think I’ll ever go outside again without being armed to the teeth. 

I place my old daggers, including the much-loved one from Mira, in the now empty bundle to drop off my room along with my other clothing. Xaden quietly passes me the venin dagger as well, and I store that one in the bottom of my bag. I had ripped a subtle hole in the lining to store ingredients, and it works perfectly to conceal it at a glance. 

Xaden stands behind me while I check my appearance in the mirror before I leave his room. After Threshing, I was afraid of ever looking into a mirror again, but it’s hard to hate myself when I’m treated to Xaden’s burning gaze running up and down my body with clear hunger. “Stunning,” he leans down to murmur into my ear, but his eyes never leave my reflection. “Dangerous, and stunning.” 

I smile at his words and admire the way that the matching blades with pretty handles stand out against my all-black attire. I’ve never worn so many daggers at once before, but it feels fucking great. I feel ready for anything. Powerful even. 

What can an average cadet at Basgiath throw at me that could come even close to the horrors that I have faced? Before Threshing, I might have been the most unlikely rider in the quadrant. But today, it’s a different story. I’m Tairn’s rider, one of the fiercest and most powerful dragons on the continent. I belong to him and Andarna now, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take some measure of pride in that. 

I smile at their hums of agreement through the bond. I catch Xaden’s eyes in the mirror and run my hands along my sides. “You sure know a way to a girl’s heart,” I tease him lightheartedly. “Sharp, pointy things.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around me from behind so he can drop a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m learning.”

I lean into his embrace happily and enjoy our quiet moment together before I have to face the rest of the quadrant. “Any chance you can send a shadow to make sure the coast is clear before I leave?” 

Xaden nods and flicks his wrist out to send his shadows to do his bidding. 

—

By the time I am finally able to pull myself away from Xaden and make a quick stop at my room, breakfast is already in full swing. I’m surprised by the reaction when I enter, but I don’t let it show. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a Sorrengail with a noted history of being frail. I’m used to stares of all kinds when I walk around Basgiath. Even after the incidents with Jack and Imogen, people still looked at me like I was a carnival attraction for weeks until they realized I wasn't going to go a murder spree or get myself killed. They eventually lost interest. Now only the stubborn ones glared at me and whispered insults under their breath when I passed. 

There are no glares being directed at me now, besides the unbonded cadets serving breakfast. But there is still staring. A noticeable uptick than the usual attention I garner. I tilt my chin up and maintain a steady gait to not show any sign of injury. I feel better that all my bandages are hidden now. 

Several tables fully turn to gawk at me, and begin speaking softly to each other. I strain my ears, but all I can pick up from the scattered whispers are my dragons’ names and the word blood. Lovely. 

If Ridoc thought I had a reputation before…

He’s sitting down with Rhiannon and Sawyer enjoying his food and talking animatedly. A quick glance confirms that Rhiannon is still the best friend a girl could ask for. She picked up my food for me, which means that it’s most likely not poisoned. But one cannot be too careful. 

I drop in front of my tray and settle down with a bright smile. “Hi there, riders. Beautiful day for flying, isn’t it?” 

They all turn towards me with matching looks of surprise. I’m sure they expected a much different greeting after the show I put on yesterday, but true be told, I’m in too good of a mood. 

Yes, at least one person is trying to kill me. Yes, I found myself on the wrong side of a centuries-long conflict and I can’t tell anyone that I care about. Yes, my legs hurt like a bitch. 

But now I have two dragons, twelve new daggers (fourteen total if you count my poison and venin blades), one Xaden Riorson to keep me warm at night, and a well of ideas to explore regarding how to kill the next venin more efficiently. 

I’ve always been at my most dangerous when I have a project. 

Rhiannon turns to me and lowers her voice slightly in concern. “Did you get any sleep last night? You weren’t at dinner or in your room last night, and this morning, you were gone too.”

I valiantly try to keep the blush off my face but Ridoc is a bloodhound for this kind of shit. I watch his eyes light up and mourn a relaxing breakfast. 

He leans closer to me, and yet doesn’t lower his voice at all, so I know it’s just for dramatic effect. “What is this? Did Violet Sorrengail finally get laid?”

“No.” To my immense disappointment. Ask me again tomorrow and I can only hope I’ll have a different answer. 

Rhiannon’s eyes narrow into something calculating. Oh no. My best friend is usually more than happy to let me have my silly little secrets, but when she wants to know something, she’s ruthless.

“So where were you then? I knocked pretty late.” 

“I had to talk to Wingleader Riorson about a matter concerning our safety.” I try to recite my response like I would an answer in Battle Brief. 

They don’t let me get away with it for a second. “Oh, you mean Xaden? ” Sawyer asks with a shit-eating grin. He still quiets his voice enough so he’s not caught referring to the wingleader by name. Coward. 

I knew that slip of the tongue in the healers’ tent would come back to bite me. 

“I mean the rider whose dragon is mated to Tairn.” 

I almost cackle at the way all of their mouths drop in unison. 

Ridoc sputters. “Y-your dragon and Riorson’s scary blue dragon? Are mated?” 

I nod and take a big bite out of my apple. I chew thoughtfully before continuing. “Isn’t it funny how life works? The entire quadrant is still convinced he’s trying to kill me and now our lives are intertwined for the rest of our careers.”

I ignore Rhiannon whispering below her breath. “Kill you? I’m pretty certain he landed on fucking you last I checked.”

Gods, I wish. He just decided to make me feel warm, safe, and cared for instead. It was definitely not what I was expecting for our first night together but I’m not exactly complaining. 

Sawyer, who always paid the most attention in Dragon Lectures, leans forward in concern. “Didn’t your dragon almost die at the passing of his last rider?”

I tense, but offer a small nod. Sawyer and Rhiannon’s eyes widened dramatically. 

“That means… if you or one of the dragons…” 

I nod again, and explain for Ridoc. From his look of confusion, he doesn’t immediately understand the implications. 

“Mated dragons will die if they lose their mate. If Riorson or I die, our dragons will likely follow due to the strength of their bonds. All this is to say that if they get one of us, we’re all fucked.”

‘That’s an accurate statement, Silver One.’

Nobody can accuse me of not catching on quickly. 

“Holy shit,” Ridoc whispers. 

For a second, I think I’ve survived without more speculation on my obvious connection to Xaden, but Rhiannon disillusions me without mercy. “That doesn’t explain why you were out all night and gone this morning.” 

I hate manipulating my friends, but I’ll have to go with distract this time around. 

“I had to explain to him what happened at Threshing. It was a long conversation.” My words are deliberately vague. 

After a moment, they pick up on the bread crumbs I drop. I knew they would immediately want more details about my spectacle yesterday. 

“What happened?” Sawyer asks with a look of concern on his face. “You looked… intense when we saw you. I know you’re a badass with two dragons now, but…” 

Intense is one way to describe blood-stained, traumatized, and stabbed seven times. Disastrously fucked up is another. 

“Someone tried to kill me. They got a little too close, but not close enough.” I take another casual bite of my apple. 

Ridoc gapes. “Who was it?”

“I didn’t recognize him.” Not a lie.

“What happened?” 

“He chased me into a cave and I found Andarna. I killed him, almost passed out when I saw Tairn appear from the darkness, and then they both claimed me.” Also not a lie.

Rhiannon raises an eyebrow and I know she doesn’t believe me that is the whole story in the slightest. But she’s a great fucking friend, she throws me a bone. 

“Something you can’t say?” She asks quietly, voice so low that no other person at our table had a dream of hearing it.

I dip my chin slightly in agreement while Sawyer and Ridoc probe for information and I dodge each of their questions with half-truths and practiced ease. 

As I lazily finish my apple, I assess my tray carefully. The bread would be safe. It was baked days ago. Sausages also take more foresight. The eggs are a clear no, for obvious reasons. I pick through my food and eat whatever I deem safe. 

After a while, I feel a presence approaching our table quickly and I swing my head around. Ivan is walking towards us, looking much better than the last time I saw him. I smile brightly. “Hi, Ivan!” 

He settles down next to Ridoc and turns to me without pausing. “Why do you think Riorson just told me I’m switching squads?” 

“What?” I ask in confusion. I knew that squads would be re-organized after Threshing, but that seems sudden. 

“Liam and I are being moved to the Iron Squad. I ran into him and Liam talking on the way here, and Riorson told me it’ll be official as of formation.”

My first instinct is to be happy that my friend is joining my squad. My second instinct is to be suspicious. I narrow my eyes and try to find Xaden’s angle. It’s too deliberate. 

“You and Liam…” I mumble, before it hits me. Liam is undoubtedly the best cadet in our year and Xaden is sending him to protect me. Ivan saw them speaking before breakfast, so I assume that Xaden had to brief him on his mission. “That high-handed prick. I told him this morning that we’ll make plans for my safety together and he immediately hired a bodyguard without asking my opinion.”

“This morning?” Rhiannon mutters quietly beside me, but I ignore her for now and just hope that everyone else didn’t notice my slip-up. I know I’ll have to tell her more later, and I have a shadow wielder to stab. Lightly. 

Ivan’s eyes go wide and he stutters out questions, but I am too busy snarling at the idea of Xaden sending someone to watch me. Most of my activities include explicitly avoiding just that. 

Liam seems like a great person; he has a bright and ever-present smile, and he’s kept an eye out for Ivan since Conscription Day because they share a squad. But I don’t want anyone trying to follow me and see what I’m up to. Even Xaden to some extent. 

Not to mention that I would never expose any of my squad or the marked ones to the things that are certainly still hunting me. That may be Xaden’s burden given our dragons, but it’s my fucking life and I’m not serving up the people I care about as fodder. 

I slam my hands down on the table in a moment of anger and my entire squad jumps. I swivel my head to glare fiercely at the table of executive officers. I told Xaden about everything so we could make plans together, not so he could try and rein me in. 

Xaden is already looking in my direction, and he seems surprised at my sudden anger. I just shake my head at him and stubbornly turn my eyes back towards my food while he raises a single eyebrow. 

My squad, Ivan included now, is looking at me in astonishment. 

“It looks like the Wingleader is making executive decisions about my safety now.” My words are cold enough that I see both Ivan and Ridoc both flinch in my periphery.

“Violet?” Ivan prompts. Despite his curiosity, I’m too caught in the storm of my own thoughts to respond. 

Ridoc leans forward to capture his attention and excitedly fills Ivan in on the drama. From my close encounter with a cadet who wanted me dead, to our mated dragons, and the reason that the Wingleader is now personally invested in my survival. 

With a huff, I decide that I need to take a walk to cool off before formation, or I’ll be liable to throw a dagger or two. I stand suddenly and my squad falls silent again. “I’ll see you all at formation. I need to calm down before I violate the Codex.” 

I can’t even threaten to kill him because it’d be some fucked up murder-suicide. 

‘He only seeks to keep you protected.’ Tairn cautions. 

‘By offering up Liam as a bodyguard. I can’t expect anyone to stand between me and the people that want me dead. They’re not just angry cadets. They sent a venin, Tairn. What’s to say they won’t send another?’

‘Yet another reason you should be surrounded by people you trust.’ 

Tairn does make a valid point. Ivan and Liam in the squad means we’re not getting two strangers who might hate me even more than Tynan. I understand the logic in what my dragon is saying, but my heart rebels against endangering others. 

This isn’t just moving in more people who won’t stab me in the back. I’m near-certain that Liam is under orders that might get him killed someday. 

I throw away the rest of my plate and leave the dining hall in a hurry to make my way outside before it becomes too crowded. 

I’m not surprised to see two of my most fervent fans follow me out of the dining hall. I roll my eyes and come to a stop at the large open doors to the courtyard. 

“Tyson and Owen. Glad to see you survived Threshing,” I turn around and greet them with a false smile and drop my hands to my blades in a clear threat in case they get any ideas. There are people around but not many. Tynan is technically on my squad so he can’t kill me but Oren is under no such obligation. 

They both snarl at me for butchering their names, but that is to be expected. It’s just the effect I seem to have on people. I brace my feet to react if they decide to charge forward. 

Before I can best determine how to incapacitate Tynan without killing him and violating the Codex, I’m interrupted by a very familiar second-year rider from the Tail Section. My eyes travel over him and immediately pick out all of the features he shares with Xaden. They really do look so similar. Xaden called him Bodhi last night and he’s a part of the inner circle of the rebellion. 

“Cadets. Go get ready for formation. Now.” 

They scatter quickly and I turn to look directly at my protector. I’m starting to understand Xaden better and it is a likely bet that Bodhi is under the similar orders as Liam. I wouldn’t be surprised if my protection is on the agenda at the next marked ones club meeting. 

Keep Violet safe, keep Xaden alive. Too bad I want to keep myself safe, and keep everyone else out of it. 

“I had that under control.”

He smiles kindly and it looks almost strange to see such an open expression on a face so much like Xaden’s. “I figured, but you deserve a morning without somebody trying to kill you before formation.”

That’s surprisingly thoughtful. I offer him a small but genuine smile. “In that case, thank you. I’m Violet.” 

“Bodhi Durran,” he tells me with a smile. “Executive Officer for the Tail Section. I’m also Xaden’s cousin.”

Well, that is new information. “Oh! I noticed the resemblance. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Violet,” he grins widely and I can spy some mischief hiding behind his eyes. “Any reason you’re storming out after giving my cousin a glare that could make a war general cry?” 

I laugh in surprise. “Do you believe me that he deserves it?” 

“Without a doubt,” he agrees quickly. “He could have used somebody to talk back to him for most of our lives, but I’ve been bearing that weight alone until recently. Garrick and Liam do their best but they lack your effectiveness.”

I giggle to myself and shake my head. Seemingly willing to tease his scary cousin within an inch of his life, Bodhi is a kind of audacious that speaks to me. 

“It’s taken practice, believe me.” 

“I can see that. What did he do this time?”

“I don’t like people making decisions for me, even if they say it’s for my safety,” I explain. “Your cousin seems to think that doesn’t include him.”

Bodhi shrugs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. We start to walk together around the courtyard as it slowly begins to fill with people. “That sounds like our Xaden. He’s so busy trying to protect everyone that sometimes he forgets to allow anyone the chance to protect themselves. It’s one of his best and worst traits.” 

I nod slowly. “I’m starting to see that. I know I already have a tall, blonde bodyguard waiting for me at formation.”

“You’ll love Liam,” he promises quickly. “Everybody loves Liam.” 

“I don’t doubt that. Liam keeps an eye on Ivan, so we already have so much in common,” I joke lightly. “But I’m not the type of girl who wants someone trailing after her. I especially don’t want either of them in more danger on my behalf.” 

Bodhi just laughs. “I can see why Xaden likes you so much.” 

That means he knows at least a few incriminating things about my relationship with his cousin. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to stop the rising blush. “You like causing trouble on purpose, don’t you, Bodhi?” 

His dark eyes sparkle in a way that reminds of Xaden. “You catch on quick, Violet Sorrengail.” 

“I am a fellow appreciator of chaos after-all,” I tease with a wide grin. I think Bodhi and I could be great friends one day. He manages to do the impossible and completely stop my rising tide of anger. 

He laughs loudly and our path takes us closer to where my squad will be gathering soon. 

“Just try to give him a break, okay? He looked like somebody kicked in his teeth back there. Don’t go running away from him just yet.” 

I offer him a slight nod and a small grin. It’s endearing that Bodhi is looking out for him. “I’m just angry, Bodhi. It happens more often than you’d think. I’m not going anywhere and he should know that.”

Bodhi smiles in understanding. “I’m happy to hear that. Now get into formation, cadet.”

With a light laugh, I tilt my head in agreement. “You got it, sir.” 

I walk over to meet my squad. As expected, I can spot Liam’s blonde head towering over the rest. I offer him a tense smile and move to stand in my position. I keep my eyes facing forward and resist the urge to look for Xaden. 

The extremely logical part of me almost admires his move. Squads are being condensed and the Iron Squad is exempt due to our standing. Xaden used the opportunity to sneak in the other two marked ones that don’t want to kill me with very little fanfare or attention drawn to our new bond. One of which is more physically gifted than anyone else in our year and apparently willing to be a bodyguard. 

Both protective and opportunistic. I learn more about Xaden every single day. 

I listen to the death roll closely. Most of the names are at least somewhat familiar to me as first-year cadets, and I mentally record any unfamiliar ones to cross-reference with the official records. If someone is turning cadets venin, I need to know how they’re being chosen and whether or not anything can be gleaned from their files. 

After formation, we attend an uneventful Battle Brief before we leave to get changed into our official flight leathers, void of any identifying information in case we ever fall in enemy territory. 

I step outside my door and Rhiannon is already waiting for me with a wide smile. She hooks our arms together as we head to the flight field. I smile widely at the sight of Tairn waiting for me. 

Now I’m not suffering from blood loss, I can appreciate his full size when compared to the other dragons. He towers above the rest of the dragons in the field and he bonded me, the smallest rider. I do love to defy expectations. I dare anyone who has ever called me weak to repeat themselves in front of Tairn. 

He growls in agreement and I watch the other dragons look over in obvious concern over what he would do. My smile grows impossibly wider. I think my dragon might be a menace. 

‘Have I mentioned how much I love that?’ I tell Tairn very seriously. Maybe my dragon and I share an appreciation for the intimidation factor. 

My attention is split by all of my squad climbing onto their dragons. 

I missed the introductions after Threshing, so they filled me in on the walk over. Rhiannon bonded to a green daggertail named Feirge, whose color and intelligent eyes remind me of my sister’s dragon Teine. Ridoc bonded to a brown swordtail named Aotrom who playfully shoves Ridoc on to his ass with his nose before letting him climb on. Sawyer bonded to a red swordtail named Sliseag, and he’s looking at his dragon like he still can’t believe he’s real. It fills my heart to the brim to see all of us make it this far. 

Our newest members are also joining us for flight lessons, and I wave brightly at both of them. Ivan bonded to a brown clubtail named Labhair, and he spends several moments directly in front of her communicating silently before he climbs on. Ever the overachiever, Liam bonded to an especially large red daggertail named Deigh. He’s the most vicious looking dragon on the field, except my own.

I watch Tynan climb onto a small orange scorpiontail who is giving me and Tairn a nasty glare. Much like his rider, I don’t care to learn his name. 

I have not forgotten what Tynan said during Presentation. I was furious on principle that he would threaten a dragon, but he called Andarna weak. He called my dragon weak, and he doesn’t even realize just how badly he fucked up. 

I’ll show enough restraint not to kill him unless he attacks me, but I don’t forget shit. Physics notwithstanding. 

Tairn leans forward so I can carefully climb his shoulders, and I ignore the twinge of pain from my legs. Instead, I choose to focus on how I’m going to poison Tynan and what I’ll use. No breakfast duty means I’ve lost a valuable tool, but I’ve never had a problem with getting creative. 

My beautiful golden dragon chimes in happily. ‘I am honored that you will poison the stupid one for me.’ 

I smile to myself. Andarna isn’t joining us for flight lessons, and I’m excited to see her tonight. 

‘Of course. He insulted you and you are mine.’ 

‘Let us focus on poisoning our enemies later, shall we?’ Tairn grumbles over Andarna’s happy chuffs. I feel his magic wrap around my legs during take-off. 

I giggle and shift to hold on the best I can. With Tairn’s help, I’m able to relax and focus on the wind against my face. I’ll need to get my hands on flight goggles. ‘We won’t be able to use magic to keep me on forever, you know? It will be a liability on the field, no matter what my signet is.’ 

‘You are getting stronger. Your legs are still healing and you will rest them for now.’ 

I don’t know if I agree that I’ll ever be strong enough to hold my own seat, but I’ll give myself the benefit of the doubt. I’ll heal and work on my muscle training. If all else fails, I’m sure I can figure something out. My sheer belief in my ability to ‘figure it out’ got me this far. In the meantime, I have other major issues to focus on. 

I need to trust Tairn to help me during flight for now, and I’ll figure out a way to help myself later if it’s necessary. 

‘Logical.’ 

He seems awfully smug about my own thought process. 

‘You are my rider now. I will always take pride in your strengths.’

I flush happily as Tairn rushes forward with mighty flaps of his wings to follow directly behind the flight instructor. He proceeds to show off for the rest of my squad behind us. 

The dramatic loops and steep turns lead us to overtake the instructor more than once. 

‘I’m not showing off. Your instructor is taking it easy on you all. I am preparing us for real life flight maneuvers, so pay attention.’ 

‘And you enjoy being a spectacle.’ 

He stays silent but I feel the magic holding me in place flicker for just a moment, before becoming solid again. A clear threat. I flinch and clutch my hands and thighs tighter on instinct. Tairn said he wouldn’t let me die, but he’d probably still drop me if I pushed my luck. 

‘Of course it’s important to treat all flight opportunities seriously!’ I tell him quickly. ‘I am still learning!’

Tairn chuffs in amusement, but the magic thankfully stays in place for the rest of our flight. He does his best to only level up the difficulty slightly and for the most part, stays in formation. In line with the instructor but never behind him. 

The bright joy I felt yesterday from flying burns in my chest even brighter. My world shifts and I can no longer imagine a life stuck on the ground. 

I shake my head with a smile. Besides Xaden hiring a bodyguard for me, it’s been a great day. I’m almost afraid to give into the feeling of hope when the enemy staring at me in the distance is so sinister. Logic says I should be significantly more paralyzed in fear. 

Instead, I’m relieved. I finally found the truth that I've been hunting for over a year. It’s worse than anything I could have anticipated, but it also means that my journey to this point has been worth something. 

My father died for something important, and every step I took to get here mattered. The hard work and near-constant aches and pains. The carefully crafted persona I built to deal with my new circumstances. Even giving up the pieces of my soul that I almost don’t notice are missing sometimes. 

I crossed the parapet and killed Jack Barlowe. I ruthlessly dispatched the nameless rider. I’ve made others bleed with my daggers and I work everyday to be smarter, faster, stronger, more lethal. I’ve spied and manipulated and lied past the point of no return. I’ve poisoned people for survival, and for revenge, and for no reason at all. 

And for the first nineteen years of my life, I thought I was going to be a fucking scribe. 

I don’t regret a single damn thing. I may not have dreamed of being a rider, but now I can’t imagine any version of myself toiling away in the Archives for the rest of my life. For perhaps the first time, there is no place that I’d rather be than here, in the Rider’s Quadrant, fully immersed in the bed of snakes known as Basgiath, ready to do anything I can to contribute to a rebellion that I didn't know existed forty eight hours ago. My enemies are vast and numerous but I am not alone anymore. 

Every step I took to get here mattered. 

It brought me to the truth. It brought me to Tairn and Andarna. It brought me to my squad. And it brought me to Xaden. 

No matter how annoyed at him I am, I can’t help but be grateful Xaden and I found each other. A Riorson and a Sorrengail could so easily end up on opposite sides of the battlefield. 

I remember my father’s words from his final letter. The letter written in Tyrrish. I should have known. 

The people who you assume to be your enemies may be most trustworthy of them all.

Chapter Text

The unfortunate fact is that it’s nice sitting down for dinner with my squad and being joined by Ivan and Liam. They’re both great people, and they fit right in. Ivan is a familiar face already, and Liam is impossible not to like. I try to steel my spine against forgiving Xaden too easily, but I can’t fault the man for the results. 

Perhaps I was too harsh. 

I picture Liam stepping in between me and a venin attacker, and that frame of mind leaves rather quickly. This was something we should have talked about first. 

With a surprising lack of anything to do after dinner, I allow Rhiannon to pull me to her room right across from my own. She is practically bouncing on her heels at the prospect of grilling me for information and it makes me smile. I respect curiosity in all its forms. 

“I have so many questions that I actually don’t know where to start.” Rhiannon looks surprised at herself. “I want to be a responsible friend and ask about your safety and what really happened out there. But I also have the best friend's urge to squeeze out everything that happened with Riorson.”

“A true conundrum,” I comment mildly with humor in my eyes. I’ll have to leave out the venin and anything about our secret for a secret deal, but if she wants gossip, I can definitely provide. “Let’s start with the night before the Gauntlet. I found our Wingleader breaking a rule and I couldn’t help but confront him, concerned cadet that I am.” 

Her eyes widen comically. “Oh, Violet Sorrengail, you have been holding out on me!”

I take off my boots and settle on her bed to get comfortable. “I was stargazing and saw him smoking churam in the courtyard. I went down to confront him and he was really out of it. More than I’d expect for churam. I don’t want to ruin his whole reputation, but I guess mated dragons sort of… leak feelings when they’re… you know.” I flush at the idea of the whole night now knowing that the dragon fearsome enough to mate with Sgaeyl was my own. 

Rhiannon screeches and leans forward precariously from where she’s balanced on her desk chair. “You found him horny!”

“Rhi, shut up! I will leave!” I seethe with bright red cheeks. She cackles and waves me on. 

“So,” I huff dramatically. “We talked. We flirted. A lot. My, uh, hair was down and he was pretty into that.” Her eyes sparkle at that bit of information, but she holds back any comments and allows me to continue. “Things were suggestive but I stopped us before we even kissed.” 

“Why the hell would you do that? You guys look at each other like you could tear down a house around you if you finally got going.” 

I squirm at the images that assault me. “I know, okay? I’m so attracted to him that I could melt. I just… didn’t want anything else in the bedroom, if you know what I mean? I wanted it to be about us. Not to mention that I had been brooding all night about the Gauntlet and I didn’t want it to be a fear response either. I told him that, and we agreed to wait until after Threshing.” 

“So what happened then?”

“I survived the Gauntlet and he ruled in my favor. And then Threshing happened and I had a shit day, only made better by meeting Tairn and Andarna. It was… awful, Rhi. I was attacked and injured, and I had to talk to Xaden about a threat to both our lives, mated dragons and all. We met up and talked, and then fought, and then finally kissed.” 

Rhiannon almost falls off her chair. “So you did fuck!” 

I laugh wildly at her ungraceful move. “Gods, I wish. We only kissed. I spent the night in his bed because he didn’t trust leaving me in my room without any wards.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to believe that you kissed, spent the night in his bed, and nothing happened?”

A groan escapes my lips before I can stop it. “I wish I were lying. He quite literally unwrapped me like a present, but it was more devastatingly tender than wildly passionate. Kissing, cuddling, and a distinct lack of sex. I’m sure my healing legs thank him for it, but my libido certainly does not.” 

“How was the kissing?” Rhiannon asks curiously.

I flush at the memories that assault me. “Like a fucking lightning strike to the spine, Rhi. Never felt anything close to it.” 

My stupid smile is involuntary. Talking to my best friend about the boy I like seems like such a trivial indulgence after Threshing, but it’s exactly what I need. 

Things with Xaden are complicated, but I’m still happy about it. I want to be able to talk about him with someone. Even if I have to hold back on the ugliest sides of my life, why should I ever hold back on the joy? 

With Rhiannon, to be crystal clear. At this point in time, Ridoc and Sawyer would have to torture it out of me with cruel and unusual methods. The mischievous look in Liam’s eyes tells me that he already knows something and after the morning of Threshing, Ivan certainly has his theories. 

“This doesn’t sound like it’s a fling to him.” 

“I don’t think so,” I mumble shyly, before brightening. “He even gave me a gift! I could get used to this kind of treatment.” I hold out my arms to show off my torso full of new daggers dramatically. 

“I noticed those! They’re all from Riorson?”

“And some girls only get jewelry!” I take out one of the daggers and flip it in the air to hand to her by the hilt with a flourish. “He was tired of me using my big, ugly challenge daggers to fight.” 

Rhiannon grabs it from me and examines the craftsmanship closely. She looks deep in thought. “No wonder you played it cool at breakfast. It would be bad if the entire quadrant knew you had the wingleader wrapped around your little finger.”

My neck goes hot. “I do not!”

“Vi, these blades were definitely commissioned, which means he’s been planning it for weeks. You asked him to wait until after Threshing and he had you in his bed the same night. And then he proceeded to what? Kiss your wounds and tuck you in? I’m a great lover, but I wouldn’t do what with a girl I didn’t want to stick around.” 

She passes back my dagger and I sheath it quickly. Feeling especially transparent under her watchful gaze, I mumble uncomfortably. “I’ve known I wanted Xaden since the first time I laid eyes on him, but somewhere along the way, it wasn’t about attraction anymore…” My voice trails off and Rhiannon gives me space to find the words I’m searching for. “And it’s not about our dragons either. I know what people will say about a Sorrengail and a Riorson, let alone a first-year and her wingleader, but I’ve gotten the chance to get to know him pretty well and I haven’t flinched yet. I think we could be good together and I want to keep at it, even if it’s hard.” 

Relationships within a cadet’s chain of command may not be forbidden, but they are certainly discouraged. It’s certainly not my most logical decision, but she just smiles brighter. “That’s so great, Vi. I know it sucks that you’ll have to keep it away from the more judgmental cadets, but fuck them. If he makes you happy, who cares?” 

“I haven’t cared about what they’ve thought so far, why should I start now?” I agree easily. 

“Did you guys talk about if you’re exclusive? I know you haven’t had sex yet, but I’m pretty sure gently tucking you into bed is boyfriend behavior.” 

I shrug. “Not in so many words. But I’m not exactly looking at anyone else. As for everything else, I think we’re going to take it slow.” I speak slowly, unsure if the words were necessarily true. I guess it depends on how Xaden treats me moving forward. If he wants to be partners in the dangerous games we play, I’m all in. But if he doesn’t, I’ll need to carve out some distance for my own sake. 

Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You two are coming together after the longest extended foreplay I’ve seen in my life, with the banter and the playful threats of violence and then the actual violence. And don’t get me started on the cute little pet name Violence. Not to mention being bonded to two strong mated dragons. I’d bet that you two are going to take this place by storm.” 

Take Basgiath by storm? She doesn’t know how right she is. 

I smile teasingly. “I suppose I am being too optimistic about my self-control. Have you seen him?”

She gets a wicked look in her eye. “At least you’ll be able to ride out the mated dragon lust together.” 

My mouth drops open and my cheeks flush. I do not need to think about that right now. Rhiannon just cackles and I can’t help but join her. 

“Okay, enough about me! How are you?” I ask desperately to change the subject. 

Rhiannon smiles secretively. “You missed the whole quadrant celebrating our feat of not dying last night.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Did you celebrate?” She tilts her head away in embarrassment. 

“Maybe.” 

I kick my foot out to push against her knee. “Oh no, it's your turn!”

Rhiannon giggles. “Sawyer and I may have found some cause to celebrate. Together. Twice.”

My eyes go wide. “You and Sawyer? I have to admit that I did not see that coming.” Mostly because I assumed Rhiannon was still hooking up regularly with Tara. I guess they’re not exclusive. 

She shrugs. “It was a one-time thing. Call it adrenaline.”

“How was it?” I ask curiously. 

“There was no lightning but I can definitely recommend his skills.” My nose crinkles at the thought, even if I asked. I understand the men in my squad are attractive, but I can’t imagine sleeping with any of them. “Don’t make that face! I didn’t judge you for our wingleader.” 

I giggle at her offense. “No judgment! I just find it strange to look at Sawyer like that. He’s so… Sawyer.”

Rhiannon rolls her eyes playfully. “Vi, you don’t look at anyone except Riorson, and you haven’t since the turret.” 

My cheeks flush at her words. “Well, he’s very nice to look at. Again I ask, have you seen him?” 

We look at each for a moment before bursting into laughter. After we’re finally able to calm down, Rhiannon stands up to sit on the bed next to me. We rest side-by-side with our backs up against her wall and I lean my head on her shoulder lightly. 

“So, you and Sawyer. You sure it’s a one-time thing?” I ask. 

She nods immediately. “Definitely. We were just celebrating.” 

I wait for a few seconds before speaking. “I don’t want any details, but I kind of have to know… Have you fucked Ridoc when I wasn’t looking?” 

Rhiannon guffaws and slaps at my thigh playfully. “Shut your mouth. No way. If only because there is no way he would never shut up about it.”

Our shoulders shake in combined mirth as we hold each other up using the wall for support. We sit for another hour and I feel more of the weight I had accumulated in my shoulders all throughout yesterday fall off. 

—

By the time I'm finally able to escape Rhiannon’s clutches and make my way across the hall to my room, I am ready to begin planning while I wait for Xaden. 

I start by making a mental list. Things I need to work on in the coming weeks.

Number one, conditioning. After my legs recover, I need to get back into training with a vengeance. Weightlifting for my dragon riding muscles especially. I make a note to add more stretching as a supplement, in between lighter rounds of cardio. And sparring with Xaden, of course. There’s no way I’m giving that up. 

Number two, reconnaissance. I need to take a trip to the records room. It will be busy with my schedule, but I’d like to keep an eye on Colonel Aetos’ movements, as well as figure out what’s behind the door in the Healer’s Quadrant. 

Number three, experimentation. Crafting an effective poison for venin may be a fool’s errand, but why not try? I need time to gather materials and experiment, as well as a place to store everything. Without a subject, anything I come up with will only be theory. But there is no reason to waste time on willful ignorance. There will be a next time I have to face a venin attacker again, and I will be ready with options. 

Number four, lessons with Markham. I’ll return to spending two nights a week in the Archives soon, and I’ll need to gauge Markham’s impression of me after my theatrics at Threshing. Losing his trust would be a shame, but ultimately nothing too damaging. I can always come up with a reason to stop our lessons if the costs outweigh the benefits. 

Number five, my father’s research. The first step is getting it back from Jesinia and finding a way to unlock it, even though I fear I will run into the exact same issue. Morrainian is a difficult language, and the notes are almost certainly coded. I don't know if I'll be able to avoid asking Jesinia for help. 

Number six, keep an eye on Tynan and all of the unbonded. Addendum 6A, poison Tynan. They are a risk to me and I can’t be too careful. But if I’m being honest, cadets are the least of my worries right now, which brings me to the last item on my list. 

Number seven, avoid being assassinated by any venin sent by leadership. A tricky one to say the least. Xaden is going to ward my door. And if I carry my full arsenal with me at all times, I stand a chance of protecting myself from outside threats. Channeling, lesser magic, and a signet will likely make that easier in the future too. I’ll have to be vigilant. 

Seven items on my list. Not an unreasonable number. I managed to get stabbed seven times. There’s something ironic about that. 

I’m pulled from my focus by a knock on my door. I look outside my window and the sun has fully set. It’s probably Xaden, but better safe than sorry. I grab a dagger in each hand from where I had disarmed and creep forward slowly. One regular one and my poisoned one in case I see red-rimmed eyes. The poison would give me time to reach the venin blade. 

I turn the handle and use the edge of my blade to open it slowly. I relax at the familiar onyx eyes, but I keep my daggers in-hand. 

“Does the sharp welcome mean I am still on your bad side?”

“You’ll be lucky to stay on any of my sides, good or bad,” I snark. I told Tairn that I understood Xaden's reasoning and I meant it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and encourage him to leave me out more in the future. 

He cringes and I place the daggers back with the rest of my weapons on my desk. “By all means, come in. I lost track of time. I’ll be ready to go soon.”

I turn my back to him and walk towards my bed to grab one of my extra bags from under the mattress. It’s full of spare wraps, extra poisons, and an impressive collection of medical supplies in case I get injured. I have a few similar ones stored around Basgiath for if I’m ever in a pinch. 

He watches me carefully as I pull out the poisons I need to replace and place them in my jacket. I double-check that all my vials are arranged the way I like them in the inner pocket. If I were to reach for the wrong one on accident, it would be a problem. I reach for my lightest cloak, just enough to cover my silver hair from inquiring eyes, and tie it around my neck. 

Before I can begin to arm myself, I hear Xaden start speaking. 

“Your room is officially safe for you. You’ll need to pull through any of your… friends, but nobody else can come in or—” 

“Except you, right?” I interrupt and he nods tersely. 

“For your safety. Can we talk about this morning before we leave?”

“Okay, let’s review. You told me we’d be making decisions about my safety together and then hired somebody to follow me about five minutes later without asking. Or are you saying Liam isn’t under orders to be my bodyguard?”

Xaden looks flustered and runs his fingers through his hair. “I should have mentioned that I was considering moving Liam. But they were doing the squad reformations and I made it happen. Ivan told you before I could, which I should have predicted. But I need you to be safe, Violence. I can’t always be around, and Liam is a first-year. He will help keep you alive in places that I can’t go.”

“I know that our lives are tied together, but I don’t want a tail, Xaden.” I keep my voice as level as possible. “If you deserve privacy, so do I. I have plans in place, and things to do! I’m not exactly good at being idle. Liam is more likely to get me caught than save me from an attack.” I stop to take a deep breath. “And let’s be honest. We both know I might encounter more than simple cadets. I don’t want Liam to interfere and get himself killed. I couldn’t take that.” 

His eyes soften and he crosses the room to pull me into his arms for the first time. I try to remain stubborn but it’s a losing battle when his arms feel so good wrapped around me. “I know, little spy. I appreciate that you care about him, all of them really. But this is important to me. Can we do some of that compromise thing I’ve heard so much about?”

I perk up. “Compromise?” 

“We can keep in communication through the dragons in an emergency, so I’ll let you off the hook when I’m at least around. But when I’m busy at night with wingleader duties and our… other flights. When I’m not here, you take him along on any secret missions. He might not be quite as experienced sneaking around, but he’ll catch on quickly.”

I consider his words. It’s definitely a trap. I’d probably choose to spend the nights that he’s available with him, which means that I still end up being protected by at least one of them most nights. I know that. He knows that. He knows that I know that. 

Xaden understands he needs to do more to convince me. “Liam is my foster brother, you know.” He starts conversationally, but I know from the light in his eyes that he sees my interest peak. The things I could learn from Xaden’s brother. “If you don’t agree to drag him along, that means he’ll probably just try to follow you anyways for my sake. He’s definitely more likely to get you both caught without help.” 

I groan at the sense that he makes. 

“Answer me one thing before I agree.” I demand stubbornly. 

“Ask me.” Xaden responds patiently. 

“I know why you put Liam on my squad. Why did you drag Ivan along too?”

He blinks. “I figured you’d be upset if I let him be moved to a squad without anyone to watch his back. He’s one of us so I know we can trust him, and he’s also your friend so I thought you’d enjoy having him around.” 

I sigh heavily and lift my arms from around where they’ve been stubbornly laying against my sides and I return his hug fiercely. He might have made a decision on my behalf, but I can’t deny that he was considering both my wants and needs. “You were right about that.”

“Can you repeat that for me, Violence?”

“Don’t get used to it,” I complain. “But I see where you’re coming from. I can compromise. He can follow me around in the daytime and when you’re not in the quadrant, I suppose he can join me for my nightly activities. But he needs to listen! I have a system in place after so long, and it will be hard enough hiding somebody his size.”

“He will be briefed to follow instructions,” Xaden promises with an amused look in his eyes as he strokes his hands down my back. I can feel it through my cloak. “Thank you for understanding. I need to know that you’re protected at night.” 

I groan again, but it feels lovely to receive his affection so I soak it up regardless. “I think I’ll prefer it when you’re more hands-on in your protection. I like Liam but he’s not welcome in my bed when you’re gone.” I tease lightly and enjoy the way that his eyes darken. Maybe his hatred for Dain had more to do with me than I had always assumed. 

Does Xaden have a jealous streak? 

“Glad you agree, little spy,” He growls low in his throat and wraps his hand behind my neck to tilt back my head roughly to meet his gaze. “I may not have made it clear last night, but you’re mine now, Violence. It will be me in your room, in your bed. And I don’t share.” 

The heat in my stomach rises and threatens to burn me alive. I guess that answers Rhiannon’s question. “I don’t share either.” I tell him firmly and lift my arms up to wrap tightly around his waist again. “Even if we can’t be open around the quadrant, you better know that you’re mine. If you ever want out, you have to tell me.” 

“All yours.” Xaden promises with a growl as he captures my lips in a fierce, biting kiss that leaves me weak at the knees. He angles my head to his liking and explores my mouth with much more force than he dared last night. I savor the taste and the scent of him flooding my senses. I feel myself falling into a decadent sea of mint and leather and desperate gasps fall from my lips in the moments he gives me to catch a breath. 

Fuck, the man knows how to kiss. 

Overwhelmed but not idle, I explore his body hungrily. I lift my hands under the leather of his jacket to run them up and down the unending length of his back and his broad shoulders. While we continue ravaging each other’s mouths, I sneak my hands lower to play with the hem of his tunic, before sliding my hands under the fabric and up to finally caress those abdominals I’ve thought so much about. I run my hands from his waistband up the ridges of his muscles greedily and I hum in appreciation against his mouth. 

Xaden is so much more impressive up close. He has so much raw power wrapped inside his body. The pure potential of his magnificent form and what he could do to me threatens to send me to my knees. I press every line of my body closer and savor the way Xaden’s hand behind my neck tightens in response. I barely notice his other hand undoing my cloak until I hear the fabric hit the floor around me. He takes off his jacket and drops it without disconnecting our lips. I don’t see where it ends up. He maneuvers us to lightly press my back up against my armoire. 

He pulls back to whisper roughly. “Did you know the wards I put up have a silencing charm?” 

Fuck, and I thought I was supposed to be the smart one in this relationship. A silencing charm is brilliant. I feel a heat in my gut come to life at the unspoken promise in his words. 

Shit, we have plans tonight! Ones that involve way more clothes that I’m picturing right now. 

I try to be the voice of reason. “We already have kept them waiting once.” 

‘That is wise, Silver One. We do not have all night to wait on you. Make your way to the flight field.’

Gods, the dragons really do see everything. I flush brightly and Xaden looks surprised. “Uh, Tairn agrees with me. We should go.” In my embarrassment, I stumble over my cloak and Xaden has to catch me. I yelp and brace my hands against his chest. “Sorry!” 

Xaden just smiles down at me affectionately and reaches up a hand to brush against my cheek. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He pulls away to pick up my cloak and secures it back in place. I walk over to my desk and quickly arm myself. If I let Xaden do it, I might be tempted to test those wards out before we leave. 

He has already put on his jacket back on by the time I turn around, so we move quickly out towards the tunnel that I thought led to the flight fields. I love being right. 

Xaden summons a magelight for us and we hurry along. “What’s your next move going to be, Violence?”

I hum in thought. “Well, I have a few ideas. I usually organize things in my mind into lists, and I determined that I have seven things to focus on right now.” 

“That’s oddly specific.” He raises an eyebrow. 

I nudge him with my shoulder roughly and he doesn’t move an inch. “Did you want to know or not?” 

“Tell me your list.” 

I roll my eyes at his tone. “The full list isn’t important. Conditioning is number one. I can’t keep my seat without help from Tairn. I will focus on that. You can sort the rest of my priorities into two categories. The things that I have to look out for, assassins and unbonded cadets and other threats. And the things that I have to look into, including my special project.”

“Special project?” 

I look out into the distant darkness of the tunnel ahead thoughtfully. “I have some ideas.” 

“What kind of ideas?” Xaden looks scared to learn the answer. 

I hesitate. “I don’t want to oversell anything.” 

He stops walking to look at me. I almost laugh at how the nerves fade into an intrigued expression so quickly. I gesture for him to keep moving and he does, at a much slower pace.

“It could be nothing. Or it could be the kind of thing that kills one of them." I explain. "I managed to paralyze one. That means something. None of what I had did the trick out there, but if I can find something that does? I think something like that could help people without daggers. I don’t know if your friends have tried the poison route but it hasn’t failed me yet.” 

Xaden eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think we have. It’s almost strange considering—” He cuts himself off sharply. 

I raise an eyebrow. “Considering what?” 

He shakes his head. “Just wondering how much I don’t know due to being stuck here. You think you can come up with something that kills them?” 

I really hope so. I shrug at him and answer honestly. “I don’t know. Even if I can’t make any guarantees, I’ll have new options in case I find myself needing them someday. Plus I love a project. It'll keep me busy.” 

Xaden laughs to himself. “You're not busy enough? But I think that's amazing. Is there anything I can do?” 

My eyes go wide in surprise. “Like to help me?” 

“Of course. That would be a massive discovery. I am very pro-things that can save your life, if you couldn’t tell already.” 

I smile at his words. “Do you have connections to smuggle things from Poromiel?” 

He nods slightly. “Depends what you need.” 

“I’ll make a list. What about information? Can we talk more about the alloy sometime? I need to know everything that you know about it's production." 

"Of course. We'll talk about it." 

"Okay. I can't wait." Xaden pulls open the hidden entrance and I happily step into the moonlight trying to hide my wide smile. It’s silly to be so happy about something as simple as Xaden offering to help me with my new experiments. But people have rarely helped me before. Not with something like this. 

I feel a tug at my soul and I look up to see Tairn and Sgaeyl waiting for us in the distance. Andarna is bouncing forward and I can’t help but pick up the pace to meet her. I throw my arms around her neck and bury my face into her soft chest. 

‘Hi, little one. We missed you this morning.’

Andarna chuffs and bumps me with her forehead. ‘Tairn said I can’t go! Not until I can fly faster. One day I am going to be so fast, he won’t even be able to catch me.’ 

I smile at her offended tone. I’m glad Tairn and Sgaeyl take such good care of her, because I’m sure that Andarna does not make it easy. 

Tairn speaks in my head and I somehow know that he’s sent it through our bond alone. ‘You have no idea.’ 

I chuckle out loud at his long-suffering tone. It’s interesting that I’m able to maintain private connections while in such an interconnected bond. 

Xaden and I finally catch up to our large dragons who are both curled up lazily next to each other. Sgaeyl is just as fierce and intimidating as ever, even if I’m next to Tairn, and I’m almost certain he wouldn’t let her eat me.

I nod respectfully in her direction while Xaden approaches to greet her affectionately, and I turn to Tairn and rest my hand on the side of his head. ‘Hi grumpy.’

He immediately huffs out hot air. ‘Do keep talking, Silver One. I’ll come up with many fun ideas for our next flight lesson.’ 

I throw my head back and laugh. “Okay, okay. No more making fun. I’m here to talk.”

‘Your wingleader seems to have shared much already. Good.’ 

I open my mouth to agree, but Xaden beats me to it. “I did.” 

“You can hear him?” I direct my question at Xaden. 

“Mated dragons.” He shrugs. 

Well, I guess that does explain it. Does that mean… my eyes trail to Sgaeyl and she blinks at me with frightening slowness. I quickly direct my gaze back at Tairn. His mate is one scary dragon. 

There is a thrum of silent agreement through the bond. I can’t recognize if it’s from Tairn or Andarna. It’s probably from both. 

“I don’t think my venin knowledge is complete in any way,” I argue. “Do the dragons have any clue about their goals?” 

Tairn grumbles. ‘Humans are not entitled to the knowledge of the Empyrean. I can tell you that we do not know what they want, only that they seek power to corrupt.’

I start mumbling to myself. “Why implant venin at Basgiath when there is power outside of the wards left to target? Sabotage is understandable but it doesn’t fit. It could be related to Navarre manufacturing the weapons that can kill them, but it’s not exactly like we’re using them to fight them. Not really. Fucking cowards. If it’s an alliance instead since the attack was probably from leadership, why work with someone like Colonel Aetos? He is not high enough up the chain. But the more I think about it, the venin do not strike me as an alliance type of group. They have to want something, something that would be difficult for them to take alone. Why Basgiath at all? Calldyr is the seat of power. Hm. Something here... probably not the luminary Xaden mentioned...”

Xaden tries to interject. “Violence—” 

Too bad that I am already in the middle of a train of thought. “The one in the cave talked about draining Andarna. I know he was a weak one, but what if the venin really are after the dragons? Or, more specifically, the Vale?” 

Tairn and Sgaeyl both start growling at my words, and I have to stop myself from flinching back as the ground begins to shake from the force of their anger. I take a careful step backwards towards Xaden. “Shit, I'm sorry! I was just thinking out loud.” 

My dragon shifts and I can see the way his body roils in anger. ‘Your logic is sound as usual, Silver One. Unfortunately, it would not do to speculate when we do not have the information. The Empyrean would never support an alliance between Navarre and the dark wielders, especially at the cost of our magic grounds.’ 

I nod in understanding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you two. I let my mind get ahead of itself sometimes.”

Xaden throws an arm around my shoulder and I lean into him gratefully. 

‘You did not upset us, violent one,’ a deep female voice speaks into my head. I follow the connection and I can recognize the blue shimmer of her power, weaker than my bonds to my dragons but undeniably tethered to me through Tairn. 

“Violent one?” I ask out loud. Did she pick that one up from Xaden? I should probably stab him for that. Or would that only prove their point? 

She continues as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Now, so I may continue my night uninterrupted, is there anything urgent to discuss? Perhaps one more item?’ 

I have a terrible feeling that we have different definitions of urgent, and that Sgaeyl would not like my definition very much. Everything is urgent to me. I try to rein in my curiosity but it’s not easy. If I only had to know one more thing… 

“What about feathertails?” Xaden straightens next to me. I suppose that he hasn’t considered that bonding one would be different. Or does he not know how young she is? “You said there was a reason they don’t usually bond. You can tell me if it’s some dragon secret, but I’d like to be prepared if possible.”

Andarna moves to stand by my side and I lean towards her gratefully. Standing between Xaden and Andarna, right in front of Tairn and Sgaeyl, might be the safest place in the world. Even if Sgaeyl is terrifying. 

Tairn sends a begrudging wave of agreement. ‘You will not be able to channel magic through her in the same way.’

Channeling from one dragon is a privilege, so I’m not exactly heartbroken about it. Just having Andarna is more than enough. I shrug and smile at my little dragon in understanding before turning back to Tairn. “That makes sense. So I should only expect one signet?” 

Andarna is the one that speaks. ‘I can share my power directly! You don’t need to channel it at all.’

I freeze at her words. At Xaden’s confused look, I realize that he can’t hear her. Right, the mating bond is what connects him to Tairn. 

‘What does that mean, Andarna?’ I ask gently. 

Tairn answers for her. ‘What that means is that any powers you receive will be her own life force. Bonded feathertails are in danger of damage due to overuse. Whatever it may manifest as, any powers from her will be… volatile. They will also likely be temporary, until she matures and you may develop a secondary signet.’

My mind spins at the possibilities. If leadership found out that a person can take advantage of a dragon in such a way, they would target feathertails. For research and for much more nefarious reasons. 

“Nobody can know.” I state firmly. 

“Can someone fill me in?” Xaden asks and I realize Tairn had left him out the explanation. I send my dragon a look.

‘You are the one who said we could trust him.’ 

‘You must trust him. But that does not obligate me to speak to him more than absolutely necessary.’

I huff a laugh at the annoyance in his tone. I wonder what history there is between my dragon and Xaden. He has been bonded to his mate for the last two years after-all. 

I turn to the man in question. “Feathertails are very young dragons. Not hatchlings,” I look at Andarna and she chuffs in happiness that I remembered. “But young." I watch him throw an almost wounded look at Sgaeyl and rush to clarify. "Andarna lost her parents before she hatched, so they look after her along with the other elders. Feathertails do not channel normally. Any powers that I receive from her will be tied to her life and can hurt her. Leadership needs to stay away from feathertails, because they would only try to twist something beautiful to their advantage.” 

His eyes are narrowed in thought. “That makes sense. So we don’t tell anyone.” 

I nod in agreement and then turn back to our dragons. “Do I really only get one question?” 

Xaden laughs at my whining tone and Tairn huffs in amusement. I’m more concerned with how Sgaeyl reacts. Tairn reaches out and nudges her with his long neck and I watch in fascination and she breathes out hot air and fake lunges as if to bite at him. In response, Tairn wraps his neck even closer and nuzzles her in return. 

Dragon relationships are fascinating. 

“I think that’s a no,” I murmur in disappointment. “Oh, well. I suppose I should go anyway.”

“To bed?” Xaden asks hopefully. 

I try to smile without looking guilty. “I, uh, guess my plans can wait.”

He nods encouragingly, and I kiss a night of productivity goodbye. “Can we at least sleep in your room?” I ask with a cheeky smile. “I love a private bathroom.” 

Xaden smirks and I let him tug me along back towards the entrance to the tunnel, even if I do drag my feet. 

‘Goodnight, Andarna. Goodnight, Tairn. Talk to you soon.’ I call out obediently. I’ll be better prepared with more questions next time. Hesitantly, I add ‘Goodnight, Sgaeyl’ and then hastily turn around to pick up my pace before I can see her reaction. 

Once we’re in the tunnel, I notice that Xaden keeps staring at me. 

“Do I have something on my face?” I ask sarcastically. 

Xaden pulls me to a stop and turns me around so I’m pressed up against the wall of the tunnel. He leans down and captures my lips in a quick and heated kiss that leaves me weak in the knees. I throw my arms over his shoulders and try to tug myself closer. Too soon, he pulls away and presses our foreheads together gently. 

“I just find you gorgeous when you’re curious or trying to solve a problem,” Xaden tells me roughly. 

“Well, I’ve got good news for you…” I tease him with a pleased smirk. “That’s like my whole deal.” 

“Oh, I know.” Xaden laughs lightly and takes a step back. His hand easily finds mine to tug us on our way. We’ll have to stop by my room on the first-year floor again for clothes, but it’s a small price to pay in order to cuddle up to my big and scary Wingleader through the night. 

Maybe I can convince him to partake in that private bathroom with me. Plans, secret in a much different way, fill my mind as we walk quickly through the tunnel.

Chapter Text

To my complete lack of surprise, Liam is waiting expectantly next to me the minute I stand up to leave the table after dinner the next night. I sigh lightly and give him a begrudging smile. Xaden is out tonight. Liam follows me silently and I turn to him as soon as we reach an empty corridor. 

“So I’m guessing you are on duty tonight?” 

Liam rubs the back of his neck. “You could say that.”

“Could I?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.

“You could also say that I’m hanging out with my squad mate and hopefully a new friend.”

I feel my stone heart cracking at the genuine hope in his voice and the bright smile on his face. I try to hold on to my reservations desperately. “It might be boring to follow little old me around.” 

Liam’s eyes sparkle. “I’m certain that you’re selling yourself short. I’ve heard many words to describe you but boring is never one of them.”

My face flushes at the knowing tone in his voice. “Foster brother, huh?” I question lightly. 

Liam dips his head in confirmation and I admire the mischievous look on his handsome face. This one is going to drive the quadrant mad, if he isn’t already. “We could be valuable sources of information for each other. I think you love information, Violet.” 

I grumble at being seen through to my very core. “Well, I suppose you can join me.” 

He laughs in triumph. “Don’t worry. I have instructions to follow your every direction.”

I take off walking towards the corridor that will take us to the Scribe Quadrant. I told Jesinia yesterday to meet me after dinner with the book of my father’s research. It’s the last one of the items she carried for me on Conscription Day when I had to limit my weight while crossing the parapet. In all likelihood, her intervention saved my life. Both The Fable of the Barrens and my father’s research are heavy. 

I had a feeling that I could not leave them unattended in my rooms after I left my family’s chambers. It was a good thing too, since I no longer have access. I checked out of curiosity a month ago while the General was in Calldyr and the ward didn’t unlock for me. She was quite serious about cutting off ties until I graduated. 

Jesinia is right where I showed her to wait for me, in one of the secluded corners of the scribe’s courtyard, easily obscured by the surrounding foliage. 

“Hi, Jesinia,” I sign happily. “Guess who bonded two dragons?”

Her eyes widen in excitement and she rushes forward to give me a hug, scribe training be damned. I embrace her back gratefully. She has been keeping my heart, my father’s research, under her protection for months and she doesn’t even know it. 

She pulls away to sign back with enthusiastic gestures. “If anyone could do the impossible and convince two dragons to bond one rider, it’s you.” 

I blush at her praise. Jesinia has always been one of my biggest supporters when I was isolating myself to train. She was the only one that I continued to crack my heart open for. Perhaps she’s the reason it did not close completely before I ended up in that turret talking to Rhiannon.

“Okay, okay, enough.” I remove my hands from my face to sign in a huff but I’m smiling. “I’m glad to see you doing well. I haven’t been to the Archives for almost three weeks. How is everything?” I sign quickly.

Jesinia gets a strange look on her face and glances at Liam warily. My interest peaks. 

“This is Liam, my new shadow.” I sign and gesture to him while speaking out loud. “Liam, this is Jesinia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you!” Liam winks at her and introduces himself with perfect sign language. He even had his name sign ready. I raise an eyebrow in surprise. One shouldn’t underestimate Liam Mairi. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Jesinia responds with a small blush. I don’t blame her. Direct exposure to a flirtatious Liam Mairi smile is deadly. 

I wonder if Xaden knows sign language…

I continue the conversation and switch back to signing exclusively. No chance of being overheard. “He’s safe to talk in front of.” I assure her with a smile. Xaden told me he trusts Liam implicitly, so I will too. He is the only first-year who gets information from the inner circle. 

She nods and hesitantly begins to sign. “It could be nothing. There was a cadet who requested something and then he seemed to just… disappear.”

My eyes widen. “What kind of things was he looking for? Do you have his name?”

“I’m not sure. I checked all of the logs and I couldn’t find any records. I only realized because he was on library duty and he always used to flirt with me.”

“I can see why,” Liam chimes in. I roll my eyes at him. 

Jesinia flushes and continues her explanation. “I don’t know why I thought it was so strange. Cadets stop showing up all the time, especially from your quadrant. But something felt off.” 

I freeze. “Jesinia… did you log those field reports I had you pull for me a few weeks after parapet?” They were ultimately not useful and redacted beyond belief, but if cadets are being targeted for pulling sensitive information… 

Jesinia seems to hesitate for a moment, and then stares at me seriously. “I never log any of the things you request, Violet.” 

My eyes widen and I blink back tears. “You could get in a lot of trouble for that.” 

I have never told her about the truth I was searching for, but I know that she had her suspicions after watching me train mercilessly for a year. For her to deliberately try to help me hide my secrets without asking? I am in awe of her faith in me. 

She shrugs. “I told you when you gave me the books to watch over that I was on your side.”

I pull her into another fierce hug and pull back just as swiftly. “You need to be careful. I have more of an idea of what’s going on now, and it’s nothing good. Follow the rules and keep your eyes open. Do not trust Markham.” I sign with clear stress on my words of caution. 

Jesinia nods her head seriously and I can see Liam looking between the two of us from the corner of my eye. “Can I get my book? We have things on the agenda for tonight.” 

I ignore the intrigued on Liam’s face. She hands me the locked book from her bag. I carefully transfer it to my own and look up at her. “Any chance you’d join me for a little project? I could use the help of a Morrainian expert. It could be… dangerous.” The emphasis on the word was clear. 

Jesinia agrees immediately. “We can meet after your lessons with Markham.”

I shake my head. “This will have to be done outside of the Archives unfortunately. I’ll let you know when, and then I’ll come pick you up after dinner.” 

She nods in understanding and moves to adjust her much lighter bag. “See you later, Violet. It was nice meeting you, Liam.”

We both wave and watch as she follows the path back to the dormitory for scribes. 

“I should have expected you to have scribe allies, Violet.” 

I raise my chin to look at him before gesturing for him to follow. “I never asked her to be my ally in this, but Jesinia is stubborn for a scribe. She’s my friend. The only one I really had left by the time I crossed the parapet.”

“What are you asking for her help on?” 

I raise an eyebrow. “How much has Xaden told you?”

“Pretty much nothing, if you can believe it. The bare minimum. I think he’s embarrassed personally.” 

I laugh at the teasing tone that only a brother can manage. “Okay, what do you know?” 

He turns to look around for any wandering ears and I roll my eyes. I know there isn’t. I grab him by the shirt and pull him into one of the secret tunnels that’s hidden behind a giant heavy tapestry. Basgiath’s builders had a flair for the dramatic. “What the hell?” He looks around wide-eyed. 

“Stick with me, Mairi, and you’ll see more of Basgiath that you ever imagined.” I tease him with a smile he can barely see in the fading light, while keeping my voice low. “Now follow me carefully. There’s no magelight in here and I am still unfortunately without lesser magic.”

‘Be patient, Silver One,’ Tairn chides and I ignore him. I know it will take time, but I can’t deny that magelights and continuous ink pens would make my life easier. 

Liam feels around for the wall and begins to follow me. “And you said I would be bored.” 

I laugh very quietly and take the left that I’m looking for by memory. “No distractions. What do you know about me?” 

He hesitates for a moment, and I stay quiet until he finds his words. “I wasn’t kidding when I said not much. Besides forbidding us from harming you, Xaden only told the inner circle—that’s Garrick and Bodhi—that he suspects you’re spying on Navarre, and let it slip once that you used poison. He told me the morning after Threshing about the mated dragons and that he was moving me into your squad to help keep you safe. At lunch yesterday, we went to his room and he said you were attacked during Threshing and that you know the truth about them. He also told me not to embarrass myself while I watch you work, which was a little offensive, but okay.” 

My smile at his tone is mostly involuntary. Liam has a way of making a person feel at ease. “Big muscular guys don’t usually do well with spying,” I explain with a shrug that he can’t see in the dark. “I suppose that means you’ve figured out about the egg incident.” 

Liam laughs loudly and it echoes throughout the stone tunnel. There he goes, being loud and easy to find.

“Okay, lesson one, voice down when we’re using secret methods to get around undetected,” I mutter and wait for the noise to die down before I keep walking. “Some of these tunnels have circulatory systems that connect to the areas of Basgiath still in use. The chances of us being heard are slim but never zero.” 

“Sorry,” he whispers. I giggle softly to myself imagining his face as one of a small boy being disciplined. 

“It’s okay. Xaden has told you about what I expected. The book I received from Jesinia is my father’s research, from before he died. I asked her to carry it for me on Conscription Day along with a few other books that I didn’t want to weigh me down. She’s been keeping it safe until I was in a private room.”

“What makes it so important?” 

“Well, are you fond of a mystery?” I ask sarcastically without waiting on a response. “The only thing I had left in the world from my father was a storybook he left me. The Fable of the Barrens. It features exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s not the kind of book you can find at the Archives.” 

Liam questions come rapidfire. “So you just recognized them from the story? When did you figure it out? Is that why you’re spying?” 

I hesitate and guide us down the next right from memory. Xaden said that Liam is to be trusted, so I tell myself that it is okay to share this with him. “I didn’t figure it out, not until it was almost too late. The reason I’ve been spying is because of what I found inside the book over a year ago.”

“Inside of the book?” 

“The General had just told me that I was crossing the parapet. I was… inconsolable. My father had died a few months before. I lost Brennan and barely ever saw Mira. And now my mother was sending me to die. I snapped and threw everything on my desk against the wall, including the book. It revealed a hidden letter from my father and I learned something important that day.” 

“Found out what?” Liam asks quietly. 

“My father didn’t tell me about them. Not in so many words. But he warned me about keeping my mouth shut if I had discovered the same inconsistencies and lies that he had when I entered the Scribe Quadrant. He said that he was hiding his research from everyone, including my mother and my sister. And t-that,” I stop speaking to take a deep breath. “He feared he wouldn’t be able to tell me in person. He knew that they would kill him, and he worried that they would get me too.” 

Liam stops walking and I turn around quickly, but I can hardly make out his features in the dark. That’s probably why it’s easier to be so forthcoming. 

“Navarre killed your dad?” Liam asks in a low voice. 

“I’m almost certain.”

“And your mother…?” His voice trails off. 

“Knows something.” My voice is clipped. “We are not on the same side.” 

“I see that, Violet,” Liam tells me kindly, and I try to believe him. I know how the marked ones view me. 

I turn around to start walking again. We’re almost there. 

“The letter was written in Tyrrish, funnily enough. I learned when I was nine,” I tell him conversationally as he begins to follow. “But there was an addendum in Morrainian, which I do not know, so thanks dad. The letter said to find his research, which I liberated from my mother’s chambers. It is locked with a linguistic puzzle that will presumably destroy the book with a single incorrect response. The only clue is a note, also written in Morrainian. He always had a sense of humor.” 

We finally exit out into a corridor with lighting, but it’s still in a largely unused part of Basgiath. I lower my voice considerably and Liam follows suit. 

“That does sound like a mystery.”

I direct us down the hall towards the room Basgiath stores their official cadet records with purpose. We’re in a nearly unused part of the Scribe Quadrant now, but we should still move quickly. It’s such a shame that the scribes who are in charge of upkeep are unable to power wards, and they use non-magical locks. I finish my explanation to Liam in a hurried whisper.

“I’ve been learning Morrainian for over a year, but nothing makes sense when I try to translate it. At least not the one from his letter. I think they might be in code. My father used to teach me about ciphers when I was younger. But I don’t know how to crack it, and Jesinia is both fluent and brilliant.” 

Liam nods in understanding. “You think your father’s research has something to do with… them.”

“I don’t know. His official research topic was on feathertails.” I can feel Tairn grumble in my mind, and send him a wave of calm. I would never share any dragon secrets, even if Xaden said Liam is to be trusted. “My only hope is that he was using it as a front to leadership to hide information that could help us. He obviously knew the truth. If it’s not about them, maybe it’s about the wards. People outside of Navarre need protection.” 

My voices drop to a near silent whisper by the end. We’re near the door. I pull Liam to a stop by the back of his jacket before he can turn the corner recklessly. “Lesson two, slow down before you turn corners.” I admonish gently. 

He steps back with a guilty face and I lean forward slowly to look around and listen for any activity. There is no light shining from under the door, no hint of magic from any new wards they may have added when I wasn’t looking, and one non-magical lock.

“We can go.” 

I stride forward to the door confidently and Liam follows close behind. “Where are we? Are you going to pick the lock?” He seems so excited about the answer that I feel bad bursting his bubble.

“I would if I had to,” I whisper as I pull out my collection of stolen keys and carefully flick through them to find the small symbol I inked to mean the Records Room. “But I have a key. We are going to take a peek at some records. This place isn’t included on any rounds overnight so we can take our time.” 

His blue eyes go comically wide. “Why do you have that key?” 

With a shrug, I let us into the room with very little fanfare. The small magelights immediately light up the space, but I know from spending several hours here at a time that they do not notify anyone. I block the bottom of the door with my jacket so none of the light leaks into the corridor. This hallway should remain empty but better safe than sorry. 

“I stole it. I’ve had a lot of time and very little oversight.” I tell him in a matter-of-fact tone as I pull out the list of names that I didn’t recognize from the last several days of death rolls during formation. “We are looking for information on the second-year cadet that was sent to kill me during Threshing. He was not a normal rider.”

Liam looks at my list. I wave a copy that I made towards him and he grabs it quickly. “These are the cadet names I didn’t recognize that have been called out during the death roll since Threshing. There is a chance that his death was not reported, but it is the only lead I have. Well, mostly.” 

“What does that mean?”

“How much do you want to know?” I ask seriously. He looks at me in confusion. 

I rub my free hand across my face and groan a little. “Look, it’s an odd fact in our relationship that your brother expects you to put yourself between me and the shit that I’ve seen. I hate that you’re stuck with me and it could get you killed. But hey, I’m learning to compromise. Xaden can’t be with me all the time and our lives are intertwined. You both want me alive, which is a nice change of pace from my usual welcome.”

Dropping my hands, I open my eyes to stare at Liam, who is looking surprised at my brutal honesty. “I think information is power. It’s an unfortunate hang-up I have. If you’re choosing to risk your life, I would choose to arm you with all of the information I have that could impact your ability to stay alive. But the more you know, the more you have to hide. The double-edged blade of intel. So it’s your choice. Not mine, not Xaden’s.”

His expression shifts into something determined. “Tell me everything.” I nod in response. If he wants to know, I’m not going to keep him in the dark. Not while his life is on the line. I couldn't give less of a shit about shields. I care about keeping us alive. 

"Okay, I won't hold anything back that you may need to know." 

“You also mentioned something about lockpicking and I have always wanted to learn how to do that.” Liam adds impishly. 

I laugh at his enthusiasm. “Oh, Mairi, I could teach you a thing or two.” 

“This is way better than History.” I giggle to myself and pull him towards the rows of cabinets with cadet files from the Rider’s Quadrant. I push him to start at one side of a long row of cabinets. 

“I bet I could change your mind. You should try our History study group. Ivan has been going for the last couple months, and he really likes it—unless he’s lying to me that it’s helpful. There is candy involved.”

Liam laughs and agrees easily. “I’ll be there. And if Ivan lies about anything, it’s probably because you’re a scary spy who poisons people, so give the poor guy a break.” 

I shush him and point to the cabinet he should start with. “These should be from the last ten years. Start on that side and work your way towards me.” I approach the far end. “This could take a while.”

He looks at the row of cabinets in surprise. “You were planning on looking through all of these alone?”

I blink in response. “I planned on doing everything alone,” I tell him honestly. “Until Xaden at least.” 

“Well, I’m glad I can help. What else did you want to tell me? Your other leads?” 

“They’re not relevant right now. If we don’t find anything from the death toll names, I need to look into the man who most likely gave the order. Colonel Aetos. There is also the matter of a strange door I found blocked by a powerful ward in the Healer’s Quadrant. I’d like to avoid outright reconnaissance if I can, if only because I have a busy schedule of learning how to be a rider and trying not to die.”

Liam jaw drops and he tries to speak for several long moments. “Y-you think Squad Leader Aetos’ father is the one? The one who tried to have you killed? And what is this about a door?” 

His blank face makes me realize that it was too much information at once. I go over a year carefully monitoring the things I reveal, and then I go too fast the first time I truly let someone in besides Xaden. Go figure. 

“Maybe I’ll explain the rest of that later.” I add quickly. “It’s kind of a long conversation and you should be focused on the files. Names please.” I direct his attention carefully and Liam finally begins pulling open the first cabinet on his end. 

“Okay. What am I looking for besides the names?” 

“This rider had a second-year designation and a patch from Third Wing on his jacket, but he could easily have been wearing one that wasn’t his own so work off of concrete details only. Pale, short dark hair… his eyes were…” red-rimmed and filled with hate. “Dark colored. Brown most likely. Over six feet tall. No signet patch or any weapon masteries, but he carried a longsword.” And my fucking dagger. “I didn’t see any visible relics or marks.” Now I wish I would have looked more closely for his identity, but I limped out of that cave as fast as I could without sparing him a glance. "Pull any files from that list that match the description.”

Liam eyes sharpen at his assignment and examines the names before flipping through the files in earnest. I monitor him carefully to make sure he’s skimming the appropriate information before I return to my own cabinet. He’s a diligent helper when he’s focused. 

“What are you hoping to find?” Liam asks after we’ve been searching silently for a while. 

“Anything. Everything. All information serves a purpose. We just don’t know it yet.” I answer automatically without looking up from the folder I had pulled out. 

“Is that lesson three, boss?” he asks cheekily. I pause so I can look up and roll my eyes at him. 

“Keep it up and I’ll let you continue being all loud and get caught.”

“What do you mean? My footsteps are not loud!” He sounds very offended. 

To be fair, he’s right. Liam is sure-footed and confident, and most of the noise from his steps is negligible. But that’s not all that spying is about. 

I roll my eyes again and put away the file I’ve eliminated before turning to him. Liam may be the number one cadet in our year, but I could tail him for weeks before he noticed me. As long as Xaden doesn’t help him cheat. I’d catch him following me in an hour. 

“It’s not always footsteps that get you caught, Liam. It’s…” I struggle to find the right words to soften the blow, and then decide that I shouldn’t. “Okay. You shift your weight when you stand still for more than thirty seconds, your breathing is audible, you fiddle with something in your pocket when you don’t have anything to do with your hands, and your heart was beating loud enough that I could hear it when I was unlocking the door to this room... Those are the types of things that get you caught when you watch someone. The things that give someone the feeling of eyes over their shoulder that makes them want to investigate. If you have to run away, the sound of your footsteps doesn't matter because you’ve already lost.” 

Liam goes slightly red at my words. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Violet?”

“Why would I do that when knowing better could save your life one day?” 

He chuckles and continues thumbing through files, taking one out on occasion to examine more closely. “You sound like Xaden. Except he would just take me to the mat over and over again without mercy and then tell me it’s for my own good.” 

Sounds familiar. “Xaden trained you?” 

“I couldn’t have done it without him. I heard he’s been training you too.” 

With a small smile on my face, I nod. “That’s true. I didn’t realize how stagnant my growth had become until he changed my outlook. He’s kind of a prick, but he is a surprisingly effective teacher, isn’t he?” 

He laughs loudly without reservation. “A prick but effective is a good way to describe him actually.” I try and fail to suppress my giggles in response. 

“An asshole for the greater good, maybe?” I tease. 

“Even better,” he agrees. “As you can obviously tell from your list, I haven’t had to even think about stealth. So tell me, boss, how do I fix it?” 

I bite back a laugh at the new nickname and continue leafing through my own cabinet. “It’s not that simple. I’m sure people have different methods for it. I’ve always used visualizations because that’s what my father taught me for pain management. Mind over body.”

“Mind over body?” Liam questions. 

My voice gets quiet and my fingers pause in their investigation. “My whole life, I’ve woken up every day in some type of pain because of how I was made. He taught me how to take all of it and put it into a box so it did not control my life. Pain is temporary. Insignificant, even. I may feel it, but I don’t let it effect me.”

His blue eyes are shining with something familiar. Perhaps it’s not the same pity people have looked at me with my entire life, but it’s something close. Liam dips his head in understanding. “That’s where your pain tolerance comes from.”

“Probably, or my sheer exposure to it over the years.” I shift uncomfortably. “But the reason I bring it up is because of the way I learned. I visualize my body as a separate entity that I control. Your version might look different, but I usually count my heartbeats. It helps with the breathing, the fidgeting, the racing heart. I’d hate to give the best cadet in our year additional homework but meditation helps with focus. Focus is everything.” 

“I’m always on the lookout for things to make me better,” Liam jokes, but I can tell there is a spark of a challenge in his eyes. I have a feeling that Liam Mairi might try to win meditation. 

I wonder for a moment if Xaden would object to me teaching his foster brother all my tips and tricks for spying and sneaking about Basgiath. I decide that I don’t care. If he’s going to risk Liam’s life, I’ll give him full-disclosure. It’s just that full-disclosure around me includes some interesting lessons. 

“Well, I could always teach you how to poison people.” I offer with a voice that is only half-joking. 

He seems surprised, but he looks to be considering it. “I respect your arsenal but I’m not really the type of fighter who needs poison.”

Spoken like a man who glided through the Gauntlet as if gravity was a mere suggestion. I avoid rolling my eyes, since his confidence is clearly earned, and stare at him. “Bold words for someone who has never been in the field. If you would have encountered what I did at Threshing without poison, and without one of those special daggers, you might be dead right now, Liam.” 

I think about the bloodstains on my assassin’s weapon from before he found me. Someone wasn’t as lucky as I was, and I still don’t know what happened. 

He stops searching through the files to stare at me. “You poisoned one of them?”

“Yes and no. Nothing I had seemed to kill him, but I managed to paralyze him with a poisoned dagger that I adapted from a very strong anesthetic. It worked long enough for me to incapacitate him. Besides looking for clues about who is trying to kill me, my newest project is figuring out the right formula for next time. Paralyzation is good, but death would be better.” Less messy at least. 

Liam’s eyes shine bright blue with curiosity. “That’s what we’re going to be sneaking around at night doing?” 

I look at him for a few meaningful moments. “If you insist on being my shadow. None of the things I’m working on can be considered safe by any definition. I’ll argue against Xaden to relieve you of duty if you want out. I’ll even blame it on my need for privacy so he isn’t angry at you. I have a history of winning those fights, so the odds are good.” 

He laughs and shakes his head in response. “I’m sure Xaden doesn’t stand a chance.”

I smirk and look back towards the files. I’ve already eliminated two more names. One is a woman and the other is blonde. 

“I’m in, Violet,” Liam continues seriously. “I’ll help you with everything you’re doing. I’ll listen to all of your advice and pick up on all of the little tricks you teach me so I don’t get us caught. Anything you need.”

I look up at him consideringly. There is a genuine excitement in his eyes, not just acceptance that he’s going to be stuck following me around. I think about Liam, the only first-year with information from the inner circle, who has to watch his closest friends risk their lives for the greater good. Feeling powerless is never fun, no matter if you’re a weak Sorrengail or the best cadet in our year told to wait until next year to help. 

Perhaps he is just as eager to find a way to support their efforts as I am. 

“I’ve never had a research assistant before.” I tell him casually. “I suppose you can have the job. Now get back to work.”

Liam smiles widely at my words and turns back to the files once more. “You got it, boss.” 

I bite back a grin and cross off another name on the list. Dark-hair and brown eyes in the profile, but only five foot eight. It also says he was burned alive during Threshing last year. 

“Oh, and Liam?” I add once we’re both back to work. 

“Yes?”

“Xaden doesn’t need to know specifics during the little reports I’m guessing he’ll demand. I get the feeling he’s protective like that. Broad explanations only, okay? We’ll need to trust each other if you’re going to be working with me.”

He looks troubled and I sigh at seeing the torn look in his eyes. “I’m not saying you can’t report it if I’m putting myself in danger. But I’m used to working alone. I’d like to report my findings once I have a chance to process and come to my own conclusions.” Liam hesitates, and I play the card that I didn’t want to. “I know for a fact that Xaden is still holding back truths from me, Liam. I’m not planning on lying to Xaden but you need to trust that I might be holding things back for a reason too, until I’m ready.” 

This is my project, and even if Liam helps, it’s still mine. It’s the one thing I can think to do that will make any large-scale difference, and I’m going to hold on to it. 

The flash of guilt in his eyes at my words speaks volumes, and he nods hesitantly. “Okay, boss. Broad explanations only. But I can’t lie to him. I owe him everything. We all do.”

My attention catches on the way that he says that. I just assumed that Xaden picked up the role as leader to the marked ones due to his age and the role his father played, but I’m starting to suspect there is something deeper there. “I won’t ask you to.”

Liam smiles gratefully. I change the topic to something hopefully less heavy. “Tell me more about you, Liam. Any siblings besides Xaden that I can squeeze for information?” 

If I thought Liam’s smile was bright before, it has nothing on this one. “Bodhi or Garrick are probably your best bet for Xaden information. But I have a younger sister. Her name is Sloane and she’ll be crossing the parapet next year. I haven’t seen her in years because we weren’t fostered together.”

My eyes widen and I feel my heart drop again. “Navarre didn’t even allow siblings to remain together?”

He shakes his head ruefully. “Nope. That would imply some level of humanity.” 

“Fucking assholes.” I would burn Calldyr to the ground given the opportunity. A very dangerous train of thought for a girl with a dragon. “Are you excited to see her again?”

“I am. I’ve been writing her letters that I can’t send, but nothing will beat being able to see her in person.” 

I smile widely at the tenderness on his face. Liam is a big brother. No wonder I find him so curiously disarming. 

“What is she like?” 

He barks out a laugh. “Smart and stubborn as hell. You kind of remind me of Sloane. I think you’ll like her.” 

“I probably will. But that doesn’t guarantee she’ll like me back,” I laugh lightly. “There is always the chance she hates my guts.” 

Liam’s nose wrinkles. “I, uh, may have to work on that.” 

I giggle at the look on his face. “I don’t take offense, Liam,” I tell him gently. “Orders from Xaden aside, lecturing the marked ones under a tree that I’m off-limits isn’t going to make years of bad history disappear.”

His eyes go wide. “How do you know about that?” 

I blink innocently. “How do you think?” 

“You were spying on us that night?” I can’t tell if he’s offended or impressed, but I giggle at his expression anyways. 

“I wasn’t actually. I’ve never spied on Xaden or any of the marked ones, but I can’t help the information I pick up naturally. You all picked my tree to gather under.”

“Your tree?” Liam asks curiously. 

“I was collecting unripe fonilee berries. They are a very pretty lavender color.” I take my spare vial from my pouch and toss it to him. He fumbles slightly with the file in his hand but manages to catch it. “Dried and crushed, you can turn them into a powder that is both translucent and tasteless. It causes severe imbalance and nausea, which makes it great for challenge wins.” 

Liam shakes the vial in front of his face curiously. “Did Xaden catch you?”

“Yes! He’s the only one to ever catch me. Stupid shadows.” I whine immediately. 

Liam laughs at the look of frustration on my face. “I can’t believe he never told us you were out there that night.” 

“Probably because it wouldn’t have convinced you guys that I’m not a threat,” I tell him with a shrug. “In my defense, I really was only there to collect ingredients.”

“So that explains how you collect and craft poisons, but how do you know who you’re up against in challenges?” 

“You find out when challenges resume,” I tell him with a smirk. “A perk of being my assistant is that you’ll find out who you’re fighting too.” 

When he goes to hand me back the vial, I exchange it with another one in his hand quickly and store the fonilee berry powder back in my pouch. 

“You can keep that one.” I assure him quickly. The one he’s holding is from the same batch I made before Threshing. 

“This one isn’t fonilee berries?” He asks and examines the new vial. They are both powders, but this one is more pure white than translucent. 

“Nope, this is one of my blends. The delivery method is inhalation so it’s better in a fight. Blow it into a normal someone’s face and it will knock them unconscious for at least a few minutes. Don’t inhale, which should be obvious. I doubt you’ll need it, but I don’t want you to be the only member of Iron Squad without a Violet Sorrengail special on you in case of an emergency.”

Liam gasps in surprise. “You gave your entire squad one of these?” 

“Just the ones I like,” I tell him with a wink. “Meaning all of the first-years except Tynan. Ivan received one the morning before Threshing too.” Speaking of Ivan, I’ll have to give him a new dose tomorrow. 

He laughs and pockets the vial. “That makes so much sense. Thanks, Violet.”

“No problem, Liam. Now get back to work.” 

“You got it, boss,” he tells me again with a cheeky smile. 

We continue in companionable silence. Our search brings us closer until we are searching the final two cabinets that sit side-by-side. I have names left, but Liam has probably already crossed most of them off during his search. 

By the time we’ve finished going through every cadet in the Rider’s Quadrant in the last 10 years, it’s been several hours. I read Liam the names that I didn’t find. Unfortunately, he found all of them and none of them fit the description. There are a few that match physically which he pulled to show me, but the timelines or cause of death do not fit. 

That means that the death was not reported officially in the last three days. I can keep track of new names to check in the coming weeks. Basgiath has no shortage of deaths to report. 

Or maybe he was already reported dead before he got to me. 

Hm, that’s an interesting train of thought. How else would you explain the absence of a cadet without reporting it during roll call? There are squads for a reason. Absences are noticed quickly. 

I stay silent for a long time and Liam remains quiet for as long as he can stand. “What are you thinking, Violet?” 

“His death hasn’t been reported since Threshing, but people would ask questions if a second-year rider disappeared for more than three days. The only logical conclusions are that he’s already been reported dead at some point, or his disappearance has been explained away somehow. Which could point us back towards the Healer’s Quadrant if he had a long injury. Too bad they keep separate records. I’ll look into it.”

“We’ll look into it.” Liam reminds me with a wide smile, until his voice turns serious. “You think that thing attacking you has something to do with the mystery door? That seems like a stretch.” 

“You didn’t feel that ward, Liam. It was overkill for the Healer’s Quadrant. It felt like the one in the high-security section of the Archives, like the magic could reach out and choke you. I’ll tell you the whole story soon and how I think it relates to Aetos. Truthfully, I really don’t know if any of it is connected. I’m not ruling anything out. I’ll keep an ear on the death tolls for strange names and start to chase down the theory that he was reported dead at some point before Threshing. Or anyone with a noted absence.” 

“You’ve really been doing this kind of stuff for over a year?” He asks curiously. 

“Hunting down the origins of my assassin?” I ask with a snort. “No fucking way. My investigations haven’t been quite so high stakes before.”

“I meant sneaking in places and stealing classified information.”

“Nobody ever really paid attention to me except to call me weak.” I answer him with a shrug and prepare to leave. I check that we’re not leaving behind anything suspicious and grab my jacket from under the door so I can put it back on. We’ve learned all that we can here tonight, and hours in a dusty records room is more than enough for me. “I just learned how to weaponize it. I like to know things.”

“You are not what I expected, Violet Sorrengail.” Liam’s voice is surprisingly fond. 

“That’s what Ivan told me before he said he wanted to be friends.” I chuckle at the memory. “I was worried he hated my guts and he was worried he owed me some kind of life debt.”

“I’m happy that you two are close. I know you’ve done a lot for him, not including the parapet. Him and Xaden are both right about you.”

I flush happily at his words. Adding Bodhi and Liam to the list of marked ones who don’t want me dead is a boon. I’ve also tentatively added Garrick for his defense at the Gauntlet, and the way he stares at Xaden and I like he’s in on a joke that only he thinks is funny. Five is way more than I expected when I crossed the parapet. 

“I’m glad I don’t disappoint,” I mumble, still a bit embarrassed. I had figured the marked ones talked about me but I thought those were mostly fantasies of violence, not gossip. If Liam and Bodhi’s matching mischievous grins are to be believed, Xaden and I have probably come up in conversation once or twice. 

I make him stop right before opening the door so we can leave. “I will check, you will follow. We are going back through the tunnel we came, but the turns are different since we’re not heading towards the dormitories. Focus on me and don’t depend on your memory. The patrol will be running on this side of the quadrant within the next twenty minutes and the rotations tend to vary by about that much so it could be sooner. This corridor isn’t in their route, but don’t tempt fate. Silence as soon as we leave the room. Are we clear?” 

Liam agrees and follows directions perfectly. We make it safely back into the hidden passage without incident and walk in silence for several minutes. 

‘The wingleader has returned,’ Tairn reports. I love dragon announcements. 

‘Thank you, Tairn,’ I whisper back to him, even if it’s in my own mind. ‘Enjoy your night.’ 

There are definitely more things I could get done tonight, especially with an extra set of hands. But none of them sound quite as urgent as seeing Xaden. Why do I feel a sense of urgency? 

I went to the Healer’s this afternoon and mended the rest of my open wounds, in addition to providing me with a salve for the scars. The line of people needing mending after Threshing is usually long, and I didn’t mind waiting for Nolon so he doesn’t exhaust himself. He also mended the remaining muscle damage in my shoulder from the Gauntlet. I ignored my aching shoulder for almost a week but that wall really did a number on me. Twisting it to slice a venin’s throat during Threshing did not help. 

But now I am feeling as close to perfect as I usually get. Call me an optimist but I am hoping that I can get Xaden to stop treating me like glass tonight. The last two nights have been perfect, but I want more. 

It’s not lost on me how my unwillingness to get mended beyond the essentials didn’t outlast my libido.

Priorities. 

We take another two turns before I signal he can speak quietly again. “We’re done for tonight. It is almost midnight.”

“What time are you usually out until?” Liam asks curiously. 

I blink innocently. “I beg you not to ask Rhiannon that question. Her answer is ‘too fucking late’.”

“Are you showing restraint on my account?” 

With a wry grin, I shrug even if he probably can’t see it. His eyes will get better at adjusting to the dark. “Partially.” 

“What’s the rest of the reason?”

“I’m not sure you want to know.” I caution him. 

“Try me.” Being stubborn is definitely a rider’s trait. 

I don’t know if Xaden told Liam about us, but it’s not like I’d be able to keep anything hidden for Liam if he’s going to be one of the shadows following me around from now on. If Liam was teasing me about us getting information from each other, he has to at least have his suspicions, right? 

“Mated dragons have their perks. Our Wingleader just got back and I’m hoping to find him in my bed.” I report shamelessly. Or for him to find me in his bed. Either way works for me. 

He snorts a laugh and I shush him quickly but it’s futile while I’m struggling to control my own giggles. “What? It’s hard to choose reconnaissance when you could choose to study something much more fun.” 

“I really can’t believe you ever thought I would be bored. Also, gross.” Liam gasps in between half-muffled guffaws. I bite my lip to stop my laughter but my shoulders shake silently. 

“You asked,” I tell him with a wide grin that he can’t see. 

“I guess I did,” he says regretfully. “I’ll remember that for next time.” 

We exit the passage near the entrance to the rooms. “It’s not all infiltration and secret missions. Spying can be sitting around for hours only to find nothing at all. I’m sure I’ll bore you eventually.” 

He follows me in the direction of my room with complaints. I figure his role involves door-to-door service. 

“I find that hard to believe. I’m pretty sure this is one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. The lessons are just a bonus.” Liam speaks genuinely with a large grin. I can’t stop myself from smiling back. 

I’m used to spending countless hours sneaking around at night all by myself, with nothing to keep me company but my thoughts and my theories. Having Liam around to talk to and share my ideas with was… nice. I think this whole shadow business could work out for me in the long run.

I decide that while I prefer Xaden’s cute shadows that stick to him and seem to come alive around me, Liam has his own charm. He is strikingly easy to talk to and I am excited to leverage our friendship into actionable information about Xaden. 

I’m a spy. He knew to expect this. During our conversation yesterday before we went to meet the dragons, he practically served up his foster brother on a silver platter in order to get me to agree to protection. 

“Remember, you can pay me back for the lessons with information about your brother.” I tease lightly.

“Happily,” Liam responds with a surprisingly wicked gleam in his eyes. 

I laugh without reservation. Ah, the quickly fading loyalty of a younger sibling when provided with a chance to embarrass. 

“I’ll try not to take advantage of you. The fun part of intel is getting it by yourself, and your brother isn’t exactly a challenge that I’m trying to skip through, if you know what I mean.” I can’t help but smirk to myself. I’ve been enjoying figuring out Xaden on my own for quite a while now. “I just want enough inside information to tease him mercilessly.” 

If anything, that makes Liam’s smile impossibly brighter. He nods enthusiastically. “I can definitely provide.”

“I suppose I’ll keep you around then,” I tease. “You’ll do for an assistant.”

Liam winks playfully and nudges my shoulder. “High praise from you. I’ll take it, boss.” 

We turn the corner towards my bedroom and I freeze in place at the sight of a large figure. I see the hint of a relic on his neck and relax immediately, hands dropping from where they automatically rose to the daggers at my side. Xaden is standing in front of my door, and he turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow. He’s dressed casually, hair still damp from a shower, and he looks good enough to eat. 

“Hi, Violence,” he calls out with a smirk. “I knocked.” He inclines his head towards Liam silently. 

“Hi, Xaden,” I whisper softly, but I know he can hear me in the quiet corridor. I saw him this afternoon, and yet his beauty still threatens to send me reeling. I resist the urge to throw myself into Xaden’s arms like a lunatic and turn to look at Liam. “Thanks for playing the unnecessary bodyguard tonight. I had a surprising amount of fun.”

“Me too, Violet. I’m excited to do it again. Don't leave me out of anything.” 

I roll my eyes and dip in my head in agreement. “Yes, Liam.”

Turning to walk towards Xaden, I reach to unlock my room. Stupid keys, I can’t wait to be done with them. 

“I told you that I had plans, silly,” I admonish him playfully. “You could have been left here waiting for a long time if Tairn hadn’t said anything." Xaden only shrugs in response. "I had to show my new shadow the ropes. I suppose I could have worse people following me around.” 

Xaden looks back at Liam, who is smiling widely at my words. “Thanks, boss,” Liam calls out with a cheeky grin. 

I watch with interest as Xaden narrows his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Liam,” Xaden tells him pointedly. Liam shakes his head and opens the door right next to my own and shuts it behind him without complaining. I turn to look at Xaden with a raised eyebrow. 

“Right next door, really? Is that necessary?”

“You said you’d compromise.” Xaden says innocently as he slips past me into my room. I follow with a sigh and close the door behind me. 

“You are lucky he’s so likeable. I’ll use him to get enough information to blackmail you eventually.” 

Instead of responding to my obvious teasing, Xaden stays silent and watches closely as I shed my cloak, my jacket, and my boots. I take my father’s research out of my bag and place it gently into the drawer of my desk. I’ll find a better spot for it soon while we work on decoding the clue. 

I start on the large and arduous project of disarming when Xaden steps forward with purpose.

“Let me?” 

I look at him suspiciously but I drop my hands. I’ve fallen for that twice before. “Depends. Are you going to rile me up and then tuck me in again?” 

“As much as I like the idea of you being riled up,” he voice drops to a throaty whisper. “I was thinking we could test out that silencing charm. Run a few experiments, if you will.”

I can’t stop myself from giggling at his words. It’s hard not to appreciate flirting tailor-made for me. I bite my lip and smile up at him. “I do love a good experiment. And I took the initiative in having the rest of my injuries mended today.” 

Xaden’s eyes darken in understanding. “You’re not hurt anymore?”

I put my hand over my heart dramatically. “No more than my usual training soreness, I promise.”

Xaden stalks closer to me and I lean my head back to look at him instinctively. He reaches for my thighs, lifts me in one swift movement to take several steps forward, and sits me on my desk. I stifle a gasp at the feeling of his big hands picking me up like I did not weigh a thing. He suggestively runs his hands along my thighs. 

“It means you don’t have to treat me like I’m going to break, as much as I’ve enjoyed it,” I tell him breathlessly. 

He reaches forward to start pulling off my daggers one at a time and setting them on the desk beside me at a painfully patient pace. I try to reach a hand to help and hurry him along, but a surprising wisp of shadow appears from seemingly nowhere to tug my hand away in reproach.

It disappears just as quickly, but the implication is devastating. The thought of Xaden’s shadows being used in such a way makes me clench my thighs together. I try to hold in a whine at his frustrating slowness. 

“Now I’m starting to think you just like to make me suffer!” I accuse him. 

Xaden laughs and leans far forward so he can nip at the delicate skin right below my jaw. His devastating whisper directly in my ear is enough to set me ablaze.

“You know I like undressing you, Violence. The last two nights, that’s been for you. But this is for me, and I’m going to take my sweet time and savor it.” I shiver at the intensity of his voice. “You’re not the only one who has been making plans, little spy.” 

“I think I’ll like these plans,” I whisper and lean back to give up control, at least for the moment. 

Chapter Text

Xaden frees me of my weapons with the same intense concentration that I see on the sparring mat. He pulls the daggers from my corset one after another. I try to keep my breathing steady but it’s a losing battle under the weight of his heated gaze. 

When I was a scribe-in-training, I had never considered how heartstoppingly attractive it would be to allow someone to disarm me. To remove my weapons and shed my armor in all ways. It’s an act of trust, of vulnerability, of sacrifice. 

I could have gone my entire life without knowing this, and it would have been a loss. I allow him to take his pleasures from the intimacy of such an act and I lean back on to my desk and into his steady affection. I can be patient this time. 

But if he reaches for the stone to sharpen them, I will be using one for its intended purpose. 

Xaden laughs wickedly at my small sounds of frustration while he unhooks my thigh sheaths and the back of his hand brushes against the inside of my thigh. He lifts up the one with the modified container for poison. 

“Have I ever told you how much I admire your creativity? The poisoned dagger is a very nice touch. I knew you had something up your sleeves after I confronted you, but you continue to surprise me.” 

I smile at his praise, even if my thighs are still clenching around nothing. “Thank you. I know you were right about what I was doing not being enough, and this was my best effort.” 

Xaden stores it away with the rest of my weapons and backs up to gently pull up my legs so he can remove my socks and the wraps around my ankles. I haven’t had to undo my own ankle wraps in three nights, and he always soothes the skin with gentle caresses that make my heart beat out of my chest. 

He wraps his big hand around the one I sprained last. “Perhaps next time, we can come up with a solution together that doesn’t include falling down the stairs on purpose.” 

My eyes go wide and curiosity overpowers my urge to push him onto my bed. “How did you know that? I’d also like to point out that it was one stair. No need for revisionist history.” 

Xaden shakes his head. “Shadows, Violence. Do you know how hard it was not to catch you, even if it was one stair? I almost scared the hell out of a stairwell full of people with a wave of unexpected darkness. You wouldn’t have been the only one needing the healers’.”  

I keep finding myself surprised when Xaden reveals how long he’s been looking out for me. The stair incident only happened two days after he caught me poisoning cadets. I almost smile at his words, but then my eyes narrow. How did he figure me out? 

“What if I’m just clumsy?” I challenge him. 

He finishes with my feet and gently pulls me to stand so he can turn me and unlace my corset. He brushes my long single braid out of the way and presses a kiss to the back of my neck that makes my toes curl against the rough material of the rug. 

“You look too satisfied at a plan coming together, Violence.” Huh, I’ll have to work on that. Rhiannon wasn’t suspicious of anything. “But I didn’t connect the dots until you mentioned your little infiltration.” 

The corset drops to the floor. Xaden turns me around to look at him. “Now enough of your exploits, and on to my own.” 

I shiver at the promise in his words and lift up my arms in a silent plea. He listens willingly, and his hands find their way under my long-sleeved tunic. I hum happily at the feeling of his large hands circling most of my waist. Xaden lifts his hands up slowly and pulls off my shirt in one smooth motion. I don’t look to see where it ends up. He reaches down and unbuttons my leathers. He guides them over my hips and I can see the way his eyes linger on my scars. They are healed, but I’ll still carry a reminder of that day for the rest of my life. 

With a hand braced on his chest to keep steady, I step out of my leathers and stand in front of him in only my bindings and underwear. "You're beautiful," Xaden whispers roughly. "I can't believe I get to look at you." 

“You can do more than look at me, you know,” I tease him with a tug at his jacket.

“Hush, little spy,” Xaden whispers in a deep voice. His voice is an order and it sends a shiver down my spine. He gently tugs at the tie holding my braid together and throws it somewhere in the direction of my desk. I shake my head to unravel it and it falls in loose waves. Xaden reaches a hand forward and wraps the silver ends around his fingers. “Now let me play.”

My cheeks flush and he caresses the reddened skin with his fingertips. Without giving me a chance to respond, he pushes me towards the bed pointedly and I don’t need any further encouragement. “Get in bed for me.” 

I rush over and crawl towards the middle, backing up against the pillows. Xaden is standing where I left him as I turn around, and I am once again treated to a show of the man shedding his full Wingleader persona. It’s mouthwatering every single time. He unhooks his weapons, of which there are many, and places them on my desk, which is getting mighty full of sharp objects. 

Xaden sheds his jacket and hangs it over the chair with a frustrating slowness. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting for this, Violet.” He reaches down to untie his boots and slips them off. “You are the most distracting—” My mouth goes dry when he uses two hands to pull off his tunic in one motion. “Brilliant—” The sudden appearance of his perfect chest is almost too much for a girl to bear. I rub my thighs together. “Infuriating—” Is he still talking about me? He unbuttons his pants and takes an intentional step towards me. “Gorgeous woman.”

He steps out of his clothes with an unfair amount of grace and he’s left in simple black undershorts. I wonder if everything he owns is black. Try as I might, I can hardly imagine him in another color. Perhaps maybe blue, considering how lovely he looks standing against Sgaeyl. 

I jump when Xaden leans down suddenly and makes direct eye contact with me. “Come back to me. I love that beautiful mind of yours, but I want you to stay right here, Violet.” 

I swallow at his words. I do have a tendency to let my mind wander unrestricted, but I’m surprised Xaden noticed so quickly. 

“I’m here.” I tell him with a sweet smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Other than underneath you, if you would hurry up. Or on top of you.” I add as an afterthought. He’s been driving me crazy for two nights. Or maybe he’s been driving me crazy since the turret.    

Xaden shakes his head at my attitude and uses his fingers to pull at the wraps holding my breasts. He doesn’t tug them off, just plays with the material teasingly.

“What did I say about this being for me? I’m sorry to inform you, Violet, but I’m a selfish bastard.” 

I squirm and stifle the urge to lunge forward and take. I’ll let Xaden have his fun, because I have my suspicions that it will work out well for me. I’ll return the favor. Soon. 

My body goes pliant in surrender as Xaden spreads my knees, settles comfortably between my legs, and captures my lips in a biting kiss. He pulls away right as I run out of breath and follows an audacious path down the side of my neck and along the lines of my collarbones. He bites and licks at the tender skin until I’m gasping and my hands reach up helplessly to caress his chest. 

“Fuck, Xaden,” I moan at a particularly rough nip. He hums in satisfaction and his lips move down until he’s skimming his tongue over the curves of my breasts right above the material of my bindings. All I can do is beg him to move faster. “Touch me.” 

Xaden’s mouth stops moving as he looks up at me. “I’m going to do more than touch you. I’m going to unravel you—” He finally releases the bindings on my breast and tugs them off impatiently. “I’m going to worship you—” His fingers brush against my curves that are finally bare before him, and I hold my breath. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you’ll never be able to forget what it feels like to have me inside you.” 

I exhale with a shudder as his lips drop down to my right breast and he draws it into his mouth with a biting suction that makes my hips arch off the bed in surprise. I moan loudly and my hands rise without my permission to grasp at his hair desperately, falling apart underneath him while he bites at every bit of skin he can reach, switching sides and targets however he pleases, and then soothes them with soft kisses and swipes of his tongue. Xaden grumbles in appreciation and his hands find themselves busy caressing every inch of my torso greedily. 

One of his hands plays with the fabric still resting on my hip.

“Please, please, please.” I whimper in encouragement.  

He pulls back slightly and pins me down with a serious look. “You don’t have to beg me, little spy. Not for this, not for anything.” Xaden’s gold-flecked eyes are flashing pure black with arousal. They remind me of the night before the Gauntlet, but there is no trace of any kind of haze behind them tonight. No dragon lust, no churam. This is all Xaden. 

Despite the tension hanging between us, his journey downwards is one of lazy exploration, nipping wherever the mood strikes him with no rhyme or reason. He mouths wet kisses in a line from my sternum down to my belly button and then nibbles sharply at the soft curves of my waist and the dips of my hip bones. His hands caress and squeeze at my hips, running up and down my legs with long motions. 

I hum happily when he finally pinches at the last bit of fabric covering me with a rakish smirk. His eyes never leave my face as he drags my underwear down my legs in a slow, drawn out motion. I moan softly at the feeling of cold air against my heated skin. 

Xaden discards them and sits back up to admire my naked body with a heated gaze that fills me to the brim with desire until I’m almost bursting with it. “Perfect.”

He reaches his hands to firmly grasp at my hips. I gasp as he tugs me forward to reposition me at the edge of the bed to his liking, before kneeling down. His big hands rest on my knees and spread my legs apart gently, fully exposing me to his greedy gaze. 

With no further prompting, he dives forward to bury his face between my thighs with reckless abandon. 

“Holy shit!” I gasp as his tongue eagerly explores every inch of me in long sweeping motions. 

He pulls back with a growl and looks up at me. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

I moan at his words and my hips tilt upwards to be closer to his wicked mouth. He devours me like a man starved. Like a nomad stranded in the desert when finally presented with an oasis. His hands travel to caress the insides of my thighs teasingly. I bite back a moan and throw my head back against the mattress. 

“Xaden, I want you to fuck me,” I whine as he uses one hand to lift my hips into a better position, until my legs are practically hanging over his shoulders. 

He pulls away just far enough to lock eyes with me. “I’m going to fuck you, Violet. I’m going to have you in every single way I can possibly imagine, and then we’ll tackle your list. My creative girl probably has some great fucking ideas. But first I’m going to taste you fall apart on my lips.”

My teasing retort about me and my lists dies in my throat at the promise in his voice. Without allowing me a moment to recover, he dips his head and wraps his mouth about my clit. His other forgotten hand rises and he drives two fingers into me deeply without warning. I’m so wet from his attention that there is no resistance my body can offer to whatever Xaden gives me. 

I keen at the sensation and my hips buck forward to be closer. Xaden just tightens his grip in response and curls his fingers at a deliberate angle to push me towards to the edge. He strokes his fingers in time with the motions of his mouth seamlessly. 

“Fuck, Xaden!” I moan without reservations. I really hope the sound shield works, or I’ll never be able to look Liam or Rhiannon in the eye again. “Right there!” 

His hands work me open while his tongue plays with my clit mercilessly. There is no gentle climb leading up to my first fall. Xaden pushes me to the heights of pleasure rapidly, as if my climax is a race and he’s the only competitor. 

Xaden settles my legs more fully onto his shoulders until he’s holding my body mostly off the bed and I have no leverage to shift at all. I moan his name and fist at the blankets underneath me desperately. All I can do is hold on tight. Curses and pleas fall from my lips in equal measure, until I lose all capability for words and I’m left with desperate gasps. 

My thighs spasm and lock as I tip over the edge into oblivion, mouth held open in a silent scream as I pulse around his fingers. My eyes close while I throw my head back violently. 

Xaden’s movements slow slightly as I recover, but he doesn’t stop. I groan at the added sensitivity. My body tries to move back on instinct, but Xaden keeps a firm grip with his free hand.

I manage to open my eyes and he’s looking straight at me from where his lips are still wrapped around my clit and caressing it with increasingly rough motions. His pupils are blown and fully dilated with desire, and I know I’m not getting away. 

As soon as my hips stop quaking, Xaden’s redoubles his efforts until I’m trembling again. I feel another finger enter me easily and I shudder at the sensation. Every part of Xaden is so much bigger than I am, and that includes his fingers. I already feel so full of him, and the stretch makes me yearn for even more. 

He nips gently at me in a way that makes my toes curl. I groan in surprise as I feel my pleasure spiking again. I curse and reach a hand forward to grasp at his head desperately. 

“Xaden,” I gasp and my hand tightens in his hair in warning. 

His hand speeds up in response and curls his fingers. “Fuck!” I yell as my body spasms and shakes with my release again. 

Xaden’s mouth continues his exploration as I come down until I have to use the hand in his hair to push him away roughly. Two consecutive orgasms have left me feeling boneless, but he still hasn’t given me what I really want yet. Maybe I'm a selfish bastard too, because all I need is to feel his cock buried inside of me. 

He pulls away reluctantly, as if under duress. I think he would keep going forever if I let him, until it kills one or both of us. 

“I would die a happy man between your thighs.” Xaden answers my unspoken thoughts. 

“Insatiable.” I attempt to tease him, but the effect is ruined by my heavy breathing and racing heartbeat. 

“For you?” Xaden asks roughly, mouth reddened and eyes fully black with desire. “Always.” 

“You are way too good at that.” I weakly reach him and he finally takes mercy on me to drop my hips. He stands so he can lean over to give me a filthy kiss. I moan at the taste of my essence on his tongue and deepen the kiss as much as I can from this angle. 

“Ready for three?” His voice is gravelly and I can feel every inch of him pressed up against my leg through the last bit of fabric separating us. 

I nod immediately and sit up on my elbows so I can find his mouth for another heated kiss, using my togue to explore his mouth the best as I can. 

Xaden curses and steps back to finally rid himself of his undershorts. I gasp at the sight of Xaden in all of his glory for the first time. Every inch of his cock is as exactly as tempting as I imagined, flushed red and leaking with arousal. I probably wouldn’t even be able to fit all of him in my mouth. More experiments will be necessary to know to be certain. 

Soon. 

“Any requests?” Xaden asks gently, even as he runs his eyes up and down my body like he’s just deciding how to get started. “Things you don’t like?” 

Even through the rising tide of my lust, I smile gently at being asked about my preferences.

“Only one thing. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I really hate that. Trust me to know my own limits.” Xaden nods immediately and affectionately brushes one his hands through my hair where it’s falling over my shoulders.

As much as my heart skips a beat when Xaden shows me his softest sides, I want the side of him who just devoured me like his last meal back now. 

Before he can say something sweet again, I continue speaking with a deliberate casualness. “Besides that, I like it on the rough side. I’m not going to break. Even if, for example, the man I’m crazy about fucks me up against the wall as hard as he can. Or something like that. If you’re taking suggestions.”

Xaden inhales sharply and grabs me by the hips and lifts me up into his arms easily. I gasp at the feeling of weightlessness and wrap my arms around his shoulders to stay steady. I feel every inch of him pressed up against me and my hips roll against my will. 

“Fuck, you always have the best ideas. I should always listen to you.” He marches deliberately towards the wall as I giggle wildly at his words. “Brilliant, beautiful woman.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell y—” My teasing is cut off with a gasp when Xaden presses me against the stone wall by my window. It’s cold against my back and Xaden’s chest in front of me is so damn warm. I smirk in triumph when I realize his face is finally level with mine. 

I’ve been dreaming about having this angle on him. I’m certainly going to make the most of it. 

Xaden supports my weight easily as I lean in closer to capture his lips with as much fire I can manage. He groans against my mouth as he works to line himself up with my slickened entrance, rubbing against my clit in a way that makes me bite at his lip as punishment. His hips buck forward in appreciation and I break away from his mouth to keen at the sensation of being split open on his hard length. 

“So damned soft. Warm and wet and delicious. If you didn’t stop me earlier, I would have kept going until you couldn’t move." He whispers dirty words into my ears as he slips himself inside of me like it's where he's always belonged. "From the second I touched you, all I’ve been able to think about is how good you’re going to feel wrapped around my cock.”

Xaden’s words set me on fire. I whimper as he rolls his hips forward slowly. No amount of squirming makes him move any faster. He’s such a fucking control freak. With a nasty mouth. I’ve known this about him, but I hadn’t known. 

I fucking love it. 

I drop my face to his shoulder and Xaden continues speaking quietly into my ear as he enters with me with one long drawn out motion. “I can’t believe I waited so long to have you. You asked me to decide if I wanted to fuck you or fight you. The answer is both, happily. I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you, and then you were so damn fun to fight with too.” 

Our hips finally meet and we both release a guttural groan. He’s so big that I can feel him everywhere. “Me too,” I gasp and start mumbling my own confessions. “The most exquisite man I've ever seen. It’s not logical, but it was like your eyes were asking me to play. It feels like we were always going to end up here, with you deep inside of me.”

“Fuck,” Xaden curses. "You can't say shit like that." He pulls out and thrusts forward roughly, immediately setting a brutal pace that forces me more firmly against the wall. I can feel my back pressing up against the stone roughly with each bounce. The combination of sensations sends me reeling. I hold on to his shoulders weakly as he keeps pounding into me without any reservation. 

Distantly, as my pleasure begins to overwhelm me, I hope that I have a bruise or two to show for it. They’d be the only bruises that I’d treasure instead of resent. 

“F-fuck, Xaden. You feel so good inside of me.” 

“So, fucking, perfect.” He grits out between snaps of his hips. “I’m never going to get enough of this, enough of you.” 

I moan at both his words and the feeling of him reaching places inside of me that I never could have imagined. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before in bed. My body tenses as my pleasure crests and crashes with a force that makes me gasp his name desperately in warning. 

“You're such a menace, but still so sweet for me while I hold you up and fuck you. Nobody else gets to see this side of you. So fucking good for me. I want to feel you come right here, pressed against the wall, with me buried inside of you.” Xaden continues speaking shamelessly. 

“Xaden, I-I need…” I try to reach a hand between us but a shadow whips out to wrap around my wrist. I gasp as a wisp of his power pulls my hand back and pins it against the wall to hold me in place. “Holy shit.”

I think I fucking love that too. 

With wide eyes, I dare to reach my other hand forward slowly in curious challenge, and another shadow materializes to force it back just like I wanted. Both of my arms are pinned to the wall behind me. I moan loudly at the unexpected feeling of submitting to Xaden in this way. The sweetest surrender I can offer to the man who has ruined me so thoroughly with his innate sense of what I need. 

“I know exactly what you need, my sweet girl. You just sit there and let me take care of you.” He braces me with one hand and reaches to play with my clit roughly as he continues to push me against the stone wall with every snap forward. “Let go for me, Violet. I’m right here,” he whispers. 

He finds my lips again and kisses me roughly to consume my breathy gasps at the source. 

My back arches as I clench wildly around him and savor the grunts I’m able to draw from his lips. Xaden gets number three out of me with a bang. I scream out his name as I fall apart at the seams, thighs quivering and hips quaking while wrapped around his waist. 

His movements still as I come down. His naughty little shadows maneuver my arms back down to my sides gently and Xaden carries me back to the bed without pulling out. He lays me down gently on the soft bed, a strange contrast to the hard stone of the wall. 

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me.” He whispers roughly. “I can't wait to fill you up in every single way.” 

Xaden starts a rhythm that has me gripping at the blankets helplessly. It's slow, but deep and forceful. He pulls out almost all the way before thrusting, so I can feel every perfect inch of him. I combat my oversensitivity by leaning into more pleasure. 

“Fuck, your cock fits so perfectly inside me,” I tell him breathlessly. “It's like nothing I've ever felt before. I’m going to be so demanding now that I know what you feel like.” 

Xaden groans and his movements become more stuttered. “Shit, Violet. Demand anything you want from me.”

Through my haze, I try to find the words that will make him fall apart. The same way he ruthlessly unraveled me before. 

“Only from you,” I groan. “Nobody else can make me feel like this.” 

“Nobody will get the chance to try,” he snarls with a vicious thrust that makes me gasp. “You’re mine now, Violet.” 

“Yours,” I gasp in delirious pleasure. "You're the only one who gets to touch me."

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” Xaden murmurs seriously as his steady rhythm falls apart. I shouldn’t moan as loudly as I do, and it only encourages him. His thrusts come hard and fast. I meet each one with a desperate buck of my hips. I hold back the words that I'd kill anyone who touches him too, but only barely. 

"Mine," Xaden growls. He drives towards his release and reaches a hand down to play with my clit roughly. I throw my head back as my pleasure coils and snaps in my chest. I’m tipped over the edge again, and he is too far gone not to fall down with me this time. With one final deep thrust, he shouts my name and shudders inside of me with his release. 

Xaden’s powers lash out in violent streaks of shadows that knock into my desk chair and send it flying across the room with a loud crash that does nothing to pull me from my daze. No debris reaches the bed, but Xaden pulls forward a curtain of shadows to shield us on instinct and I gasp at the cool sensation on my heated skin. 

They disperse quickly, leaving Xaden and I to stare at each other in surprise as our chests heave with exertion. My limbs are shaking and my heart is pounding.  

After a moment, I can’t stop myself from giggling. I slap a hand over my mouth, but I can’t help it. 

Xaden’s eyes widen and he looks back at my remains of my chair across the room. It’s sitting on its side and one of the legs is definitely several feet away. I doubt the rest of them are any better. 

He turns back to look at me with a sheepish smile and a small chuckle of his own. “I’ve never lost control like that before.” 

I can’t bite back my silly smile. I throw my limp arms around his shoulders and smile up at him mischievously. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“You definitely should.” He huffs out a laugh, and he’s still sounding a bit winded. More winded than I’ve ever made him on the sparring mat. 

I tug him down gently and he rests a fraction of his weight on my torso, but keeps himself braced on his elbow. I sigh happily at the pressure and I run my fingers lightly over the skin of his neck and shoulders as he buries his face in my neck, damp with sweat.

“So that was good,” I mumble unnecessarily as my fingers move down towards his back. I don’t hesitate or give Xaden a reason to pull back. I just brush my fingertips down whatever length of his back that I can comfortably reach and back up towards his neck, back and forth in smooth, sensual motions as I ghost over the multitude of marks on his skin.  

Xaden snorts in amusement and relaxes under my touch. “Sure, Violence. I probably would have went with frighteningly perfect, but good works too.” 

I flush happily and allow my hands to continue their innocent exploration. “It was frighteningly perfect. But I fear that I may have a new distraction to deal with.” 

Xaden hums in question, seemingly happy to laze in the space between my neck and shoulder without a care in the world. 

“How am I supposed to watch you be all intimidating with your shadows now?” I respond innocently. “I thought they were cute before. Now I’m going to have to stop myself from dragging you off to some hidden corner to have my way with you every time someone pisses you off. Knowing you, that’ll be around twice a day. Horrible for my schedule really.” 

His shoulders shake with laughter and he lifts his head to smirk at me, reaching up a hand to brush my messy hair out of my face. “Keep it up and I’m going to go for five. I can’t promise you’ll be awake by the end of it.” 

“Oh no, I’m terrified,” I taunt him with a wicked smile. “Someone please come save me from my big and scary Wingleader.” 

His eyes flash with devilish promises. “I always knew you’d be a brat in bed.”

“Did you spend a lot of time thinking about what I’d be like in bed, Wingleader? How shameless. You’re my commanding officer.” 

Xaden nips at my throat playfully and I yelp, quickly dropping my game. 

I squeeze at his shoulders sweetly and try to burn this moment in my mind so I can remember it for the rest of my life. It feels important. I close my eyes and inhale the scent of him, of us. The feeling of the sweat drying against my skin and every ridge of his body pressed against me. 

He rolls away to settle next to me on the bed. My eyes open and I almost groan at the loss of him, but Xaden preempts my complaints and tugs me along with him so I’m laying against his chest comfortably instead. 

It is just as good as him lying on me, and twice as practical, so I’ll allow it. 

Unable to help myself, I press soft, wet kisses against his chest and begin shifting my body in slow but meaningful motions as I slide farther down. 

“Violence,” Xaden warns. “You should rethink that if you want to get any sleep tonight.” 

I can be a good girl when it suits me, but Xaden already made the critical error of telling me he liked it when I misbehaved.  

“Was five a threat or a promise?” I ask instead. Maybe we're both insatiable. 

Chapter Text

There is waking up with Xaden Riorson fully clothed after a night of cuddling, and then there is waking up with every inch of his naked form pressed up against my back and curled around my entire body protectively. Both objectively wonderful experiences, but the later? Absolutely life-changing. I send thanks to all of the gods who may be listening for the opportunity. 

I wiggle my hips closer to get comfortable and smirk sleepily at the evidence of Xaden’s unconscious appreciation for my efforts. It seems unfair that he is so physically perfect in every single way, but as the one who benefited from it last night, I have no complaints. 

He curls his arm tighter around my middle in response, and I grasp his forearm. As I wait for him to wake up, I absent-mindedly trace the pattern of the rebellion mark on his arm. I laze in a relaxed half-awake state for another fifteen minutes, sinking into his warmth and counting the beats of his heart against my back. 

Xaden suddenly rolls his hips and tightens his arm around my naked torso. “Are you always up this early, little spy?” His voice is deep and gravelly with disuse. 

I lean back and tilt my head to bare my neck to his attention. He dips his face forward immediately and presses kisses against the sensitive skin there. “Habit. Even when I started staying out late every night, I could never quite kick the scribe schedule.” 

“Ah,” he hums in consideration, mouth still paying attention to the expanse of skin behind my ear and following it down and around to my back with soft, barely there kisses. “I’ll have to do a better job tiring you out next time, if I ever want a chance at waking up first.”

I giggle as the feeling of his teeth nipping at my shoulder blade. “I think I lost count after three, so I’d say you did your best.” 

“It was five,” Xaden reports smugly. “In case you were wondering.” 

“Xaden,” I say his name in a joking admonishment. “No way. Maybe four.” 

It was definitely five. 

I can practically hear his single eyebrow raise. “Oh?” 

Nodding seriously, I rotate to look at him. “Mm-hm,” I tell him. “In fact, you probably owe me one on account of lying.” 

I swing my leg over his hips so I can straddle him. He hisses at the feeling of me pressed up against him with no barriers. With a smooth, teasing gyrate of my hips, I show him I’m just as excited to wake up naked next to him this morning. “I should collect before breakfast. I’d hate for you to build up a debt.” 

Xaden groans and his hips buck forward. I moan softly at the sensation. “Violence, don’t you have plans this morning?” 

I shrug my shoulders and settle my hands on his chest, pushing myself up to a better angle as I raise my hips. “I’ve run almost every morning for over a year. I think it’s time to switch it up. I promise I’ll still work up a sweat.” 

Xaden’s eyes go dark as I line myself up and sink down on his cock with a deliberate slowness. “Fuck. By all means, little spy, show me those riding muscles.” 

His words startle a laugh out of me that turns into a gasp when he grabs my hips and pulls me down the last few inches in one firm movement. 

“Fuck, Xaden!” I moan loudly and throw my head back. My body spasms but I force myself up to adjust to him inside of me. I roll my hips teasingly and squeeze at Xaden’s chest in appreciation for his answering groans. 

With a determined jut to my chin, I rise up to my knees and proceed to put all of my new hard-earned muscles to the test. I immediately set a brutal pace.

“Violet,” Xaden moans in surprise and I smirk through my desperate gasps as he tries to lift up his legs to gain leverage. I stop moving suddenly and his hands squeeze at my hips in protest. 

“Ah-ah,” I murmur disapprovingly. “I thought this was my workout.” 

He curses and drops his legs. 

“Don’t be impatient,” I tease him with a wicked smile, rolling my hips with tight, slow circles. I move up slowly so he almost slips entirely out of me, and then lower myself one inch at a time. I moan at the feeling of him sinking as deep inside of me as he can go. 

“Violence,” he says warningly. Xaden’s body shakes under me in an effort to hold himself back. 

“Just enjoy yourself, Wingleader. It’s my turn to play.” I lean forward to press a light kiss on his lips before sitting back up to return to my punishing pace. 

I’m a rider, after-all. 

—

Rhiannon takes one look at me at breakfast and knows. Have I been carrying around some palpable tension that could only be solved by having sex? 

She grabs my arm and drags me to an empty table before I can even say hello to the rest of my squad. Liam raises an eyebrow and I wave him off easily. I tease him but I don’t think I’m mean enough to invite him into a conversation about his brother’s sex life. 

His brother's amazing, life-altering sex life. Damn if Xaden is not the best I ever had and then some. 

“Tell me.” Rhiannon starts simply, but I can see the excitement in her eyes. 

I give her a wide smile. “So maybe we didn’t take anything slow…” 

Rhiannon laughs. “I knew it. You two fucked!” 

I bite my lip to stifle my laugh. I glance around to see if any of the surrounding cadets are paying us any mind, especially with her loud declaration of my sex life. People look to be focused on their breakfast. I deliberately avoid looking at the table of executive officers. I don’t know what my face would do if I made eye contact with Xaden right now, and I don’t want to find out. 

Turning back to Rhiannon, I widen my eyes playfully. “We did. Last night. And then one more time this morning for good measure.” 

Rhiannon throws her head back and laughs. “Violet Sorrengail, after being celibate for at least four months.” I’m not telling her that it was more like a year and nine months. I think. Memories of sex with anyone but Xaden hardly seem worth the recall. “You’re finally just as deviant as the rest of us.” 

I think back to my night with Xaden and giggle. “Maybe I was a little bit sexually frustrated,” I admit. “I missed sex. Especially good sex.” 

“And what about last night? Was he good?”

For just a moment, I consider the fact that Xaden always seems to hear me from wherever he’s in the room, likely because of his shadows. He admitted to spying on me in the stairwell.

To my delight, I think I have to contend with being the one he’s looking at exclusively. I was too busy spying on everyone else in this quadrant to notice being the subject of his attention. 

How long has this been going on? Since he caught me poisoning those cadets? The marked ones meeting? The turret?

I should be suspicious. And more than that, I should test my theory. 

With a shrug, I open up to Rhiannon. “Good isn’t the right word for whatever the fuck happened to me last night.” 

Rhiannon’s eyes widen and she leans forward. “What does that mean?”

“I felt like I was going insane.” 

“In a good way?” 

“In the best possible way. I think I’m ruined forever,” I tell her jokingly, but there is some truth to that. “On the list of things I thought would kill me in this quadrant, death by too many orgasms was not there.” 

Rhiannon laughs at my plight. “But what a way to go. How many is too many?”

I think about it for a moment. “Well, after six in the span of like eight hours, I’m still kicking. I’ll let you know.” 

She squeals in surprise and I laugh at the expression on her face. “No.” 

I nod solemnly. “Yes. I didn’t even know I could do that.” I risk a glance in Xaden’s direction from my periphery and I can see him already looking in my direction with an unbearably smug expression. There is no way he’s reading my lips from this angle, and he’s too far to listen in. 

My smirk is involuntary. I knew the prick would be eavesdropping with his shadows. Too bad for him that I'm paying attention now. I watch him take a drink of his juice as I turn back to Rhiannon with a mischievous smile on my face. I wink at her quickly.

“I can’t wait to do it again. But if I don’t get my mouth wrapped around his cock next time, I might actually die.” 

I didn’t get the chance last night but it’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about since I saw him naked. I fully intend on stripping down the next chance I get and getting on my knees for him. He tasted me until I was practically begging for mercy, and I am anxious to return the favor. 

It’s an objectively wild thing to say at breakfast but it’s also the truth, in addition to having high shock value.

I turn my head in time to watch Xaden choke on his drink. He coughs roughly and tries to regain his composure as Garrick pounds on his back helpfully. I catch his eyes and smile at him wickedly. That’s what he gets. Any embarrassment at saying those words out loud to Rhiannon is worth it. 

Oh, how I love being right. I definitely have to keep my eye on that Wingleader of mine. 

Rhiannon laughs in surprise and follows my gaze, raising an eyebrow at the still-choking wingleader. “Oh, I see. Having fun, Vi?”

Turning back to Rhiannon, I hum happily with a wide smile. “I’m having so much fun.”

—

Returning to the Archives after dinner for lessons with Markham is more difficult than I would like to admit. 

Now that I know exactly how culpable the Scribe Quadrant is, the Head Scribe’s face makes me sick. Even more so that in those early days after I found the letter. He wanted me to be his successor. To pick up the torch on this grand conspiracy and help perpetuate it further as people outside of the wards die in droves.

“Hi, Professor,” I greet him brightly. “Thank you again for the break to focus on the Gauntlet until Threshing.” 

Markham’s eyes are still trusting, but I detect some measure of careful consideration there that I don’t remember. I guess my stunt at Threshing did impact his view of me. 

“Violet! I was so happy to see you survived Threshing. And with such… impressive results.” 

I smile bashfully and rub the back of the neck. “You don’t tell a dragon no when they are seeking to bond you, even if there are two of them.” 

Markham focuses on my words. “What occurred in the valley that piqued their interest?” 

This next move is important. A moment passes as I weigh my options carefully. I could play up my own strength, or I could play the damsel. 

“One of the cadets had the bright idea of trying to kill me,” I report sadly. “I ran away, and we stumbled into the cave where my dragons were resting. They deemed me worthy, and he was not nearly so lucky. I would have died without them.” 

Tairn grumbles. ‘I do not want credit for your kill.’ 

I hush him gently. ‘This is for a purpose, Tairn. Markham doesn’t know how to shut his traitorous mouth. He will share this information with someone, and it will eventually get back to the person who sent the venin. I don’t want them to know that I have any kind of defense against them. This way, the next attack will most likely be similar. One attacker, except within the quadrant where you can’t protect me. Predictable circumstances are my favorite kind. If you show your hand, your enemy is forced to get creative.’ 

‘I see your logic, but I do not like it,’ he insists. ‘I chose you because of what you accomplished, not because I had to save you.’ 

‘I know that and that is all that matters. Let the humans think you were being sentimental when you bonded to the weak Sorrengail.’

‘I am never sentimental.’ 

From the way he treats Andarna, I’d disagree but I value my life enough to keep quiet. We have flight lessons tomorrow. 

Markham’s eyes furrow in concern. “That is why you were so… indisposed?” 

My face screws up at the memory. “Yes, he managed to injure me before I found my dragons. But now Threshing is in the past. I am happy to look forward to the future again.” 

Markham nods in understanding. “Ah, yes, the future. Perhaps we should discuss that.” 

“I was thinking the same thing.” I agree with him easily. “I know you’ve selflessly taken on the burden of my lessons, and I want to make sure it continues to be worth your time.” 

His eyes narrow in consideration. “The pursuit of knowledge is always worth it, Violet.” His voice drawls like he’s spouting some sage wisdom, and not like he's the person who has perpetuated the suppression of knowledge in this kingdom. I vividly imagine stabbing out his eyes again. 

“Of course, Professor,” I tell him with furrowed brows. “I only meant that I know my focus is split right now. I’d love to continue my lessons.” 

Markham nods in thought. “Given that you’ve claimed a dragon, I think it would be a good idea to prepare you for a future in education, if you’d be amenable. We can request an expedited teaching rotation when you graduate.” 

There it is. He still sees a future for me in the classroom, just like Dain. I’d rather dive off Tairn’s back and straight into Malek’s realm than teach Basgiath’s corrupt curriculum. I’ll butcher Markham with his own quill before I agree to it. 

You cannot kill him, I remind myself firmly. 

‘Yet,’ Andarna chimes in. I press down the urge to smile and I don a wide-eyed look. 

“Oh, do you think I’d be good at teaching?” I ask Markham, as if it’s something I’m insecure about. 

“All skills must be taught.” He reaches for his ink and quill. “Let’s continue with two nights a week until challenges resume.” 

I agree easily. “Of course. I've also signed up for Library Duty so I'd be happy to stop by during the mornings if you ever deem it necessary.”

Markham nods, clearly satisfied with my dedication to my studies. “Excellent. Let’s change our focus from languages and begin with the Rider curriculum and teaching practices. It will have the added benefit of overlapping with your normal classes.” 

I want to roll my eyes, but I hold it in. “That sounds great. I’ve reached competency with Morrainian so I can always continue practicing on my own. Thank you for indulging my interests.” 

Markham’s mouth quirks up slightly. “Of course, Violet. I understand you were… distraught after all you had to endure. It will be great for us to focus on other, most productive things. Now, I’m preparing a list of materials…” 

And now I have to continue to endure him. 

—

Liam catches up with me easily on my way out of the Archives. He says silent until we’ve almost made it back to the Rider’s Quadrant. 

“How did you manage to get personal lessons from the Head Scribe?”

“I’ve been taking lessons with him for years. I was his personal student and he was very clear that he wanted to train me to be successor.” 

“Markham wanted you to be the next Head Scribe?” 

I shrug in response. “I’ve been preparing to be a scribe since I was young enough to understand the books my father read to me. After the General was stationed at Basgiath when I was fifteen, I was sent to lessons with Markham and he spoke highly of my mind. I thought we were close once, but I was wrong. I was wrong about most things.” 

“And then you found the letter?” Liam asks gently. 

“And then I found the letter.” I nod succinctly and direct us carefully towards one of my best kept secrets. “At first, I used him to start learning Morrainian. I despise that filthy, lying rat but he does have a gift for languages.”

“How did you end up in lessons after the parapet then?” 

“Steal that, please,” I direct Liam to grab one of the magelights in the corridor that are suspended high up enough that I can’t get to it without being creative. His height will certainly save me some time. “Thank you.” I grab it from his hands and we keep moving. “What did you ask? Oh, lessons, right. I had a year until Conscription Day and I wanted to keep busy. Training physically every second would have diminishing returns, especially when I’m so injury prone. So I did what I do best.” 

“Which is?” 

“I listened, I learned, I schemed.” I inform him brightly. “I had no idea what the big secret was, but I figured that having a way to compare reports from the frontlines with what cadets are told could be illuminating. The Codex doesn’t forbid personal students from other quadrants. I mean, menders will train in the Healer’s Quadrant after their signet manifests, but they are still riders that are held to the Codex. I waited and solidified his trust for me, and eventually I made Markham think it was his idea to keep me on as a student. I anticipated he’d like the idea of having a possible future Professor who will take his side in this quadrant someday.”

“Clever,” Liam tells me with a bright smile. “Has it helped?”

I grimace in response. “Unfortunately, I underestimated how much information is manipulated at each step. By the time it gets to us, the information is sanitized beyond belief and all of the reports kept in the Archives are not much better. At least what I’m able to access with Jesinia’s help. I have some ideas to get unredacted intel if necessary, but all of them require a certain amount of risk that I’m not quite desperate enough to undertake.” Yet. 

But now that I’ll be on Library Duty, which means Xaden will place Liam on Library Duty, I can reassess. But there are other things on my list to get through first. 

“Why not stop the lessons now if you hate playing nice? You know the truth now and Jesinia is helping you. It sounds like you can't stand being around him.”

I blink in surprise. “I hate him more than I thought I could hate another person. But this connection might be useful someday. The possibility alone is worth the… discomfort. One thing you should know about me is that my desire for the truth will always be larger than my ego.” 

Despite my words, I still fully plan to relieve Markham of his life someday, somehow. For my father. I even daydream of how I’d do it on occasion. They’ve gotten more graphic and elaborate with time. I have so many more options now than I did when I was still training for Conscription Day. 

Liam furrows his brows. “What if you get caught?”

“Caught doing what? Learning? I haven’t actually done anything wrong. Nothing they can trace. I’m monitoring whether or not he’s suspicious and if he is, then the risks outweigh the benefits, and I have a few excuses in mind to halt our lessons.” 

He thinks for a moment and then nods. “That makes sense. So we’re on Library Duty?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You heard that?” I saw where he was standing during my conversation with Markham, and most people wouldn’t have been able to hear me. 

“I have great hearing,” he brags lightheartedly. I smile and shake my head. 

“That’s impressive,” I tell him honestly. I’m even more thankful for Xaden’s sound shield. “I’ve improved my senses slowly with practice, but you’re already naturally talented. I had to learn to read lips, or sneak even closer.” 

I see the underground entrance I’m looking for come into view and I carefully survey our surroundings again. 

“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of tonight?” Liam asks when he sees my attention travel. 

“Time to get started on our project.” 

Liam's eyes spark with excitement, and I can see him try to rein in the energy that makes him want to fidget. 

“Are we hunting for ingredients? I am also great at climbing trees.” 

I laugh and tug him through a corridor that was designed to look like a dead end, except there is one stone that is discoloring at a different rate than the surrounding ones.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. We’re going to start with step one.” 

With a coy smirk, I push on the discolored stone and the wall gives way easily, the hidden door opening to reveal the underground areas of Basgiath that haven’t been touched in years, likely centuries. Basgiath is an ancient institution. It’s why so little is known about its construction or its foundation. The information has been lost or purposefully removed from our knowledge base over time.

Liam releases a small gasp, and I can understand his reaction. I thought I might have been hallucinating, or dreaming, the first time I found this place. We took a trip through the tunnels yesterday, which were built for fast travel. Nothing like this.

I swing the door shut behind us and he follows me wordlessly as the magelight illuminates the darkness. It’s much wider than any of the tunnels and down a short flight of stairs, there is a furnished corridor with doors on either side. It’s ancient but obviously had been prepared for use an untold number of years ago. There are signs from the deteriorating fabric of rugs and tapestries, or the small bits of furniture still standing. It’s like stepping into a untouched bubble from the past. 

“Basgiath was built to be a fortress, especially the Citadel. Easily defendable location, tunnels for quick escapes like the ones we used yesterday, and underground facilities in the case of siege or attack. This corridor has old offices and storage rooms. If we go even further, there are barracks that could easily house a hundred cadets if they were in better shape, as well as areas for provisions and food preparation. Downstairs, there is a block of dungeons fully equipped for prisoners of war.”

“Oh gods,” Liam whispers as his head whips around. “Do people know about this?”

“I don’t think so. There are no accurate maps of Basgiath’s underground in the Archives, so it’s not information people can stumble upon. I’m familiar with the official protocols in place for Basgiath in the case of a siege, and this place is not even a footnote. From what I can tell, none of it has been touched for over a century. Possibly several. I even set up small traps along the entrances to the tunnels that branch out to key areas of the Citadel. Nothing harmful, just innocuous ways to check for any signs of footprints, and there is no evidence anyone but me has been here.”

“So we’re the only people in the Quadrant to stand here in generations. Cool. You weren’t kidding when you said you like to know things. How did you find this place?” 

I giggle at the awe in his voice. “Process of elimination mostly. I spent hours exploring every stone of this place while everyone was sleeping. I stumbled upon one of the tunnels by accident and started making a map. Once I realized that the design wouldn’t make sense without a central base underground under the Rider’s Quadrant, I went hunting. It involved getting hopelessly lost more often than I’d like to admit, but eventually I found a small tunnel that let me out into the barracks and I found my way out through the entrance I just showed you. The sun was setting when I went under and I didn’t find the door until sunrise. My morning run was especially brutal that day.” 

I never skipped training, even when I was operating on little to no sleep. 

“That takes an incredible amount of dedication.” He surveys the abandoned quadrant with an ocean of questions in his blue eyes. “Not that this isn’t one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen, but why are we here?” 

I’m glad he finally got to the most important question. “Well, this will be a long project and the thing that all good scientists really need is a secure place to experiment.” 

His eyes widen in understanding. “You want to create a home base.” 

I wrinkle my nose at the military term. My project is for the advancement of knowledge. For progress. For science. For killing venin. “Of a sort. More of a laboratory.” 

Liam shrugs. “Lab it is. What did you have in mind?” 

“I’m not completely sure yet. I want to search all of the offices today, and then we can decide if it’s worth converting one of them or looking for a space elsewhere.” 

“You haven’t cleared out the offices already?” 

I grin sheepishly. “Oh, believe me, I tried. The locks on these doors are either broken or old enough that I can’t pick them. I would dislocate or break something if I tried to open any of them by force. An unfortunate consequence of how I was made.” 

Liam laughs. “Vi, I’m convinced how you were made was to level the playing field for the rest of us. Dunne help us if you also had brute force on your side.”

I flush at the unexpected compliment and roll my eyes, ignoring the delight I feel at Liam calling me a nickname, one significantly less cheeky than boss. “Well,” I tell him with a smile. “It also means I’m going to put you to work.” 

“Just direct me.” 

So I did. Liam quickly broke down four locked doors that I haven’t been able to get into for almost a year within the hour. I know everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, but it did feel a little unfair. 

“Shit,” I curse. “I should have grabbed another magelight. We’ll go one room at a time.”

“What are we looking for?”

I hum in thought. “Not sure. Anything left behind is probably ruined by now, but I know what I’m hoping for.” 

“What is that?”

“You’ll know if you find it.” 

As I expected, most things had rot from disuse but Liam and I still diligently searched every piece of furniture we could find. On the last door, I perk up at the sight of the larger room, one obviously meant for a group of people. There are multiple desks and piles of old fabric on the floor underneath a row of hooks and a long bench. They look like the remains of old service jackets. If this was used for guards… 

“Found them!” Liam shouts in excitement. I look over and he’s holding a ring of very old iron keys. “You wanted to find the keys,” he says with certainty. 

I smile at his enthusiasm. “Perfect. Let’s go scout and find out what trouble we can get into with those.” 

The answer to that is the dungeons, all of them. 

Liam looks around one of the old, dilapidated cells. There are over a dozen, and we open each one to determine the correct key. There is a pile of bones and deteriorated fabric in one of them that makes us close and lock that door rather quickly. 

I survey my favorite of the cells carefully. This one is closest to the stairs and the largest. While they’re all filthy and in a state of disrepair, it’s not in terrible shape by comparison. 

“Would conducting research in a dungeon be a bad idea?” I muse out loud. “It’s a bit dreary but it’s not like we’ll have company.”

Liam considers the question. “I don’t mind it. I think making sure you can lock up whatever we're working on is important.” 

I nod slowly. The barracks and living areas are built into large open rooms and they’d be hard to secure. The offices are all too small for what I have in mind. My body rotates as I turn in a slow circle to assess the space. I start to mumble out loud without realizing. 

“We would need to clean it. Move out everything actually used to imprison someone. Then pilfer some furniture from storage. Tables for workspace and storage for supplies, plus some chairs, maybe a cot for down time. Speaking of storage, I should collect all of my poison ingredients from my stashes and bring them all here. Then we can make a proper inventory.”

“Boss,” Liam tries to interject. 

“What else? We’ll need to steal quite a bit, but nothing that will require finding our way around wards. Glass beakers, vials, measuring tools. I have a few contacts in town for whatever we can’t get our hands on so we’ll go visit them next week…” My mumbles turn almost unintelligible. 

“Violet?” Liam tries again. 

“Hm?” I answer absent-mindedly, mind still running rapidly. 

“So you decided? Is this it?”

I look around and imagine what the space could turn into with a little bit of work. I turn to him with a grin to match his excitement. “Welcome to the Lab, Liam.”

—

To his credit, Xaden at least tries to appear like he’s not absolutely furious with me the next night once he finds out that I’m planning to work with Jesinia on such a sensitive topic. 

He brought me a new chair with a sheepish grin, having already removed my old one while I was in class. Then he very casually brought up that Liam mentioned we took a trip to see a scribe cadet. 

“She’s from the Morraine province. She’s going to help me decode my father’s notes,” I tell him honestly. “It’s going to take time so we’ve made plans to start meeting twice a week after dinner for a few hours.” 

He closes his eyes and I can almost see him count to ten before he opens them again. 

“You told a random scribe the truth?” 

I press my lips into a tight line. “That is incorrect on many levels. One, Jesinia is not a random scribe. We’ve been friends for years. She was my only friend when I crossed the parapet and she spent several months keeping my most important possessions safe so they didn’t send me to the bottom of the ravine.”

“I’m not saying I’m not grateful she helped you on Conscription Day, but holding books is a far cry away from hiding treason.” Xaden argues. 

“Not to me, it isn’t! Two, I haven’t told her the truth, only about my father’s notes, but she knows something is going on. She’s been reporting strange things in the Scribe Quadrant, and she’s already suspicious of them. I didn’t ask her to, but she’s been proving she’s on my side regardless. She hasn’t even logged any of my requests.”

“And now you want to tell her everything?” His voice is just shy of being accusatory. 

I bite back a sigh. “Not everything. Of course not. Stop jumping to that conclusion. I am in no rush to spill sensitive secrets that would harm you. Just my father’s research.” 

“That can harm you, Violet.” 

I shake my head. “No. She can be trusted.” 

“She’s a scribe.”

My serious expression goes glacial. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Xaden waves a hand in front of him, like that’s supposed to tell me anything. “We can’t expect her to hold up against any kind of pressure without turning you in, even if she cares about you.” 

“Wow,” I comment mildly. “Riders are always the same.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Riders are arrogant. They don’t trust anyone who doesn’t ride a dragon, like they’re better for wielding a signet instead of a quill.” I spit out at him.

“You’re a rider now too. You know what it takes.” Xaden reminds me. ‘We are better,’ I hear even if he doesn’t say it. It takes extreme effort not to roll my eyes, but I probably manage it. 

“It’s the scribes who truly have all the power in Navarre, Xaden,” I tell him seriously. “There is a reason that the kingdom’s strongest weapons are kept in the dark. Dragon riders are stubborn and rash. You can’t bet on a rider to keep a secret. Believe me, I’ve overheard enough of them. But the scribes? They write the history that is taught to children, the missives that shape public perception, the curriculum that impacts the other three quadrants. The eradication of knowledge and perpetuation of a false narrative. Riders couldn’t do that. If a scribe can be the author of a problem, why can’t one of them be a part of the solution?” 

Xaden doesn’t look convinced, and I think about reminding him that my father was a scribe. 

Navarre might be corrupt, but wanting to be a scribe instead of risking your life trying to ride a dragon isn’t shameful. 

My father was a researcher. A scholar. A purveyor of knowledge who believed that it was something to be shared and consumed with a critical eye and a sharp mind. An appreciator of science and history and culture, especially those outside of his own. He was a scribe but he found out the truth and had to do something. He was killed for it. What isn’t noble about that? 

Would Xaden have turned me away, if I entered the Scribe Quadrant as I expected? Dismissed me as unimportant because I’d never know what it was to taste the sky? 

I try not to examine why that hurts my feelings at that moment. It’s a stupid hypothetical. I didn’t have a choice and now we’re here. 

Xaden expression is conflicted. “I’m not saying that riders are better than scribes. I’m just saying that I know I can trust the riders we have on our side. I need to meet her.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want to meet Jesinia? Why?” 

“So I can figure out if we can trust her.” Because he can determine more from a five minute conversation than I can from the lifetime of friendship? 

“Or you could trust me.” I answer him softly. “She’s helping me with something important to me and I’m not going to stop. Even if my father was only a scribe, I think he found a way to leave behind something that would help me, and I need to know. It’s the last thing he’ll ever do for me.” 

“I’m not telling you what to do about your father’s research, Violence. I just want to be able to talk to her. Gauge who she is.” 

I take a deep breath to calm down. I straighten my spine and pull myself up to my full height with a tilt of my chin. “I will not have you intimidating my friend, Xaden Riorson. I’ve known her almost as long as I’ve known Dain.” His eyebrow twitches at the mention of my squad leader. “She does not deserve to be interrogated when my word should be enough for you. You don’t need to meet her.”

“You let Liam meet her,” Xaden reminds me stubbornly. 

“Liam is nice!” I argue back. He flirted with her and made her comfortable, and Xaden wants to ask her about her loyalties or something. 

“I can be nice.” His brows are twisted in offense, and I try to backtrack with an apologetic shake of my head.

“Of course you can be nice, but I actually haven’t seen proof of that outside of a very limited sample size. Namely me.” 

Which I don’t necessarily mind. I like being the only person who gets to see the softest sides of Xaden while the rest of the quadrant gets the devastating attractive but intimidating shadow wielder. But Jesinia is different. I want to keep her comfortable and willing to help me. 

“Exactly. I’m nice to you, so why would you think I’ll be rude to your friend? I just want to meet her once, and then I will let the topic drop without complaint.” Xaden bargains. I stare up at him silently for a few moments to gauge whether or not he’s serious. 

“You won’t interrogate her? Make one of your broody faces that terrifies the first-years? Threaten her life if she harms a single silver hair on my head?” I ask to confirm. 

He huffs in amusement. “No interrogation. No broody faces as you call them. And the threat that I’ll kill anyone who touches you is always implied, Violence. I won’t have to tell your friend explicitly.” 

Well, I can appreciate his honesty. My eyes linger on his pleading expression for even longer. 

“Fine.” I cave eventually, and narrow my eyes at his obvious delight. “I am meeting with her in two days. She’s not exactly allowed in the quadrant, but I’d prefer to work in my room where we can concentrate. Why don’t you pick us up at ten and come with me to walk her back to the scribe dormitories?” 

Xaden nods easily. “Two days. Thank you, little spy.” 

I have to shake my head. I’m almost certain I was pissed a few minutes ago, but Xaden is giving me a sweet smile and stepping closer to wrap his arms around my shoulders. I'll let him have this one. 

“Can you stay tonight?” I ask hopefully. I was spoiled for the four nights after Threshing that Xaden refused to let me sleep by myself. Now life is returning to some semblance of normality, and that means Xaden has duties. 

His face twists with displeasure. “No. Unfortunately, I have to go to a midland outpost.” I sigh and lean in close to his arms to savor it. “I’ll be gone for at least the night.”

I groan into his chest. “You have definitely spoiled me because that sounds awful,” I tell him in a matter-of-fact tone. “Hurry back.”

Xaden wraps his fingers around the base of my neck and tilts my head back so he can drop a sweet kiss on my lips. “We’ll fly quickly. I’m sure Sgaeyl will be just as eager to return to Tairn.”

I smile at his words. “I’m counting on it.” 

His next kiss is lazy and lingering, like he’s trying to remember the taste of my lips while he’s gone. Xaden pulls back reluctantly. “I need to go pack and touch base with Garrick before I go.” 

I nod in understanding and release the death grip I didn’t even notice I had on his tunic. “Duty calls. Stay safe out there, Wingleader.” 

“I will,” Xaden promises. “You’ll keep Liam with you for any activities while I’m gone?” he asks to be clear. 

I smile at the obvious worry in his voice. He probably thinks I’ll slip my tail. 

“I will,” I promise in return. “I have work for him to do.”

Xaden looks like he wants to ask more about that, but the distant ringing of a bell captures his attention. He leaves with another kiss and a long goodbye. 

We’ve been together for less than a week. I shouldn’t be so attached already, but I know it’s futile to pretend otherwise. I’ll just have to take advantage of all the time I get to spend with Xaden freely, since he’ll be graduating at the end of the year. 

I look back to my bed and resign myself to another night spent alone, only my second since Threshing. I can only hope it goes better than the first one did.

Chapter Text

The venin looks at me with red-rimmed eyes, burning with visceral hatred while he stalks towards me menacingly. I try to get up and run, but I can’t. Even as my mind screams at my body to follow directions, I can’t manage to move a muscle. All I can do is stay frozen in terror and focus on my attacker as he closes the distance between us almost lazily. He’s holding my poisoned dagger and twirling it with one hand. 

I stare at the appendages in unspoken horror. 

“You didn’t think you’d be able to really stop me, did you?” He laughs with condescension. “The weakest Sorrengail can’t do shit.” 

I can kill you now, I try to scream, but my voice doesn’t work. 

“Poison is the weapon of a weakling. Look at you now, caught by your own dagger and left defenseless. I guess everyone was right about you after-all.”

I try to force myself into movement. Shifting my legs, a twitch of my finger, fucking anything. He doesn’t slow in his approach, but he doesn’t speed up either. 

“I’m going to kill you.” He tells me in a matter-of-fact tone with an ugly smile. “And after I’m finished, I’m going to drain every bit of magic from your weak little dragon. With all that power, I wonder what I can do with it. Your squad will be easy pickings.” 

In my periphery, I see Andarna’s golden silhouette and I wordlessly plead with her to run away. I beg her to get to Tairn and get out of here. She can’t be hurt. I will not allow it. 

But the connection to the warm golden light in my mind is gone, and she doesn’t respond. I reach for Tairn and I can’t find him either, nor any of the distant lights of our adjacent bonds. I’m completely alone. 

I want to snarl and growl and bite at the approaching attacker like a wild animal, but my body remains useless. More useless than it has ever been. 

“The Wingleader may be a challenge, but I don’t need to touch him at all, do I?” He smirks and crouches down to lean over my body. “That’s the problem with having such a visible weakness. Like a silver beacon. All I have to do is kill you, and that problem will take care of itself. Convenient.” 

He takes his knife and presses it over my chest right over my heart. Where the fuck is my corset? Where are my daggers from Xaden? He doesn’t push the blade any deeper, just letting it rest against my unprotected skin as a reminder that he can kill me whenever he wants and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

“You really thought you could save anyone? You can’t even save yourself.” 

The rider laughs wickedly and begins to push down on my own dagger. 

‘Silver One, you must wake.’ 

I whisper final apologies in my mind. To my father, for failing him. To Xaden, for dragging him down with me. To my squad, for leaving them unprotected and clueless in the middle of a centuries-old conflict. And to Tairn and Andarna, for not being the rider they needed. The one they deserved.

In the end, I will die the same way that I’ve lived since I found that letter. Entirely and heartbreakingly alone. Useless, a victim to my own body. 

The blade easily cuts through my thin tunic and slides into my skin like butter. I try to scream, but my rage is being held captive in the back of my throat. 

‘This is not real.’

I manage to blink and as soon as I do, the world spins around me and suddenly our positions are reversed. I’m the one holding the dagger against his chest. With a surprised gasp, I push my entire body forward and shove the dagger as deep as it can go. Until I can feel it puncture his skin and sink all the way to the hilt. 

“V-violence.” A familiar voice chokes out. 

I freeze in terror and look up into the eyes of the large body crumbled underneath me. It’s not the venin. 

"N-no," I stutter. "Please, no."

‘You are having a human nightmare.’

The onyx pools staring up at me are filled with horror. Scrambling backwards, I look down at my hands, wet with sticky blood pouring from Xaden’s chest. My eyes fill with tears and I try press against the wound to stop the bleeding but it’s too fucking late. I see the light fading from his eyes, specks of beautiful gold made dull by my own vicious hand. 

I’m a failure. It’s fitting that I’ll be sent to Malek in the wake of Xaden’s death. How would I ever live with myself? I only wish he would take me faster. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

‘VIOLET. WAKE UP.’

With a gasp, I lurch from my bed and run towards the empty wastebasket in my room. Dropping to my knees painfully, I lean over and empty the contents of my stomach with heaving gasps that make my chest ache. I gag until there is nothing left but bile. The sweat clings to my body like a second skin and my hair is damp and matted from my tossing and turning. 

Still breathing heavily, I sit back on the floor and bring my knees up to my chest. I grab one of the daggers I keep under my pillow and I hold it tight enough in my hand that my knuckles turn white. 

I hear Andarna’s voice chime from the darkness of my thoughts. ‘Are you alright?’

I smile slightly at her worry. ‘I’m okay, little one. Just the same dream.’

They started the first night I slept alone after Threshing. It always follows the same story. I’m fighting the venin and losing. I’m paralyzed or maimed, and he takes his time to taunt me. There’s always a false moment of triumph, until I realize that the blood on my hands belongs to someone I care about. It’s a different person every night but the feeling of failure always makes bile rise to my throat. Usually Xaden or a member of my squad. Last time, it was Mira. 

The only difference is when the venin in my nightmares hurts Andarna in front of me instead. I wake up screaming instead of retching. 

I’ve learned to operate on only a few hours of sleep each night, but I can feel myself reaching my limits. The lack of sleep is one thing, but the nightmares take their toll. I only really sleep well on nights that I spend with Xaden, and he’s too busy for me to bother him with my nightmares. 

‘I think the shadowed one would disagree,’ Tairn says gently. He’s always sweeter on nights like this. I feel awful for keeping him and Andarna awake. 

‘I know that. But I’ll be fine. It’s only been two weeks since Threshing. I need time to adjust.’

He grumbles but lets the topic of telling Xaden drop. Andarna picks up the lull by chatting about everything I’ve missed since we last talked. She didn’t join us for flight lessons yesterday, so she has a lot to say. She knows that it helps me to hear her voice as I try to fall back asleep, and she’s taken to her duties honorably. 

As she tells me all about the especially fat goat she hunted yesterday, and how she doesn’t know what Sgaeyl is talking about because they taste much better than sheep, I finally find my center again. I smile at her excited recollection of the chase, and lay my head back down on the pillow. 

‘Thank you, Andarna,’ I whisper as I finally fall into a thankfully dreamless rest.

—

“Cadet Sorrengail. Gym tonight at 9?”

Like he somehow knew I needed it, Xaden invites me to spar the next day for the first time since Threshing. I can’t keep the excited grin off my face when I agree. 

For two weeks, he flat out refused to go anywhere near the mat with me because I was still recovering. I tried to argue against it, citing my lack of injuries and the fact that I’ve already returned to sparring with my squad, but he wouldn’t budge. 

Just last week, I had raised an eyebrow at him at his refusal as we walked down the corridor together to my room. He couldn’t stay, but he made sure that either he or Liam saw me safely behind my wards every night. “You weren’t worried about my recovery last night. Twice.” 

Xaden smirked at my suggestive words and tugged me off into one of the secluded alcoves. His shadows rose around us protectively as he backed me into the wall. Instead of capturing my lips like I anticipated, he tilted my chin up and gave me a gentle smile that made my heart thud against my chest. 

“I’m not giving up on training you, Violet. You have too much potential and I’m going to help you get there. But you’ve been fighting for your life for a long time without pause, and you promised I could help protect you now too. I just want you to have time to slow down. Even if I can’t stop you from running around all over the quadrant with Liam for half the night.”

I rolled my eyes at his grumbles about Liam. I suppose Xaden thought he’d be tailing me from a distance like a true shadow, but I’ve fully embraced my assistant. There is work to be done after-all. 

Xaden was visibly annoyed the night before when I forgot I was supposed to meet him in his room because I got caught up teaching Liam how to pick a lock as promised. He needed a surprising amount of direction for someone good enough with his hands to carve intricate wooden sculptures. 

Tairn refused to tell Xaden where I was, or even let me know that he was looking for me, so he spent an unknown amount of time waiting outside of my door cursing my dragon’s name. 

The two of them were just like that sometimes. 

I thought about what Xaden looked with his impossibly long legs awkwardly curled in front of him on the floor outside of my room when I finally returned with Liam in tow. After a moment, I determined it was reason enough to let Xaden have this victory. If I need to supplement my training, I can return to sparring with my squad more. I need to be ready when challenges resume. 

“Fine, no sparring for now. But you better not start going easy on me just because you’re thinking about what I look like naked.” 

Xaden raised an eyebrow and leaned down to drop sweet kisses on my neck. I helplessly rose on my tiptoes to be closer in response. “Violence, I’ve always spent our spars thinking about what you look like naked. Now I just have the benefit of accuracy. It frees up my imagination for better things.” He whispered into the skin right below my ear, and I shivered. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a while?” I pleaded in a gravelly voice. I could give him plenty of things to imagine while he’s away. 

It’s sad how easy I gave in. But it sure felt good. 

But now Xaden is finally ready to spar with me again, and I’m thrilled for the opportunity to roll around with him like we did before Threshing. I always walk away from the mat with Xaden feeling like I’ve learned something and that’s just about the best feeling in the world. 

Or it used to be. I’ve had to update the scale I use for judgement since we started sleeping together. Now that is the best feeling in the world. Sparring with him still ranks highly. 

Xaden shakes his head and quirks his lips at my excited nod. He walks away while I’m still bouncing happily in my seat.

To my surprise, Xaden decides to approach my squad’s table during breakfast, which is unusual for him. We have been trying to keep our distance from each other in public, but it’s difficult. Rhiannon sends me a knowing look that I dutifully ignore. 

It also means that he left me to clean up his mess. 

Ridoc’s eyes go wide as he looks between me and our Wingleader’s retreating back. “You’re still sparring with Riorson? Gods, you’re so lucky.” 

“I think I am,” I answer honestly. “Private lessons from the best fighter in the quadrant.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I meant because he’s one of the finest views on this side of Basgiath.” Shit, that too. 

“I get a view of the ceiling more often than not, and it’s not even in a fun way.” Usually. “My back and the mat are magnets. He’s a rough teacher, but I learn a lot.” 

Ridoc sighs longingly. “Worth it.” 

I bite back a smirk. “You have no idea.”

Liam and Ivan both look extremely uncomfortable and it makes me giggle. Liam knows, and Ivan suspects, and both of them look off put by the idea of Xaden and I’s private sparring. Liam is his brother, so I get it, but I’m not sure what Ivan’s problem is. 

My best guess is because Xaden still scares the shit out of him. I’ve come to realize that if Ivan fears one thing in this world, it is Xaden Riorson. It makes his defense of me all those months ago even more admirable. 

Sawyer leans forward to catch my attention. “Are you meeting with your friend before you spar?” 

I sigh. His question was not subtle. Sawyer had met Jesinia after dinner a few days ago when we were in my room and he knocked on my door to ask me if I had seen Ridoc. He looked struck dumb the minute he saw the pretty scribe sitting at my desk, and I had to say his name three times before he’d look at me. 

Jesinia waved politely and signed hello, and Sawyer looked more panicked than I’ve ever seen him before. 

I narrow my eyes at his question. “Do I need to have a conversation with another one of my squad about flirting with the cute scribe? She’s a relationship girl, and she’s included on the list of people I’d poison someone for. Just to let you know.”

My tendency to dabble in poisons being an open secret among most of my squad means my playful threats now have more variety than stabbing them with the nearest sharp object.

Sawyer leans back at my warning and sends Liam a suspicious look at the opposite end of the table. He turns back to look at me pleadingly. “I’m not trying to fool around. Please.”

I stare at him for a moment to gauge his honesty, and I can see him get desperate. He drops his voice. “Please just teach me how to introduce myself without looking like an idiot. I don't know any sign language and I want to talk to her.” 

My heart softens at Sawyer’s plea. Learning a language for someone is huge. I should know. I sigh heavily. 

“After our History study session, I’ll show you some sign language. Ridoc and Liam can help you practice too, you know? Jesinia is coming over tomorrow night. You can knock on my door after 10 without being stabbed.” 

“Yes, of course! Violet Sorrengail, my hero!” Sawyer grins and nods rapidly, but not before sending another glance at Liam. I almost laugh, but I don’t fault him for seeing Liam as a romantic rival. Liam knows sign language and he looks like that. But Liam didn’t look at her like Sawyer did. 

Am I becoming a romantic? What is Xaden Riorson doing to me? 

“If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you worse.” I remind him with a bright smile. Sawyer’s smile falls slightly, but he picks himself back up and nods seriously. Liam hides a small smile as he takes a drink of his lemonade. I’m betting that he’s much too nice of a person to pursue Jesinia for a fling if Sawyer is into her. 

I change after dinner and Liam drops me off at the sparring gym right before the bell rings to signal the highly anticipated hour. I push open the doors and walk over to where Xaden is waiting for me with a bounce in my step. Sparring makes me feel strong and gives me something to do with the buzzing of energy that lives under my skin sometimes when I don't have something to do. It's exactly what I need after my nightmare last night. 

He looks amused at my enthusiasm and guides us to the far mat that we always occupy. There are two third-years I don’t know sparring on the opposite side and a few first-years lifting weights, but we still have some measure of privacy. 

“I don’t remember you being this excited to spar before Threshing.” 

I shake my head immediately. “Incorrect.” 

He raises an eyebrow in question. 

“Sure, the first time or two, I was still a little bit worried you’d turn me in or whatever, but after that, I’ve pretty much always been this excited to spar with you. Now I just don’t have to pretend.” 

Xaden’s eyes soften at my honesty even as we both disarm and face each other. We always start hand-to-hand before he makes me practice with my daggers. 

“I like it too.” Xaden tells me quietly. 

“I know.” I tell him jokingly. “Imagine how much more you’ll like it now that you’ll actually be able to see me naked after.” 

Without pausing, I lunge forward and kick his feet out from under him. He hits the mat hard and I can’t stop my triumphant smile, even as he easily evades my attempt at a hold. I spring up quickly before he can pin me in return, and dance back with a teasing grin. 

Xaden pushes himself up slowly and stands with a wicked smile. 

“So you want to play, Violence, is that it?” 

I nod quickly. That is exactly what I want. 

—

Jesinia and I had fallen into a routine in the last few weeks. Xaden met Jesinia the first night we worked on codebreaking, showed impressive mastery of sign language and had a casual conversation. After we made it back to my room, he told me that she could be trusted. In order to avoid a fight, I just nodded in agreement and didn’t tell him how I was right after-all. It was very big of me. I probably deserve another sharp and pointy something for my restraint. 

If I’m being honest, his insistence to meet her was strange. Xaden didn’t even probe her about her loyalty or anything that I expected. He just asked how long we’ve been friends and if she was enjoying her training with the scribes. But apparently it was enough to convince him, and I am not picking back up that argument if I don’t have to. 

Deciphering the Morrainian is a slow endeavor and I think I would cry if I had to do it alone. I care about Xaden and my squad, but they would all be exactly zero help with a project like this. Truthfully, the only other person in the quadrant who I think would be a help is Dain, but I can’t ask him for obvious reasons. We used to work on my father’s ciphers together as children.

Not only is Jesinia able to read Morrainian easily, but I was not the only scribe-in-training bound for the adept path. She’s brilliant, even if she didn't receive the same cipher instruction that I did as a child. She quickly reads over the words that could be hiding away the secrets I’ve dedicated my entire life to finding and comes to the same conclusion that I did. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Nonsense words with no rhyme or reason. Even rearranged, it goes nowhere. 

Jesinia and I study each of the messages to try and determine if it’s a substitution or a transposition cipher to start. 

With substitution, it’s a matter of decoding the Morrainian characters by finding the corresponding letters in a language that I can understand, and would only require using the correct key to reveal the message. I’m betting on the common tongue based on the average number of characters in grouped sequences. If I’m wrong, I’m only wasting hours of my hard work and the largest stack of paper that I could steal. And ink, because I still can’t channel. 

‘It’s been two and half weeks, Silver One.’ Tairn grumbles in my mind. He does that all the time. ‘You are not ready.’ 

‘I know, but I can still look forward to the future, can’t I? The thought of continuous ink pens and the downfall of my enemies are the only things that keep me going.’

I bite back a smile when I can receive a hum of amusement. Our shared sense of dark humor always makes me laugh. 

Andarna asks me a total of two questions about the process out of curiosity, and then gets distracted midway through my second answer by chasing a sheep. She might not like them as much as goats, but they are not safe around my fierce little dragon. 

If it’s a type of transposition instead, the characters would be scrambled and could be reorganized to create a message in Morrainian that is actually coherent. It’s impossible to determine which type of cipher my father used, so it’s easy to determine our approach. 

Without a key, all I can do is guess until we get it right. I give Jesinia my desk while I sit on my bed with scratch papers surrounding me. I carefully look for patterns in the Morrainian text that mimic common words and structure in order to try to reverse engineer a key based on logical assumptions. This means that singular characters likely mean i or a and consecutively identical characters likely are commonly repeated letters like ss, ee, tt, ff, ll, mm and oo. I substitute letters in a methodical fashion and try to arrange words around them until the characters are floating around on the page in front of me nonsensically. 

In case it’s actually transposition, Jesinia works on rearranging the Morrainian characters in each message dozens of ways trying to create words that would make sense given the context and then building a word library out of the remainder. Even if she’s able to identify all of the words, it would still be a matter of arranging it in the correct order. Given that my Morrainian vocabulary is mediocre at best, her help is especially important for this task. 

The work is painstaking and I haven’t felt so much like a scribe in over a year. 

Despite how hopeless it feels sometimes, it's also strangely nostalgic. Our efforts remind me of working on ciphers as a child. It was before Brennan even started to teach me about poison. My father would write me short coded messages and then come up with keys to slip into conversation during odd times like at the dinner table, usually some funny phrase or a strange word. I’d listen to every single thing he said carefully to guess the unique key. After we ate, I’d run to my room to try and decode whatever letter he left for me. It was usually praise for being clever enough to figure it out. 

I try not to dwell on the fact that while we’re working on the two most common scenarios, there is always the possibility that he decided to be difficult about it. There are types of encryption that include shifted letter placement, or ones that use pairs of letters to represent one character, or ones where the spaces between characters are deliberately skewed. There’s even a possibility there are multiple layers to the code. There is no telling how stubborn my father decided to be. I smile and shake my head at the thought. 

All I can do is try. That’s all I’ve been doing this whole time. 

Two nights a week, Liam and I walk to pick up Jesinia after dinner and we work on code breaking until ten. Then we walk her back to her building safe and sound, since scribes aren’t meant to be in the Rider’s Quadrant without permission. I’d never let Jesinia get in trouble for me. 

Tonight is different. I negotiated with Liam to allow Sawyer to walk us back while he watches at a distance. I could tell he wanted to disagree so I made it a challenge. 

I told Liam not to let me notice him and it turned on a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. We’ll see how that goes. 

Moments after the bell rings to signal the beginning of the hour, I hear a knock at my door. I almost roll my eyes at his punctuality, but I secretly think it’s sweet. All this affection I’m receiving on a consistent basis is already making me go all soft. I can’t believe I agreed to this. 

I smile at Jesinia and get her attention. “That’s my friend Sawyer. We shouldn’t bore him about our work like Liam, but he’s a good guy.” 

My words are very intentional. No shop talk or mentions of any suspicions in front of Sawyer. 

I wait until Jesinia nods before I get up to answer the door. I hold out a hand and he looks at me in confusion until he’s rebuffed back by the invisible wall. I resist the urge to make fun of him and reach out to grab his elbow to tug him into the room. 

“Wards.” I say simply. 

Sawyer looks back in surprise. “How?”

I blink. “I have my ways.” I have my Wingleader. But I like keeping up a chaotic air of mystery. 

He tries to keep up a suspicious front, but it clearly fades away when he sees Jesinia standing behind me. Good. 

I watch as he awkwardly bumbles through his introduction. I have to hand it to him. Despite having to go slowly, he manages a very respectable two sentences smoothly. He even gets the name sign for Jesinia correct. 

“Hello, Jesinia, my name is S-A-W-Y-E-R. I hope we can get to know each other more.” 

Jesinia smiles and signs slowly for his benefit. “Hi, Sawyer. It’s nice to meet you.” 

I taught him that one. Now is the real test. 

“It’s nice to meet you too. Liam is busy tonight. Please let me walk you two to the Scribe Quadrant.” He had to fingerspell a few words, and he totally messed up the sign for quadrant, but it was a solid effort. 

Jesinia nods with a smile. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

She picks up her bag and I carefully stack up all of our papers to put away in the drawer before we leave. I don’t need my father’s research out to work on the code so it’s just stray pieces of paper I’m gathering. 

“Whoa, Violet, what’s with all the paper? Did we have homework I forgot about?” 

I laugh at his words. “No, just a project Jesinia is helping me with.” 

“What kind of project?” 

I smile uncomfortably. “It’s kind of personal. Something to do with my dad. I’ll tell you someday.” 

Sawyer nods easily in understanding and the three of us step out of the room. I immediately scan for Liam. I’m not going to take it easy on him. His door is shut and a subtle check of the handle as we walk past tells me that it’s still locked. I can’t hear any sounds from the inside, so unless Liam was suddenly very good at masking his presence, he’s not waiting to slip out after us and is already in a subtle position somewhere watching us exit. 

That’s the better play. Score one for Mairi. 

As a willing interpreter between Sawyer and Jesinia on our walk, I can’t help but giggle at Sawyer’s efforts to impress her. He tries very hard on his dragon’s name, but I can tell from his wince that his dragon probably took issue with his severe misspelling of Sliseag. I quickly spell it correctly for him with a small smile. 

I’ll play the helpful bystander as long as Jesinia doesn’t indicate I shouldn’t. I still haven’t taught Sawyer the signs for “Help” or “Get this guy away from me.” 

We arrive at the usual place we separate from each other, where I can watch her enter her building safely. Sawyer signs out his careful goodbyes and Jesinia gives him a genuine smile. We hug quickly and I keep my eyes on her until she disappears. 

I turn to look at Sawyer and he looks like he’s floating on air. He looks at me with desperation in his eyes. “Please teach me more sign language. You are a way better teacher than Ridoc. I will do whatever you want. I’ll do your physics homework. I’ll sharpen your many, many daggers.” Over my dead body. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” It’s a shame that he’s not nearly as good at physics as Rhiannon. That would be a deal to consider, if physics wasn't actually damn important to being a rider. 

“I won’t sharpen any of your daggers.” He amends quickly. "Violet Sorrengail, poisoner of evil, rider of the fearsome Tairn and the beautiful Andarna, my hero. I am begging you.”

‘I like this one,’ Andarna chimes, and it makes me smile. She’s always been prone to fall for flattery. He’s not wrong. Andarna is beautiful, and Tairn is definitely fearsome. 

I roll my eyes at him. “You don’t have to beg. We’ll do a little after every study group. I can also show up early if you have time.” He smiles widely before I continue. “Oh, and Sawyer? Touch my daggers and you’ll lose a finger.” 

My typical threats will have to work in this instance. With my luck, a member of my squad, most likely Ridoc, will end up poisoning themselves by accident. 

Sawyer swallows and nods seriously. “U-understood.” 

I detect the faintest hint of an exhale behind a nearby tree. A smothered laugh. It was a bold vantage point for a man his size, but definitely usable if he could have remained undetected. 

Good but not good enough, Mairi. Without pausing, I stride over to surprise him by popping out around the tree quickly. “Hi, Liam!”

All six plus feet of him jumps several feet up in the air. I cackle at the look on his face. 

“Damn, Violet.” He curses softly and holds a hand to his chest. 

“Sorry for scaring you but,” I start to tell him but I can’t control my lingering giggles. “Better luck next time.” 

“I’ll get the hang of this,” he promises and I nod encouragingly.

“You’re doing great. Now you can just walk back with us.” 

Sawyer walks over and looks between the two of us. “Are you sure you two aren’t sleeping together?”

I roll my eyes. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” 

“You spend all of your time together.” Sawyer looks like he wants my answer to be yes. I am under no illusions that it’s because he cares that I’m getting laid. He probably just wants somebody to snag Liam before he can flirt with Jesinia any more. Too bad for him that I am already spoken for. 

“Wingleader Riorson has a vested interest in my survival for his own sake, mated dragons and all.” I ignore the huff of amusement under Liam’s breath. “He asked Liam to help keep me safe, and our boy is dedicated to his job, what can I say?”

The truth is easy enough to share because it should already be apparent through context clues. 

The three of us return to our dorms, and I sigh at the thought of another night alone. Xaden isn’t around tonight. We say goodbye to Sawyer at his door and follow the path to our rooms. 

“Are you going to stop flirting with Jesinia now?” I ask Liam. 

His blue eyes sparkle. “Why would I ever stop flirting with a pretty girl?” 

I laugh and shake my head. “Because Sawyer is willing to learn a language for her. That’s the height of romance.” 

Liam rolls his eyes playfully. “Of course a would-be scribe thinks a romantic grand gesture requires a trip to the library.” 

I punch his arm and hide my wince at the twinge in my wrist. Note to self: do not punch Liam in the arm because my wrist will give out before he feels it. I should have already learned that lesson from Xaden. 

Just like with Xaden, I’ll aim for the throat next time. It’s easier on the joints and does more damage. 

“Shut up, or I’ll fire you,” I threaten half-heartedly. “It’s true! I’m not a romantic but I can’t help but root for him. The act of learning a language to be able to better communicate with somebody is oddly beautiful to me.” 

“You don’t think you’re a romantic?” Liam asks and it catches me off guard. 

I hum in thought. “I don’t think so. I’m a realist. Even before my life became a storm with no end, I tended to err on the practical side of things. When I made stupid dating decisions, it wasn’t because I fooled myself dreaming about fairy tail outcomes. I just decided to do it regardless.” 

“Would you say it’s practical to sneak around with your Wingleader?” Liam teases. 

“We already know that Xaden is the least rational thing I’ve done since crossing the parapet.” My voice is light and affectionate. “Maybe he’s just worth a bit of absurdity. Even if I’m not a romantic, I think I’ll keep him.” 

Liam grins so wildly that I wonder if his face ever hurts at the end of the day, or if he’s just used to being the human embodiment of sunshine. I haven’t met a soul in the quadrant as free with their smiles.

“I’m glad you’re on our side, Violet.”

Oh great, now my face is certainly going to hurt later. 

“Me too, Liam. There was never another choice for me.”

Chapter Text

The unbonded cadets do not cause me any problems until a month after Threshing. I could lie and say that I almost forget to be constantly concerned about them, but I’m always on guard for some type of threat. 

That includes the gathering of information. I make it a point to creep around to my destinations and listen for any mention of my name, or any of the people I care about. Liam is forced to get used to the roundabout ways I take to get everywhere, and the manner in which I would shrink into corners as groups pass to listen in. He learns the correct amount of space to not be underfoot while still keeping me in his sight. 

Usually, I don't find out anything interesting. Spying requires patience because most people are smart enough not to discuss their plans in public areas. 

Well, it looks like that doesn’t include Tynan and Oren. I watch them stare at me through dinner with special hatred in their eyes, speak in low tones, and move to leave the dining hall at the exact same time. They haven’t glared at me quite so fiercely in a few weeks. Consider my interest piqued. 

Besides when he opens his mouth during squad activities, Tynan hasn’t caught my attention at all since I sent him to the healers’ for a week. I switched his waterskin during sparring with one spiked using the same poison I used on that group of cadets. He hasn’t connected the dots, but I’ll do even worse if he ever thinks to threaten Andarna again. He isn’t even worthy of looking at her. 

I feel a brush against the bond, and I know my little dragon is happy about my defense for her. 

I nod once to Liam, and I stand up to leave. He cuts off his conversation with Sawyer to stand with no other direction. The squad is used to our little disappearing act. Where I go, so does my shadow. Rhiannon thinks it’s cute that Xaden cares so much about my safety. I’m pretty sure that Sawyer and Ridoc still think we’re fucking. 

I’m mostly just surprised that Ridoc isn’t flirting with Liam himself. Ridoc has never been one to show restraint, but there has been a noticeable lack of invitations to his bedroom. 

Liam follows me silently out of the dining hall and we dispose of our trays. I consider their possible paths. The corridors would be smarter. Harder to follow, more places to hide. 

After a moment of contemplation, I turn towards the courtyard instead. 

As usual, Liam stays a few steps back and allows me to set our pace. Just as I suspected, Tynan and Oren are huddled together in the far corner. I roll my eyes and quickly change direction, slipping back into the building so I can follow it around behind them. My steps are fast but they stay silent. I’d hate to miss anything incriminating. 

While taking care to stay out of the sight of any windows, I guide Liam to the door that opens several feet behind them. I push the door open as little as possible and slide a utensil I pocketed from the dining hall to hold it in place on the ground. It’s all we need to listen, and it’s more dangerous to hold a door open for an extended period of time without moving. One shaky hand and squeaky hinge is all it takes.

I slid back so I’m pressed up behind the door and I can listen through the crack. I gesture for Liam to take his place on the other side. 

He’s getting better at hiding his presence. Maybe the number one cadet in our year can win meditation. 

They’re arguing about something. 

“I told you, I can’t be the one to do it. She’s on my squad.” Tynan. I am the obvious target. 

“It’s just not fair that she claimed two dragons, and one of them is a black dragon. If I would have found him, there is no way he would have bonded to her.”

Well, Oren, I have a growling dragon in my head that tells me you’re wrong. Idiots. 

“I know. If you want another chance, you need to help me. I told you I found someone to unlock her room tonight. All you need to do is gather a few of the other unbonded and kill her. Be careful of her fucking armor. Don’t aim for the torso.” 

Oh, Tynan, sharing a squad member’s weaknesses is a new low. But his words intrigue me more than they threaten me. I have wards and a scary Wingleader next to me half the time after-all. 

But Tynan found someone to unlock my room. The list of people who can tell him the location of my room and let him in is a short one. And if they have that ability, yet are involving the unbonded, they don’t want to get their hands dirty. It doesn’t sound like the person who tried to have me killed at Threshing. If I survived one venin, they wouldn’t send untrained cadets, not even riders, to finish the job. 

I can let the ward Xaden put up do its job. Or I can figure out who besides the unbonded wants me dead. 

‘Silver One…’ Tairn begins, and I sent him a wave of calm through the bond. 

‘I know what I’m doing,’ I promise. 

I look over and Liam is looking ready to slam through the doors and kill them both right there. I shake my head firmly. This is a situation that should be handled delicately. They walk back through the courtyard and I pick up the utensil to deposit in the trash, letting the door fully shut.

“We need to tell Xaden,” Liam says seriously. 

I nod easily. I do need to tell Xaden. I can’t disable the wards alone. 

“I agree. You should go get him.” 

Liam looks vaguely suspicious at my easy agreement. I don’t think either of them are going to like this. 

He sighs. “Follow me. I’ll grab him from dinner.” 

I wait for Liam to return to the corridor outside of the dining hall with Xaden in tow and I can’t help but send him a secretive smile when our eyes meet.

Wingleaders, let alone rebellion leaders, are the busy sort. He's plagued by early and late night meetings, as well as missions for command, all in addition to the course load of a third-year. 

I only get to spend a couple nights a week tangled up in Xaden, either on the sparring mat or in bed. Usually both on the same nights. It’s never enough. We haven’t had any alone time together in three days, mostly because he spent the last two days at a midland outpost. 

Xaden smirks and checks his surroundings before reaching up to brush a piece of hair that had fallen from my long single braid behind my ear. I look up at him from under my lashes and I can practically hear Liam roll his eyes. 

“This is definitely not the reason we called this meeting, boss.” Liam tells me pointedly. I roll my eyes and step away from Xaden reluctantly. I guide us towards one of the storage closets in the neighboring corridor and they fall into step behind me automatically.

I assumed that it could fit around five people comfortably. But it’s a tight fit for me and two giants. “Perhaps I miscalculated the size of this place.”

Xaden tugs me closer to him pointedly and Liam backs up in response. I roll my eyes again. 

I turn to Xaden. “I need you to take down the wards for my room for the night.”

“What?” They yell in tandem. I wrinkle my nose. They should at least wait for me to explain the creative part of my plan to criticize. 

Liam rushes to complain. “Violet, you just heard from those two that they’re trying to kill you tonight, with a group of unbonded.” 

Xaden’s head snaps towards him and then back at me. I turn to give Liam a disappointed look. “You need to listen for what’s important, not just what is most obviously concerning.”

With that, I look back at Xaden and stand up tall. He is looking absolutely fed up with my nonsense, which will not do at all. “Yes, they are planning to kill me. If you don’t disable the wards, they’ll just fail and leave. And then where will we be?” 

“Alive?” Liam mutters sarcastically but I keep my eyes on Xaden. 

“Keeping people out is kind of the fucking point of wards, Violence.” He grits out his words between clenched teeth. 

“I’m not going to let them kill me,” I murmur quietly. “You won’t let them kill me.” 

Xaden’s eyebrows stay in the same furrowed shape, but I can see the way he starts to soften. “I know that. Nobody is going to touch you.” 

I smile at his fierce claim and grab one of his hands from where they’re curled up into fists at his sides. “Tynan said he knew someone who could let the unbonded ones into my room. This is too messy for another move by Aetos. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to figure out who else wants me dead.”

“I don’t like this.” Xaden looks like he won’t budge. “It’s dangerous, and not worth it. If you never lift the wards, they’ll never be able to attack you in your sleep. 

‘I hate to agree with the wingleader, Silver One, but you should not needlessly risk your life.’

‘It’s not needless. It’s for information.’ I insist. 

“If you leave up the wards, we learn nothing and the same people want me dead tomorrow. We’ll just force them to get more creative. Not to mention that it would be suspicious for a first-year to have a warded room. If you disable them for one night, you’ll be able to execute an entire group of people who want me dead for violating the Codex and attacking a cadet in her sleep. Even if Tynan isn’t there, he will also be guilty of conspiring against a squad member as soon as the crime is committed, which puts his future in the Wingleader’s capable hands.” 

It’s concerning that the promise of bloodshed looks closer to convincing him than anything else I’ve said so far. I try to capitalize on the opening. I squeeze his hand and pull it towards my chest. “You will be nearby, with your shadows watching over me. You can bring Garrick or Bodhi to act as a witness. The minute they get into the room and attack, you will be there to protect me.” 

I look deeply into his eyes and try to impress upon him how badly I want to do this. I don’t like the idea of leaving idle threats sitting around when I can expose them. 

Xaden looks between me and Liam reluctantly. “Does it matter if I tell you that I’d prefer this not happen?” 

I blink. Of course his opinion matters. I’m risking both of our lives. “Well, I can’t disable wards on my own, so my hands are tied here. If you think I shouldn’t, I won’t. But I think my plan is smarter.” 

Xaden shakes his head at me, but I can see he’s begun to accept that this is happening. “And why can’t I wait with you in your room? You could get hurt before I get in the door.”

I scrunch my nose. “I can handle myself for a few minutes. It's bad form for a Wingleader to be keeping a first-year warm at night. Even if she is his most favorite sparring partner.”

“I’m going to tell Garrick you said that.” Liam teases from the corner he retreated to. I almost forgot he was here. 

“Not that kind of sparring,” I whisper teasingly to Xaden and admire the look of his eyes darkening. From the sound of Liam’s fake retching, the words were clear in this small supply room. Oops. 

Well, he chooses to follow me around and I choose to flirt with my Wingleader. It’s an occupational hazard of being my assistant. 

I bite my lip and drag Xaden’s attention to my mouth, using every weapon at my disposal. I press one of my hands against his chest. “You will make an excuse, and find yourself in the corridor with a witness of your choice. You will keep an eye out and wait for all of them to enter.”

“And then?” He asks, eyes on my lips. 

“You arrive with your scary shadows and take care of my leftovers,” I tell him with a cheeky smile. “Once we manage any threats, I will obviously need shelter for the night from my altruistic Wingleader until my wards can be replaced.” 

“Yeah?” I smile wickedly at the rising excitement in his voice taking over the uncertainty. I wonder if Xaden is also feeling the strain of our three nights apart like an ache in his chest. “Is that a fact?” he asks. 

“Oh, definitely. Who could sleep alone after such a traumatic experience? I will need comfort, especially after spending the last three nights alone. A copious amount of comfort really.”

"That sounds very nice of me. I suppose we can do it your way," Xaden tells me in a low voice as he leans closer, but pauses at Liam’s groan.

“Do you two really have to do this right now?”

Xaden moves his eyes away from me for only a second to glare at Liam for interrupting us. I’d say I wouldn’t want to be at the other end of that but his anger looks delicious on him. I suddenly wish I would have left my shadow in the dining hall. We could definitely think of some good ways to use this closet. 

The Violet who said a few months ago that she would never hook up in a supply closet didn’t know what Xaden Riorson’s lips felt like. 

I forcefully push Xaden away a few inches instead of forcing his neck down to kiss me like I want to. “Go. Make arrangements. Meet at my room in an hour to disable the wards.”

Xaden looks disgruntled, like he doesn’t quite believe what he agreed to. I fear he may have to get used to it. 

He casts a lingering suspicious glance at Liam as he leaves and I stop myself from rolling my eyes so soon after winning an argument. He assigned me my shadow in the first place, so he really can’t get mad when we’re alone together. 

“Go,” I repeat. “I’ll have Liam walk me to my door like a good girl.” 

Xaden doesn’t look reassured, and gives Liam a long look. 

His brother just shakes his head. “She’ll be safe, man.” 

Xaden reluctantly leaves and I listen for the sound of his footsteps trailing away before I turn to Liam. 

“I’m sorry I sprung that plan on you.” I know Liam is upset when I don’t let him in on my thought process. He takes his assistant duties very seriously. 

“I would have appreciated the warning.” 

“I know, I know. But this is the smarter plan.” For me, the only plan is the smarter plan. I know it’s the more dangerous one, but that doesn’t outweigh its value.

This is a dangerous game I'm playing, and I need to make the right moves from the beginning. 

“I know that. I just want to make sure you don’t think yourself into a situation you can’t think yourself out of.”

I soften at the genuine concern in his voice. “I’m careful, Liam. You know I am. You know it better than anyone after a month following me around.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t the smartest person I know, Violet. I’m allowed to be worried about my friend.”

I smile brightly at that and bump his shoulder as I open the door. “I know. I worry about you too. Let’s go. I have things to do.”

We walk out of the closet quickly and the worst fucking thing in the world happens. No, a venin doesn’t jump out to attack us. I’m ready for that. I would have almost preferred it. 

Ivan and Ridoc turn the corner and freeze in place at the incriminating scene in front of them. Liam and I sneaking out of a storage closet and standing very close together. After we suddenly stood up and exited the dining hall together without a word. 

Oh gods, no. They should both still be at dinner. I can’t believe I was so distracted by my conversation with Liam that I didn’t hear them approach. I stare wide-eyed and woefully unprepared, and I can see Liam frozen solid beside me from the corner of my eye. His cheeks have begun to go bright red. 

That doesn’t help my plan to play it off casually. Embarrassment on the confident Liam Mairi just looks like guilt. He’s making it look like he had his tongue down my throat two minutes ago. 

“Hi, guys.” I try to play it off anyways with an easy smile. "Finish dinner early?"

“Hi, Violet. Hi, Liam,” Ridoc drawls, and I can see the mischief shining in his eyes. “Funny running into you two coming out of a closet. I seem to remember Violet not wanting to give them a try. I’m glad Liam could… convince you.” 

My face flushes against my will. I try my best to avoid Ridoc’s knowing gaze by observing Ivan. He just looks confused. I’m certain he’s made some assumptions about Xaden and I, and those assumptions are very correct. I feel the need to defend myself that I’m not fucking Xaden’s brother, but the protest would give away too much. 

I wave my hands in front of me. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gamlyn. Not one of you here hasn’t been pulled by me into an abandoned room to speak at one point or another. It’s a part of the Violet Sorrengail charm.”

Ridoc doesn’t look convinced, but I can see that Ivan believes me. He offers me a tentative smile and turns to try and draw Ridoc’s attention away. 

“Vi pulled me into an empty classroom the morning of Threshing.” Ivan starts conversationally. 

“Oh, me too!” Ridoc answers excitedly. “I thought she was giving me salt.” He’s so unapologetic about his terrible assumption. I can’t help but smile remembering his confused expression. 

Ivan just shakes his head and laughs lightly. “I figured out what it was because I once caught her poisoning a group of cadets with eggs.” 

Ridoc’s eyes shine and he finally turns fully to look away from me. “That’s so awesome! Tell me everything.”

I’m sorry Rhiannon, but Ivan might be my new favorite in the squad. 

“Well, they were being rude to some first-year marked ones, and you know Violet…” 

They fall into conversation about me, and Ivan gently leads Ridoc away down the hallway in the direction they were walking with surprising ease. They don’t even turn to say goodbye. I stare at the space they left behind for a moment too long. 

“I can’t tell if I’m mad at him for sharing my secrets or grateful he diffused that situation immediately. I think that I’m impressed.”

“He diffused the situation for now.” Liam shudders. “Ridoc is going to tell Sawyer, who might be the other biggest gossip in the quadrant. People will know we’re having sex by lunch tomorrow.” 

“We’re not having sex.” I feel the need to remind him. “I just can’t tell everybody who is actually in my bed.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. Xaden would skin me alive. He might do it just because people think so.” 

I laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re his brother. He won’t hurt you. He’s protective but he’s not that bad.” For a moment, I flash back to some of the things he’s said in bed. That’s just talk, right? 

He shakes his head like I’m being ridiculous. “Whatever you say, Violet. You did manage to convince him into your plan with frightening efficiency when I thought he’d never go for it, so what do I know?” 

I laugh lightly. “Xaden requires a delicate touch.” I try to avoid thinking more about touching him while Liam is here. There will be time for that later. “He’s just worried about me in the end. I know that I could get us both killed if I’m not careful, and I try to understand that.” 

“You don’t realize what a stubborn bastard he was before you showed up. Nobody really ever talked back to him, and here you are and you’re not scared of him one bit. He listens to you even when you’re fighting.” 

“I’m not scared of him. We fight sometimes because we’re both stubborn.” I shrug but I can’t stop my stupid smile. “I like it. Xaden makes me work for it.” I look up at his scowl and giggle. 

“Stop giving me that face, I don’t mean like that. I just meant that your brother is smart. He always calls me brilliant but he has a uniquely interesting mind, and I love seeing it work even if it is to try and best me. I like sparring with him even when he takes me down to the mat. At least verbally, I have the advantage. I win some, I pretend to lose some to keep it fun and flirty, and it always ends the same way.”

“What way is that?” 

“Us on the same side. That’s all that has ever mattered to me. I’d like to think he listens because I do.”

Liam nods in understanding. “I think he likes the sparring too. You’re the first girl that makes him want to bend. He trusts you enough to give up a little bit of control.”

I smile at Liam’s words. He knows his brother well, so I must be doing something right. I can’t help but tease him. “I’m fairly certain that I’m the one who does the bulk of the bending, but he contributes admirably.” 

Liam’s face scrunches up in disgust and he starts walking away from me in the direction of my room while I cackle. “Ugh. Why are you like this?” 

Pausing at the corner, he turns to make sure I’m following. Even if I drive him crazy, Liam refuses to let me out of his sight. I fall into step next to him easily, still chuckling to myself. 

“Okay, I’ll stop. What were we talking about? Oh, how I’m so crazy about your brother that I let him win the occasional argument. Very out of character for me. It’s beginning to be a problem.” I tell him jokingly. Liam is the only person that I can talk openly to about both Xaden and the true threat outside of the wards. Xaden knows everything, but I can’t exactly talk about my silly feelings to him. 

Liam is my shadow bodyguard and research assistant, but he’s also my friend. He laughs and throws an arm over my shoulder. “I think that’s just called a relationship, Vi.” 

My cheeks bloom red against my control. I haven’t really started calling Xaden my boyfriend, even inside my own mind. That’s the downside of secretly sleeping with my Wingleader. We’ve been seeing each other exclusively for a month, and we spent the prior three months aggressively flirting with each other at every opportunity, but we can’t make it obvious to the quadrant. I just think of him as mine. “Whatever it is, I’m way too happy about it. It’s suspicious.” 

He looks at me in surprise. “Feels like there was a bit of truth there.” 

I look at the stones in front of me. “Hm. I don’t know, maybe. This totally falls under the boss-research assistant code of confidentiality, you know?” 

Liam laughs lightly and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m not going to tell Xaden your secrets, Vi.” 

Carefully, I try to find the words to explain how I’m feeling. “It’s not that I’m suspicious of Xaden. I trust him and his intentions. We might not last forever, but I like what we have now. It’s more like I’m suspicious of being happy. I sometimes wonder if I deserve it.” 

My feet catch on the stone in surprise when Liam stops walking suddenly and his arm falls from my shoulder. “Why would you say that, Vi? Of course you deserve to be happy.” 

Humming in thought, I gesture for us to keep walking since I can already see my door. Xaden will be here soon. 

“I know. I just…” I trail off as I grab my key and unlock the door quickly. Liam ushers me into the room, waits for him to pull him in expectantly, and closes the door behind us. I guess he’s not going to let this one go easily. 

He gives me his typical look of openness and compassion. I sigh and move to sit on my bed close to my desk so I can lazily disarm for comfort. I’ll be putting them back on later tonight. 

“I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done.” I murmur quietly as I remove my daggers one at a time. Liam doesn’t know everything that happened at Threshing, but I’m sure he has his theories based on the pieces of information he’s picked up. He’s catching on quickly to the spy game after-all. He sits on my desk chair to listen silently. “I don’t regret any of it, and I’d make the same logical choice every time. That’s how I’ve rationalized my actions. But I’ve been having kind of a rough time since Threshing.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nightmares usually, on nights when I’m alone. Sometimes when I’m awake too. I’m not used to feeling like my mind isn’t on my side.” I pull out my final dagger and examine the pretty hilt thoughtfully. I can prepare to defend myself all that I want, but it doesn’t do shit to guard me in my dreams. 

Liam leans towards me. “Can I ask what the nightmares are about?” 

I flinch and lean back on to my bed more fully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

For all the curiosity I’ve been trying to instill, Liam Mairi is at his core a great person, way better than I am, and he easily backs off. “You don’t have to tell me. But you should talk to Xaden about it. He’d want to know if you’re having trouble.” 

“Nightmares aren’t threatening my life, Liam,” I tell him with an eye roll that doesn’t read nearly as casual as I intend. “He’s kept occupied with third-year classes and orders from command, and wingleader duties, amongst other things. That’s a lot for one man to take on, even one as extraordinary as Xaden. I’m not going to burden him with worrying about my sleep schedule on nights he’s busy.” 

Liam shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t think he’d see anything when it comes to you as being a burden. He cares about you and you should tell him how you’re feeling.” 

My discomfort with the conversation starts to settle under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch, and I take a deep breath to calm down. I don’t want to snap at Liam. “I get to decide what I want to share too. I don’t want to talk about this with him.”

The words are even and without blame, but Liam still tries to hide his wince. 

Maybe I’m not quite over Xaden keeping his secrets. I try not to think about it. It’s one of my distant worries, so many items down on my list that they’re not on my radar yet. After I start to channel, I’ll worry about things like shielding, developing a signet before I explode, or whether or not my maybe-boyfriend will finally let me in on the rest of his hidden truths. 

The ones that would be so difficult for me to hear that he didn’t want to tell me after Threshing. 

Okay, maybe I’ve thought about it a bit. How could I not? My first theory is that it has something to do with my mother. I don’t know what, but it seems like the most logical conclusion. What has a capacity to devastate greater than family? 

Liam nods kindly. “I get it, Vi. Boss-research assistant code of confidentiality. I’m here if you ever want to talk. I may be Xaden’s brother, but I’m still your friend.” 

I smile gently. Liam is great. I should honestly thank Xaden for pushing us together. 

“I know, Liam. You’re the best research assistant a girl could ask for. Even if you’re still all big and loud.” 

“You said I was getting better!” Liam complains. “You didn’t catch me last time until you and Sawyer were practically back at your room.” 

I smile wider. “Eh, for an amateur. Maybe I’ll stop going easy on you eventually.” 

I’m not going easy on him at all, but I can still tease.

Liam shoves my leg where I had it propped up on the bed so it falls flat. I giggle and use the same leg to kick against his knee gently where he’s still sitting on my desk chair. 

We both look up at a knock on my door. I stand to greet Xaden happily. As soon as the door opens, he strides in and closes it behind him with a slam. He wraps his hands around my waist and tries to pull me into a kiss, but I place my hands on his chest to stop him. 

“Ah, ah,” I tell him softly. “Shadow in the room, and it’s not one of yours.”

Xaden looks up slowly across my room at my desk. He doesn’t look pleased that Liam didn’t leave me at my door. “Goodbye, Liam.” Maybe Liam was on to something outside of the storage closet. 

Liam snorts and stands up to leave. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Stay safe tonight, boss.” 

“I will, Liam. See you later,” I say to his retreating back. Liam strides out of the room without another word and closes the door behind him. I turn back to my smug-looking Wingleader. 

“You should be nicer to him,” I tell Xaden with a begrudging smile. “He sacrifices a lot to follow me around all the time.” 

Xaden grumbles unintelligibly and tries to pull me into a kiss again, but I keep pulling back teasingly. 

“He’s fine,” Xaden insists. I laugh at his stubborn expression and allow him to pull me into a deep kiss that makes me squirm to be even closer. He slowly backs me up against my armoire. “I’d hardly call spending his nights around you a sacrifice. More like he’s a lucky bastard.” 

His words startled a laugh out of me. “You assigned him!”

“Don’t remind me,” he tells me with a groan and leans down farther so he can press sweet kisses along my neck. “I appreciate that he’s there for back-up, but if I have to hear someone talk about how Liam managed to fuck a Sorrengail one more time, I’m not going to held responsible for my actions.” 

I wince. That has been the consensus around the quadrant. I suppose we draw attention because people still expect me to hate the marked ones on principle. I’m sure the rumors won’t be any better if Ridoc lets the whole closet thing slip. 

“Xaden, he’s your brother. He’s not trying to fuck me.” I tell him seriously. Liam is a flirt but he respects Xaden far too much to ever cross a line. "You don't have to worry about anything like that." Why would I look at anyone else when I have Xaden in front of me? 

Xaden lifts his head and narrows his eyes at me. “I’m just going to go ahead and assume everybody is trying to fuck you on account of you looking like that. Guilty until proven innocent.” 

I giggle and shake my head at his theatrics. “Liam and I are friends. It’s nice to have somebody to talk to during long nights at work, someone who knows about everything. I’ve spent a lot of my time alone in recent years.” 

His eyes soften. “I know, little spy. I’m glad he can be there for you. I promise I’m not really angry at him. Maybe I’m just jealous he gets to spend so much time seeing you in your element.” 

My heart sings at his words. I reach up and cup his face gently. “I’ll always choose lounging in bed with you over working on nights when you're free, but I hope you know that you’re welcome to join me. I just don’t bring you because you’re so busy and I want to spend our free time relaxing together.” 

He grabs one of my hands and shifts it so he can place a kiss on my palm. “I didn’t know that actually, but I’m glad that I do now. I would be more than happy to follow you around.”

I smile softly at the gratitude in his eyes. 

“Don’t tell him that I told you, but you’d probably be better at it,” I drop my voice to a whisper. “We could make those shadows of yours useful in more ways than one.” 

He directs a few of them to scamper up my legs and wrap around my waist, pulling me forward into him with a rough tug. “We already do.” 

Xaden sets me on fire with his words, and I try to ignore my urge to pounce on him. 

“Let’s go tomorrow,” I tell him suddenly. “You can tell me the paths you take to do the things you need to do, and I’ll show you how to get there more efficiently and the schedules to avoid patrols.” 

Because I’m going to survive my plan tonight, I do not say but Xaden hears it regardless. 

“Tomorrow.” He agrees. “I should be free for the next three nights at least.” 

My eyes sparkle at that information. “Mm, I can’t wait to take advantage of your private bathroom once or twice.”

Xaden wraps his arms around me tightly as his shadows fall away.

“You should pack a bag then.” He tells me seriously. “Save yourself some trips.” 

I smile widely. “Generous of you, Wingleader. But I don’t want to end up without my things if you’re called away unexpectedly.” 

He leans forward to whisper in my ear. “Your wards let me in. Mine will let you in. Just make sure you’re wearing your daggers, until you’re able to use lesser magic.”

Oh. My smile softens at the implications. I really need to learn more about these daggers of mine. 

“I could take advantage of that quite easily, you know,” I tease. 

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” His smile is bright and boyish and my breath catches. 

Chapter Text

My Wingleader kisses me goodbye six times and still doesn’t manage to make it out of the door. He keeps making excuses to stay in my room, until the sun has completely set. I know I have until they assume I’m asleep, but he is pushing our luck.

“Xaden.” I attempt to send him away with a serious expression. The effect is partially ruined by the fact that I’m still out of breath from his latest goodbye. “You know the plan. It unfortunately requires you to leave now.” 

“I still think we need to re-think this plan of yours,” Xaden tries with something resembling a pout on his face. 

I quirk an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you saying something about how you should always listen to me…” I glance at the bit of stone wall next to my curtains meaningfully. 

Xaden smirks in response and looks at my lips like he’s thinking about going for a seventh long goodbye. He needs to stop before we end up giving my would-be killers an eyeful. 

“Well.” He starts. “I stand by that. My girlfriend is brilliant. But that doesn’t mean I have to like all of her wild schemes.” 

I bite back a smile at him calling me his girlfriend. He’s never done that before. I wonder why he chose right now. Fear for my life? Lingering misplaced jealousy because of Liam? Either way, I appreciate the confirmation. 

“I know, sweetheart,” I tell him gently. I watch his mouth gape in surprise at my pet name. He looks delightfully embarrassed, and I immediately decide that I’m going to take advantage of that frequently. Xaden doesn’t have a monopoly on pet names. 

He fumbles for a moment with his words, and I can barely disguise my delight. His dirty little whispers of 'Violence' and 'little spy' and 'my sweet girl' haunt me when I’m just trying to go about my day. Or the way he usually only says my real name in bed and he makes it sound like that. All of it is absolutely sinful and I am eager to enact my wicked revenge. 

I continue with a smile, while he’s still a bit stunned. “I know it’s hard for you to walk away, and I appreciate you trusting me. I can come up with wild schemes because I know you’re there to have my back.” 

Xaden finally speaks. “I’ll always have your back.” 

I tuck myself into his chest and wrap my arms around him, careful of the weapons strapped to his back. He winds his arms above my shoulders. 

“I have yours too,” I remind him. “Hurry along or I’ll kill them all before you get here.” 

Xaden rolls his eyes playfully and finally moves to the door with a single peck, an exercise of his self-control. He's carrying a large over-packed rucksack on his shoulder containing my things for the next few nights. He insisted on dropping it off in his bedroom so I wouldn’t have to grab it after the attack. He really is a sweetheart. 

I spend a solid five minutes laying in bed staring at my ceiling to process the fact that I have a boyfriend. Xaden calls me his girl all the time, so I probably shouldn’t be so surprised. After smiling like an idiot for a few more minutes while people somewhere in the quadrant plot to kill me, I finally stand up to prepare. 

I have given a lot of thought on how to best ready my room for an attack. 

Oren is going to bring a group of unbonded. More people mean more weapons to contend with, but it also means that their movement will be constrained. How many do I think would be ideal if I was playing the role of the unbonded for this performance? I’d say three, plus whoever is going to unlock my door. Enough to cover all possible avenues of escape without making it difficult to fight me one-on-one.

But for some reason, I don’t think Oren considered the dimensions of my room. Not to be an asshole, but they’re all still stuck in the barrack-style housing. Rooms are for riders. 

There are 41 unbonded cadets, so the group could be much larger than that. I need to plan on several contingencies. 

That’s what I do for the next several hours, with insight from Tairn and Andarna. Eventually, Tairn begrudgingly agrees that I’ve put enough forethought into the situation. He spent almost as long pouting over it as Xaden did. They are very similar in some ways.

‘Dragons do not pout,’ Tairn responds angrily. ‘And I am nothing like that boy.’

He seems more upset about the comparison to Xaden than my implication that he’d pout. I suppress a laugh. I see that Xaden was demoted to boy again. Tairn still refuses to speak to him or pass along any of his messages pretty consistently most weeks. 

‘Of course not,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you both for helping me plan.’

‘We are always with you!’ Andarna answers brightly. ‘Especially when this will end with the death of the stupid one.’ 

‘He probably won’t be here,’ I warn her. ‘Tynan is a member of my squad, so if he has an ounce of intelligence, he’ll stay away and make the unbonded do his dirty work like the coward he is.’ I can sense Andarna’s disappointment through the bond and I ache to reach out to her. ‘Don’t worry, little one. He will still pay. So will the person who knows how to get into my room.’

I can tell that Tairn has caught on to my thought process, and I feel a grumbling of approval. I can understand my dragon's anger. 

This attack is not just trying to get rid of me. It’s a coordinated effort to disrespect Tairn and his choice, and the unbonded think they have a chance at earning his favor by killing his rider. It's threatening him, his mate, and her chosen. Who am I to deny his desire for his own vengeance? 

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside of my room. Many footsteps. Probably half a dozen. It seems they thought they’d need that many cadets to get rid of me. I’m almost flattered. 

There is a scuffle and some people are actually talking outside of the door. How stupid can they be? I don’t hear any retreating steps, so I don’t assume that anyone left after unlocking it. 

The door swings open and they flood into the room quickly. I count their feet. Seven people total. Oren, whoever unlocked the door, and five unbonded cadets. I’d call that overkill. 

I palm the dagger in my hand and wait for my moment while I mark their locations in the room. Two standing over my bed, two closer to my desk, and three who stayed near the entrance. 

One of the figures lifts their sword high above their head and brings it down in a swiping motion over my prone body on the bed. 

Or what appeared to be a prone body at least. The dummy was Andarna’s idea, one that she presented so gleefully that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that they might not fall for it. 

As I see feathers fly everywhere as he cuts up my spare pillow acting as the torso in my carefully crafted duplicate Violet made with clothing and sheets, Andarna howls in vindication. I distantly hear her gloating to Tairn, who called her plan ‘childish.’

Tairn and I both should have foreseen that my attackers are stupid. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best one. 

‘Thank you, Andarna.’ I tell her quickly. 

I use the group's confusion to go on the offensive. I whip an arm out from under the bed to slash at the back of the heel of whoever just tried to gut me in my sleep, straight through the material of his boots. He slumps forward onto my bed in surprise and yelps in pain. I stab the dagger into the back of his calf for good measure. His movement gives me the space I need. 

Before anyone can recover, I roll out from my hiding place and use momentum to swing up into a squatting motion. As I do, I grab the other dagger I had waiting under the bed and stab it directly into the thigh of one of my attackers who is standing too close to my exit. I ignore the twinge in my knees from rolling over the stone and straining to get my legs back underneath me. I keep my left hand in a tightly enclosed fist. 

I used a second poisoned dagger prepared for this exact occasion on the female cadet. She’ll start to feel the effects in under a minute. She yelps in pain and tries to slice at me as I slip by her but I throw my body to the side before it connects. It puts much-needed distance between me and the two cadets I just stabbed. As I keep moving, I kick out the side of one of her knees. Hopefully, the poison will work before she can become a nuisance. 

Faster. I have to move faster. 

Standing up to my full height, I lurch the few steps towards two more of the unbonded before they can recover from their surprise. Remembering all the times I practiced with flour, I bring up my other hand with a closed fist to my lips and I blow out white power across the faces of the two cadets who are standing too close together because they don’t have any sense for strategy. It hits them both. 

‘Please stop complaining that your attackers aren’t better at killing you,’ Tairn comments dryly. I think about responding but I need to stay focused. I can't help the things that my brain notices. 

They both drop like rocks after inhaling the powder and I have to jump over one of their fallen bodies to put space between me and the cadet who is swaying on her feet from the poison and the one who is trying to recover while slumped on my bed with a torn ligament and a dagger in his calf. Neither of them have managed to remove the blades, but not for lack of trying. Once again, stupid.

I arm myself with another dagger, keeping the hand closest to my poisons free for flexibility. 

Two down, two incapacitated. Three left. With pausing, I back up slightly to get a read of the room.

My eyes widen in surprise as I share a look with an absolutely livid Amber Mavis. Oh, sweet Dunne, sometimes dreams do come true. 

With a twisted smirk on my face, I can’t stop myself from speaking. “You hypocritical bitch. I’m going to make you eat your fucking Codex.” 

I send a dagger flying without another word and it embeds itself high in her left shoulder. She hisses in pain and turns to run out of the room like the coward she is, still carrying one of my challenge daggers with her. I will part with this one happily. I was smart enough to keep my disposable daggers on hand first. I would hate to lose one of Xaden’s beautiful gifts. Especially in case it’s the one that lets me into his room. He said he could replace any that I lose, but I’d rather not. 

Oren allows Amber through and closes my door behind her. He stays standing in front of the door menacingly. The only unbonded who isn’t injured is standing next to him looking at me in surprise. They are both carrying swords, so I don’t have to worry about projectiles. Good. 

My back is up against my desk. Both men pause in their approach at the sight of their conspirators. Thankfully, the bodies strewn between us makes for difficult terrain when it comes to rushing me. 

In my periphery, I see the woman with the leg wound finally drop to the ground paralyzed. Three down. The one with the sword is attempting to stand by supporting all of his weight on one leg. 

“Tynan didn’t tell me about all your tricks,” Oren snaps, face turning red with anger. 

I shrug and pull out two weapons from behind me without looking from where I had hidden them under a stack of papers on my desk. More challenge daggers. 

“Why would you assume he knows any of my tricks?” I ask him with a laugh. “He probably could have figured some out if he was observant… well, no. Not even then. I managed to poison him and put him in the healers’ for a week and he never even suspected.”

The cadet by my bed manages a step and without turning away from Oren, I send a blade right above the kneecap on his unwounded leg as a reward for his troubles. He falls forward and I dance back a few steps until my back is approaching the armoire. It’s not an ideal location, but at least I have four on the ground now. With Amber gone, there are only two more and Xaden is going to plow through the door any minute. 

Oren snarls. “I’m going to kill you and then the black dragon will see that he should have chosen me in the valley. I can be a better rider for him than you.”

My dragon roars in his displeasure. It takes a second to realize that it’s not only in my head. Tairn has flown low over the Citadel and we can hear his roars from outside. I hope he doesn’t wake up the entire quadrant. 

‘You’re such a worrier,’ I tell my dragon who did not need to fly over. 

‘They are threatening what is mine.’

I keep the unwounded cadet at the edge of my vision as I send Oren an unimpressed look. I’m pleased that Tairn’s show made them both freeze. Just a few moments longer.

“Tairn chose me and you disrespect him by questioning it,” I tell him seriously and speak slowly to occupy their attention. “And considering you brought seven people to murder one sleeping girl, I doubt he thinks of you as anything more than the coward you are… that’s if he thinks of you at all.” I draw out the last of my words slowly, one at a time. 

Just as I wanted, Oren lunges away from the door as soon as the words leave my lips. Before he can take another step, a tide of pure darkness crashes through the door sends my door flying back against the frame. I really hope it’s not damaged. 

Xaden stands menacing in the doorframe as his shadows spread out to grab the half dozen people in my room, unconscious bodies and all, and suspend them high up in the air by their necks. Oren, the unwounded rider, and the one with a dagger in his knee are all crying for mercy, and the other three are still unconscious. I nod in satisfaction because it seems like a fair distribution. 

Xaden’s eyes are dark with fury and his shadows billow around his shoulders in intimidating waves. His eyes are cycling through my attackers too quickly to focus on any of them and I take several small steps forward to capture his attention. 

As soon as I see his eyes land on me and settle, I can read the relief and anger still fighting in his expression. I walk closer slowly until I’m standing in front of him. 

When I get closer, the shadows lurch away to keep the bodies as far from me as possible on the opposite side of the room. While his shadows hold a room full of people hostage, I give him a small smile. From the subtle shaking in his shoulders, I can tell that he's still wound up. I need him to know that I'm safe. 

“See?” I tell him proudly. “You didn’t let them touch me. Not a scratch.” 

I want him to know that. It may not be why I’m with him, but the sight of his strength still makes me weak in the knees. He’s powerful. Beautiful, formidable, and all mine. Plus those shadows. 

I blink away my distraction and return to the task at hand, before I have to listen to Tairn grumble at me to stay focused. 

Xaden nods silently as his eyes roam over my body. Not in a hungry way, but to make sure that I truly was not harmed. 

“How would you like to handle this, Wingleader?” I ask him. 

He furrows his brows. “Someone ran away. Garrick went after them. In the meantime, I figure I’ll execute these six and then we can move on with our night.” 

I smirk at his words, even as I hear Oren start sputtering behind me. I look at him with a critical eye. 

“Should we leave him alive to vouch for a certain someone’s breach of the Codex?” I ask casually. 

Xaden turns to a trembling Oren and uses his shadows to pull him closer. He uselessly grasps at the shadows on his neck as he begs. “Wingleader Riorson! P-please don’t kill me. I was just trying to make the Wing stronger. It wasn’t even my idea.” 

“Oh?” Xaden raises an eyebrow. “Whose idea was it?” 

“Tynan!” He shouts. “It was all his idea. He hates Sorrengail.” 

Xaden nods. “Thank you for your honesty. Conspiring against your squad mate is a terrible infraction. Rest assured he will be duly punished.” I watch with fascination as a spark of hope enters Oren’s eyes before he crushes it. “Now you can die.” 

He protests. “Wait! Please. Sorrengail is the weakest rider in the quadrant. The black dragon made a mistake on Threshing. ” 

Xaden’s eye flash with rage. “Dragons do not make mistakes. She is stronger on her worst day than you will ever be.”

My heart sings at his defense. I don't care about what Oren thinks of me, but I care deeply about what Xaden thinks of me. 

“I-I just wanted a chance to bond Tairn.” Oren tries once more, looking close to tears. 

“You don’t deserve to say his name,” I comment with a glare. 

“Will you shut up, bitch?” he snaps, and then so does Xaden. With a wave of his hand, Xaden breaks the necks of the half dozen people who tried their hand at ending my life today. 

I’d feel some measure of sympathy for them if it wasn’t for my new survival instinct. Killing me means killing Tairn, Sgaeyl, and Xaden, and I simply cannot let that happen. 

They tried to kill me. And it wasn’t even for a good reason. 

‘What would qualify as a good reason?’ Tairn asks dryly. 

I think for a moment. ‘Imogen’s felt respectable at the time. I wouldn’t let it happen, but I still understood it. She wanted revenge. Revenge is visceral. Pure. I respect revenge. These fools would never have gotten close to you, and they’d know that if they paid attention in class. It was a foolish plan.’ 

I survey the bodies that fall against my floor and I take a step closer to Xaden to bask in the warmth of both of us being alive to end the day together. 

Tairn is mine and I feel no sorrow for anyone who thinks they can take what is mine. 

I survived this. I survived the parapet, and the Gauntlet, and Threshing, and a venin assassin. I will survive whatever else this fucking place throws at me. I’ll do it for me, for the naive girl I used to be, for the scribe I would have become, and for the rider I’m growing into. To keep all five of us safe. I will survive. 

‘You proved tonight that you are both more intelligent and more deadly than a room full of cadets. I have indeed chosen well,’ Tairn tells me seriously and my chest is flooded with a large wave of pride. 

‘She’s ready,’ Andarna adds joyously and her wave of happiness makes me light-headed. 

‘She’s ready,’ he agrees. 

I blink in surprise at their words. I feel a wave of energy run up along my back and I grip Xaden’s arm, blinking fast in surprise. 

He grabs my shoulders to assess me closely. “Violence, are you okay? Did they get you anywhere?” 

I shake my head quickly. “No, no, I’m okay. Just… dragon stuff,” I answer lamely. I open my mouth to continue, but Garrick comes barreling through the open door. 

He comes to a sharp stop at the pile of bodies and blinks in surprise. “Damn, you couldn’t even save one for me?” 

I bite back a smile at Xaden’s unimpressed expression. “Where is the runner?” 

Garrick grumbles. “They must have made it to their room because I couldn’t find them. Third-year floor.” 

Xaden growls in response. “Dammit, Garrick.” 

I interrupt quickly before they can argue. “It’s alright, I saw them. I think you’re going to like this one, Garrick.” 

They both turn to me with identical looks of surprise. I’ve never actually spoken to Garrick before, but I’ve seen the way he glares at the other Wingleader. Plus, his smile screams chaos. 

I pause for dramatic effect, just because I can see that it’s killing them. “Wingleader Amber Mavis herself is guilty of violating the Codex. I hope you can contain your shock and awe.” 

Xaden’s eyes widen and Garrick’s mouth drops open. “Holy shit!” he exclaims. “Does she know that you saw her?”

I reach a hand up to rub the back of my neck. “Oh, definitely. She was still in the room when I took down the first three. I, uh, called her a hypocritical bitch.” Xaden raises an eyebrow like he knows that I’m leaving something out. I sigh lightly. “Then I told her I was going to make her eat her fucking Codex and threw a dagger into her shoulder.” I add.

I would have targeted somewhere worse, but I can't kill a Wingleader without consequences. Even Xaden needs quorum. 

“There it is,” Xaden comments with great humor. Garrick sputters. Xaden pats him gently on his back as he coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Classic Violence.” 

“What the fuck,” Garrick chokes out. “That’s amazing. I think I’m in love.” 

Xaden’s patting hand turns rough as he slams it against Garrick’s back hard enough to send him stumbling several steps forward. 

“Ouch, fuck! Kidding! I’m kidding.” Garrick yelps and turns to look back at Xaden, who is still clearly menacing. His shadows are visible roiling around his shoulders. “About the love thing. That is definitely amazing.” He adds directly to me. 

I giggle at their antics. “Sometimes, I just say things.” I respond with a shrug. “My squad will repeat some of it from challenges and I don’t even remember them half the time. I think they exaggerate.” 

Garrick laughs and Xaden just shakes his head at me. “I doubt it. Before Threshing, you told a girl who insulted your height that you’d match as soon as you cut them off at the knees.” 

“It was a valid measurement. She was about that much taller than me,” I argue. 

“What about when you told the boy from Second Wing to hurry up because you were late to breakfast that day and wanted to grab a snack before class? People laughed, Violence.” 

“Intrusive thought,” I tell him dismissively. I was hungry. 

“Okay. The cadet who tried to grab your dagger after you disarmed him and you sliced his hand open. You tsked at him and asked whether or not anyone had ever taught him which end was the sharp one. Then you stabbed him in the leg and said you hoped that it was educational. He turned a fascinating shade of red.” 

“I… I don’t remember that one,” I mutter in defeat. But it sure sounded like something I would say. “It’s unfair to throw these kinds of things in my face on a night when I’ve faced such trauma, you know?” I comment teasingly. 

Xaden smirks and leans closer. “Oh, sure. I could tell when I walked in and saw three unconscious cadets and one unable to walk. You basically only left me with two.” 

I hum thoughtfully and ignore the fact that he definitely killed all six of them. “Does that mean I owe you one or owe you two? Because I can serve up a Wingleader and a cadet in the morning.” 

Xaden laughs. “I’m going to be the one serving them up. It will be my gift to a particular dragon who hates me.” 

I giggle at his words. “Oh, he doesn’t… hate you…” I say slowly. “He just… doesn’t like you…” I continue, like it’s any better. I press my lips together. “Okay, maybe a gift would be good. Tairn would enjoy this one, I think.” 

His gift is exactly what I had wanted to offer my dragon myself. I am more than happy to leave this one in Xaden’s hands.

I wonder for a moment what kind of gift I’d give Sgaeyl if I needed to. The mere idea is terrifying to contemplate. I don’t feel any aggression from her, but I’d still hate to be the bearer of a bad gift. 

Garrick looks between us as we tease each other and his grin grows steadily. We turn our attention towards him at the sound of his laugh. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” 

Xaden rolls his eyes. “Go get Bodhi. We’ll knock on Liam’s door. You three are on clean-up. Prepare for statements in the morning at formation. I’ll be meeting with Panchek first thing to call for a quorum.” 

“Where are you two going?” Garrick asks with wagging eyebrows. Xaden captures my eyes and I think about all the wicked things he could do to comfort me. He smirks like he can read my mind. 

“None of your business,” Xaden answers his friend succinctly. I bite back a smile. 

“It’s past two in the morning.” Garrick observes with a grin.

There’s plenty of time to remind each other that we’re alive before daylight breaks. I have plenty of ideas on how to spend them. I look Xaden up and down. 

“Go get Bodhi.” Xaden repeats through gritted teeth. 

Garrick puts his hands up and walks out of the door whistling. “Have fun!” He drawls teasingly without looking back to see Xaden’s glare. 

I giggle while standing in a room full of the six people my boyfriend just killed for trying to harm me. It doesn’t fill me with horror as some might expect but I still want to leave as soon as possible.

I should probably feel worse about Xaden putting three of his friends on clean-up duty for me, but I can admit my faults. One of them is clearly the inability to transfer a dead body to a secondary location, because I wouldn't be able to carry even the smallest of my attackers. 

“Let’s get Liam,” I tell Xaden with a smile. “Then we can go to bed.”

“Are you tired?” He asks. 

“No,” I tell him teasingly and put my hands on his chest to push him out of the door. He turns and tugs me behind him instead. 

I stand behind Xaden while he knocks insistently. I’d feel bad for disturbing Liam’s sleep to clean up our mess, but he opens the doors within seconds. He even has his shoes on and he’s carrying his weapons. 

“Is Vi okay?” He asks immediately. 

I pop out from where I am mostly hidden behind Xaden to smile brightly. “No promotion for you.” 

Liam slumps in relief. “Shit. I was worried.” 

I step forward so he can see that I’m uninjured. “They tried their best, but the smart plan prevailed.” 

Liam and I share a smile and he shakes his head. “You and your plans.”

“You love it.”

“They keep things interesting around here, that’s for sure.”

Xaden clears his throat. “I executed six cadets for violation of the Codex. You’re on clean-up duty with Garrick and Bodhi. There will be statements in the morning. Amber Mavis and your rat of a squad mate will die tomorrow.” 

Liam’s eyes widen at Amber’s name, but he nods at Xaden in understanding and then looks back at me. “Still feeling yourself in need of comfort? With that smile?” Liam teases me with a raised brow. 

I blush and turn my chin away pointedly. “I’ll still fire you,” I threaten. 

“No, you won’t,” he tells me confidently. “You think I’m useful.” 

“You’re the best cadet in our year. Perhaps you should aim higher than simply useful,” I comment primly. 

“Oh, I will.” Liam opens his mouth to say something else but stops to assess Xaden’s growing look of impatience. He detours quickly. “Yes. Clean-up duty. Goodnight.” 

Xaden grabs my hand. “Do you need anything else, Violence?” 

I shake my head and pass Liam my key with my free hand. “Lock up behind you.” If the door still functions after Xaden’s dramatic entrance. "Please retrieve all my weapons from the bodies. Oh, and be careful. There are three other daggers hidden in the room that I ended up not needing."

Contingencies. 

Liam nods and pockets it. “No problem, boss.”

We make our way upstairs to the third-year floor and straight to Xaden’s room. 

I smile at the sight of my bag already sitting on his bed waiting for me. He has even laid out a simple nightgown in anticipation and my brush is sitting right next to it. If he thinks he’s fooling me, he’s wrong. I can see the way he loves our little domestic moments just as much as I do. He is a very deceptively soft man.

“Keep it up and I’ll make myself at home.” I comment happily and move to take off my boots. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me.” 

He just hums in satisfaction. I slip off the tunic modified with holes for my daggers so I’m standing in just my corset and my pants. I unbuckle my thigh sheaths and place the poison dagger by the bedside like I always do. I move to set one dagger after another on his desk as I disarm. 

Usually he interrupts me by now but Xaden remains frozen while watching me from near the door.

I turn to him in question once I am weapon-free. “Xaden?”

He stalks forward suddenly and pulls me into a deep kiss that makes my knees go weak. I gasp into his mouth and try to grab at his shoulders, but he steps back before I can lose myself. 

“You don’t hate me.” Xaden whispers roughly. It’s a question and a statement rolled up into one. 

My brows furrow in confusion. “Hate you? Why would I hate you?” 

He stares at me for a few long moments. “I just killed six people. Half of them weren’t even awake for their final moments.”

“Six people who tried to kill me!” I argue immediately. “And I’m the reason they were unconscious.” 

“I’m still the one who did it.”

“Fuck that. It was my plan. They’d all be alive tonight in their beds after failing to get in my door if I left it alone. As far as I’m concerned, we carry the weight of their lives together.”

“I know, little spy,” he tells me with a small smile. “I think a part of me thought you’d turn away after seeing that side of me.”

“Did you turn away from me?” I ask quietly. “When I told you what happened at Threshing?”

“Of course not. You did that for survival. I broke all of their necks without a thought because he called you a name. I’m not a good person, Violet. And I can’t pretend to be when you’re in danger or someone insults you.”

I flush at the reminder of his display and I think for a long moment about the right words. “I still haven’t seen any sides of you that I want to turn away from.” I speak to him honestly. “When you killed them, all I felt was relief that I had you there to support me. Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I don't care. Good and bad are irrelevant to me.” 

Xaden nods easily and runs his fingertips along the curve of my cheek, gently as if I’ll crumble if he presses too hard.

“Oh, and Xaden?” I add once he reaches for the pins holding my braid in place instead. 

“Yes?” He asks and tugs each of them out gently so it falls into one braid along my back. It reminds me of the lingering sensation I felt from my relic while we were in my bedroom. 

“If someone tried to hurt you, I would kill them without a second thought. I’d make it hurt more and take longer than a broken neck too. I have some things up my sleeves that would make what happened to them look like mercy.” I tell him frankly. “If I’m not irredeemable, neither are you.” 

His eyes warm and he tugs me forward to press a kiss on my forehead. “You could never be irredeemable, Violet. You’re perfect.” 

I roll my eyes playfully. “I’m definitely not perfect.” 

“Oh, look, one of the rare incorrect things you say,” he teases back. 

I snort in amusement and pull my braid forward so I can unravel it. I turn away to get ready for bed and Xaden follows suit, only pausing to help me unlace my corset and unwind the wraps around my ankles and knees. He seems to really enjoy doing that, and who am I to argue when I secretly love being fussed over? Only by Xaden though. He has this way of spoiling me that never feels infantilizing or condescending. All of his actions can be attributed to how much he cares about me. 

By the time I’m in my nightgown and Xaden is in sleep shorts, I’ve almost convinced myself that I can wait to bring it up tomorrow. We lie down next to each other on the bed and I strongly consider reaching forward for a kiss.

I shift my weight to get closer to him. Unfortunately, Xaden never lets anything go when it comes to me. He lifts the blankets and tucks them around us gently before he turns to me. 

“What happened in your room?” He questions. “You said dragon stuff.” 

I repress a pout at my thwarted plans. I am excited to share the news.

“Oh, I think Tairn started channeling to me,” I tell him with some excitement in my eyes. “We were talking after you rushed in and then there was some ominous talk about being ready. My relic felt all strange and tingly.” 

Xaden smiles at me and shakes his head. “Of course you started channeling after a month. You’ll be one of the first people in Professor Carr’s class.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “I think I’ll wait to start those classes until I have more of my squad with me,” I tell him before I can process my words. “I don’t trust Carr.” 

Xaden blinks in surprise. “Why?” 

“I’ve heard things,” I explain slowly. “I’ve also seen things. He threw a cadet who manifested as an inntinnsic off the wall of the Citadel last year. I wasn’t there to see it, but he broke another cadet’s neck today. ”

“It’s a violation of the Codex,” Xaden replies evenly, but I can see that his eyes are conflicted. 

“Fuck the Codex,” I tell him passionately. “If it was about the rules, they would have killed Dain but they didn’t because they think he can be a pawn. Like everything else in Navarre, it’s about control.”

Fuck the Codex rolls off my tongue easily. I’ve gone on more than enough tangents to my squad and Liam, and I’ve never held back my distaste for the more hypocritical and inhumane rules that govern us. 

“You don’t see the logic in that particular rule?” Xaden asks after a moment of silence. 

I shrug. Sure, killing people who can read minds is logical. Logic is everything to me, but that doesn't mean that it's the only thing that matters. Shades of grey and all that. 

“I realize that manifesting an inntinnsic signet is a death sentence here, but that doesn’t make it right. If anybody was asking me for suggestions, that would be one of the many revisions I’d make to the Codex." Please should ask me what I think more. I have a lot to say. "But something about Carr specifically makes me distrust him. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I’ve been a good judge of people so far.” 

He nods in understanding. “You can’t wait forever. You need to practice lesser magic now, and work on your shields. It will help until you manifest your signet.” 

I nod easily. “I won’t, I promise.” I pause for a moment and pout up at him lightly. “Does that mean that my Wingleader isn’t willing to give me private lessons?”

Xaden rolls his eyes and tugs me closer. “Sure, we can work on lessons. Tomorrow.” 

“Why not tonight?” I argue. Xaden continues to pull me to his side. 

“Because it’s so late that it is already tomorrow, and we’ll have to be up early in the morning to shock the entire quadrant. Plus you promised me a date, little spy.” 

I lean closer to cuddle into his side and hum in agreement. I suppose I did. 

“If you say so,” I tell him with a small yawn as Xaden returns to tracing unfamiliar shapes along my back. I decide to take advantage of a peaceful night of sleep at Xaden’s side and I let my body relax. I’m more tired than I was anticipating.

I blink slowly at Xaden. “Thank you by the way,” I tell him sleepily. “For being there for me.”

I want to thank him for keeping the nightmares away. I want to tell him that I’ve never had someone that I trust with my darkest sides before, and it scares me as much as it excites me. I want to tell him that I don’t think I could ever hate him. 

Part of me recognizes that it must be the fading adrenaline, but I fall asleep before I can get the words out. 

Chapter Text

“Oren Seifert.” Captain Fitzgibbons finishes reading the death roll at formation. Eight names, and I share the responsibility for six of them. “We commend their souls to Malek.” 

Rhiannon and Tynan both send me glances at the final name. Rhiannon’s face is twisted into a look of concern and I nod slightly in her direction to confirm that it was me. I had whispered to my friends during breakfast that I was attacked last night but I didn’t want to reveal any details with Tynan sitting a few tables away. 

Tynan’s face is furious. He keeps glancing at me while Fitzgibbons finishes with minor announcements. Liam positions his body between us with an intense expression. While I keep Tynan in my periphery, Liam—sweet, gentle, always smiling Liam—is fucking glaring at Tynan with barely repressed rage.  

Liam being upset is a massive red flag that someone has fucked up. Even Dain is looking between the two of them in concern from his position in front of our squad.

“What the hell,” I hear Ridoc mumble behind me. “Look at Liam.”

“I know,” Sawyer replies in an equally quiet voice. “He’s been looking at him like that all morning. Something happened.”

“He’s in guard dog mode. I can guess what that means,” Ridoc whispers with anger, and I can feel his eyes flash between Tynan and where I’m standing on the other side of Liam’s protective display. “Motherfucker.” 

Liam’s uncharacteristic anger along with the news of my attack tips them off immediately, and I feel Sawyer and Ridoc approach to stand at my back. Rhiannon gives Tynan a suspicious look and plants herself by my other side. Even Ivan stands behind the man in question like he’s ready to stop him if he tries to retreat. 

I bite back a smile. It was almost perfectly coordinated, if completely unnecessary. If Tynan attacks me during formation, he’ll just make this morning spectacle that much faster. Even if I don't need my friends to protect me, it still softens my heart that they would. They give me another reason to keep myself alive and kicking. 

Panchek approaches the podium and I stand up straighter. He’s holding a copy of the Codex. 

Rhiannon speaks up. “Vi, is this…?” 

“Yes.” I respond simply. Dain turns to lock eyes with me in question. He’s barely looked at me since Threshing. I see visible concern in his light brown eyes. Even when he’s driving me insane, there is always concern there. 

I think that I miss him. I miss having my friend. 

“I was attacked last night when a group of cadets broke into my room.” I report just loud enough for my squad leader to hear me. “Wingleader Riorson dispatched the threat after Tairn informed Sgaeyl.” 

It’s the story Xaden and I agreed upon this morning. 

“What happened? Why didn't you tell me? Are you hurt?” He asked, taking a step towards me as his eyes run over my body. I look around at the people staring at us. 

“I’m fine. Squad Leader Aetos, turn around. Things will become clear very soon.” I tell him gently. 

He reluctantly turns away and we direct our attention to Panchek. “It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred. As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated,” Panchek continues. “This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward?” 

I stay still as my squad turns to look at me. I’m not the accuser. 

We all watch as Xaden climbs the steps of the dais and approaches the podium. His presence quiets any murmuring in the crowd immediately. 

He projects his deep voice with lesser magic. “Early this morning, a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds. 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.” 

Xaden’s eyes fall on me briefly and his hands clench at the sides of the podium. “Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders.” He dips his chin towards the Fourth Wing and Garrick and Bodhi break formation, then climb the steps to stand behind Xaden, their hands at their sides. “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.” 

“Both Tyrs. How convenient,” Nadine, one of the cadets moved to our squad after Threshing, speaks up. I turn around to glare at her fiercely. I don’t turn back around until Liam nudges me gently. 

My lips curl into a snarl before I can force myself to face forward. Bitch. 

“But the crime does not stop there.” Xaden continues. “As overheard by the victim herself and Cadet Liam Mairi, the attack was orchestrated by a member of her own squad, a clear violation of the spirit of the Codex. I confirmed this with one of the attackers before he was executed. As his Wingleader, I have decided he will be brought to justice in front of her dragon.” The crowd breaks into loud murmurs and Tynan looks ready to try to bolt. 

But he isn’t finished. Xaden didn’t have to call for quorum to kill a first-year cadet. He continues quickly before the crowd can get out of control. 

“Some of you may be asking yourself how they were able to enter the room of a sleeping cadet. They had the help of a rider who fled before I arrived. A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep and access to their rooms, and that rider must be brought to swift justice. I call you both to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail.” Xaden’s focus shifts to the center of the formation. “Cadet Tynan Dyre and Wingleader Amber Mavis.” 

The courtyard goes completely silent as every cadet in the quadrant draws a collective breath, before an uproar rips through the crowd. 

Dain looks back at me with wide eyes. “What is he talking about, Violet?” He bites out. Two executive officers grab Tynan and start dragging him forward as he yells in protest. 

My squad maintains their protective position around me as the courtyard’s eyes start to shift between me, Xaden, and Amber. 

Ridoc turns slightly to glare at Nadine, speaking with a surprising amount of vitriol. “She’s a Tyr, too, Nadine. Or are you only biased against marked ones?” 

I want to add something but Dain is shaking his head. “Amber would never. A wingleader would never.” 

“That wingleader did.” I answer simply. 

“That’s impossible. Go tell everyone that he is lying.” 

I knew I’d be met with disbelief, but it still hurts more than I expected. “I can’t do that.” 

“Wingleaders are beyond reproach—” he begins. 

“Then why are you so quick to call our own wingleader a liar?”

Behind him, the redhead steps out of formation to yell out loudly. “I have committed no such crime!”

I almost roll my eyes, but I stop myself. I want to throw it in Dain’s face that the superior officer he’s been fucking tried to kill the girl that he tried to kiss a month ago, but this was going to be a painful enough day for him. 

“See?” Dain swings his arm, pointing toward the raving Amber Mavis. “Put a stop to this right now, Violet.” 

“Why would I do that, Dain? I saw her in my room. I spoke to her before she ran.” 

“That’s impossible.” He lifts his hands, as though ready to cup my face. “Let me see.” 

My hands fall to the ready at my sides and I step back as Rhiannon and Liam both step forward to angle me behind their shoulders simultaneously. I can still see Dain and his fucking hands reaching out but they’re ready to intercept him. I remember telling Rhiannon about Dain’s signet, and Liam probably learned from Xaden. 

“Give me the memory,” he orders. 

I lift up my chin and I glare at him with every bit of indignation I have buried inside of me. If he wants to pull rank, I’ll pull him apart piece by piece. 

“Not only are you revealing sensitive information that you’ll regret in front of a crowd, you are absolutely fooling yourself if you think I’ll let you touch me without my permission. Try it and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.” 

His eyes flash in surprise and he looks around at the crowd, slowly dropping his hands. 

That’s right. Classified signet, remember?

Xaden projects his voice again and the crowd shifts to pay him attention. “Wingleaders, we need a quorum to decide the fate of Wingleader Amber Mavis. It is decided that Cadet Dyre will die by dragon fire.” 

Nyra and Septon Izar, the wingleaders for First and Second Wing, climb the stairs. They pass Amber, who stays exposed in the courtyard. 

The familiar sound of wingbeats fill the air and we all turn to see seven dragons traveling towards us from the mountain. Tairn leads the group from the front, the largest among the line by far.

All of them perch on the courtyard walls with Tairn in the middle. There are gasps throughout the crowd. Many of them have probably never seen the black dragon up close before. I see more than one cadet look between the two of us in surprise.

His talons crush the stone as he tightens his grip. His angry, golden eyes are focused on Tynan and Amber. Sgaeyl is perched to his right, behind Xaden. I also identify Nyra’s red scorpiantail, Septon’s brown daggertail, and Commandant Panchek’s green clubtail. On the ends, Amber’s orange daggertail and Tynan’s orange scorpiontail are puffing steam angrily. 

“You can stop this all right now, Violet. You have to,” Dain implores. “I don’t know what you saw last night, but it wasn’t Amber. She cares too much about the rules to break them.”

I try to hold back a laugh. Amber is screaming at Xaden from the courtyard. “You’re using this to get your revenge on my family! For not supporting your father’s rebellion!” 

Xaden doesn’t acknowledge her accusations as he turns to the other wingleaders. “While I fully believe Sorrengail’s account given the fact that they were able to gain entrance, I also present proof for your consideration.” He turns to glance at me briefly. 

“When Cadet Sorrengail was attacked, she responded by throwing her daggers at the unbonded in her room. She watched as one of her daggers hit high in the left shoulder of Amber Mavis and confirmed her identity before she fled. I welcome Wingleader Mavis to dispute the existence of this injury. Even with mending, a deep wound would still be visible. And I doubt she’s had time to get mended.” 

Amber glares at him fiercely and Nyra raises an eyebrow at her. “What do you have to say for yourself, Wingleader Mavis? Can you disprove him?” 

She looks around at the crowd for support, but everyone has quieted to wait for her next move. “It’s an unrelated injury,” she bluffs. 

Septon raises an eyebrow. “A fresh wound in the exact location described by Wingleader Riorson? I find that hard to believe.” 

Amber opens and closes her mouth but she cannot say anything in her defense. The wingleader talk amongst themselves for only a few moments until Xaden steps forward to announce the verdict loudly, flanked by Nyra and Septon. Panchek stays standing farther back. “The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement. We find you guilty, Amber Mavis.” 

“No!” she shouts. “It is no crime to rid the quadrant of the weakest rider! I did it to protect the integrity of the wings! She wasn't even hurt no matter how many cadets were there! Why am I being punished?” 

Xaden speaks to Amber in a quiet, leveled voice, but it is still clearly heard across the crowd. "Which is it? Is Sorrengail the weakest rider in the quadrant or do your intentions not count because she was able to hold off seven attackers all by herself until I arrived? The state of the victim has no bearing on the crime committed and the punishment you will receive."

My heart soars at his words, even as Amber paces around in panic to try and find somebody to help. She stutters out more defenses and swears her innocence, but everyone pointedly looked away from her searching gaze. I turn my head to look at Dain, who had paled significantly. 

“You’re supposed to be my oldest friend, Dain. I wish you would have believed me, but more than that, I wish I was surprised you didn’t.” I tell him quietly. He staggers backwards at my words as if they were a physical blow. 

Nyra speaks loudly. “Enough, Amber. As is our law, both sentences today will be carried out by fire.” 

Amber and Tynan both shout for their dragons and I learn their names. Claidh and Baide. The oranges both lift up their claws, but Tairn roars fiercely and snarls at the two significantly smaller dragons, the ground shaking with his fury. Tairn snaps his teeth in their direction and Claidh flinches back. Baide continues to glare at Tairn, but he backs down at another threatening growl. 

“Claidh,” Amber whimpers, clearly audible in the near-silent courtyard. 

The formation splits at the center, leaving Amber and Tynan to stand alone. 

I watch silently with dry eyes as my dragon leans forward to end the lives of two cadets who wanted me dead. Two people who conspired against him, conspired against all of us. Who knows if Amber’s actions were motivated by her hatred for me, or if she wanted to kill Xaden? They are the same thing now. 

Part of me worries that I’ve lost the capacity for mercy. But I do feel some sympathy. For their dragons. 

‘Justice is not always merciful,’ Tairn tells him. ‘This is the fate they deserve. The dragons chose poorly and now they will reap the consequences.’

I send him a wave of agreement and lock eyes with Xaden where he is standing on the dais. I want to thank him for opening himself up to the eyes of the entire quadrant for my safety. Nadine is not the only one who will assume the worst from any of the marked ones. 

“I can’t believe those spineless wretches,” Rhiannon mutters in anger. 

Tairn extends his head past the dais and parts his sharp teeth. For just a moment, I feel his rage and my entire body tenses. I want to rend flesh from the bones of my enemies and lay waste upon all those who threaten me and mine. My legs start shaking as my vision goes red and all I can think about is revenge. Destruction. Fury.

I feel Liam grasp at my shoulders in concern, and it takes everything in me to remain upright. I’d felt Tairn’s emotions before, but things are heightened now that I’m channeling his power. 

Fortunately, Tairn realizes quickly and closes the bond on his end, and I blink back into focus. 

‘My apologies, Silver One.’ 

I slowly straighten my legs and send Liam a look of appreciation. “I’ll explain later,” I whisper and he nods once before turning back to Tairn. 

‘I’m fine, Tairn.’ I tell him quickly. ‘Enjoy your gift.’

My dragon’s tongue curls menacingly and fire bursts forth with a wave of heat that lingers over the crowd for a moment so hot that I can feel it kiss against my skin. It’s over in the single beat of my heart, punctuated by the harmony of two screams tearing through the air until they aren’t.

As the heat dies, two even more gruesome cries of agony pierce the courtyard, shattering several windows in the academic wing. All of us throw our hands up to cover our ears as Claidh and Baide mourn their riders. Devastation covers every inch of their scaled bodies. It’s a sight that breaks my heart. 

I slowly turn away and meet the eyes of my squad mates. “Thank you all for having my back,” I tell them quietly. 

“Anytime, Vi,” Ridoc says, puffing up his chest. 

“If Riorson didn’t get him, we would have,” Sawyer tells me confidently, like he didn’t just casually admit to killing a squad mate if it comes down to it. “It’s fucked up that he betrayed his squad.” 

I smile at his words. The rest of my friends are nodding. I pause for a moment, and then I turn to look at Nadine, who is still staring at the burnt bodies that my dragon left behind in horror. 

I clear my throat pointedly to get her attention. As her eyes meet my own, I speak evenly. I’m not whispering, but I keep my voice low. “That is what disloyalty to your squad looks like. Say another thing against any Tyrrish cadets, especially the ones in this squad, and you’ll regret it. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Panchek dismisses formation and I turn away from her gaping expression to look back at my friends. I smile gratefully at all of them. “Class is going to be pretty anti-climatic after all this,” I muse. 

They all very nobly try to hold back their snorts of amusement, but only Rhiannon and Liam succeed at suppressing them. That is why the two of them are the best of us. 

A few feet away, Dain is still staring forward in horror and I dare to step forward to capture his eyes one more time before I leave the courtyard. 

“I’m sorry if you lost someone that you care about,” I tell him quietly. “I know you two had a history.”

I place a hand on his shoulder gently, but he doesn’t look at me. He stays quiet and I leave him to his thoughts. 

—

Tairn passes along a message that Xaden will be busy for a few hours after dinner. I guess he appreciated Xaden’s gift this morning if he’s willing to pass along a message for him again. It was beneath the dragon’s attention a few weeks ago. 

With a mischievous smile, I decide to test that little bit of information Xaden dropped about the wards on his door. 

After explaining to Liam more about what happened this morning at formation, I lead my shadow up to the third-year floor. I casually step forward and turn the handle to my Wingleader’s room. 

To my surprise, it opens easily. I know he said it would, but I still find myself surprised. And pleased. 

With a smug expression, I turn back to look at Liam. “I guess this means I’m his girlfriend now,” I tease with a wide smile. I keep my voice low, but we’re the only ones on this floor since we left dinner early. 

Liam rolls his eyes, but it’s all fond. “Glad you two figured that out. See you later, boss.” 

“You too, Liam. I’ll probably be here the next few nights, so enjoy the break. We’ll get back to work soon.”

Liam nods and waves goodbye as I shut Xaden’s door behind me and turn around. 

Hm. A few hours alone in my Wingleader’s room? What is a girl to do? 

I consider looking through his things for a single moment, before I toss the idea away. I told Xaden once that I wasn’t in the business of stealing his secrets and I meant that. How can he trust me if I don’t give him reasons to? 

After considering my options, I take a bath first. It will give my hair time to dry before we go out tonight—if we end up making it out tonight. 

The hot water is soothing against my body. Laying in wait under the bed and then rolling over the hard stone floor made my knees sore, not to mention all the tension from this morning weighing down my shoulders. Dain demanded my memories. In public. And then two more people died because of me. 

‘Because of their own actions,’ Tairn reminds me. I smile at his interjection. 

‘I know. I do not mourn for them. But sometimes I mourn for the girl I used to be, who would have thrown up at the sight.’ 

To my surprise, it is Andarna who speaks up. ‘We do not lose the people we were to become who are meant to be.’

‘That’s poignant,’ I tell her truthfully. I feel Tairn’s wave of pride, which has been a lovely backdrop to his emotions since my actions last night. He’s proud of Andarna too, for her wisdom. The wonderful sensations of camaraderie and affection with my dragons are warmer than any bath could ever be. 

‘You have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You are both at the same time. It’s what I like best about you.’ Andarna continues. 

I dip my head under the water to hide my smile, even from the empty bathroom. The tub is unfortunately too small to share with Xaden but I can lounge comfortably. 

‘Thank you, Andarna.’ I whisper in my mind. ‘I am very thankful to have both of you. I will continue doing everything I can to keep us safe.’ 

I step out of the water and dry myself off with one of Xaden’s towels. After storing away all my bathroom materials by his sink and exiting back out into his room, I'm still completely alone and feeling perfectly clean. I rub the cream for my scars on my legs, the usual salve around my joints, and the sweet-smelling lotion I enjoy on the rest of me. Together, they create a very earthy and floral scent that fills up Xaden’s room and blends with his mint and leather in interesting ways. 

With a wicked smile, I wrap my soft skin in one of my nightgowns. In contrast to my usual black attire, this one is fully white.

I wonder how Xaden will feel about it. It’s no less inappropriate than the first one he saw me in. 

I grab a few books that I’ve been reading and I crawl into Xaden’s bed to settle in the middle, pulling the covers over my legs. I lay down one of the books on my lap as I brush out my hair. Once it’s detangled, I leave it down, hanging over one of my shoulders. I lean back up against the pile of Xaden’s pillows that I stacked greedily. 

The blankets fall off my legs as I bring my knees up to brace the book. I’m enjoying the tail end of the warmer months until blankets will become necessary. Winter will be starting in full force soon, and I am not eager to face what the cold tends to do to my body. Flying in the cold might kill me, but I did hear that they would suspend flying through the worst of it. 

That is where Xaden finds me two hours later, hair almost fully dry, already having exchanged the book on my lap for a new one. 

I look up at him from my place with a gentle smile. Xaden’s eye are blown wide at the sight of me in his bed. He slumps backwards against his closed door for a moment and grasps at his chest. “Hi, sweetheart,” I greet him softly. “Welcome back.” 

“Violence, this might as well be an attempt on my life,” Xaden whispers roughly. “How dare you look so fucking perfect right now.” 

“Oh? Do you prefer white to rider black?” I ask teasingly and move the book to reveal more of my bare legs. Something flashes across Xaden’s eyes that I don’t recognize and he is suddenly taking several steps forward. 

“I love you in black, but I prefer you in nothing.” A shiver runs down my spine. 

“Remove your boots and your weapons at least, you heathen,” I tell him teasingly, but I’m almost out of breath from the promise in his voice. Xaden opens his mouth to protest but I just raise an eyebrow, and he gives in. He removes his boots, along with his jacket and all of his weapons. Once he is finally in just his pants and tunic, he walks over to sit next to me on the bed. 

I immediately give in to my base desire and I lay my legs across his lap as I lean up against the backrest of pillows I had created. Xaden’s hands come to wrap around my ankles. The marks from my usual wraps had already faded for the day, but he brushes his fingers against where they would have been anyways. 

“What do you want to do first, honey?” I ask him with a sweet smile. “We can go exploring now. Or we can do lessons in bed and circle back around on whether or not you want to go outside.” 

Xaden smirks at my question, but I can see the way his eyes soften at the pet name. I angle my foot to brush up against his thigh affectionately. 

“Mm,” he murmurs in consideration. “I just went through all that work getting undressed—”

“Best not leave any work incomplete, that’s what I always say,” I chime, looking pointedly at his tunic and pants. 

Xaden huffs in amusement and removes the offending items. My eyes greedily run over his skin, like they always do. He turns to look at the pillows I had stolen and bunched together behind me. 

“Are you going to share?” 

I hum in thought and then shake my head. Tilting my legs parallel with the headboard, I tap my thighs invitingly. “I’m feeling quite selfish right now. I suppose you’ll have to make do with my lap.”

Xaden stares at my bare legs hungrily. He eagerly lies down on the bed and rests his head in my lap so I am able to stare down at him. I run a finger along the bridge of his nose. 

“Comfortable?” I ask him. 

“Ridiculously so.” He confirms. 

“Good. Now. My lessons, please.”

“You and your lessons,” he chuckles. “What were you reading? Work or pleasure?” 

“All reading is a pleasure as long as it’s not a history textbook,” I answer immediately. I abhor Navarrian history now that I know it is filled with lies, but books are still the greatest thing humanity ever invented. “I was re-reading Effective Uses of Wild and Cultivated Herbs by Captain Lawrence Medina.”

“A favorite of yours?” Xaden asks. 

I give him a small smile. “It was one the few textbooks on poison I read that referred to poisoning as an art. I enjoyed that immensely. It made me feel ten feet tall when I was younger.”

Xaden shakes his head, cheek bumping into my stomach, but it’s fond. “Of course you did. Why are you re-reading it?” 

“For inspiration,” I tell him. “And I think I’m going to give a copy to Liam.” 

“Why?” he asks immediately. 

I bite back a smile. “Because,” I tell him, leaning down to press a kiss against the tip of his nose. “I’m teaching your brother a few tricks and it’s not me if there isn’t a reading list. I already have him doing meditation and he’s strangely competitive about it.”

Xaden’s smile comes back and he reaches up to play with the hair hanging over my shoulder that is brushing against his neck. “I noticed that.” 

“I told him I’d let him teach me wood carving in return.” My voice hints at my excitement. I create things all the time, items meant to improve my gear, or poison to stun, injure, or kill. But to create something because it’s beautiful? There is something sweet about that, and I was surprised when Liam insisted. “It was after I yelled at him for ten minutes about tracking wood shavings behind us one night.” 

Xaden turns his head into my stomach to muffle his chuckles of amusement. “Oh gods, I bet he was terrified.”

I roll my eyes at his words. “I was mortified when I realized he was leaving behind a trail! What if I hadn’t noticed before leading somebody directly to one of the tunnels? He’s lucky I didn’t stab him.” 

“How long did it take you to forgive him?” 

About two minutes after I finished lecturing him on the importance of not leaving behind a trace. It’s impossible to stay mad at Liam. “Who says that I’ve forgiven him yet?” 

Xaden smiles at me and tugs at another lock of my hair teasingly. “Of course, my mistake. I’m sure he’ll work hard until he earns it, boss.” 

I giggle at his words and lean further into the pillows to get comfortable. Xaden’s head in my lap is a lovely bit of warmth. 

“Hush. Enough about Liam’s lessons. I want to learn something today too.” 

Xaden shakes his head at my expected response. “What do you want to learn?”

“Shielding.” My answer is immediate. “Dain tried to read me today at formation after you accused Amber. Demanded it. I thought about stabbing him somewhere he wouldn’t easily recover. I might have if Liam and Rhiannon didn’t immediately step between us when he lifted his hands. I assume you told Liam about what a risk Dain is.” 

He nods, and his face hardens at the mention of the memory reader. “Rhiannon knows about his signet?” Xaden asked. 

“She noticed how uncomfortable he made me and how much I was sneaking out of the barracks early in the year, so I shared a select few bits of information with her before challenges started. Dain’s signet, Brennan’s book, collecting things for poisons. She’s been keeping him away from me and making excuses for me the best she can for months.” 

Xaden smiles at that piece of information. “I’m glad you have such loyal friends.” 

I grin when I remember the way that Ridoc, Sawyer, and Ivan also stepped forward. “I do. I told myself I wouldn’t trust anyone when I crossed the parapet, but I managed to find people who mean the world from the beginning. It’s not logical, but I wouldn’t have done it any differently.” 

I only hope that I can tell them all the truth someday, when it’s safe for them. 

Xaden smiles up at me and I can’t stop myself from tracing his beautiful features with my fingertips. “I’m glad I trusted you too.” I tell him softly. 

His expression opens up to me like a flower to the sun, splitting his face. He is so incredibly beautiful and all mine. 

“I am too, Violence,” Xaden tells me quietly. “Now, shielding. It will be Professor Riorson from now on. Let’s get started.” He continues with a shameless smirk. 

I bite my lip to stop my laughter and I nod very seriously. In all honesty, Xaden is a better teacher than most of the faculty here. “Of course, Professor. Do you teach all your classes pillowed on a student’s thighs? What about extra credit opportunities?” 

“Only for my favorite student,” Xaden leans close to my stomach and pulls a piece of my nightgown in between his teeth to tug at it teasingly. He releases it to continue with a husky voice. “Now are you trying to distract me or are you trying to learn how to shield?”

“Learning, of course,” I answer with a small huff of amusement. “Get on with it.” 

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” he whispers. 

“Professor, I am in your capable hands. Very big, very capable hands. Please teach me.” Okay, so maybe I’m still trying to distract him. Only a little. 

He valiantly stays on task, but I can see the way his pupils dilate. Gods, I can’t be in a room with Xaden without wanting him. Maybe I shouldn't have invited him to rest his head on my lap. 

“Okay, close your eyes.” I follow his instructions. “This bit will probably come naturally to you. Whatever you picture in your mind is real and has power. Being able to shield from Tairn will help avoid moments like the one you had today at formation, before he blocked you from his anger. You’ll never be able to fully keep your dragons out, but it will help to keep yourself in control when he forgets.” I nod gratefully with my eyes still closed. 

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near Aretia. You can see where things have started to rebuild and it fills me with something close to hope. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.” 

I’m familiar with visualizations, but I find myself stumped for a moment on the concept of home. For the last five years, I’ve probably spent the most sum total time in the Archives. But being in there now still makes my skin crawl. Most of our homes throughout the years were temporary with my mother’s different assignments. It wasn’t until she was stationed at Basgiath that we lived anywhere for more than two or three years. 

Home can be a feeling. A place where I feel safe and in control. 

The tunnels and underground areas under Basgiath. I call forth an image of the darkened tunnels and I’m able to pinpoint my exact location like breathing. The hidden map that only I know, a mental labyrinth where nobody could find me if I tried hard enough. It’s gently illuminated as if by a small magelight. I imagine how it feels to traverse the underground down to the stagnant air that fills my nostrils. 

“Feel your feet and dig in.” 

I imagine my boots planted on the uneven stone. I wiggle them a little. “Got it.” 

“That is called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Tairn is especially strong so this next part might be uncomfortable. It will be even worse on nights when emotions run high.” I think I can gather what that means. I’m vaguely aware of Xaden lifting his head from my lap and turning me to face him on the bed. “Open your senses and find your connection to your dragon. Call to your power.” 

I feel a flood of energy that makes my skin tingle from the relic on my back to the palms of my hands. A black wave of Tairn’s power floods through the tunnel and threatens to sweep me away. It’s not pure black. It almost sparkles in the dark tunnel, like stars in the night sky. It’s intense, but not overwhelming. I struggle to find my way through the onslaught. 

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.” 

I turn and assess the different paths before me in my mind. There. From one of them, I can sense the flow of power. I know as surely as I can navigate the physical tunnels under the Citadel that it was the direction of my connection with Tairn. “I see it.” 

“I knew you’d be a natural. It takes most people a week to learn how to ground. Now, this is the tricky part. Do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. If you block and control the flow, you can manipulate the amount of power you are channeling and shield against some of his more troublesome emotions. Whatever you create in your mind is real to you, so it should be whatever makes sense.” 

I nod slowly in understanding. Visualize how to mentally wall myself off. Whatever I create in my mind is real to me. It's like I've been preparing for this my entire life. 

Taking a deep breath, I imagine a stone wall being built between myself and that tunnel one piece at a time, slowly closing off that path, similar to the way I've been putting things into boxes in my mind. As the last stone slides into place, they sudden shimmer and shift until they fade. There is still a wall blocking me from their seemingly endless reserves, but it is completely translucent. 

“I’ve built a wall,” I mumble. “It changed. I can see through the stone.” 

“That’s his power waiting to be called on once you manifest your signet. Now, open your eyes, but do your best to keep the wall in place by keeping one foot grounded. If it slips, that just means you try again.” 

I open my eyes slowly, keeping one foot mentally grounded and the tunnel leading towards Tairn’s powers firmly closed. The buzzing sensation that has been present under my skin since I started to channel last night has finally dulled, and I can no longer feel the insistent itch beneath my relic. Tairn’s emotions, which have been especially prevalent in my mind all day, are calm. 

‘Excellent job, Silver One,’ Tairn comments. I send him waves of appreciation and love through the bond, and I can almost feel the direction they travel. Xaden's lesson gave me a new sense of awareness regarding my connections to my dragons. 

“You are astonishing,” Xaden tells me with sparkling eyes. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

I flush at the combined praises from two of the most important people in my life. With a flirtatious wink, I smile at Xaden. “Guess I have a superior teacher. I wonder what else you could teach me, Professor.” 

‘I believe this is the part where I shield,’ Tairn adds, and I force down my embarrassment while I add another layer of stone to that wall. 

Xaden reaches forward and cups my face in his hands, smiling at my words. “You need to keep practicing keeping shields up around your mind in public in case of any unexpected situations, and eventually you’ll be able to keep people out even if they surprise you. It’s not a common practice among riders because inntinnsics are supposedly all executed. We know for a fact that is not completely true.” 

I nod seriously and consider his words. “I’ll practice.” I assess my mental walls and try to imagine them separating my mind from inquiring eyes. Building them around me brick by brick until nothing can get into my mental labyrinth without my knowledge. It still takes up some of my concentration, but it will come easier to me with practice. 

I won't stop until it's second nature. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to be very good at this very quickly,” Xaden whispers to me softly. 

My smile at his faith in me is involuntary, before a realization strikes. Finally channeling and learning to shield is a relief, but there are other implications to consider now. Those items on my list that I've been ignoring are finally catching up to me, to the both of us.  

After weighing my words carefully, I open my mouth and speak quietly. “Any chance that means I get more information?” I try to keep my voice light, but Xaden understands the gravity of my words. 

A storm of emotions flash in his eyes, and he turns to capture my gaze with a serious expression. “Let’s go on that walk. We’ll talk more. This isn’t about shields. But there is something that I think you deserve to know and I’m tired of waiting for someone to give me permission.”

Chapter Text

I think about Xaden’s words the entire time I’m getting dressed. It’s a warm night, one of the last we’ll get, so I forgo the cloak. Every few minutes, I take the time to quickly make sure that I’m still grounding and my mental shields are in place. I’ll need to get in the habit of it. 

Xaden said it was something that I deserve to know. Something he’s tired of waiting for permission from someone to tell me. I’m so thrilled that he’s willing to confide in me more that I can barely wrap my head around what he could be referring to. Most of my guesses had something to do with the General, but I doubt Xaden is keeping her secrets.

Why would he need someone’s permission to tell me something? This is something that Xaden has obviously wanted to tell me for a while. Who else out there is trying to dictate the knowledge I have access to? I find myself already angry at this mystery person, which probably isn’t a great start. 

Xaden tells me that we’re going back to the river bank, and I smile at the way he doesn’t need any reminders of the turns it takes to get there. I ask and he says he hasn’t taken the tunnels since the night of Threshing. I’ll bet his shadows play no small role in his easy mastery of the dark, but so much of that is just Xaden’s sharp mind and general competence at everything he attempted. 

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I question with a laugh. “You’ll be navigating this place like a pro in no time. Liam still gets confused. I had to go looking for him once, like a child at the market. I told him if he’s ever lost again, to just sit down and wait for me.” I giggle at the memories of his offended expression. 

Xaden shakes his head at me and chuckles. “Is that what you’ve been up to, teaching him all your secret routes?” 

I hum in thought. “Sometimes, when I have errands. Mostly he follows me to and from the Archives and the Scribe Quadrant to work with Jesinia. Lately, he’s been helping me with my big project.” 

“How is that going?”

“Just starting out really. It took a few weeks of preparation but I feel more ready now.” 

Liam and I have been working hard, and things are coming along nicely. Of course, I’ve been thinking about my approach since Threshing, but now I’m ready to start doing things with my hands. 

“Are you going to have that list for me soon?”

I nod happily and look over at him. “Definitely. I’ve had it mostly planned in my head for weeks. Everything I need to make every deadly thing in my little book and then some. I just… I have a feeling I’m missing something.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s like a tickling in the back of my mind. If it was easy, the people of Poromiel would have done it ages ago. I’ve been sitting with it and trying to think about some more unconventional approaches. Hence, the call for inspiration.” 

If poison is an art, then inspiration can come anywhere. 

I have read every book in the Archives about wild plants and medicinal herbs, and poisons native to all reaches of the continent. I re-read my favorites, and work on my exhaustive list of ingredients I’m missing. No matter what I do, it doesn’t feel complete. 

Last week, I even checked on the topographical record of the Barrens that they keep in the Archives like it would yield any information. I suppose part of me was hoping for some kind of clue about the native species, but it was a fool’s errand. The answer is none, and there are no records of what came before the venin. Jesinia did not log that request. 

“You’ll find it, little spy,” Xaden tells me easily. “I never bet against you. Give me your list, and I’ll get to work while you figure out what you’re missing. We’ll get there.” 

I smile widely at him. It always warms my heart when we make plans for things we’re going to be doing together in the future. 

“Deal.” 

We find ourselves by the river bank quickly. I look around with a bittersweet smile. We have had many moments here, some of them more heartwarming than others. A standoff in the tree, looking down at him as I was still trying to figure out if he’d try to kill me. Even then, the tension between us was palpable as he looked at me in a way that made me feel more understood than I had in over a year. Then there was the night of Threshing, and all the highs and lows that came with it. 

We’re both still here, and that’s what matters. We’re still here and Xaden is about to reveal another one of his closely guarded secrets, because he trusts me and that is what he promised me. I just hope it’s something that I am able to live with. The thought of losing Xaden over the next few things to come out of his mouth was devastating. 

It’s a secret that would apparently cause an emotional reaction, if he was unwilling to share it the last time we were here. 

It’s not like I’m scared or anything. 

I give him a shaky smile, but I tug him down for a sweet kiss that is as solid and real as I can make it. Xaden gives in immediately and ducks his head down to meet my lips. When I pull away, my smile comes a little easier, but Xaden still looks terrified.

I've gotten much better at reading him since the last time we were here, after a month of spending so much time together with nothing to separate us. Along with our weapons and clothing, we shed our carefully cultivated personas and faced each other without pretense. Now I can see his fear as clearly as my own. 

“You said that somebody told you not to tell me whatever this is,” I say as I reach down to grab his hand in an attempt to soothe him. His panicked expression is not doing a great job of calming my nerves. “Thank you for not sharing their opinion.” 

Xaden takes a deep breath. I can see the conflict raging in his eyes as he speaks. “Don’t thank me. You deserve to know. It’s… someone in Aretia. They didn’t want me to tell you about the rebellion, or about them, but I have never been great at following directions. Especially when it comes to you.” 

I blink in surprise. “I don’t know anyone in Aretia. Do they hate me because of my last name?” I suppose that’s fair. I can’t expect all of Xaden’s allies to agree with my participation in the rebellion. That doesn’t mean I’ll be going anywhere, but it’s a situation I’ll need to navigate. 

“No! Gods, they don’t hate you. He’s just… worried.” My mind goes blank. Who in Aretia would be worried about me? 

“I don’t understand.” 

He groans and squeezes my hands. “Shit. I thought I knew how I was going to say this. Okay. Aretia is currently being taken care of by a counsel. Most of them are Tyrrish officials who survived, as well as some Navarrian riders who defected. Several of them felt it was better to let Navarre assume they were dead after the battle.” I nod in understanding as his words slow. With a deep breath, Xaden continues speaking rapidly. “They are monitoring the rebuilding of the city. It helps to have a mender on our side.” 

Xaden stares intently into my eyes as my mind struggles to connect the dots he’s laid out. I had gone over the public information and death tolls for that battle over and over again in the months that followed. Navarrian riders that defected. Mending is an exceedingly rare signet. The only mender who was reported dead was… “It’s your brother, Violet. Brennan Sorrengail is alive and living in Aretia.”

My blood runs cold and I flinch, dropping his hands and taking several steps back. “What?” I spit out. “He died more than five years ago. Tairn’s last rider burnt out trying to save him and it didn’t work. How could you say something like that to me?”

His gaze stays steady. “Except that’s not the whole truth. You know things are never that simple. It’s true that Tairn’s rider burnt out, but not before he was able to revive your brother. Brennan found out everything in that battle and decided to stay in Aretia to join the fight against the real enemy. He goes by Lieutenant Colonel Brennan Aisereigh now.”

Brennan would never have learned the truth and been able to return to fighting for Navarre. Not the Brennan I remember from my childhood. 

“Aisereigh. Resurrection in Tyrrish,” I mumble, but my face feels numb. More than anything, that is what convinces me. “Of course he chose that kind of name for himself after everything. A little on the nose, don’t you think, Bren?” 

Xaden’s lip twitches. “Book of Brennan all over again?” He asks gently. 

I go to roll my eyes but they’re filled with tears that start falling rapidly. My breathing stutters and I look at Xaden with wide eyes, almost confused by my body’s reactions. I need to stop crying under this fucking tree. 

“I—” I start, but I have to stop when my voice breaks. “He’s alive? My brother is alive? He’s… safe?” 

Xaden nods and steps closer but I feel like I might break if someone touches me. He must see my discomfort on my face because he stops to just stand next to me. 

“He is. He is alive and well, living in Riorson house. He is one of the voting members of the counsel.”

“My brother lives in your house?” I ask in surprise, more animated than I thought I’d be capable of. In my defense, it’s strange to learn that my brother is in residence in my boyfriend’s home. Right after learning that he left me to think he was dead since I was fifteen. 

Xaden bites back a smile at my question. “It’s a big house.” 

I blink again again, my mind veering away slightly from the life-changing news. “The Riorsons had a duchy.” I remember suddenly. “You said big house and you’re talking about the fortress of Aretia, aren’t you?” 

“That would be the one.”

“I forgot that you were raised nobility,” I mumble, Rhiannon’s words about having a type coming back to haunt me at the absolute worst moment. I shake my head quickly. “And now my suddenly alive brother is living in your fortress house.” 

“Yes.” 

I blink again, and my tears are mostly dormant. “He’s alive. Brennan is alive,” I repeat. Xaden patiently waits for me to process. My brother, who I spent years mourning and missing with every bone in my body, is alive. And he didn’t want me to fucking know. 

Suddenly, I jolt and draw myself up to my full height. “That prick!”

Xaden’s eyes widen. “Uh—”

I steam forward and get chest to chest with him as I complain. “Brennan told you not to tell me? About the rebellion and them and him being alive?”

He blinks slowly. “There are many reasons why I did not tell you initially. I had some of my own shit to work through there. But when I told him that I wanted to tell you everything because I was sure you’d be on our side, he told me absolutely not. You figured out so much on your own and I told you about the rebellion because I don’t take orders from him. I sent him another letter after Threshing, asking if I could tell you about him because I thought I owed it to him… I asked if he wanted to send you a letter and I’d give it to you. He wrote back and told me no. Repeatedly. Once again, I do not take orders from your brother. I gave him a chance. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

I nod quickly as I absorb the words. “Oh, I’ll tell you who is going to be sorry.”

“Violet?” Xaden prompts. 

“I love my brother and I am thrilled at the idea of waking up in world tomorrow where I know he is alive and safe, but what the fuck. More than anybody, he should have known that there was never going to be another choice for me. Why not tell me? He doesn’t trust me? Is it because of how I’m made? Because he’ll never see me as more than his weak little sister he had to patch up all the time? I’m not strong enough for his rebellion? And even after everything, after I almost died and found out the truth and claimed two fucking dragons, he has the audacity to still try to keep himself hidden? Try and force you to hide things from me?”

“I’d like to remind you that I do not—”

“Yes, you do not take orders from my brother. I got that, honey. He still put you in the position of having to make the choice, when he could have written a letter and taken responsibility for his choices. I didn’t know death made you a coward,” I spit out, my aggression directed somewhere hundreds of miles away. How long is the flight to Aretia? 20 hours? Maybe a little less. “Maybe if I throw a dagger at his balls, he’ll remember they’re there.”

Xaden winces at my words, as most men would. After a moment, he lifts his arms hesitantly and I look at them for a long moment before stepping forward. He wraps them around my shoulders easily and I relax into his chest. 

“Brennan loves you. He used to talk about you. Mira sometimes, but mostly you. Used to tell me how smart and stubborn you are, and how you were so brave when you were injured. He said that your best friend used to cry for you and you’d just roll your eyes. Granted, that story is less adorable with the context that is Dain-fucking-Aetos but hey, I’ll take any baby Violence memory I can get. I still think about a tiny age seven spy running around poisoning people when I need a laugh.” 

I giggle wetly at his words and bury my face closer into his chest. He continues softly. “I think your brother has your best interests at heart. Maybe he’s just trying too hard to protect you. He’s trying to keep the little girl he remembers safe, but he doesn’t know the strong woman you grew into. You were here to knock sense into me, but he hasn’t gotten the same treatment.”

“I still think I’ll throw a dagger or two at him,” I pull back to tell him thoughtfully. “I fear that he deserves it.” 

Xaden looks at me for a long time, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m serious. “Shit, I think you mean it.” 

I smirk at him. “I guess you’ll have to take me to Aretia to find out.” 

His eyes darken, face a few inches from my own. “I would love to take you to Aretia one day,” Xaden tells me seriously. “If Brennan has to get stabbed for you to sleep next to me in my real bedroom, then I guess he does deserve a dagger or two. I have a list of plans for the bathroom alone.” 

I ignore my flush at the mention of Xaden’s plans and laugh at his easy agreement. “Shouldn’t you be talking me out of killing your Lieutenant Colonel?” 

Xaden shrugs. “Well, considering he’ll probably try his hand at killing me the next time I see him, I can claim you were fighting to protect me. My vicious little bodyguard.” 

I laugh at the image he paints. “Why would he try to kill you?”

He looks down at his chest, where my hands are resting, drawing soft patterns against the hard planes of his torso with my fingertips. It’s a favorite of mine when we are standing face to face like this. “Many reasons. Telling you about the rebellion. Telling you he was alive. Becoming obsessed with his little sister. Kissing his little sister. Touching his little sister. The list gets more graphic from there, but rest assured, he will want to kill me for all of it.” 

I laugh at his words. His casual admittance of being obsessed with me makes the flush on my cheeks harder to hide. “I think who I fuck will be the least of his concerns.” 

“And I think that he will disagree. With his fists.” 

I consider his words carefully. “I guess I don’t know how he’ll react. I was ten when he left for the Rider’s Quadrant, so he never met any of my previous partners. Well, he met one, but not as my boyfriend.” 

“Do I want to know what that means?” 

I stare at him for a moment. Does he really want to go there right now? Well, I’ve never been able to resist. 

“I’m still stuck on my not-dead brother but I’m a glutton for information if you’d like to have the ex conversation.” 

Xaden narrows his eyes at me for several moments before shaking his head fiercely. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Scared I’ll leave you when I find out how many third-years you fucked?” I ask with another laugh. “I think you’re safe. No man is that good at making a girl come without practice.” 

I shake my head at the satisfaction on his face. Typical man. If only his smugness wasn’t so well-deserved. 

“No, it’s not that. I just think it’s better I don’t have any information on who has touched you. I might kill them if we ever meet.” Xaden answers frankly. I blink in surprise, startled by the honesty in his voice. 

That… that might actually be a problem one day. “Shit, I think you mean it,” I tell him playfully. 

He chuckles darkly. “I definitely mean it.” 

I smile at his words and dip my face forward again. 

“He’s really alive?” I ask softly without moving away. “Do you promise? If this is just some guy pretending to be Brennan Sorrengail, I’ll kill both of you.” 

“I promise you that it’s him. I know him personally and I’ve seen his dragon,” Xaden confirms. “He was terrified when I told him you crossed the parapet.”

I let the information sit in my mind for a few solid minutes. It’s long enough that Xaden pulls back slightly to look at my face. Tears are leaking slowly from my eyes again. 

“Violet?” he prompts gently. 

“I just…” my voice trails off and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I spent so many years mourning him. I don’t know how to react. I wish I could tell Mira.” 

His eyes soften. “I know, little spy.” 

I bite my lip. “Do you know what Mira and I have told each other in recent years? Every time that we leave each other. Don’t die because I’d hate to be an only child.”

Xaden’s lip quirks at that. “That sounds like you. Are you and Mira close?” 

I shrug. “I thought she was all I had left in the world. Brennan and I were closer before he left, but I had more time with Mira. She didn’t leave for the Rider’s Quadrant until I was fourteen. Right before everything changed. But—” 

“But?” he prompts. 

“She’s always wanted to protect me more than anything. She showed up at the General’s office the morning of Conscription Day and screamed at her for sending me to die. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to her before, especially not for me. I’m aware I can’t tell Mira the truth. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to look her in the eyes.” 

“It’s hard lying to the people you care about,” Xaden tells me gently, and I raise my eyes to look at him, reaching up a hand to wipe the tear tracks left on my cheeks. “I already said it, but you were distracted planning on re-killing your brother. I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve wanted to ever since we shared our first secrets.” 

I remember our conversation on the sparring mat. “When I told you about the book and the poison?” 

“Exactly. You had just cried because of the Gauntlet, and you were talking about what a great brother he was. I would have done anything to get the miserable look off your face.”

“All it takes to crumble the shadow wielder is a girl's tears?” I ask playfully, so I don’t have to acknowledge his apology. It does hurt me that Xaden kept my brother a secret all of this time. But he told me. He didn’t force me to figure it out. That means something. Doesn’t it?

“Just yours.” He responds seriously instead. “I mean it, Violet. I’m sorry.” 

I nod slowly. “I know. Telling me about Brennan without telling me about the rebellion and Aretia would be impossible. And I was so fucked up after Threshing, it was probably a good idea to give me time. The logical part of my mind knows that you're not responsible for Brennan's decisions, and you kept your promise as soon as I could shield. I just—”

“You still wish I would have told you,” he says. 

My smile is rife with discomfort as I nod. “I still wish you would have told me. I’d always rather know.” 

“I know,” he responds. “I can’t take that back. All I can do is tell you that I apologize, and promise to take your side if you end up stabbing him one day. And for the record, shielding isn't why I said anything. I care about you, Violet. So much. I just... I wanted you to have your brother back."

My smile at his words is involuntary. “Thank you for not listening to him,” I offer in return. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t tell me and I found out another way.”

“And there is the thought that’s been keeping me up at night. I... I thought I’d lose you. If I waited, I was almost certain that’d be it. If I told you now, there was at least a chance of you forgiving me.”

If Xaden lied about my brother being alive? He might have lost me. But he didn’t lie. It might have taken him time but he told me the truth, even if Brennan didn’t want me to know. He trusted me more than my own brother did. He even tried to get me a letter to soften the blow.

“I guess you are learning,” I tease gently, before my voice goes serious. “Xaden, I’m not going anywhere.” 

His arms flex where they are still wrapped around my shoulders. “I think I’d like that in writing.” 

I snort. “I don’t think that’s possible, so you’ll just have to believe me.” I pull back so I can look him in the eyes. Xaden’s shoulders carry so much tension that he’s practically shaking with it. Like he’s still waiting for me to push him away forever. It’s a sad realization that he looks like that far too often. His eyes trained on me with an intensity like I’m about to disappear if he even blinks. “I still want to be with you, Xaden.” 

He inhales sharply. “Violet, you are too fucking good for me. But the last few weeks have been incredible, and I am too selfish to let you go now if you don’t push me away.” 

“Maybe I’m selfish too,” I tell him lightly. “Even if you don’t see this going past graduation—”

Xaden tenses and interrupts me. “Who the fuck said that?” 

I shake my head, but something settles in my chest at his obvious horror. I guess Xaden is thinking about us past his graduation. That is good to know, because I don't see myself being ready to let him go. “Let me finish, you silly man. All I meant is that even if you don’t have the future figured out, you should start counting on the fact that if I have my choice, we’d be in it together. Stop looking at me like I’m going to run away screaming the first chance I get. You had the same look on your face last night.” 

“And that’s me? I’m your choice? Still?” Xaden asks. It breaks my heart to hear him sounding so uncertain. I hope I never meet the person who made this man feel as though he wasn’t worth choosing, because the hell I would rain upon them would be catastrophic to this continent. I’d destroy them and I’d take joy in it.

With a determined nod, I look him deeply in the eyes to try and show him how serious I am. “You told me you were mine, and I’m holding you to it. I’m keeping you.”

I said those words to Liam a few weeks ago, and I meant it then too. 

Xaden’s eyes appear wild and they dart around my face like he’s trying to find the truth in my words. “Do you really mean that?” He asks seriously. “You don’t have to say it if it’s not true. I understand if you’re angry at me and you need time to decide if you still want this.”

Am I upset he didn’t tell me about Brennan earlier? Sure, but he still told me like he promised he would the last time we were under this tree. The day he let me in. The very day I learned to shield, he shared more information. 

Xaden didn’t leave me to figure it out alone, like so many things in my life. He told me even if my stupid brother didn’t want him to. Even if he knew that I might react badly, and push him away for good. 

Hurt feelings aside, Xaden is a man who has lost more than most people could ever contemplate, and today he gave me something back. I only wish I could do the same, and take some of the weight off of his heart. 

But I can’t. All I can do is assure him that I won’t be another item on the long list of things he’s forced to live without. I’m not going to let him walk around for a single second thinking that I’m second-guessing this. Not with that bit of heartbreak twisted in his eyes, ready and waiting for me to end this. I can be upset about my brother and at my brother later. Right now, I just need Xaden to know that I'm all in on this. In the same ill-advised, too-serious-too-quickly, frighteningly-perfect and terribly-domestic way that he's given me. I'm all in.

My feelings for Xaden Riorson aren't going anywhere, and neither am I. 

“Of course I mean it, Xaden. I told you that I would trust you, and that’s what I’m trying to do. You told me and that’s what matters. His actions do not change how I feel about you. Nothing could.” Xaden’s eyes widen and his breath catches in his throat. “I’m serious about this, about you. As long as you keep talking to me, I’m here. I want this to work.”

More than anything, I want this to work. The thought of losing him is becoming harder and harder to bear each day.

There's definitely a name for all of the feelings that sit too large in my chest lately when I look at him, but I feel like I deserve a bit of deliberate ignorance after all I learned tonight. I'll return to my mantra of self-reflection on a day I'm feeling less stripped bare in front of him. 

With a serious expression, Xaden grasps my hands between us tightly. “Fuck, Violet. I’ve been so terrified about ruining this or coming on too strong. I’m not a good man, but I’m all yours for as long as you want me.” 

Xaden has threatened the life of anyone who dares to touch me—past, present and future. He killed half a dozen people and stood up in front of the entire quadrant to keep me safe. That's just the last twenty-four hours.

And I’m still here, which says some questionable things about me, but I don’t care. It’s safe to say that I’m alright with him coming on strong. 

“What does good even mean? Following the Codex? Fuck that. I’ll take real over good any day. Give me your joy. Give me your sorrow. Give me your anger. Give me your pain. When you’re ready, I’ll take your secrets too. I want it all because I want you.” I reach up and cup his face gently. “Just Xaden.”

“Violet,” he starts but he continues to look at me speechless. I thought he knew how I felt about him. I thought it was obvious. “Violet.” He repeats my name again without saying anything else. 

“Yes?” I ask teasingly. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” Xaden warns me, but I can see the rising tide of joy in his eyes, making the gold flecks dance with happiness. “If you get to keep me, I’ll keep you right back.” 

“Finally, he gets it.” I sigh dramatically and squeeze at his face, admiring the way his lips are forced to pout from the force. “I’m yours and you’re mine. Any other questions?” 

“Just one.” 

I dip my head and drop my hands. “Go ahead.”

He pushes me backwards several steps until my back is pressed up against our tree. “Can I kiss you? I have spent too much of this conversation lying to myself that I’d be okay if you ended this, and I don’t think it will feel real until I have my lips on you again.” 

“You can always kiss me,” I tell him with certainty. “I don’t think I could ever say no.”

“Don’t give me that kind of power, Violence. I’ll take advantage of it,” he whispers roughly, pressing my back up against the tree more firmly. I lift onto my toes and throw my arms over his shoulders. He supports my body weight easily. “Next time your stupid squad leader gets too close to you or somebody thinks you’re fucking anyone but me, I’ll feel the need to do something about it.” He punctuates his promise with wrapping his hands around my waist to pull me against him firmly. 

I fail to suppress a shiver down my spine at feeling of his body and the promise in his words. 

Some people may feel differently, but Xaden doesn’t scare me. I realized weeks ago that when he cares for someone, he cares viciously and without remorse. He’s jealous and possessive in his devotion, like a dragon. I refuse to turn away from that side of him, and pretend it doesn’t exist. This ferocity is part of what makes him the person he is and I’m keeping him. 

I already said so, and I’m stubborn like that. 

“Don’t tempt me,” I manage weakly, neck straining to connect our lips but Xaden is firmly in control. “I’ll be forced to return the favor. I’ve seen the way the other cadets look at you when you spar with Garrick without a shirt on. They’re lucky I don’t start throwing sharp things around.” 

He pulls back to smirk at me. “Do you get jealous, little spy?” 

I roll my eyes at the question. “Of course I do. But I just stab them in my mind and move on. I’m also enjoying the show, and at least I’m the one who gets to touch you after.” 

“You have better self-control than I do,” Xaden tells me seriously, leaning down to bury his face in the loose hair hanging over one of my shoulders. 

I let my head rest against the tree as he finally, finally connects our lips. I bite back a groan as he explores my mouth hungrily. Kissing Xaden always sets me on fire from the inside out. I thought passion would fade into familiarity at some point, but each kiss felt as transformative as the first. Somehow, I don’t think that will ever change. 

Better self-control? Unlikely. My body is crying out for his attention. I want him to touch me so badly that I’m burning for it, even if we are definitely not in a secure location. That’s not a thought that people with excellent self-control have. 

His hands grip my waist even tighter and I moan again at the sensation. His big hands play a starring role in so many of my fantasies about Xaden. I tangle my fingers in the material of his tunic and press myself as close as possible. I kiss him back as deeply as I can manage from this position and debate whether I’d be able to wrap my legs around him with all our weapons in place. It might not be the most comfortable position, but I’ve never minded a bit of discomfort. Kissing Xaden is worth it. It’s worth everything. 

Xaden pulls back slightly and my eyes open in response. His shadows had grown in size to cover us protectively, even if we’re all alone in the dark. I shiver at the cooling sensation of shadows brushing up against my skin.

“Violet,” he tells me quietly. He’s been saying my real name so much today. I wonder if he knows what it does to me. The way it softens him. The way it makes me want to give him everything. 

“Yes?” I ask breathlessly. 

“I need to be inside of you. Right. Now.” 

My eyes blow wide and I cast a glance around us, vision distorted by the shadows blocking us from the rest of the world. I turn back to him slowly, eyes dark with desire as I focus on his kiss-bitten lips. “Uh-huh,” I mumble distractedly. “Good plan. I like that plan.” 

Xaden drops another hungry kiss to my lips, and the next few moments are a blur. He unbuttons my pants, turns me around, and tugs them and my underwear down with impatience coloring every movement. My hands tighten on the rough surface of tree bark in front of me. I feel exposed against the cool night air, even if the rest of my clothes are still in place. 

“Do you feel what you do to me?” Xaden groans and pushes his body up against me so I can feel the way his hard length is already straining against the material of his pants. “You turn me into an animal. I can’t even wait to get to my room. I need you right fucking here in the open.”

“Fuck, Xaden, take me,” I beg loudly, before biting my lip to stay quiet. He steps back and pulls my torso with him so I’m bent at the waist with my forearms braced up against the tree trunk. Without pausing, he slips a hand down to play with my exposed entrance. I feel his fingers dip into me easily as he spreads around the evidence of how badly I want him. 

“So fucking wet for me. I think about this all the time, just bending you over whenever I want. Watching this perfect ass while I sink into you.”

I tilt my head back to watch as Xaden frees himself from his pants. If he wasn’t so desperate for something else, I’d be eager to drop to my knees for him. Grass isn’t quite a pillow but I’d make it work. 

He grips his cock with the hand he just had inside of me and lines himself up with my slickened core. Before he begins to split me open, he captures my eyes. “Arch your back for me, sweet girl.”

I am helpless but to comply, bending my body into a better position for him to take as my head turns back forward. I rise on my toes and arch my back as he caresses the curve of my spine with his free hand. I wish I could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of my corset and tunic. 

“That’s right,” he whispers softly. “Good girl. I’ve had you countless times since that first night and I just want more and more.” 

In deliberate contrast to his soft words, both of his hands grasp at my hips and he enters me roughly, all at once. I keen and clench around him as my body tries to accommodate the sudden intrusion. “Fuck, Xaden!” I yell out, suddenly uncaring of where we are. 

With my legs still forced together by the material clinging around my thighs, the fit is even tighter than it normally is. Any discomfort fades to pleasure almost immediately as he starts fucking into me roughly without pause. My back arches further in any attempt to get closer to Xaden and the pleasure he provides me as easily as breathing. Like we were meant to be connected to one another in this way, and no other partner will ever come close. 

“I can’t live without this, Violet,” Xaden speaks in a throaty voice in between snaps of his hips. My mouth opens to respond, but all I can release is a groan as a particularly deep thrust. “I’m going to keep you.”

I clutch desperately at the tree, as his tight grip on my hips makes it impossible to buck back against him. All I can do is sit there and take it, intoxicated by this man and the things he does to me. 

“Xaden.” I moan his name loudly. “Harder!”

“I’m going to keep you,” he repeats mindlessly as his hips stutter. He puts more force behind his thrusts and I am almost bouncing on my toes each time he pounds into me. “You’re not getting rid of me now.” 

I nod quickly, delirious with the feeling of him inside of me. “I never want to get rid of you,” I gasp as I tip closer to the edge. “I want you to fuck me forever. Gods, please don’t stop.” 

“Fuck.” He curses roughly. A wisp of shadow rises in front of me to play with my clit and I scream out unintelligibly. “I’m never going to stop.” 

There is something to be said about giving and receiving pleasure under the night sky where we could theoretically be discovered at any moment. I had never thought exhibitionism was something I wanted to explore, but that was before Xaden. I never wanted to be tied up before either, but I’d let him. It’d let him do anything to me. 

My pleasure sparks and ignites until it threatens to burn both of us alive. That dangerous feeling in my chest coils and snaps as we fall into ecstasy, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My heartbeat rings loudly in my ears, crashing like thunder in the sky. For a moment, I think it’s real, but that wouldn’t make any sense.

We topple over one after another, so close that I wouldn’t be able to tell you who peaked first. I gasp desperately as Xaden grunts something that resembles my name. I can feel him throb with release as my core spasms around him helplessly. 

He pulls out slowly and helps me stand straight. With a sigh, I brace my arms against the tree and try to slow my heavy breathing. I am flushed and the hair escaping my braid is sticking to my neck, damp with sweat. My knees are trembling like I just sprinted here from the flight fields, and I can feel an ache in my calves from the position. 

Worth it. 

“Holy shit,” I whisper softly. “Speaking of frighteningly perfect.” 

Xaden dips his head forward to press his face into my neck and I can feel the sweat from his exertion. His body is still shaking subtly, and I press back further to lean into him. Both for comfort and to support my body weight. 

I finally gather enough strength to pull up my leathers and turn around, and Xaden is looking up thoughtfully at the sky. He lets the shadows fall from around us. 

“Xaden?” I prompt softly. 

He looks at me with a funny expression. “Did you hear thunder?” 

I blink in surprise. “I thought I did, but there are no storms tonight. I was a little distracted.” 

“No storm,” he starts slowly, and then gently directs my attention to look forward around the tree. My eyes widen. “But there was lightning.” 

One of the trees along the river bank, maybe a little more than a hundred feet away, is on fire. The branches are all blackened and the side of the tree that was hit shows evidence of a deep wound caused by lightning strike. I look back up at the clear sky. “How?” 

It could be a freak incident. Or it could be something else. I turn back to him with wide eyes. “No. You don’t think…?” 

“I…” he starts, before stopping himself. “You shouldn’t speculate. You will physically manifest something and Tairn will declare it.” 

“I shouldn’t speculate?” I ask with mild amusement. “And here I thought you knew me better than anyone.” 

Xaden chuckles and pulls my tired body into his arms to hold me tightly. “Well, if it is, you know, and the catalyst was, you know, I can think of some ways to test that theory.” 

I giggle at his words. Maybe it’s a consequence of the life-changing orgasm, but I’m left feeling almost giddy. But even endorphins do not explain the happiness spreading from my chest throughout all of my limbs at the sight of Xaden’s sweet smile that only I get to see. 

There will be time for theorizing and speculating and catastrophizing and whatever else is on the agenda tomorrow. Despite the tears and the anger, tonight’s secrets weren’t the kind that leave a person feeling desolate. 

I have so much to fight for, more than I ever thought I would have again. I have Xaden, I have Mira, and my brother is alive somewhere—if a bit of an asshole. All of my friends are safe in their beds, and I’m bonded to the two most wonderful dragons in the world. 

I feel their presence in the bond, but they stay quiet in my mind. 

I turn back to Xaden with a silly smile, and we rush back to his room without doing any further exploration of the tunnels. 

Lightning strikes three more times that night. I valiantly attempt to ignore the conclusions my mind draws, as only time will tell.

Chapter Text

The very next night, Liam and I are walking towards the Lab when I feel Tairn’s powers start to itch behind my relic. I try to reinforce my shields, but a wave of his emotions threatens to knock me off my feet. Sudden, intense desire courses through my veins without remorse and I feel heat prickle under my skin. 

I come to a sharp stop and close my eyes tight. Liam pauses next to me and looks at me in confusion. “Boss?”

“This is so inconvenient,” I mutter without looking at him. “Where is Xaden tonight?” 

Liam’s voice is twisted in confusion, but I keep my eyes on the stone of the floor in front of me. “You’d know better than I would.”

“Shit,” I curse. I probe the bond with Tairn asking him to either shield or help me locate my wingleader, but I get nothing in response. I build my shields back up but it’s futile. I’m not nearly strong enough to stop the next wave from making me sway on my feet. 

“Are you okay?”

Liam reaches out to steady my arm, but I flinch and take a step back. The blood boiling in my veins makes me uncomfortable and I really don’t want Liam to touch me. 

I want Xaden. I need Xaden. 

“Ah, I’m good,” I tell him quickly. “No need to touch me. I’m going to get going. You can get back to your room from here, right?” 

“What? No, I’ll walk you," Liam argues. 

“No need,” I squeak, turning around to walk away quickly. I hear Liam begin to follow. “Seriously, Liam. I need to go find Xaden and I would really prefer to do that alone.”  

“Violet, what is going on?” 

I stop and turn to look at him reluctantly. He almost flinches at the wild look in my eyes, and I don’t blame him. I feel off-kilter, and I need to get out of here. The inescapable heat burning through my body urges me to reach out and sate my desires, but I can’t do that with Liam. I wouldn’t want to. But now I need to leave. 

“It’s a mated dragon thing.” His blue eyes widen with understanding. “I need to go, and you need to give me space. I’m just going to check our rooms.”

He nods reluctantly, and I turn quickly to practically run in the opposite direction we were heading. I take the shortest possible path to the Rider’s Quadrant dormitories. 

I check my room first, and it’s sadly empty. Distantly, I notice that Xaden has replaced the wards on my door already. I haven’t been back since the attack, but I can feel the tell-tale signs of magic. Without pause, I storm out and head up to the floor for third-years and unlock his door with my daggers. 

I groan out loud when it’s just as vacant. Fuck.

If Tairn and Sgaeyl are occupied, he has to be here at Basgiath. Where the fuck is he? 

I take off my boots angrily and throw them somewhere, shedding my flight jacket as I go. I’m not going to go running around the quadrant like this. 

‘Tairn? Please take a water break and help your poor rider out,’ I whisper but he is not listening right now. 

I sigh heavily and take off all my daggers. I suppose I can’t blame my dragon for being distracted. 

For the first time, I realize that having to communicate through our dragons is very annoying. Usually, it’s Xaden who faces the brunt of that annoyance when Tairn is being obstinate. I feel sympathy for Xaden for having to deal with it. 

I wish I could talk to him. Tell him that I’m here waiting for him. Aching for him. 

With a pout, I sigh again, stepping out of my leathers and throwing them with the rest of my hastily shed clothes. My skin is burning, and all of the things I’m wearing are too tight and restrictive. I pause, holding the bed frame to keep myself upright during another rough wave. 

Reaching back to unlace my corset impatiently, I remove every item of clothing I’m wearing and reach for one of the nightgowns I left here in his drawers. It’s light and the fabric is still an almost unbearable weight on my skin. I throw myself on his bed with a huff, not bothering to put on underwear. 

I sit up against his pillows and try to steady my breathing, which is picking up the pace. It’s like I’m experiencing life through a haze, and the only thing clear to me is the rising tide of lust burning through my nerve endings. My skin is flushing so hot that the thin cloth is already sticking to my skin uncomfortably. I try my best to ignore the heat is radiating from my core.

Pressing my knees together tightly, I attempt to meditate. Mind over body. When that doesn't work, I build my shields and reinforce them over and over again, placing everything external into the box inside of my mind. 

Mind. Over. Body. 

Fuck, I want Xaden here. Fuck the box, I want his body. I hold back an audible whine and squeeze my hands into fists around the blankets. 

Shaking my head violently, I scowl at nothing. This is ridiculous. I am stronger than my urges. I do not need to use my own fingers and race towards an unsatisfying release. No matter how much I need something, and the way my need is staining my inner thighs. 

I should wait. Xaden is somewhere in the quadrant, and he is surely feeling the same flow of emotions from our dragons. He will be looking for me, right? He has to be. 

No sooner do I have the thought when Xaden’s door bursts open, almost as violently as it did the night in my room with the unbonded. 

I look at him with wide eyes, pupils fully dilated. The small part of me that was still holding on to my rationality with white knuckles tries to tease him. “It took you long enough.”

But Xaden is in no mood for teasing tonight. Without a word, he slams the door behind him and sheds his jackets and weapons on the floor with none of his usual careful consideration. He pulls off his boots roughly. His eyes are serious and I can see that they are fully black with desire. 

“I went to look for you,” he growls. “Now that you’re channeling, I knew that you’d be in the same exact position I am.” 

I look at the obvious bulge in his leathers with hunger. “I want to be in any position you are,” I mumble nonsensically. 

Xaden smirks. “Good. You’re such a sweet girl for me, getting yourself nice and ready for me in my bed the minute you felt it.” 

My cheeks burn. “I figured you wouldn’t want me satisfying these urges any other way,” I tell him with a pout. 

He snarls in response. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Violence.” 

I shake my head at his predictability. I meant my fingers, not another person. The idea of being like this with someone other than Xaden is vile. 

The pressure in my gut is almost overwhelming me and my body shudders with another unbearable wave of dragon-sized desire. I reach my arms out towards him pathetically. “I would never, not with anyone. Now will you please touch me before I have to take care of myself? I feel like I’m on fire.” 

His anger fades from his eyes quickly. With several decisive steps, he closes the distance between us. 

“Clothes!” I grunt out impatiently, already sitting up on my knees to reach for him. 

He ignores me and leans to connect our lips in a fierce kiss. I mewl into his mouth in relief. His body pressed up against me is hard and unyielding and exactly what I need. 

Xaden’s hand drifts down and he curses. “Nothing under this ridiculous little thing? You’re going to be the death of me, Violet.” He slides a finger inside of me easily and I moan at the sensation. “You’re already so wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

“No, I was waiting for you,” I tell him immediately, and I’m awarded with another finger. “I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had you inside of me.” 

He looks altogether too pleased with himself, but I’m too far gone, hips rolling as I try to fuck myself on his fingers. He pulls back heartlessly.  

I wrap my arms around his shoulders to try and tug him down on top of me, but Xaden just shakes his head. “Ah, ah. I’m going to be inside of you, but I have something else in mind first. It was all I could think about on my way here.” 

My eyes are suspicious when I gaze up at him, cloudy with the lust running through my veins. “What?” 

He gently maneuvers me to the side of the bed, so he can move the pillows and lay down flat. He looks up at me with a wicked grin. 

“Come sit on my face, sweet girl.”

My cheeks bloom bright red. A sharp stab of shyness breaks through my lust.  “T-that’s…” my voice trails off. 

“Exactly what I want, little spy,” Xaden urges, pupils fully dilated. “Don’t make me beg for it.” 

I bite my lip and look down at him, still wearing his pants and short-sleeved tunic. 

“You want that?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. He nods immediately but I still hesitate. 

Xaden seems to grow impatient, and he grabs me by legs and pulls me to straddle his torso. He wraps his hands around my legs and tugs me up his body until I’m hovering over his chest. “More than anything,” he tells me seriously. “Now try your best to hang on until I get my fill. I’m not going to be counting. Well, maybe just for my own male satisfaction.” 

My entire body flushes at the filthy promise in his voice. I’m still wearing my nightgown but I can feel his hot breath on my bare skin as he forces me up over his shoulders, with one thigh on either side of his head.

“What if I hurt you?” I worry. “Or make a mess?” 

“Violence, I promise I can handle you. Please make a mess out of me. If you make me wait any longer, I might actually beg.” 

I attempt to roll my eyes at his dramatics, but my attitude is cut off sharply when I’m hit by another fresh wave of pure, unadulterated desire from our dragons. My shoulders hunch as I tremble slightly. 

“Oh gods, is this how you felt the night before the Gauntlet?” I ask between clenched teeth. I feel myself quivering at my emptiness, and I decide that I need any part of Xaden inside of me more than I need any kind of modesty. I reach down and pull my nightgown off in one swift motion, and his hands grip my hips and tighten in response. 

“Fuck. Yes. I felt like I was going insane. One look at you with your hair down and I was hard as a rock. Speaking of…” he trails off meaningfully and I manage an eye roll this time. I tug the tie off the end of my long single braid down my back and unravel it quickly. Once I finish, I look down at him where he’s patiently waiting, partially supporting my weight as I lean back onto his chest, thighs touching either of his ears.

“Happy now?” I sass him before another wave of lust can steal my lucidity away. 

“Almost,” he growls, pulling my hips up and forward so I’m suspended above his mouth. He pulls me down forcefully and uses his tongue in long sweeping motions to taste me. 

“Xaden!” I yelp as gravity takes hold. My hands brace themselves on the wall above the bed, but Xaden refuses to let me try and lift myself. He tightens his grip and holds me tight, leaning up to wrap his lips around my clit and circle his tongue around it teasingly. 

“Oh, shit,” I moan in surprise. Even if I’m not trying to bear down, it’s a different sensation from when I’m lying helpless on my back and he has his fill until I’m a boneless pile on the blankets. I clench and try to hold back from shoving myself even closer. 

Xaden pulls away roughly to growl at me. “Stop being so hesitant. Be a good girl and ride my face, Violet.” 

With a gasp, I do what I’m told, hips gyrating into his greedy mouth through waves and waves of lust both foreign and my own. It could have been minutes or hours as Xaden refuses to let me up. His tongue never stops moving, exploring deep inside of me or playing with my clit with devastating prowess as I grind down. I fall apart too many times to count, lightning striking over and over again in the distance. 

I scream his name until I lose the capability for words and all I’m left with is breathless gasps and tears leaking from the corner of my eyes. He finally lets me sit back and gently slides me off him to lay down on my back so he can finally, finally remove all of his clothes. For a moment, I can’t believe that he’s still dressed while I’m a red, soaken mess. 

He finishes undressing and turns back to me with hungry eyes. My knees drop open helplessly and he takes the invitation, diving forward to settle. He lifts one of my legs to get a better angle and enters me in one swift motion. There is no resistance. 

“That was so fucking good for me, sweet girl,” Xaden growls as his hips set an immediately brutal pace. I keen at the sensation, but my oversensitivity is overshadowed by the continued pleasure and waves of lust telling me to keep taking everything Xaden will give me. 

I groan his name and tilt my hips to be closer. I can feel his hips stutter, closer to the edge than he normally is. I guess he really did enjoy himself. 

Xaden's groan drowns out the sound of the final lightning strike of the night, his shadows bursting forth and covering the room in darkness as we catch our breath. 

I've never felt like this with a person before, this unspeakable intimacy as the sweat dries on my skin and my heartrate returns to its natural rhythm. I have to remind myself that we haven't even been together two months.

But I can't help but recognize I feel more connected to Xaden after our short time together than I ever have with another person. Even laying here now, recovering from the waves of lust that were not completely my own, I feel safer and more taken care of than I have in my life. 

There are those feelings that sit too large in my chest again. My mind will have to put a word to it soon, no matter how long Xaden and I have been together. 

—

“Did you guys get any sleep last night?” Ridoc asks at breakfast, to my complete horror. “There was no storm, but the lightning was nonstop.” 

I stay quiet and focus closely on my oats. To stave off embarrassment, I try to mentally recall the list of things Liam and I have left to do to prepare the Lab to begin experiments. Collecting the last of my ingredients from my stashes, another trip into town, making an inventory, finishing the list for Xaden. 

“It was strange,” Rhiannon agrees easily. “I heard they called some water wielders to put out fires in the flight field really early this morning.” 

“Is General Sorrengail here?” Sawyer asks me hesitantly. I’ve made no secret of my disdain for my mother. 

Gods, I sure fucking hope not. I shrug. “Last I heard, she’s in Calldyr until Tuesday but she could have returned early. We don’t exactly speak.” 

They nod in understanding. I mentally retreat to make sure my shields are in place instead of focusing on my crippling mortification at the subject of this conversation. 

“It’s two nights in a row now.” Ridoc continues. “Tell us, Vi, how common is that? Lightning without a storm?” 

I blink at him, surprised at being addressed again so soon. “Why would studying to be a scribe include learning about the weather?”

“I just assume you know things,” he adds easily, and I’m strangely touched. I bite back a smile and try to maintain an unaffected face. 

“Who knows? I grew up with a parent who could manipulate the weather, so it could be a rider, or it could be a freak incident.” 

They all nod, and I pat myself on the back for avoiding further discomfort.  

‘Tairn.’ I start hesitantly. 

‘Yes, Silver One?’

‘Water wielders had to put out fires caused by freak lightning strikes last night.’ I start. 

‘I hear what you hear. That means that I am all too aware of what your human companions speak of. One of the true tragedies of dragon life.’

I resist rolling my eyes. He knows what I’m angling at. 

‘And you have nothing to say on the matter? No comment regarding how coincidental the timing of those random strikes were?’ 

I wait for his response with a baited breath. 

‘Not yet.’

‘Yet,’ I comment. ‘That’s interesting.’ 

‘I know you are burning with curiosity. Until then, be patient.’

‘I can be patient,’ I grumble at him. 

‘Then prove it,’ he huffs. ‘You are far from prepared to manifest the true magnitude of my power. Focus on your shields and lesser magic. And keeping your seat.’

‘Of course I’m going to do that,’ I tease. ‘Continuous ink pens, remember? I’ve barely shut up about them.’ 

‘I’m well-aware.’

I suppress a giggle at his long-suffering tone. ‘Okay, grumpy. I’ll be patient. No speculation, like Xaden said.’ 

‘I suppose he has been tolerable this week. Now, eat your food. You will need your strength for flight lessons today.’ I scoop up more  oats and continue eating. 

Before I feel him withdraw from the bond, he speaks again. ‘Everything will happen when it is meant to.’ 

—

Liam conveniently starts channeling the next day and we sign up to enter Carr’s class together. Sawyer is already there. I hope the rest of my friends aren’t far behind. 

“Tell the truth,” I ask from where I’m organizing one of our pilfered work tables. The Lab is coming along nicely. We even managed to steal chairs and a new cot from the Infantry Quadrant storage, so Liam is settled nearby with his long legs sprawled in front of him. His latest wood carving project is in his hand while I keep myself busy. “You started channeling before me and you were just waiting until I did.” 

Liam gives me a cheeky smile. “And that’s why you’re the boss.” 

I snort a laugh. “You know I would have survived an hour a day without my bodyguard.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to wait for you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him genuinely. “Did you also manifest your signet when I wasn’t looking? You don’t have to hide it from me.” 

Liam shakes his head immediately. “No signet. You?” 

I think for a moment. “I have my theories.”

“You are theorizing on the signet you might get?” Liam asks in surprise. 

No. But I’m much too embarrassed to tell Liam about the origin of said theories. 

“Just thinking,” I answer brightly. “Signet manifestation is interesting, don’t you think?”

“Because it depends on the rider?” 

I nod. “Tairn’s last rider was a siphon. But my signet will probably”—definitely—“be something completely different. Is it based on personality, skill, or need? All three maybe? It’s obviously not an exact science but it’s fascinating to consider.”  

“Like Xaden, who needs to keep so much of himself in the dark,” Liam says slowly. “He becomes a shadow wielder.” 

“Exactly! Or my brother. Brennan has been putting me back together since I could walk. I wasn’t surprised at all when he was revealed as a mender.” 

Liam was so relieved when he found out Xaden told me about Brennan. I can't wait to ask if he has any stories about my brother. I'm pissed at him, but I still want to learn more about how he has been for the last six years. 

“That makes sense. What does Aetos’ signet say about him?” Liam’s voice isn’t outwardly antagonistic, but I can tell from the annoyed line of his brow that he’s still not over what happened at formation. 

I look at him for a moment, hands expertly carving away at the wood. “Dain isn’t a bad person, you know?” 

Liam looks up from his work. “Are you sure about that?” 

We lapse into silence while I try to find the words. “The first time I saw Dain cry, it was because I had dislocated my shoulder climbing a tree. Every time I was hurt, he’d start bawling and act like he was the one in pain and I used to hate it. But he never stopped me from climbing right beside him. Most often, he’d play with me indoors. While my siblings were pretending to ride dragons, Dain and I would pretend to decipher hidden maps to buried treasure and discover long forgotten secrets about foreign lands. We studied with my father and Dain learned the languages I didn’t know, and vice versa. There was a period of my life where I thought we’d be scribes together, and spend our lives researching everything we found interesting. Maybe travel one day. Whenever I looked next to me, there was Dain.” 

Liam looks uncomfortable for a moment. “Were you two ever…” 

I laugh lightly and shake my head. “No. People need to stop asking me that. We were best friends.”

He scoffs. “You’ve seen the way he looks at you.” 

My nose wrinkles at the thought. “He can look at me however he likes, as long as he keeps his hands to himself. We may not be friends like we used to be, but I still don’t want to see him on the wrong end of Xaden’s shadows if I can help it.” 

Or my daggers. It would kill something inside of me to hurt Dain. I just know that it would. 

“What changed? What turned the teary would-be scribe into a Codex worshipping asshole with boundary issues?” I bite back a smile. Liam really isn’t over what happened at formation. 

“The same thing that turned this fragile would-be scribe into a spy with a grudge…” I start, looking down at my hands thoughtfully. No longer a scribe’s hands, but a rider’s. Or rather both. “Family. We got older, and he decided he wanted to be a rider. It was his choice, but I also think a part of him wanted his father to be proud. The Colonel has always been really hard on him. Dain never left me behind, but I could tell that he saw himself as something different for the first time. Instead of crying when I was hurt, he got it into his head that he had to stop it from happening. We were no longer climbing beside each other. He kept me behind him on the ground.” 

Liam furrows his brows, thinking over my words carefully. I continue softly. “Even if I did everything I could to catch up, from crossing the parapet to claiming a dragon, we could never be anything more because he doesn’t truly want me next to him. Not in any way that matters. Even if I know that he cares about me. He’s intense and going about things the wrong way, but Dain Aetos is not an evil man. I wouldn’t have cut him out of my life if his signet and father did not make him a threat to all of us.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Liam asks hesitantly. “Or, did you?” 

I hum in thought. “Maybe I thought I did once. Like I said, I used to think we’d always be together. When I was a little girl imagining my future, I’d picture Dain. Even after he told me about becoming a rider, I think we both made assumptions.” 

“What changed?” 

After a year of no contact, I showed up as a completely different person and constructed layers of walls between us for months, all while he was just trying to protect me from his own perspective. No matter how misguided those attempts at protection may be, I can’t hate him for it. 

I’ve been thinking about Dain’s face at formation for days. I was hurt when he tried to use his signet, but I still wanted to reach out to him. 

“I changed. We both did. He spent all of last year becoming a rider, and I spent it grappling with betrayal and trying to find a version of myself that was capable of surviving what I had to face. We met again as strangers, less than ten minutes after I claimed my first life. I’ll always love Dain as my oldest friend but even if he magically woke up tomorrow on the right side of things, we’d never have anything more than friendship.”

“And you met Xaden,” Liam adds. I smile at his words. Like I needed the reminder. Everything I have with Xaden quickly eclipsed any leftover feelings I may have had for anyone. 

“And I met Xaden,” I agree easily. “Let’s put it this way. After I found the letter, Dain’s chances with me were ruined. After I met Xaden, everyone’s chances with me were ruined.” 

As Rhiannon likes to remind me, I haven’t looked at anyone but Xaden since the turret. It’s pathetic and embarrassing and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Liam’s mouth pulls into a wide grin. “I’m glad that you two are both equally insane about each other.”

I giggle at his words. “I hope so. Gods, I can’t believe I’m gossiping about this to his brother.” 

“Hah, I guess I started it this time,” he admits. 

“That’s true! I was just telling you about my history with Dain, and you brought up Xaden. You can only blame yourself when I wax poetic about how dreamy your brother is.” 

“Please don’t. I still don’t know what any of this has to do with Dain’s signet, which is where this conversation started.” 

I laugh. “Oh, absolutely nothing at all. I was just explaining that I don’t despise Dain so you can take a break from glaring at any mention of him. Anger looks out of place on you, Liam.” He rolls his eyes lightheartedly at that, but I can see his real smile return. “However,” I add. “I personally think he manifested retrocognition because of his need to know absolutely everything. He might not look it, but Dain is a huge gossip. He has been our entire lives.” 

Liam chuckles in surprise. “Okay, I can see that too. So Xaden’s secrets turned into shadows, Brennan’s healing turned into mending, and Dain’s gossip turned into retrocognition. Do you have any guesses for yours?” 

“No idea.” Xaden would probably laugh at me if he heard that bald-faced lie. “But there are so many powers that haven’t been seen in centuries, like Xaden’s shadows. I think we’ll see more rare signets appear in our generation.” 

“Like what?” 

I hum in thought. “It could be anything. Distance wielding, summoning, maybe even earth wielding.” Lightning. 

But I shouldn’t speculate. No matter how many rounds of proof Xaden and I went for. 

“Interesting,” Liam responds, and I almost laugh at the way he says it exactly like I do, all narrowed eyes and carefully sounded out syllables. “The riders could be getting stronger as a response to them.” 

I blink in surprise. Liam might be onto something there. I lose myself in my thoughts for a moment.

‘Nature likes all things in balance. That is the first thing we are taught,’ Andarna chimes in my head in response. 

I stand up suddenly and Liam’s head swings around to look at me. 

“You’re kind of brilliant, aren’t you, Mairi?” I ask with an unnerving smile. “I’ll need to talk to Xaden about giving you a raise.” 

Balance. 

“Why did I just feel a chill down my spine?” he asks out loud. “I have a feeling that I just gave you a terrible idea.” 

“Maybe that’s your signet. First rider with precognition.” I tease. I say nothing about my ideas. 

Liam sighs heavily and turns back to his dragon carving. I can’t be certain yet, but I think it’s Sgaeyl.

Chapter Text

Professor Carr is just as suspicious in our interactions as I perceived at a distance. He welcomes me to his class and makes a backhanded comment about hoping my signet presentation follows the trend set by previous Sorrengails. Controlling the weather, extending the wards, mending. It’s an intense family name to live up to. 

“Your brother was a particularly strong mender. It is a shame we lost such an extraordinary signet so early.”

“I rather think my brother was the loss, not his signet,” I deadpan in front of his other students. Even if Brennan is alive and well, Carr’s comment was insensitive and rude. “I’ll try not to disappoint. Can I sit down now?”

Liam gives me a long look after I find my seat next to him and I shrug. I'll try to dial it back. 

The rest of my squad starts to channel pretty quickly in the next few weeks, and I’m happy to be surrounded by people I trust in that class. There are a few people that we picked up during squad reorganization that I simply do not like, but that has more to do with their treatment of the cadets with the rebellion marks. I don’t think they are a threat to me. 

In fact, I’m probably more of a threat to them, because if I see any of them glare or make a snarky comment at Liam, Ivan, or Imogen one more time, I’m going to be forced to do something a little violent. 

Even if Imogen probably still hates me—definitely still hates me. That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t poison or stab someone for her right to be accepted and respected among us. 

She’s moved on from glaring and insulting me in the gym, and instead pretends I have some plague spread through eye contact that will kill her if she looks over for a single moment. I am ignored with such brutal effectiveness that I would have forgotten the color of her eyes if they didn’t glow such a memorable bright green in murderous rage during our challenge. 

I’m not sure what happened. One random day right before the Gauntlet, she went from outright animosity to icing me out. The timing meant it wasn’t a response to our mated dragons, even if I didn’t really notice until after Threshing. 

It’s silly but I almost miss the animosity. I made a quip in response to one of her insults once and I thought I saw the slightest hint of a smile. I might not be a glutton for punishment, but I can’t stop myself from feeling like we could find some common ground if she gave me half a chance. 

‘Make sure you don’t allow her to stab you. The pureness of revenge aside,’ Tairn comments dryly. 

I roll my eyes at him. ‘I’m not letting her kill me. Plus, she definitely wouldn’t do it now that Xaden’s life is tied up with mine.’

I’m off-limits because of Xaden Riorson in more ways than one. 

“Any idea why Imogen went from treating me like the bane of her existence to treating me like I’ve acquired something terribly infectious? I don’t think she’s looked at me since before the Gauntlet.” I question Ivan at breakfast one day, after glancing around to ensure her head of pink hair is nowhere nearby. 

Rhiannon scoffs beside me. “I say good riddance. She’s never had a single nice thing to say to any of us. And she was a bitch to you for months after totally breaking the rules during your fight.” 

I look at Rhiannon for a long moment. “She has her reasons,” I respond quietly, willing her to understand the depth of my words with my eyes. “I don’t hold any of it against her. I hope that you don’t either.”

Imogen may have cheated, but I pulled a dagger too. I’m also the daughter of the General responsible for the death of her mother and older sister. Tracila and Katrina Cardulo. I went back to check for their names in the Archives, because maybe I am a glutton for punishment after-all.

My friend examines my face, acknowledges my serious tone, and then nods. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. She’s one of our squad.” 

I nod, and turn back to Ivan, who is watching up with a strange expression on our face. “So?”

His hazel eyes flit back and forth, a clear sign of guilt. Oh? 

“Ivan Luperco.” I call out accusingly. “What did you do?” 

Ivan wrinkles his nose and rubs at the back of his neck. “I may have mentioned to Riorson that she wasn’t the kindest when you were trying to work out.” 

I sigh, but it’s fond. “You’re terrified of our Wingleader, which meant you sought him out before you even joined the squad. Now, let’s reveal the other guilty party. Who told you?” 

Ivan presses his lips together, and I immediately draw the right conclusion and turn to Ridoc, who has been watching all of this happen. I raise an eyebrow and he shrugs unapologetically. 

“I may have complained that she kept undermining all your efforts. It was fucked up.”

Another fond sigh. “You both may have done too much. Thank you for caring about me, but you should have left it alone. I can handle Imogen.” 

Ridoc shrugs again. “You don’t have to handle anything alone. That’s what squads are for. That’s what friends are for.” 

I smile helplessly. I can’t even be mad when both of them so clearly meant well. I turn back to Ivan. “So you tattled and then he threatened her into leaving me alone. I’m not surprised. None of you considered the possibility that little maneuver would make her hate me more?” 

Ivan cringes. “I wasn’t around for any threatening, but the look he had in eye when he walked away? Fucking terrifying.” 

“That’s Xaden,” I sigh fondly yet again. Even when they are driving me crazy, the people in my life are supportive and they want to keep me safe. It makes it very difficult to maintain my walls around them. 

Oh, speaking of walls. I check my mental labyrinth to make sure my shields are locked up tight. They are. 

Ridoc waggles an eyebrow at me. “So it’s Xaden again? Don’t think I don’t remember the last slip.” 

I can’t find my usual vehement denial. “He’s Xaden to me,” I tell him with a shrug and leave it at that. 

Ivan smiles at me, and I smile softly in return before turning back to my food. Sawyer pulls Ridoc into conversation before he can interrogate me further. 

Despite their best intentions, I am almost certain that their actions made Imogen even less likely to have a real conversation with me one day.

I’ll have to do something about that. Imogen might be stubborn, but I bet I can outlast her. 

—

The opportunity presents itself in the gym a few days later. 

I’m staring unabashedly at Xaden and Garrick sparring shirtless, almost entirely convinced that Xaden was doing this on purpose. I had seen them spar without their shirts maybe three times in two months before our night under the tree when I mentioned it. Now this is the second time this week. 

Bastard. Beautiful, deadly bastard. 

I sigh longingly at the sight of Xaden’s broad shoulders flexing with each brutal hit. Unfortunately, my sigh was echoed by several of the cadets in the gym, including Rhiannon and Ridoc. 

Liam rolls his eyes at me. “Will you all stop objectifying our Wingleader?”

“Never,” I quip immediately, biting my lip after because I didn't mean to say that out loud. Rhiannon shoots me a smile and I roll my eyes. I meant it. 

Thankfully, nobody focuses on my answer, because Ridoc replies without an ounce of shame. “What if I’m objectifying our section leader?” 

Rhiannon and I both laugh and turn back to the show, while Liam shakes his head at Ridoc. Poor Liam, being so close with the best eye candy in the quadrant and their admirers. 

To be fair, Liam gets his fair share of looks from pretty, sighing cadets. A few of them also glare at me frequently. It took me a minute to separate them from my usual, just-for-being-me glares I receive, but then I realized it was worse when Liam was hovering. 

It’s insulting, amusing, and above all, unnecessary. I wish them all the best. Liam deserves some affection, and I hope he gets to enjoy himself on his nights off. I am always otherwise occupied. 

Unfortunately, I could break into the Scribe Quadrant to make a notice on the printing press that Violet Sorrengail was not sleeping with Liam Mairi and still, nobody would believe me. 

Maybe if I printed an ode to Xaden’s back muscles and signed it, people would get a clue. Not that I want them to get a clue, but the sight of this would make anyone feel a bit possessive. 

From the other side of the mats, I catch sight of Imogen. She’s standing by the weights looking at the match with a familiar kind of hungry intensity. The same way I’m looking at it. It was longing. 

Shit. If Imogen has a thing for Xaden, there is nothing I can do that will get her to stop hating me. Damn, I really was hoping we could be something resembling friends someday, but I have no plans on giving up Xaden for anyone. 

I sadly pull my eyes away from the match to observe Imogen more closely, as her eyes follow each rapid movement. I could almost convince myself that she’s admiring their form if it wasn’t for the fact that she bites her fucking lip. The harsh stab of jealousy is as unwelcome as it is uncomfortable. 

I know Xaden wants to be with me, but a small part of me can’t help but recognize that most people would consider Imogen a better match for him. They’re both from Tyrrendor, they’ve been friends since they were children, and she’s more… fierce than I am. At least, in the physical ways that people in this quadrant venerate. 

People are scared of me because I have a reputation for being unpredictable. People are scared of Imogen because she's undoubtedly strong. She's strong in the same undeniable way that Xaden is. Like Liam, or even Rhiannon. Like they were born to ride dragons. 

'Strength has many different forms,' Tairn tells me. 'And from what I have observed, and shielded from, the wingleader appreciates your strength the most. He has chosen you.' 

'As I have chosen him,' I answer with a smile at his gruff encouragement mixed with clear distain for Xaden and I's activities. 'And I don't even want to hear it about shielding! You know what you did. Twice.' 

'I did as I am allowed because I am a mighty war dragon and I can do whatever I want,' Tairn reports smugly. 'At least my activities do not cause forest fires.'

Once again, my need to get the last word overwhelms my embarrassment. 

'Ah, but I am Violet Sorrengail, the chosen rider of Tairn, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line. Does that honor not mean that I can also do whatever I want?'

I rejoice at his pause at my words. Tairn is surprised, which is a very difficult thing to do to a 100-year old dragon with constant access to my thoughts. I had certainly heard his lineage enough and committed it to memory for moments like this. 'Well... I can't fault your logic. Proceed.' 

It takes effort not to laugh out loud, even as I'm panicking about Imogen's possible feelings for my boyfriend. Exactly the thing a person wants to learn about the girl who tried to stab them on the first day.

Even as the two natural-born warriors separate to drink water, the perfect time to admire the sweat clinging to the ridges of Xaden’s abdominals, I keep my eyes on Imogen. If she looked over at me right now, it would be bad because I don’t even think I’m being subtle about it. 

Xaden and Garrick separate to opposite sides of the mat and her eyes flick to follow… Garrick. He grabs at a towel to wipe the sweat at his brow and she shifts her weight in response, eyes following the movement of his arm and the way his bicep flexes. 

Oh, I definitely know that look. I bite back a sigh of relief. 

Like Ridoc said, she’s objectifying her section leader. I wonder if Garrick looks at her too… 

It will be much easier to coerce her into being my friend, or at least friendly acquaintance, if she isn’t lusting over my boyfriend. Rhiannon and Ridoc are allowed to on occasion because I know it's purely in an aesthetic way. Xaden is objectively perfect and people should appreciate that. And then keep their hands away from him. 

But Imogen stares at Garrick with the kind of hunger that is definitely not a passing interest. 

I quickly look away before Imogen catches me staring, and finally shift my focus to Xaden where it belongs. I distantly recognize that my focus should be on training, but I have been feeling oddly clingy since he told me about my brother and we had such an emotional moment together. Not to mention the aftermath of the dragon lust spiral we were sent into. 

Maybe it’s because of the words and feelings I’m not ready to acknowledge yet. 

Xaden just returned from a midland outpost this afternoon, and two nights without him was borderline torturous. If I don’t get to be in his bed tonight, I might throw a tantrum. 

I shake my head to clear myself of my thoughts, check that my shields are still in place, and share a small private smile with Xaden. He raises an eyebrow teasingly and I roll my eyes before directing my attention back to my squad as he returns to the middle of the mat with Garrick.

Then I grab my focus by the neck and wring in into submission. 

Romance aside, I am here for a reason and I need to keep my eyes on my goals. The biggest one being keeping my seat on Tairn without assistance. 

That being said… it doesn’t mean I can’t multitask. There is another pressing matter on my list. 

“I’m going to lift weights,” I tell Liam quietly. He moves to follow but I shake my head. “Not today, Liam. You can be a vigilant bodyguard from over here if you want, but if you follow me… well, use your imagination.” 

After all the things he's seen, whatever Liam's imagination can conjure is probably worse than anything I'd actually do to the man. Maybe I have a soft spot for my shadow. 

The only one at the weights is Imogen, and I’d like to believe I don’t need a bodyguard around her. 

He nods reluctantly and I make my way over to the gym equipment. I see the moment that Imogen spots me in her periphery because she shifts her body in the opposite direction. Hm, that won’t do. 

I settle on one of the benches and I watch how being a few feet away made Imogen look away from the sparring match pointedly, even as Xaden and Garrick resume their vicious exchange of blows. Any advantage gained is quickly lost and regained over and over as they each fight for the upper hand. They both are spectacular fighters and they match each other's speed perfectly. 

“You can still watch, you know,” I start conversationally. “Who doesn’t like having a good view?” 

I watch every line of her shoulders tense with anger. It’s better than apathy. 

Her head turns to me slowly. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

I shrug and put on a show about trying to decide what weight to go with. 

“Just noticed that you are robbing yourself of watching the two of them in order to pretend harder that I don’t exist.” 

“Maybe if I pretend hard enough, you’ll do me a favor and evaporate.” She lifts up her fist and splays out all of fingers all at once for emphasis at her last word. I bite back a smile. 

“Eh, you could try. But most people have been doing that since I was a child, and it hasn’t worked yet. I doubt it’d be an effective use of your time.” 

“Just another one of my dreams killed by a Sorrengail,” Imogen snipes. 

I flinch at that. “Ouch. That one hurts more than a dislocated shoulder.” 

Imogen rolls her eyes, but she’s at least looking in my general direction again. 

“So I hear Xaden threatened you for being mean to me,” I add quietly. “I didn’t ask him to do that.” 

She rolls her eyes yet again. “Yes, he was very clear that it was someone else. And it’s fucking Riorson for you, first-year.”

My eyes widen imperceptibly. It is fucking Riorson for me, but not in the way she expects. It’s suddenly clear that Imogen isn’t as aware of our relationship as the rest of the inner circle. Xaden has told me about his friends, and how they’ve all known each other since they were young. I really hope his friendship with Imogen hasn’t been strained on my account, but I can make some logical assumptions. 

“He’s Xaden to me,” I tell yet another person. She looks at me directly for a moment in surprise and I hold her gaze evenly, answering her unspoken question with a clear nod. We manage to have a conversation with our eyes that leaves her with little doubt about the nature of my relationship with Xaden. 

Imogen’s eyes flash with anger. “Of course it is. Fucking idiot is going to get us all killed.” 

My eyes turn glacial. “Watch it,” I bark as quietly as I can manage. “You can insult me all you want, and I’ll never go cry about it to anyone else, but he doesn’t deserve that from you.”

“Oh, and you know what he deserves?” Imogen growls. I notice she keeps her voice down too, and Xaden and Garrick continue sparring without pause. The only eyes on us are Liam from the other side of the match. 

“Everything,” I tell her fiercely. “He deserves everything. And if you think I’m going to do anything to put him in danger, or anyone he cares about, that pink hair dye must have finally gone to your brain.” 

There it is. That twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth. She can’t hide it from me. 

“A Sorrengail slumming it with a marked one? The marked one?” she probes. “What would mommy dearest say?” 

I shrug. “Nothing I care to listen to. I’m not going anywhere, so you will unfortunately have to get used to me.” 

Imogen stares at me for a moment. “Is that a fact?” she asks slowly. 

“Yes,” I say. “I’m full of fun facts. Would you like a few more?” 

“I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me regardless.” 

“I knew you were observant,” I tease gently. “Now fact one: You tried to kill me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Tried being the unfortunate part of that sentence.” 

“Unfortunate for you,” I comment lightly. “Xaden and our mated dragons would probably disagree.” 

“And isn’t that just a bitch?”

“Isn’t it?” I ask with a shit-eating grin. “Now onto fact two: I did not try to kill you.” 

“The dagger you had at my ribs begs to differ.” 

“No, my dagger begged me to say hello to your kidney. I was never going to hurt you.” I answer with certainty. “If you tried to buck me off, all it would have done is expose my move to Emetterio and I would have faced the consequences for pulling a weapon in the first place. I wasn’t exactly in the position to hide it if you tried hard enough.” 

“Bullshit,” she spits out. 

“It’s not,” I insist. “I don’t want you dead, Imogen. Not only do I understand why you hate me, but I'm not as comfortable bathing in blood as you seem to think I am. Which brings us to fact three. Despite what you think about me, I admire you.” 

Her head swings in my direction. “What the fuck.” It’s not phrased as a question. 

“It’s true,” I answer her disbelief. “You’re one of the strongest fighters in the Wing. Not one of the best women, not one of the best second-years. Just one of the best.”

“Really? You’re going with flattery? Isn’t that a little pathetic?” 

I roll my eyes. “Flattery implies that I don’t believe my words. That’s an insult to both my intelligence and your own. Why would it be pathetic to recognize another person’s abilities?” I continue without waiting for her response. I remember my dragon's words. “Your strengths are different from my own, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t admire them.”

“That implies you have any strength to speak of.” Come on, Imogen, now you’re just getting predictable. 

“Maybe not in the literal sense,” I allow. “But I’m not one to be underestimated. You don’t strike me as someone who makes the same mistake twice.” 

Her green eyes lock on to me like she’s trying to see through me, and I stay still to let her come to her own conclusions. “Fine. Here are some facts of my own, Sorrengail.” 

“Please.” She’s talking to me now. I can take whatever she throws. 

“You feel guilty when you look at us. You might not want to kill us, but you do the same thing as anyone else in the quadrant. You look at us and all you see are the marks on our arms. Your savior complex will run out eventually.” I don’t flinch when she throws the same accusation at me that Xaden did what seems like so long ago. “Let’s not pretend that I have to give you the time of day because it’ll make you feel better.”

“Some of that can be considered factual,” I tell her easily. “You’re not responsible for my feelings and you don’t have to give me the time of day.” I look meaningfully at where she has migrated closer to continue our conversation. “The rest of it? Bullshit.” 

Imogen scoffs. “You’re bullshit.”

Eloquent. 

“Guilt definitely isn’t the name for what I feel when I look at Xaden. I also don’t feel guilty when I look at Ivan or Liam. They’re my friends and I’d kill for either of them. I have. Garrick and Bodhi are both kind to me. I look at them like I’m grateful that they are there to watch Xaden’s back. And my sense of guilt when it comes to you? Well, that didn’t last long after you tried to kill me. I guess survival instinct outweighs savior complex, huh?” 

“At least you’re honest about something.” 

My eyes narrow. “I’ve never lied to you, Imogen. My loyalties are not fickle, and my anger towards the General is not some temporary phase. I might not know all of the details, but I’ve gleaned enough to know right from wrong.” 

“A Sorrengail knowing right from wrong? I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

I raise an eyebrow and lower my voice even further. “Really? I was under the impression I’d be the second member of this little club with that last name. At least originally.” 

Her eyes widen comically. “You—” she cuts herself off. 

“Me.” 

Imogen shakes her head. “What fucking world are we living in? He told you?” 

I nod simply. “One more fact for you: Xaden and I are in this together now. His safety, and by proxy my own, is the most important thing to me. Closely followed by his happiness and general well-being. I don’t want to cause a rift between him and anyone else in his life.” 

“That’s narcissistic of you to think you could,” she spits. 

“Believe what you want to believe, Imogen,” I tell her with a shrug. Xaden has already threatened her on my behalf at least three times, and I never asked him to. She’s the only one of the inner circle who wasn’t told that we’re together or the true depth of my knowledge. The dots are sitting there waiting for Imogen to connect them. “But I’m here now and I think we could find some common ground if you start seeing me as a person instead of a last name.” 

“What the fuck would have I have in common with you?” she asks with a glare, but I can tell she’s considering my words. 

“Well,” I start, hoping that this next one won’t be the thing that sends her over the edge. “Just a thought, but we were both watching that spar with a bit more than aesthetic appreciation or admiring their technique.”

Her eyes widen and her nostrils fare in anger. I continue speaking before she can try to hit me. “Maybe we were focused on different sides,” I add with a shrug. “But I’m pretty certain our faces were doing something similar.” 

“Don’t make me laugh,” she snipes, but it falls flat. I shrug again, allowing her to shift the conversation. 

“If I could make you laugh, I think I’d call that a win,” I quip. 

Imogen snorts. “Show me your awful form on the barbell then. That’s a real joke.” 

I bite back a huff of amusement. Oh, we could definitely be friends one day. 

“I’m glad you agree,” I agree. “I have a lot of work to do before I’d stand a chance against you in a fair fight.” 

“You could train for years and you’ll never get the best of me in a fair fight,” Imogen tells me with another glare, but they’ve lost some of their intensity since the beginning of this conversation. 

“Good thing I don’t get all caught up in playing fair then,” I tell her with a smirk. “Unfortunately, I still need to put in time on the weights if I want to keep my seat on my own. Tairn has to help me, and it’s not fair to him.”

I drop a piece of vulnerable truth at her feet in the hopes that it will help close the distance between us. She looks at me silently for a few moments, before pointedly turning her head. 

“Your loud friend should be a better teacher then.” 

“Ridoc helps the best he can,” I defend him immediately. “Maybe you should speak to any of the first-years on our squad at least once before you talk shit.” Besides the marked ones, I leave unsaid. 

“It’s not worth learning their names,” she says dismissively. “Most cadets don’t see the end of their first year.” 

“Well, we survived Threshing,” I respond to her, drawing out my words slowly. “And despite your hopes and dreams, I’ll be damned if any of my people do not make it to graduation. Learn their names. You’ll be needing them.” 

She snorts. “And I’m the dreamer?” 

“Oh, I’m a realist. I don’t give a shit about dreams. We've established that I care about facts. And the fact is that if anyone comes for any of them, they’ll need to go through me and I have more tricks up my sleeves than a hidden dagger." I tell her with fire in my eyes. "Learn. Their. Names."

“You’ll get yourself killed thinking like that,” Imogen comments dryly. “Have you forgotten what quadrant you’re in?” 

“I know exactly what quadrant we were forced into. But I don’t care. They have stolen many things from both of us, and I’ll do everything I can to keep them from stealing more.” Especially Xaden.

“So you’re not a dreamer. Is being naive any better?” 

I shrug off her insult. I’ve said worse to myself in the mirror on my best days. “Call it determined. I’ll do everything I can to keep the people I care about safe. My last fact is that I hope that list includes you someday.” I tell her seriously. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Imogen tells me with another eye roll. She reaches down to grab her waterskin and I know that she’s ending our conversation. I think about the last thing I want to say to her. 

“Imogen?” I call out to her retreating back. She pauses, which I consider one of those rare wins. “I’d call this whole exchange something close to fun. Don’t listen to Xaden. I’d rather you insult me than ignore me.”

Imogen doesn’t turn around, but she does call out over her shoulder, “Well, you make it easy. Work on your weak ass inner thighs if you want to keep your seat, Sorrengail.” 

She moves to exit the gym without another word. No threats of violence or even a glare. There was even something resembling advice there. I move to the adductor machine to work on said weak ass inner thighs. 

‘I think that went well,’ I tell Tairn. ‘What do you think?’

‘All of your blood is still in your body. I’d call that a success.’

‘Is your barometer for my social interactions that low? If they don’t threaten or attempt to stab me, it’s a welcome surprise?’

‘You said it, Silver One. Not me.’

I bite back an audible laugh. Brutal. I love it. 

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tairn. I happen to think I’m a joy to be around.’ 

‘You are a joy to be around!’ Andarna chimes and I send her an affectionate brush against the bond before she continues. ‘And it gives you joy to anger others. Like that sports thing humans play.’ 

I flush, and Tairn chuffs in amusement. It’s not fair when they team up on me. ‘Only sometimes. When they deserve it.’ 

Liam interrupts my conversation with my dragons by walking over slowly. “Is it safe now? Can I join without earning myself a serving of poisoned eggs?” 

I laugh at the way he’s holding both hands up. “Oh, Liam, have I taught you nothing? I don’t use the same method twice.” I gesture next to me with a smile, while checking that I hadn’t let my shields slip during my conversation with Imogen. 

He settles on one of the benches and turns to look at the door Imogen vacated. “So that looked like that went well.” 

“That’s what I said!” I respond happily. 

Liam winces. “I wasn’t being serious.”

I deflate at his words. “I really do think it went well,” I insist stubbornly. “Better than her ignoring me because Xaden is going around threatening her for me.” 

“Ah, I see. You don’t want Xaden to defend you.” 

I shake my head. “No, he’s welcome to defend me. I’d fight tooth and nail for him, so who am I to judge? But Imogen has been his friend for a long time. His ally. He trusts her. That means something and I don’t want anything to happen to that, especially because of me. People you can trust are hard to find around here.” 

Liam nods thoughtfully. “I get that. So you’re trying to make friends so he isn’t put in an uncomfortable position?” 

“It’s a work in progress. I think I’d settle for a begrudging acquaintance.” 

“You don’t have to make that effort, you know?” Liam offers. “Imogen is in the wrong here. We’ve all talked to her about it.”

I shrug. “I don’t get to determine how long it takes her to look at me and see something other than a Sorrengail. Neither does Xaden. I can handle Imogen in the meantime. No more interference from the men in my life.” 

Liam shakes his head in response. “I’m sure you can. Are you going to tell all of this to Xaden?” 

“No, I just figured I’d wait until we’re best friends and painting each other’s nails during our weekly sleepovers. It’ll really freak him out,” I deadpan. 

He snorts and it turns into a loud belly laugh that makes me giggle in response. Liam holds the sides of the bench to keep himself upright. We make accidental eye contact and before long, we’re both cackling and falling over ourselves onto the workout equipment. My thighs are still resting on either side of the machine and doing nothing to push them closer together. 

After I’m finally able to get myself under control, I wipe the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes and avoid looking at Liam before I break again. 

I glance out towards the rest of the gym and I catch Xaden’s gaze. Him and Garrick must have finished while Liam and I were talking, because he unfortunately already has his shirt back on and he’s looking over at me with an almost-smile from the opposite side of the gym. 

The affection I can discern in those beautiful onyx pools even across the room would be enough to make me weak in the knees if I was upright. I smile back shyly, mouthing silently. 

Hi.

Xaden bites back my favorite of his smiles—one of those soft ones he reserves just for me—to try and maintain his tough Wingleader persona. 

Hi—he still mouths back before stubbornly turning around to focus back on Garrick before I can make any kind of teasing expression at him for indulging me. 

“You two are going to give me a cavity,” Liam comments dryly from next to me. 

I rotate my head towards him and turn up my nose. “Keep it up and I’ll invite him with us tonight and you’ll be treated to our disgusting displays all night.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Please. Xaden would just send me away the minute he had eyes on you. But I’d follow regardless.” 

“Why?” 

“Safety concern. Someone will need to try and stop Xaden from killing the shopkeeper.” 

I blink. “What do you mean?” 

“The one that flirted with you the entire time we were there a few weeks ago? Ringing any bells?” 

“Teddy? He’s completely harmless.” 

“Xaden is not.” 

“Oh, I know that,” I respond with a smirk. “But I concede to your point. It’s me and you tonight, Mairi. We’ll leave the shadow wielder at home. Remember, we have to leave right after dinner to get there before closing.” 

“You got it, boss.”

I’ll just sneak into Xaden’s room after we get back. Have I mentioned recently that I love my daggers?

Chapter Text

November turns to December quickly. Sawyer is the first of all of us to manifest his signet. Officially. 

Ridoc gleefully recounts the story as if it was his own, all while Sawyer stares at his fork with a hefty amount of fear. 

“And then the sword just twists in Sawyer’s hand, curving toward the third-year even though Sawyer was way off the mark.” He grimaces in Sawyer’s direction. “Sorry, man, but you were. If your sword hadn’t decided to warp and go straight for that guy’s arm—” 

“Metallurgy,” I whisper, leaning forward. “That’s fascinating.” 

“Oh no, someone got Violet started. You know she won’t stop now until she runs out of energy.” I turn my head to glare at Rhiannon playfully. 

“A healthy dose of curiosity is good for the soul,” I complain. I turn back to Sawyer. “Congratulations on not blowing up,” I tell him brightly. “I know you are going to do great things with this.” 

Sawyer smiles at me, but it’s wobbly. “I’d be more excited if I wasn’t sure my fork would stab into the roof of my mouth because I can’t control it yet.” 

I pass him all of the fruit on my plate and my piece of bread. “Eat what you can. I’ll bring some more substantial food to your room later tonight to tide you over until we can get our hands on some wooden utensils. I’d stay out of the armory and probably away from all weapons during sparring.” 

“How are you going to get me food?” Sawyer asks, mouth full with a bite of the apple. 

I open my mouth, but Liam responds before I can. “She has her ways.” I turn to look at him with annoyance. “What? That’s what you were going to say.” 

Lips pressed together in a tight line, I turn away from Liam pointedly. “Don’t worry about it, Sawyer. You’ll get a head start on practicing control, and you’ll be the one laughing at our struggles eventually.” 

“Thanks, Violet,” Sawyer says with a hesitant smile. I’ll wait until he feels more comfortable with his signet to make suggestions for training. 

The capacity for growth when it comes to metallurgy is amazing. It’s so much more versatile than other elemental signets like fire or water wielding. Different types of metal, whether or not he’d be able to manipulate compound materials that are proportionally metal, the longevity of the things he creates with magic. There are so many considerations. Practice can increase the power and improve control for any signet, but Sawyer’s has the innate ability to do so much more than just damage. I can’t wait to see what he’ll be able to accomplish. 

Off the top of my head, he could likely customize his own weaponry to exact specifications. He could create things that had never been seen before and make minor adjustments from one moment to the next to suit his needs. All metal in his hands can be a weapon, a shield, or another tool of some kind. 

Fascinating. Maybe he should adapt some sort of metal armor in order to have a constant source on-hand. It’d have to be lightweight but durable, and he’s have to closely study whatever shapes he’s trying to create. 

“You are thinking so loudly right now, Vi,” Ridoc teases me gently, pulling me away from my train of thought. “I can just tell from your expression.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer agrees, looking a bit less nervous. More items of food had appeared on his tray since I started thinking about his signet. “What is your brain doing over there? Tell me something that will make me feel better.” 

Well, if he’s asking for it. 

“Sorry for zoning out,” I apologize sheepishly. I give him an overview of my thought process. “I just think metallurgy is an incredible power and there’s no limit to the applications. I’d be interested in finding out the range of metals you can manipulate, as well as the amount and the level of control you’ll eventually be able to develop. Major, explosive movements versus small, precision adjustments. Both are equally important. The custom weapon implications alone are staggering. Offense, defense, and whatever else you need if you’re creative enough. I’m talking tools. I think you have one of my favorite signets I’ve seen so far.” 

Sawyer smiles widely. “Shit, that did make me feel better. Thanks, Violet. You're the best.” 

“Anytime, Sawyer,” I say with a smile. “I mean it. Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great.” I inject enough confidence into my words that he can’t help but nod in agreement. “Plus,” I add with a cheeky smile. “Maybe you can make a metal flower for Jesinia or something.” 

His cheeks go red, and I bite my lip to stop my laugh from escaping. 

“I take it all back. You’re the worst.” 

“So you don’t want me to teach you how to explain your signet in sign language so you can brag next time you see her?”

Sawyer pauses for a long moment and then hangs his head in defeat. “Yes, please.” 

I lose the battle against my laughter and a chuckle breaks free. “I will, don’t worry.” 

“Vi, you have to analyze all our signets when they manifest!” Rhiannon demands. “You thought about all of that during a two minute daydream?” 

“I just think signets are interesting. I’ve thought a lot about them recently,” I tell her with a shrug. “I'm no expert but I’ll help all of you as much as I can.” 

They all nod their heads and I smile, chuckling at their uniform movement. “Okay, okay. Enough about me. It’s Sawyer’s big moment.” 

“Yeah, and I’m jealous about it!” Ridoc complains. “I hope my signet is something cool.” 

“I’m sure it will be,” I tell him soothingly, before Sawyer tells us about his first lesson with Professor Carr. I want to tell Sawyer to be careful with Carr but that would be ridiculous out of context. Since I can’t share the context, I just smile at his more excited reenactment. I'm glad my musings can make him feel better. 

I check that my shields are in place when the conversation turns to gossip about something that happened in another wing. I’ve taken to exploring my mental labyrinth in my downtime. 

Since the day after I started channeling, I’ve been practicing grounding and building my shields until they are as strong as I can make them. I’ll spend hours soaking in the feeling of Tairn’s presence, and learning to distinguish between his dark, sparkling wave of power and the golden glow from Andarna. I learned how to speak to them separately, and I’ve improved at determining which emotions come from each dragon instinctually. 

It’s a learning process that no other rider has had to go through, but I enjoy it. It’s replaced most of the time in my day I used to devote to meditation. During class, at night before I fall asleep, in the morning when I’m on my daily run. Even at night when I'm working on something menial with Liam. He'll thankfully leave me to my thoughts. 

As I’ve gotten better at feeling each of my dragons independently, I’ve noticed the presence of two other streams of power in my mind that come from different tunnels. Logic tells me they lead to my proxy connections with Sgaeyl and Xaden, and the implications are interesting. They still feel too distant for me to focus on. I can’t seem to get any closer to their lights in the distance, even if I instinctively know where the paths lead in my own mind. 

Due to all of my efforts, my shields are undoubtedly the strongest in the class. But I know it’s not enough until I can make my mind impervious to any type of mental signet that Basgiath may be hiding. 

Strong shields will also likely have the added benefit of helping me with control eventually, which I foresee will be another issue I have to deal with. 

Forgive me a smidgen of speculation, but the ‘random’ strikes of lightning are embarrassingly frequent by this point. I’ve heard cadets and faculty alike actively chat about freak storms and weather events, and I admirably try to maintain a straight face. Even Markham brought it up during one of our lessons and asked my opinion, and it took every ounce of self-control not to sprint out of the Archives, away from Basgiath, and possibly move out of the kingdom permanently. 

I can’t say anything to anyone because I have no clue how to actually manifest anything. Not on purpose. It only ever happens in a specific, uncontrollable circumstance. I’ve tried shielding to see if it helps, but those circumstances happen to be the only times that I have very little control over my mind or body. 

Xaden is unbelievably pleased with himself about the whole thing. The Wingleader has reached smug on a different level never before seen by man or dragon. It’s like he’s made a game of it, and I am the one who is paying for it every night we spend together. Not that I should be complaining given the amount of time I’ve begged for more.

It’s the principle of the thing. As a spy, it is mortifying that the entire quadrant hears every time I come. 

The lack of subtlety alone is concerning, and I am ashamed to report that I do not let it stop me. 

However, I am not looking forward to providing any explanation to anyone someday. I’ll come clean if and when Tairn confirms it. The dragon has been very quiet on the subject. He just keeps telling me to be patient, and that everything will happen as it is meant to. 

Classic dragon wisdom. 

—

Something shifts between Xaden and I in the weeks that follow him telling me about my brother.

We may have spent several nights a week together, but we still tried to maintain some semblance of distance in that first month after Threshing. We’d only sleep together when he was free, and didn’t have an early morning meeting or responsibilities for the Wing to worry about. If I stayed out late with Liam, I’d slink back to my own room to go to sleep unless we had made plans.

Then in the span of three days, he killed half a dozen people who tried to murder me in my sleep, addressed a threat to my life in front of the entire quadrant, told me that my dead brother was actually alive, fucked me under the stars, helped instigate some freak weather events, and made me fall apart under the influence of the most intense lust I’ve felt in my entire life. 

It’s not exactly casual boyfriend behavior, but it’s working for us. 

It’s getting more and more difficult to show restraint. It’s only a matter of time until the lines between our lives blur even further. 

Unsurprisingly, I’m the first one to break. 

I sneak into Xaden’s room while he is gone all night for rebellion activities. He finds me when he returns early the next morning asleep in his bed. The smell of Xaden and the comfort of being surrounded by his things keep the nightmares away almost as well as his warm body next to me. 

Thankfully, Xaden is thrilled to find me keeping his bed warm. He wakes me up by showing me exactly how much he loves it with his mouth. A strike of lightning is several people’s wake-up call that day, and then one more ten minutes later. 

Once I’m coherent, I apologize for inviting myself to use his bed.

“You are always welcome in my bed, little spy,” he tells me gruffly after we finally finish. We are both naked and sweating. “I’d keep you here all the time if I could. Mostly because your bed is not nearly as comfortable.” 

I wrinkle my nose at him. “That is probably because I hide things in my mattress. I hardly notice anymore.” 

“That… makes so much sense.” 

I smile at the look of understanding on his face. “You know that I’m more likely to get caught sneaking in and out of your room if I’m here every night, don’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin your stoic reputation.” 

“I don’t give a shit about what people think about me," Xaden tells me with a serious expression. "It’s your reputation I’m worried about. It might not be an executional offense, but people would talk shit about you sleeping in your chain of command. And that's if you were dating any Wingleader. I know what people say about me." 

“What gave you the impression that I cared what people think any more than you do?” I ask with determined look. “I’m not ashamed of being with you, Xaden. Fuck what people say. I don’t necessarily want people in my business, but if they find out, nothing will change between us. I’m not wasting any of the time I have left being scared about the opinions of people I don't care about. Plus," I add with a smile. "The only other Wingleader half as cute as you is Nyra and I don't think I'm her type." 

Xaden smiles at my joke, but the serious quirk to his brow returns and I want to smooth it out. “You’re right,” he tells me quietly. “It’s December. If I only have six months until I’m stationed elsewhere. I want to steal away every moment that I can.” 

“Even if people find out?” I ask to be sure. 

“Even if people find out. The people I’m closest to here know already.” 

I give him a silly smile and snuggle closer. I’ll have to get up soon to get ready, even if Xaden did wake us at a ridiculously early hour. “Good. I’ll tell the people I’m closest to as well.” 

“I thought you already did. Rhiannon has given me some very pointed stares of the best friend 'I'll bury you if you hurt her' variety. She's fearless, I'll give that to her." 

My smile at his words is involuntary. I love Rhiannon. “Just Rhi and Liam, obviously. I think Ivan suspects it though. So I guess really I’ll just be telling Jesinia, Ridoc, and Sawyer. Sawyer is going to be so sad.” 

His eyes narrow. “Why?” he asks sharply. 

I laugh at his instantly jealous expression. “Not like that. Liam likes to flirt with everyone, including the pretty scribe. Sawyer has been holding out hope that Liam and I are secretly together to limit his potential as a romantic rival.” 

“I see,” Xaden says. “We’ll just have to disappoint him. He likes Jesinia?” 

I nod excitedly. “He does. It’s hilarious, but also endearing. I’ve been teaching him sign language so they can communicate and then I play interpreter when I let him walk us back to the Scribe Quadrant on days we work—with Liam practicing his tailing skills behind us,” I add before he can say anything. Xaden lets it drop and smiles instead. “It’s cute. I think Jesinia likes him, even if he told her that she had a beautiful purple turtle last week.” 

“What was he trying to say?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t taught him either of those signs. I suspect it might have been Ridoc messing with him.” 

Xaden chuckles and leans closer to me before picking back up our conversation before the Sawyer detour. “So it’s agreed. You’ll come to sleep here whenever you want, no matter how late we’re out or early we have to be up.”

I raise an eyebrow. It’s tempting. “What about on more nights that you’re gone?” I ask with a cheeky smile. 

“Keep the bed warm for me, just like you did last night, little spy,” Xaden growls softly. I shiver at the heat in his voice. I really need to stand up within the next twenty minutes. Not nearly enough time to fall into Xaden again and still be on time for breakfast. "All I have to offer is my body and my private bathroom." 

It's a very fucking compelling offer, to say the least. 

“You know we have only been together a few months, right?” I ask to be sure. “I’ve really only dated two people so I won’t pretend to have a ton of experience, but some might say we’re moving too quickly. I’d hate for you to get sick of me, mated dragons and all. It could be awkward.” 

Xaden blinks at me in surprise. His voice drops. “Violence, we are past the point when you have to worry about me getting sick of you. I want every messy, chaotic bit of you that I can get. Leave your books and your poisons and your ridiculous nightgowns laying around. Sneak into my room at odd hours, keep my sheets smelling like you while I’m gone, fall asleep next to me whether lightning strikes or not.” 

I gasp at the sincerity in his words. I exhale shakily. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

Xaden chuckles at my reaction, eyes dripping in affection. “Don’t feel pressured. Take space if you need it. But I’m not getting sick of you. Stay whenever you want. I sleep better with you around.”

I blink back a surprising bit of teariness and tuck myself closer to his chest. “I sleep better with you around too,” I tell him quietly. “Can I tell you something? The reason I snuck in last night?” 

“Of course, little spy.” 

“I’ve been having nightmares since Threshing, on nights I’m alone,” I whisper. “Last night was a bad one.” 

I don’t look up, but I can feel Xaden tighten his arm around me. “Can you tell me what they’re about?”

My breath stutters in my chest. “I mean, it changes. But the venin is winning. Usually I can’t move, like I’m the one who was paralyzed. He taunts me about all the people I can’t save, and threatens Andarna. Then, he's holding a dagger above my chest and I'm not wearing my armor. I can feel it begin cutting into my skin." 

I pause to take a deep breathe. "What happens next?" Xaden asks gently, as if I'll crumple if he speaks too loud. 

“Suddenly I can move and I have a dagger in my hand. The one that I, uh, removed his hands with. I push it forward instinctively, but when I look down, it’s not him.” 

“Who is it?” 

“A fun surprise to torment me,” I explain in a voice somewhere below a whisper. "A member of my squad. Mira. Sometimes Jesinia or Dain." Brennan hasn’t appeared since I found out he was alive, and I wonder if it’s because my subconscious can’t imagine what he looks like after over five years without contact. He tenses at Dain’s name and I sigh. “He is someone who mattered to me, Xaden,” I tell him quietly. “It’s not romantic, and we’re not even close now, but I still don’t want to see him hurt.” 

I feel Xaden’s nod in the movement of his chest. “I know, I’m sorry. Please keep going.” 

I muffle my groan against his warm skin. “I attack thinking it’s the only way to survive and then I always end up with the blood of someone I care about on my hands. A killer.” 

“Oh, Violet,” he pulls me closer to his chest. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor, remember?”

But I am a killer, one who trains every day to be better at it. It’s a sad fact of my life that I can’t distance myself from. It's not logical to blind myself to the truth. I just need to learn to live with it. 

I continue as if he hasn’t spoken. “The worst are nights when it’s you,” I admit quietly. “Last night was one of those. I watch you die in front of me and then I scream and wait for Malek to take me too.” His breath catches at my words, but he waits for me to continue. “Tairn and Andarna will wake me usually,” I tell him. “Then talk to me until I fall back asleep. But it takes a while. I hate doing it to them.” 

‘We do not mind,’ Tairn assures me, his presence having a stabilizing effect on my mental state. 

‘We are always with you,’ Andarna swears with that ferocity that I adore. ‘We will face all challenges together, even those in your mind.’

‘Thank you, both of you.’ 

“Violence,” Xaden begins seriously, gently pulling my head back so we can make eye contact. “You know that you’d never put anyone that you care about in danger intentionally. You do everything you can to keep people safe. Especially your squad.” 

I shake my head immediately. “Not enough,” I insist. Not for the people who matter to me, and not for the people who are suffering outside of the wards right now. “They’re in more danger just on account of being close to me and they don’t even know why. If I’m not strong enough to stay away, I need to be strong enough to keep them safe.”

“You can’t take that all on your shoulders,” he tells him, which makes me crack a disbelieving smile. 

“Xaden Riorson, telling me I’m taking too much on my shoulders?” I tease him gently. But I don’t see any amusement in his eyes. 

“No cute little quip is getting you out of this one, Violet Sorrengail. I’m not letting you play this off. You’ve been looking at everyone else and I’ve only ever been looking at you.”

I look at him for a moment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I see the way you treat everyone. The way you offer unconditional support and tough love when they need it. You are a fucking gift to every single person around you. Even if you can’t tell them the full truth, you do everything you can.”

My eyes water at his words, and I try not to let my tears fall. “It’s not enough,” I tell him again. “I need to do more.” 

“You’re only one person, Violence,” Xaden tells me gently. “You can’t let this fear haunt you. You’re not responsible for any of the bad in this world. None of it. Sometimes things happen that are outside of our control, but we learn to live with it and we try to do better next time.” 

“You don’t understand. You’ve always been strong,” I attempt to explain the cavernous feeling in my chest. “It used to be that the worst thing that could happen would be getting myself killed. That’s fine. Most people assumed I would. My body is actively working against me every single day and I was taking on a mission that would mean my death if I was caught. The odds were never in my favor. I accepted it.”

“I don’t accept that,” he argues but I just shake my head before continuing. 

“Just because I accepted it doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen. Even when I couldn’t picture myself as a rider, I still wanted to live. But it was for selfish, not-wanting-to-die reasons. Now I know how high the stakes are. I really can’t die now and I’ve been adjusting. It’s been a long time since I felt so weak.”

“Why would you say that?” he asks desperately. “I see you thriving here and I just know you’re born for it. Born for this. I don’t understand.” 

“Because I’m going to get you killed someday, Xaden!” I say with my voice loud and desperate, pressing my lips together tightly as soon as the words leave my mouth. “I feel so uncertain. I used to be able to act rational to a fault when it was only my life I was risking. It feels impossible to find a balance between logic and caution. I'm scared that I'm just going to fail at both. Look at what I already made you do, taking down my wards. That’s insane. I’m clearly going to be the death of all of us.” 

His eyes soften and he rotates us onto our sides so we’re facing each other. I really need to get up soon. I don’t know why I brought this up in the morning when we had so little time. Part of my heart is still crying out after the dream last night. It took me longer to wake than it normally did and I had to watch the life drain out of Xaden slowly. 

“Violet,” he starts gently, wiping the tears that had escaped down my cheeks. “You didn't make me do anything. Does it take me time to see things your way sometimes? Sure, but that’s only because I’m the weak. I know you can handle yourself. I wouldn’t want my life in anyone else’s pretty little hands.” 

More tears fall at his words. “But I push and I push. I know I do. I don’t know how to be any other way."

Xaden cups my face between his hands so I'm unable to look away from him. “So? I’m known to push too. I never want you to be anything other than who you are. I love your schemes, and the fact that I never know what to expect when it comes to you. I love that you’re strong and vicious and you never pick the easy way out. In case you forgot, your plan worked. All of your plans have worked. It’s the most frustratingly attractive thing about you. My brilliant, beautiful woman.”

“But what if the next one doesn’t?” I ask brokenly. 

“Then we deal with it together,” Xaden tells me seriously, crystal clear promises in his eyes as he leans forward to wrap his arms around me and pull me closer. “We deal with the plans, successful or not. We deal with nightmares. We deal with the threats, and everything else that gets thrown at us. Together, right? You promised me.” 

“I know,” I whisper into his chest. “I know that. I don’t know why I’m being like this. It’s just really hard to watch you die in my dreams.” 

“I know, little spy. I’ve had my fair share of nightmares in my life, and losing you would be the worst of them.” His arms tighten around me at his words. “But you can’t carry around this guilt about me or anyone else. I’m just as likely to end up getting you killed. I want to keep you right next to me, so there is no room for any guilt between us. What you have to give will always be enough, for me and for your friends and for everybody else on this damn continent. I’ll make sure of it.” 

His words soothe something in me. I try to calm my racing heart, checking my shields as a part of my new mental routine. “Okay,” I assure both of us. “Okay.”

“Thank you for telling me about your nightmares,” Xaden tells me quietly, and I admire his onyx eyes. The gold flecks carry so much affection that I sometimes feel I haven't earned. “I want to be here for you. You’ve already been there for me in so many ways, Violence.” 

I smile at his words. “Good. I’m not going anywhere. Small moment of weakness aside, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

“I’m not going to let you forget that you said you love my schemes, you know?” I tease, and he chuckles this time. The tension drains from my body at the familiar deep sound. His joy always fills up my chest until I feel like I’m bursting with it. I want to drown this man in joy, and affection, and kindness, until it starts to make a dent in the lingering pain of the life he’s lived. Until it fills up his chest and displaces any sense of inferiority or fear left behind and leaves no space left for their return.

I wonder if Xaden knows the horrific crimes I would commit to keep him smiling and laughing. After everything he’s been through, he deserves more than the world has chosen for him. Just like I told Imogen, he deserves everything. 

“I don’t doubt it, Violence. Now you have to get up if you want time to take a shower.” 

I feel the stickiness between my thighs and nod my head. “A shower would probably be good,” I agree. “Join me?” 

A bath together is out of the question, but we can certainly squeeze under the same stream of water. One of the very few benefits of my size.

“Go get it ready, I’ll be right behind you,” Xaden promises. I nod happily and give him another kiss before I stand to head towards the bathroom, grabbing a spare towel on the way. I’ve made myself comfortable here. 

It’s a good thing that Xaden apparently does not mind. 

—

For all my friends are the best, they are also the fucking worst. 

Liam and I sneak into town to pick up my latest order from one of my contacts, and I stop by my favorite bakery to pick up a box of pastries. The baker greets me with a friendly smile, and I return it willingly. I used to come here twice a week in the year I was training for the parapet, to pick up pastries for Major Gillstead. So many things have happened since then. 

“Why so many?” Liam asks when we're walking back to Basgiath. 

“Can’t I get a gift for my friends?” I respond innocently. He looks suspicious but he doesn’t say anything else when I invite everyone to my room after dinner the next day, pulling them into my room one after another and plying them with baked goods. None of them complain about the treats that I definitely did not obtain through Codex-abiding means. 

Ridoc asks, “Not that I’m complaining, Vi, especially when we definitely don’t get anything this good in the dining hall, but what’s the occasion?”

I look at all of them. “I, uh, figured I’d just treat you all after how hard you’ve been working at channeling. Give you all some sweet treats and a small life update,” I tell them, before turning to Sawyer. “Plus they are utensil-free,” I add with a smile. 

Rhiannon raises an eyebrow at me. Ridoc is still occupied with his pastry, because he just shoved the entire thing into his mouth in one bite. Sawyer looks confused, sending glances between Liam and I. 

Liam’s smug face tells me he knows exactly what I’m going to say, and Ivan—kind, wonderful Ivan—is just looking at me patiently waiting for me to proceed. 

I clear my throat and bite back an eye roll at my own hesitance. Gods, I’m telling them about the guy I’m sleeping with, not the ruinous truths of Navarre. 

“Xaden and I are together,” I force the words out quickly. “Rhi and Liam both know. He told all of his friends, so I’m doing the same.” 

Rhiannon smiles widely. "Shit, I knew you weren't casual, but if you're willingly sharing something so personal with the squad, that means it's serious." 

Sawyer gasps. “For how long?” 

“Officially? Since the night of Threshing.” 

“And unofficially?” Ivan asks with a small smirk. I take back everything I said. 

I try to think of a more normal answer, but fail. “We’ve probably been circling around each other since we started sparring together.” 

We turn to look at Rhiannon's loud laughter. "That's bullshit and you know it! I had the honor of watching you two meet for the first time right before the parapet. The sexual tension was enough to distract me from impending doom." 

"Shut up," I tell her half-heartedly. "He was my type, okay? You wanted to know if I had a type. Him. Xaden Riorson. He's my only type." 

Rhiannon's answering smile makes her eyes sparkle and I try my best not to return it, but it's a doomed endeavor. 

Ridoc finally swallows and turns to Ivan excitedly. “You were right! I totally thought she’d lie until he graduated.” 

“What?” I grit out, smile falling off my face. 

“Oh, you were so obvious,” Ridoc tells me easily. “Both of you.” 

“Why did you give me so much shit about the closet thing with Liam then?” I demand. 

Ridoc shrugs. “For fun. I had suspicions, but I knew for sure when I noticed you two staring at each other. Like all the time. And then you stopped even pretending to call him Riorson.” 

Sawyer turns to Ridoc and Ivan with a look of betrayal. “You knew? Both of you?” 

I guess Sawyer just assumed I would have told Rhiannon and Liam before anyone else, which is fair, but learning that he was the last to know hurt. 

They nod and Ivan shrugs. “I don’t think either of them were trying particularly hard to hide it from the people closest to them. Especially Riorson. I watched him call her Violence the morning of Threshing and I felt like I needed a shower.” Red blooms across my cheeks at his words. “Honestly, I’m surprised they weren’t officially together by that point. I told Ridoc I thought you’d come clean soon, Vi.” 

I glare at both of them and take an angry bite out of my own pastry. It’s lemon and it’s delicious. My friends are traitors. 

“So I’m the only one who didn’t know,” Sawyer repeats again. 

Even Liam laughs at him. “You’re definitely the only one. They have almost scarred me for life more than once if I’m being honest.” 

I throw one of the chocolate pastries at his head. He grabs it out of his air and takes a big bite. I knew they were his favorite. 

Looking like he’s reviewing several months of memories, Sawyer says, “So when he assigned Liam to watch you…”

“Overprotective boyfriend behavior,” I tell him with an eye roll. 

“And having a warded room as a first year? Riorson training you for months? Calling for quorum to punish Mavis?” he adds. 

“Xaden wants to keep me safe because it’s me. Not just because of our dragons,” I tell them with a shrug, like it’s not one of the best things to ever happen to me. 

Rhiannon smiles widely. “I’m happy for you, Vi.”

Everyone agrees, though Sawyer is still looking pretty flabbergasted. Most of them already predicted what I’d say, but it’s still nice to officially let them in on this part of my life. Especially now that I’m more certain that Xaden and I both see a future with each other. 

A future. What a novel concept. The thought is both exciting and terrifying, for more than one reason. 

“Why give us sweets just to tell us?” Ridoc asks curiously, already reaching for another. “You know we’d never judge you for who you date, Vi. We have your back against whatever people say.”

I smile at his reassurance. “I was in town on an errand, and figured pastries were a harmless way to lure you into my room.” 

“Why did you need to tell us here?” 

“The two of us are not common knowledge and my wards have a sound shield,” I explain quickly. 

Rhiannon snorts. “I’m sure that was very altruistic of Riorson. No ulterior motives whatsoever.” 

I respond with a smirk. “There are many benefits to dating your wingleader.” 

Everyone laughs except Liam, who groans. “I’ll never get away from this now.” 

I giggle at his face. “Oh, hush. We usually sleep in his room regardless, so it’s not tested very often.” 

My room is basically storage and a secure place to work with Jesinia at this point. 

“Oh? How is life on the executive side of things?” Rhiannon asks curiously. Now that I think about it, she’d be great in leadership.

“Two words for you: Private. Bathroom.” 

They jeer at me while I smirk victoriously at their communal suffering. 

Chapter Text

As I expected, most of my squad develops a wide range of amazing signets. Sawyer continues to grow in his metallurgy abilities every day, and constantly stops me for questions about what he should try next. He insists that my ideas are more helpful than Carr’s “just do more” approach. 

Who allows that man to work with impressionable cadets? His lessons in grounding and lesser magic are passable at best. 

Ridoc manifests ice wielding, which is one of the more common signets, but no less impressive. The entire squad has been crowing about him truly developing a cool signet since it happened. If signets weren’t based on the rider, I’d expect his dragon has a sense of humor. 

Rhiannon manifests summoning, a signet not seen in generations. Liam and I share a look when she reveals that bit of information. We celebrate loudly, and share ideas of how she can learn to use it effectively in battle. 

Liam manifests farsight, which gives me many ideas that I put a pin in to discuss later when we have privacy. 

So it goes until Ivan and I are the last ones with a ticking clock inside of us. We share more than a few commiserating looks. I avoid thinking of my own future, and I assure Ivan that it will happen. I know in my soul that Ivan is going to manifest something perfect for him. 

Liam and I are discussing signets again in the Lab again one night while he instructs me how to hold the small knife he carries around for carving. 

“I still can’t believe you predicted Rhiannon’s summoning,” he tells me. I smirk and carefully remove a sliver of wood, the smallest I can manage. 

“I didn’t predict it. I just made some assumptions based on signets already appearing. Rhiannon is just amazing like that.” 

Shit. I realize my mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth. I said signets, plural. 

Liam looks over at me in surprise. “Have other rare signets appeared besides Xaden’s?”

I shrug casually. “It’s just a feeling. I’ve read a lot about the riders of old and the things they were able to accomplish. If we are going to survive, we’ll need that kind of firepower on our side.” 

He nods, and I hope that means he hasn’t made any connections in his mind. I’d be impressed, but mortified.

I return to my amateur carving while he gathers his thoughts. It’s one of the things I love about the friendship I’ve developed with Liam. We spend so much time together, either talking for hours or working quietly side by side. It’s left us with the ability to sit in a companionable silence while the other considers their words. I have a tendency to lose myself in my thoughts, and Liam allows me that freedom. I do the same for him. 

“What do you think about farsight?” Liam asks suddenly. “It’s not exactly firepower.”

I immediately put the carving down, before turning to him. I don’t want to ruin it in my excitement.

My eyes are bright. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. You'll likely be able to increase your distance and clarity with time and practice. I think your signet will obviously be vital for long-range scouting on the battlefield, but I’d be interested in how you can use it in more practical intelligence gathering.” 

He leans forward. “Practical intelligence gathering?”

My smile is downright feline. “You have an avenue to gather information like no other. People rely heavily on wards and the distance at which they are sure they cannot be heard. I do it too. I mean, all you need is a vantage point to see them, like through a window from a taller building. How is your lip reading? If you get good enough, you could spy on people from a mile away.” 

Liam’s brows are furrowed in thought. “I didn’t consider that. I’ve never tried learning to read lips before, or using my signet in that way. I’ve just focused on increasing my distance so far.” 

“It’s not mandatory,” I tell him quickly. “But my brain always goes to the best way to gather intel.” 

“No, I think it’d be interesting,” Liam insists. “Will you help me?” 

“Of course,” I agree easily. “After you get better, we’ll need to practice while you’re using your signet. Preferably from a high vantage point through some kind of barrier like a window, to best simulate real life conditions.” 

He nods and I can see his mind working. “Let’s start tomorrow.”

I smile at his enthusiasm. “Sure, pending anything unexpected,” like Xaden or dragon things, “We can start tomorrow.” 

—

After a few nights of lip reading instruction and several silly moments of forcing him to read my lips across the room in public, Liam wants to get out and practice. I admire his enthusiasm. 

We take a walk around and scout for a solid vantage point that he could easily use. Eventually, we settle on Liam being positioned in the turret connected to the parapet and me being in one of the distant second floor hallways on the far side of the courtyard. 

Most offices are on the second floor, which we do not say out loud but I know we both make that connection. It might not be a traditional application of farsight, but the possibilities with Liam’s signet are interesting to say the least. 

“You sure you wanna practice tonight, Liam? You don’t have to be in such a rush to be the best at everything, you know?” I tease, while I look up at the sky. “Plus it looks like the rain will pick soon.”

“Just another variable,” Liam says determinedly and I can’t help but smile. I’ll ignore the light drizzle for the best assistant in the world. 

I hitch my bag higher up on my shoulder and turn to walk towards the correct corridor. “If you insist. Five minutes until start to give me time to get in position. We’ll practice at windows in intervals down the hallway as discussed. Once I get to the end, we’ll meet back here to see how accurate you are. This shouldn’t take more than fifteen to twenty minutes. Then we’ll discuss and make a plan for the next steps.” 

Liam nods and turns towards the turret. I walk quickly up the stairs to the second floor to position myself at the first window. This one should be the easiest. 

After I reach position, I prepare to speak while facing the window. He’ll need to get better at different angles, but this is our first practice. I can’t see him from here, especially with the worsening rain I had predicted, but he’s had more than enough time to reach his position. 

“Xaden Riorson is the most handsome cadet in the quadrant,” I say out loud with a cheeky smile. It will be hilarious to hear Liam repeat back everything I’ve prepared, especially if he gets it right at this distance. I have several more fun ones planned. 

I turn and begin to walk towards the second window when Tairn slams into my mind with a force that sends me reeling. 

‘Silver One!’ He barks, making me flinch and grip the stone of the wall to keep my body upright. 

‘What happened?’ I ask immediately. 

‘Deigh’s rider—’ I’m running before he can complete his sentence, sprinting down the stairs and towards the courtyard. Liam is in danger. ‘He was cornered by an attacker.’ 

‘What is attacking him, Tairn?’ I ask impatiently over the sound of my feet beating against stone with every step. What cadet in his right mind would pick a fight with Liam? If it’s what I think it is…

‘It is as you fear.’ 

No, no, no. We were separated for less than ten fucking minutes. 

I force myself to move faster on the softer ground of the courtyard, ignoring the feeling of the rain falling against in heavy sheets. I slow down only enough not to slip on wet grass as I reach into my bag and hastily tear at the opening in the inside lining to free the venin dagger that I try to keep on me at all times. It would be bad to be caught with it, so I don’t bring it to class or sparring, but I never leave it behind during our nightly activities. 

‘Where is Xaden?’ I ask questions rapidly. ‘Does Liam know what he is? Does he have a dagger?’

‘Sgaeyl and the shadowed one are less than fifteen minutes away and flying fast. The boy understands, but he does not have the necessary weapon. Deigh and I are our way.’ 

‘How close are you?’

Tairn hesitates for a moment. ‘Not close enough. Five minutes.’

Fuck, Liam doesn’t have that time, especially if he has no way to kill it. Like a fucking idiot, I never made him his own poisoned dagger. What was I thinking? We had discussed fighting venin in depth, and I told him to stay away from their palms. I told him about the red-rimmed eyes and deranged expression. But no amount of information prepares you for an enemy like that. I was a fool for thinking that if Liam was attacked, we'd be together at the time.  

I get close enough to look into the opening of the turret and I gasp in horror at the sight. The sound is drained out by the pounding of the rain. 

There is a very large attacker with blonde hair in a cadet uniform grappling for control with Liam. I trust him to hold his own in a fight, but they are of a similar imposing size and Liam’s back is facing the opening of the damn parapet. Not this shit again! That is the worst possible place to be standing in the entire quadrant, especially as the rain is picking up. 

Liam has thankfully taken my words into account. I can see him grasping at the attacker’s wrists to keep them away. It looks like they had weapons, but they are gone now. I see blood on the cadet’s uniform, but he’s showing no signs of slowing. Liam’s arm is visibly wounded and I can see the blood-soaked material of his sleeve, but he’s still fighting back. 

He continues to advance as Liam stands his ground, until the attacker suddenly shifts and forces Liam backwards to step up on to the same level as the parapet to avoid falling over and losing his grip. He quickly jumps up to follow and Liam barely manages to keep a hold of his wrists.

My heart threatens to lurch out of my chest and I run faster. Now Liam is unable to back up any farther without stepping out onto the balance beam of death, where he would have no fucking options. Also, have I mentioned it’s fucking raining? 

I rush forward, hand clutching the dagger, but I can’t throw it. If I miss, we’ve lost the only thing that will kill him. If I throw it and the attacker falls forward, he could send Liam flying backwards straight off the edge and into the ravine below.

Fuck. 

Why the fuck is this happening? If the attacker saw us splitting up, why would he attack Liam instead of me? This can’t be happening. 

What do I do? What do I fucking do? My legs can’t seem to move fast enough. 

I watch with rapt horror as the venin violently twists and jerks his hands out of Liam’s grip. Liam’s head swivels looking for a way around him, but for all of his physical ability, he still can’t fucking fly. At the last moment, Liam tries to throw his body to the left back onto the platform to get around him, but the venin reaches out and manages to get a hand around Liam’s injured arm. He wraps his palm around Liam’s forearm and grips it tightly to bring him to a stop. 

Liam’s entire body starts shaking violently, and my stomach drops. The only thing stopping me from screaming out his name in horror is my fear of losing the element of surprise. I never let the venin get his hands on me during Threshing, so I have no idea what he’s doing to Liam right now. Is this a signet or some kind of product of dark wielding? 

He could be killing him. I could be too fucking late. 

Liam’s face is contorted with unspeakable agony and I can see his limbs tremble and struggle to stay upright. He can’t even retreat backwards now, even if he could get free. There is no way Liam can stay on the parapet like that. He’s unsteady and looks like he can barely keep his feet under him, let alone keep his balance on wet, uneven stone with strong winds beating against him. 

He’s standing off to the side of the attacker, but one shove will still send him off solid ground and to his death. The venin is still gripping Liam’s forearm tightly and he is in no position to break the hold even if he could. 

‘Tairn!’ I scream in my mind, but I know there is nothing he can do. 

‘Less than three minutes.’ 

That’s not soon enough. I’m going to lose him. I’m less than ten feet away now and I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there. 

I have the venin dagger in my hand. I need to stab him, but what if the attacker takes Liam down into the ravine with him? If Liam slips, I don’t have the strength to pull him up, and he doesn’t have the ability to hold on right now. 

What are my other options? The paralysis from my poisoned dagger takes too many precious seconds to work, and I haven’t taken it out yet. 

I watch as the attacker shifts his feet and I know from months of analyzing fights that he’s about to shove Liam forward. 

The most I can do is tackle him from behind. But from this angle, I’d just as likely send the attacker flying with Liam and that’s not an unacceptable outcome. No outcome with Liam dying is acceptable. Not when all he's ever wanted to do is learn and keep the people he cares about safe. Keep me safe. 

I'm assaulted by images of Liam's cold dead eyes from my dreams, a haunting shade of blue compared to how full of life they usually are. 

Fuck the element of surprise. I screech in terror, throwing my body forward but I’m still five feet away. Lightning strikes out across the sky with a booming crash. 

“No!” I yell out, the alloy dagger held up high and posed to stab the venin in the back. Liam’s pain-filled gaze locks on mine from around the venin and my heart clenches at the fear flooding those bright blue eyes. The look of believing one is about to die. 

There is no humor in the fact that this is where I thought I’d die for the first time too. 

Hell, I still might die here. 

But Liam can’t die. Liam is the most exceptional cadet in our year. The kindest person, with the brightest smile. The person who is open to a fault and treats everyone with respect that most of them would not return. He’s protective, and mischievous, and has a quick wit that he tries to hide to make himself less intimidating. He tempers his entire existence to avoid making anyone uncomfortable. He’s the best of us while operating with a fucking handicap. More than anyone, he is supposed to live to see graduation. 

My shadow, my research assistant, my companion on long nights. He entered my life at the perfect time to help me adjust after Threshing when I was struggling to feel in control again. He never pushed or pressured me, and it wasn’t in the nature of our relationship to ever fight. Everything was effortless and I trusted him as easily as breathing. The person that I share almost everything with. Every theory and errant thought and the feelings that I’m so used to locking away, especially about the truth and about Xaden. He’s become my best friend over the last couple months. 

He’s Xaden’s brother. 

He needs to see his sister Sloane again.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is react. I need to get him away from the ledge, no matter what it takes.

I can’t be the reason Liam dies. Not like in my dreams. I won’t be able to handle that. Those cold, dead blue eyes. 

“You won’t take him!” I roar. I see the attacker’s back tense at my approach. 

‘No! She is mine!’ Andarna roar echoes in my mind. ‘You will not take anything from her!’

I feel a wave of energy flood through my limbs, unlike any of the power I’ve been channeling from Tairn for lesser magic practice. It zings down from my spine and floods my body down to my fingertips and toes, making my muscles lock and slow my approach. 

In the next heartbeat, there is only silence. I blink in surprise. Liam’s eyes are fixed open in panic and both him and the attacker aren’t breathing. They aren’t blinking. They aren’t moving a muscle. The most shocking sight is the raindrops suspended in the air in front of me as I look out over the entrance to the parapet. The turret's mage light reflects off of the nearest water droplets like stars in the night sky. They are frozen in place. Almost like…

‘Go!’ Andarna shouts, and it spurs me into action. ‘I can’t hold them for long! Especially the dark one!’

This is no fucking time to theorize when I have just been given a gift.

Even standing like a statue, Liam is far too close to the edge. I quickly step up onto the raised platform and push between them, roughly pull the attacker’s hand away from Liam’s injured arm. I flinch at the sharp flash of pain when my hand brushes against Liam’s bare skin, but I ignore it and pull them apart roughly. 

In the same motion, I stab the alloy dagger directly into the attacker’s chest. I release the weapon and use my entire body to slam his shoulder to the side violently so he doesn’t fall forwards onto Liam and is instead angled in the other direction. 

The attacker’s body jerks to the side even as his face stays frozen. I sneer at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes. With any luck, the momentum will send him into the ravine. Either way, I stabbed him in the heart and now I have two hands free. 

The force of the struggle had sent Liam backwards in the moments before Andarna acted, and my shoulder protests at trying to move a massive man in the opposite direction of his center of gravity, especially while he is completely frozen. I plant my feet as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, which is only possible because he was slumped in such serious pain. Throwing myself back, I tug him with me as hard as I can so he doesn’t fall. 

He can’t fall. I didn’t let Ivan fall, and I’m not going to let Liam fall. 

Fuck this stupid fucking parapet. It took the last shred of my innocence and it is not taking anything else from me. 

Andarna gasps, and I feel nausea flood my stomach as both bodies start moving again. There is a terrible moment where I think I’m not strong enough, both shoulders pulling almost past the point of no return. Liam continues to sway backwards and the attacker screams at the pain from the dagger hitting him suddenly. 

By the blessing of Zihnal, Liam stumbles forward instead of falling back. I grunt against my will as I fall back the foot down to the lowered floor in the turret, with a six foot man made of pure muscle falling directly on top of me before I have any time to try and get out of the way. 

Liam lands on my torso as I hit the stone with a painful thump that still feels like relief. It’s better than the alternative. The force of his body causes me to hiss as all of the breath leaves my lungs in a huff. 

My entire back is definitely going to be bruised and I feel a sharp stabbing pain in my side. I’ve never broken a rib before, but I think I managed to finally check that one off the list. I bite back a wince in pain at my next inhale. I taste blood fill my mouth from the new wound in my cheek from my teeth. 

I’m still shaking from the fear of finding him in that position. 

“Violet?” Liam slurs, clearly disoriented from whatever the fuck the venin was doing to him. He can hardly keep his head upright. 

“I’m here,” I tell him seriously. “You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

I continue to speak calm assurances to Liam as I make a list. I need to confirm my kill, if he didn't end up falling into the ravine. I need to check on Liam’s injuries and whatever happened to his arm that caused him that amount of pain. Then I should probably make sure I’m still able to stand. 

“Liam?” I ask in a louder voice as his eyes begin to close. “Liam, can you roll over?”

“I let him grab me, boss, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “You told me not to. It hurt so much.” 

I shush him and try to ignore the tears flooding my eyes at my relief at the fact that Liam is there and talking. We’re not out of danger yet. “You don’t need to be so sorry, Liam. This is my fault. Can you roll over for me please? I’m a bit trapped here.” 

“Liam!” I try again when he doesn’t answer me. I don’t have any strength left to push him off. 

He blinks slowly and I see a hint of lucidity in his eyes. They widen and he pushes his arms forward to try to rise too quickly. I grab on to his shoulders forcefully so he doesn’t stand up too quickly and stumble backwards. We might be off the platform but we are still uncomfortably close to the parapet opening. 

“Don’t try to stand! Just roll. I need to get up.” 

He manages to follow my instructions, but only barely, eyes drifting closed again. His body slumps to the left of me and I’m finally able to wiggle out from under the rest of his weight. The throbbing in my side protests but I manage. 

Even with his eyes closed, Liam is still softly groaning in pain. I fill my lungs with air gratefully despite the pain and I assess the situation. Safety first. I crawl forward to where the venin is collapsed right at the edge of the parapet. It looks like he didn’t go over. Pity. 

I reach forward without climbing up onto the platform and breathe a sigh of relief that he has no pulse. 

The plan was to use my poisoned dagger to paralyze a venin attacker so I could check the effectiveness of other poisons, but that doesn’t matter anymore. He tried to kill Liam and he earned his trip to Malek. If I have to choose between Liam’s survival and a test subject, I’ll make the same choice every time. 

There’s always next time. I doubt this will be the last one. It gives me more time to prepare. 

I crawl back to Liam and carefully push him onto his back. His eyes are still closed and I pat his face lightly to try and rouse him into consciousness. “Liam? Come on. Open your eyes.”

I’d drag him farther away from the stone opening, but that definitely isn’t advisable right now given my condition. 

There is a slice on the top of his arm that isn’t deep enough to be life-threatening. The skin where the attacker had grabbed him on his forearm is deceptively unblemished, no signs of whatever he did that caused Liam to be in debilitating agony. No clue regarding if it’s a signet power or a venin power. All I know is that I felt a hint of it when I separated them, and it was pain. Pure, unadulterated pain. 

I look around me for my bag and I realize the strap was torn from my shoulder as Liam fell over on me. No wonder the side it was slung over is hurting. Or that might be from pulling Liam. I notice a persistent ache from my ribs and my back. Based on the spots invading my vision, I also might have hit my head, but I hope not. I do not reach up to check, but I feel a wetness on the back of my neck that feels suspiciously like blood. Or maybe it's the rain, and I'm imagining the sticky warmth. We can only hope. 

With another carefully shallow breath, I pull out a spare wrap from the remains of my bag. But before I can take out a dagger to cut off the remains of his sleeve and wrap his wound, I feel an unnatural gust of wind. 

I look up through the entrance of the parapet and lock eyes with Liam’s dragon Deigh. The thudding of my still racing heartbeat in my ears must have drowned out the sound of wingbeats. 

While dipping my head in respect, I nod at the dragons. Tairn is hovering farther back as the large red daggertail checks on his rider. I breathe a sigh of relief that we are not alone anymore. 

“Thank you for telling me he was in danger,” I tell them both out loud. My heart is still racing. So much happened in such a short time frame. I’m aware that you’re not supposed to talk to other people’s dragons, but if I was only a few seconds later… if Andarna did not do whatever she did… 

‘Thank you so much, Andarna,’ I tell her with fierce love in my voice. ‘This was everything to me. You are everything to me.’ 

I cannot even name what she gifted me in my mind. I feel a brush against the bond from her side, but it feels distant somehow. 

‘She is merely exhausted,’ Tairn tells me quickly. 

‘Will she be alright?’ I ask in an immediate panic. Did I hurt my dragon because I was not strong enough to save Liam on my own?

‘The Golden One will be fine. She just needs rest.’ 

‘That’s good. Sleep well, little one,’ I tell my dragons quietly. ‘Where is Xaden?’ 

‘Around five minutes. They are flying unadvisedly fast and directly to our location.’ 

‘Good, that’s good,’ I mumble again, happy that he’ll be here soon. I try to focus on the task at hand and not how light-headed I’m suddenly feeling. The nausea that arose when things started moving again threatens to turn my stomach. 

I can’t do anything about my bruises and broken bones right now. I need to stop the bleeding for Liam. I focus my attention back on his injuries. With practiced efficiency, I use one of my daggers to rip his tunic at the shoulder and rip it clean off to expose the cut. Using my spare wraps, I bind it tightly to try and stop the bleeding, but he’ll need medical attention. It looks like it’s deep enough to need stitches. 

Even unconscious, Liam is still shaking from whatever the venin did to him. His face is damp with sweat and his eyebrows are furrowed with tension. 

“Liam,” I whisper, pressing my hand to his cheek. He doesn’t react, even as I try to shake his shoulder. I turn back to the dragons. Deigh’s eyes are focused on his rider with a frightening intensity. 

‘Tairn, can Deigh tell if he’s okay? What can I do?’ I ask desperately. 

‘You have done all you can, Silver One.’

I shake my head. ‘He isn’t waking up!’ 

‘He will live,’ he cautions. ‘Do not worry yourself into further injury.’ 

Tairn wouldn’t lie to me. Liam will live. My relief rips through my body, but I don’t allow my muscles to relax. 

I still can’t rest. I need to stay alert until Xaden arrives. There is no way to be certain that the attacker was alone. 

‘There are no other threats,’ Tairn advises. ‘We are here now. You both will be safe. Rest until the wingleader gets here.’ 

I think I nod, but I’m starting to feel like the turret is spinning around me so I can’t be sure. A head injury is looking increasingly likely. Now that I know Liam is safe, there is nothing else keeping me upright. 

‘Silver One?’ I hear Tairn ask me in concern. ‘Please do try to stay conscious.’ 

There is time for one last coherent thought before my vision blurs and fades to darkness and my body slumps forward. 

I fucking hate the parapet.

—

When I return to consciousness, I’m immediately aware that I’m laying down in the Healer’s Quadrant. I think about the door and I begin to panic. My breathing stutters and my heart races. 

I try to jerk up to a sitting position and hiss at the stabbing feeling in my side. My limbs feel heavy from something in my system. Painkillers? They must not be great because I’m still in a substantial amount of it. I blink quickly, head swiveling around me too fast to focus on any one thing. Shit, my head is pounding.

Where is Liam? Did I pass out? Did Xaden find us? Did someone else?

My eyes finally focus on the figure standing at my bedside, trying to keep me from getting up with surprisingly gentle hands. I blink over and over again, and then my shoulders drop in relief. I stop trying to force myself up. 

“Xaden?” I croak, my throat dry as sand. His onyx eyes are blown wide with concern and he rushes to hold up a cup of water to my lips. I take a careful sip and clear my throat before trying to speak again. “Where is Liam?” I ask. 

Fuck, the light in this room is going to kill me. With a wave of his hand, Xaden lifts a protective layer of shadows around us and I sigh happily at the familiar sensation. I know it’s probably to muffle his next words and keep an eye out for listeners, but it has the added benefit of snuffing any lingering light. Like magic, my eyes immediately stop feeling like they’re being stabbed.

Is it daytime or are those magelights? 

“Liam is safe. He woke up after Sgaeyl and I arrived. He’s asleep in the next room, but they’re planning on releasing him after he wakes up. Fourteen stitches, but he’s probably in better condition than you are.”

I manage a weak smile. “I’m so glad,” I whisper hoarsely. “I thought I’d have to watch him fall.” 

Xaden smiles softly and brushes loose hair behind my ear. “You didn’t. Now worry about yourself. Nolon was most concerned with your head when I brought you in, but you’ll need more mending for everything else. I’m so glad you’re alive, little spy.” 

My smile comes more easily at his concern. “I am alive. Everything is okay.” 

He furrows his brows and I wish I could reach up and smooth the skin. “I wouldn’t say okay. You have a serious concussion, and you broke two ribs. You also managed to pull a muscle in your shoulder and your back is going to be black and blue from how deep the bruising is.”

I groan at his words. Liam is quite the heavy self-inflicted projectile. “Not my best execution of a plan, I will admit. Did he tell you what happened?” 

Xaden sighs heavily and grabs my hand to hold it gently. “Bits and pieces. Like the fact that your injuries were because you pulled him away from the edge and he collapsed on top of you.” I cringe at his words. 

“I pulled him too hard in a panic. It’s my fault,” I insist. 

“Liam might disagree with you tomorrow. He was really beating himself up. I’m still not convinced that he shouldn’t be, but I’m a bit on edge from finding you unconscious, broken, and bruised next to a dead assassin.” 

I squeeze his hand and shake my head lightly. “Worth it,” I state simply. “I couldn’t let him push Liam into the ravine.” 

He shakes his head in return, but his smile is sweet. “Thank you for saving him, Violet,” he tells me seriously. “He means a lot to me.” 

I nod happily even as it makes my brain feel too large for my skull, settling more comfortably into the pillow behind me. “Of course. He means a lot to me too.” 

“I’ll admit there are sights I would enjoy more than my girlfriend unconscious on top of my brother,” he adds teasingly and I try to force down a flush at his words out-of-context. “But I’m just happy you are both safe.”

“I’m going to make you pay for that one once I’m up and moving,” I mumble. I’m glad he’s able to joke about these things. 

He leans closer to me, pressing his lips against my forehead softly. I lean my head up for a kiss with a dramatic pout. Xaden listens and presses the softest of pecks against my lips before pulling back. 

“I was fucking terrified, Violet,” he tells me. “Tairn told Sgaeyl and we came as fast as possible. We did a flying landing in the courtyard. I found you both breathing, but Liam was barely coherent and you wouldn’t even wake up.” 

His voice sounds so tortured that I wish I could wrap my arms around him. I squeeze his hand instead. 

“It was stupid. I have a concussion right now and I can think of several things I could have tried to keep Liam from falling and taken care of the attacker without getting hurt like this, in such a preventable way.” I look up at the ceiling and sigh. “I was scared and I reacted in fear. Even during Threshing, I didn’t do that. No scheme, just reaction. Pathetic.” 

It’s the truth, especially from the moment Andarna’s powers manifested. Just like I always feared, I failed when it came to being rational and it could have costed all of us Liam. Instead, it’s going to cost me a few days of recovery. 

I tell myself that I can live with that, but I was an idiot. I can feel my inadequacy weighing down my shoulders in a way that it hasn’t in a long time. All my big talk about plotting, and being logical, and I forgot about all of it the minute I was tested with actually keeping the people I want to protect safe. I didn’t even make sure that Liam was as properly prepared as he could have been. It’s a massive oversight and it's embarrassing. 

My mind is supposed to be my biggest asset, and I squandered it. If things had gone even worse, I even could have gotten myself killed, and started the chain reaction from my nightmares. 

“Hey,” Xaden starts, sitting on the chair beside my bed so I can look him more easily in the eye. I wish we were in his room instead, but I don’t think I’d be able to move if I tried. “You reacted that way because it wasn’t you in danger. It was Liam, and you are ridiculously self-sacrificing on a good day. Nothing else matters besides the fact that you both are alive. It might not have been the most refined plan, but it was yours and it was brilliant. It will be easier to keep a clearer head next time.” 

“Thank you,” I tell him softly, still caught up in my mental spiral. “But I’m this injured and the attacker didn’t even touch me. I think this will just be one of the moments that I think about for the next ten years whenever I’m feeling insecure.”

Xaden nods and leans to press his forehead against my hand. “As long as you’re here in ten years, we’ll do a best and worst list of all your schemes. Rank them even.” 

I laugh lightly at the image he presents, careful of my ribs. “Oh yeah?” I tease, falling into flirting with Xaden like breathing. I feel like myself again for the first time since waking up. Maybe I don’t always have to be the smartest person in the room, as long as he keeps looking at me like that. “Which is your favorite?”

He lifts his head up and the gold flecks in his eyes sparkle in amusement and relief in equal measures. “Hm, I have a soft spot for the parapet that very first day. Best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” I smirk at his words. 

“So five minutes after we met for the first time? But I’ve done so many fun things since then,” I insist. 

He shakes his head ruefully. “Oh, I know. But you are always at your most beautiful when you’re standing up for some injustice. I couldn’t believe my eyes. You made me believe in something again that day.” 

My eyes water at his words. “Shit, Xaden. You can’t say shit like that when I can’t kiss you the way I want to.” 

“You asked,” he shrugs helplessly. 

I give him a teary-eyed smile. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” 

“You saved my life that day,” I inform him in a matter-of-fact tone. “It took me a while to remember and realize what happened, but I saw Dylan fall and I was paralyzed. You riled me up on purpose before I took my first step. I don’t know how you knew, but it gave me the strength I needed, even if it was just to piss you off.” 

Xaden smiles and reaches his free hand to brush my hair back again. His fingertips linger on my cheek. “Don’t give me that much credit. I just think you’re hot when you’re mean.” 

I giggle at his words. “Back at you, handsome. I might enjoy the intimidating Wingleader persona a bit too much.” 

“Just as I enjoy my devious little spy putting people in their place,” Xaden tells me softly, eyes intently staring into my own. Even with the cover of his shadows, he lowers his voice to a whisper. “Now, can you tell me what really happened, Violence? Liam asked me if you were right about distance wielding appearing. You and I both know that isn’t true.”

“It’s not,” I tell him quietly. “This wasn’t the power of a signet. It was a gift.” 

His eyes widen and I nod meaningfully to confirm that it’s what he is thinking. A feathertail type of gift. 

“And it’s not a type of distance wielding?” He asks. 

I shake my head slowly. 

“What is it?” 

I use the rest of my energy to weakly lift my hands up to sign silently instead of speaking out loud. 

“The power that she’s sharing with me can stop time,” I tell him solemnly. “In small increments.” 

His onyx eyes open wide in shock. In small increments, he mouths silently. 

Chapter Text

Xaden stays at my bedside until Nolon mends my ribs and my shoulder, despite the fact that I asked him to leave so he didn’t have to see me in pain again. My mental control is in shambles from my concussion and the painkillers, and it was more difficult than usual to dissociate from the sensation. My scream was proof of that. 

After I’m mended and I’m given another drought for the pain, I have to practically force Xaden out of the door. I can’t ask my Wingleader to skip a full day of classes. It takes some time, and several minutes of pouting, but I finally get him out of the door with the promise that he’ll get some food and rest. 

He probably didn’t get a wink of sleep all night, if the bags under his eyes are to be believed. 

I fall back into an uneasy sleep and when I open my eyes sometime later, I find Rhiannon and Ridoc playing cards at my bedside. I manage to stay awake and assure my friends that I’m alive for a few minutes until my eyelids become unbearably heavy again from the potion they poured down my throat the minute I finish my small meal.

With shaking hands, I hold the vial to my nose to sniff it before drinking to make sure it smells like the familiar pain draught I’m used to, even if Winifred is the one who hands it to me. Rhiannon focuses too closely on the way I do it, but I don’t have the energy to remain subtle. 

I ask about Liam again and my eyes stay open long enough to hear that he’s awake and leaving the infirmary soon. I’ll be stuck here for at least one more night because of the concussion and the fact that the bruising along my spine was significant. My ribs are also still unbelievably tender even after mending. 

After all this, I can say that I have a new sympathy for anyone that Liam has tackled during challenges. 

My eyes open again several hours later, and they widen immediately. 

“Dain?” I ask. My oldest friend is looking rough. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is a mess like he had been running his fingers through it. 

Instead of sitting at my side like Xaden or any of my friends, he dragged the chair to the foot of the bed. He… he has his hands crossed in his lap, like he’s trying to send a message. That he was giving me space. 

Something about it takes away my fear that he had read my memories against my will when I was sleeping. For a moment, I wonder how he managed to even get in here alone. I assumed Xaden or Liam would have been standing guard. I hope this doesn’t mean Liam is still being treated. 

“Vi?” he whispers brokenly. “You’re okay. They said you were awake and there was no permanent damage, but I didn’t… head injuries can be so bad. I needed to see you awake.” 

I manage a weak smile and try to sit up, wincing at the pain. He stands up and moves forward, but stops himself suddenly.

For a long moment, we just look at each other. I’m holding myself half-up and he’s stuck in a perpetual state of almost offering help. 

I sigh and reach out a hand. Dain quickly lurches forward and I let him pull me up to a sitting position. “Can you—”

“Pillows, of course,” Dain interrupts gently. Keeping his hands far away from my face and in my eyeline, he moves the pillows behind me and helps me settle comfortably, even grabbing an extra from the empty bed next to me. I am thankfully in the only occupied bed in this treatment room. 

I bite back a groan at the deep-rooted ache in my back as I settle. Once I’m sitting up, he walks over to the tray obviously prepared by the healer and grabs me a cup of water. 

I can’t stop myself from smiling when he uses lesser magic to pull all of the ice cubes out of my cup and sets them back into the pitcher. I’m not a fan of ice water, especially when I’m sick in bed. He hands it to me sheepishly and I give him a small smile. “No ice, right?” 

“That’s right,” I whisper before I gratefully sip at the glass. For just a moment, it feels like I have my friend back. 

He must see my discomfort because he pulls the curtain closed and it’s a relief to my eyes. 

“What happened?” he asks me urgently. “You and Mairi were both gone. Once he was released, I asked and he just said you two were attacked.” 

I nod uncomfortably. I can’t tell him that it was probably his father getting impatient with my existence. 

“Just like Threshing, I didn’t recognize him. It all happened so fast,” I mumble. “I don’t remember all of it very clearly after I hit my head.” 

“That’s to be expected. Don’t force yourself.” Dain nods in understanding, and it makes me feel like scum for the first time in a while. I manage a smile. “I also wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay. Feel free to kick me out.” 

I smile at his words and nod. “Talk to me."

“Well, uh,” he starts awkwardly. “I just wanted to apologize about my behavior at formation a few weeks ago. I never should have tried to use my signet on you, and I should have believed you immediately.” 

“You should have,” I answer simply. “Why would I lie about something like that?” 

He grimaces. “I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. We’ve just been miles away from each other for so long, Vi.”

“I know, Dain,” I whisper sadly. “Things are different here.” 

“You’re different,” he says. 

“Hey, you’re not the same Dain you were two years ago,” I tell him testily and he waves off my anger.

“I’m not! And I’m not saying it's a bad thing that you’re different either! Gods, Vi. I’m not blind. You’re winning challenges, you claimed two dragons, you have the respect of your squad. You’ve survived at least three attacks on your life. I know you’re stronger than I gave you credit for. I fucked up by underestimating you and not respecting your boundaries, in addition to not believing you. I’m so sorry. Not just for formation, but for what I said during Threshing too and trying to get you to leave for months. I have a lot to be sorry for. You were meant to be a rider, Vi, and I should have seen it sooner. Seen you.” 

I blink back watery eyes at his words. “I appreciate it, Dain. For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry you lost someone that day. I never want to bring you any kind of pain.” 

He shakes his head. “Amber and I were never anything serious. But we did talk and she knew that—she knew what you meant to me. That we have history. I don’t care if you and I are the best of friends or we never speak again. I’d never want anything to happen to you.” 

“Me too, Dain.” We share a genuine smile for the first time in a long time. 

“Can we be friends again, Vi? I miss you.” 

I look at him for a long time. “I miss you too. We can try, with a few ground rules.” 

His mouth twists into a smile. “I’m not surprised. You’ve always been bossy.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Tell me, Vi.” 

“No more telling me things I can’t do,” I tell him stubbornly. “I earned my place here and I will not suffer the opinions of people who do not believe in me.” 

“Okay,” he agrees easily. I smile at how honest he looks, before my face goes serious again.

“You’re going to need to keep your hands away from me, too.” I tell him quietly, and I watch him flinch and look down. I want to reach for him, but I know that I can’t and I won’t. Not yet at least. “Hey, Dain, come on, look at me.” I wait until he does. “I forgive you for what happened at formation. For not believing me. But trying to read my memories against my will? It was a serious violation. I need time to get over it, and you try to touch my face a lot.” 

He nods reluctantly. “Okay. I will. I swear. I just… I always used to be able to touch you, Vi. For our whole lives.” 

“We’re different here,” I tell him softly, a twist on my earlier words. “Maybe we can find our ways back to something familiar between the two of us, but our friendship needs to grow and adapt just like we did if it wants to survive.”

After a moment, he agrees.

“What time is it?” I ask. “I figured I’d have one of my squad members here again when I woke up.” 

“It’s the afternoon. Everyone is in class,” Dain answers. “You’ve had people in and out all day.” 

“Dain Aetos, did you skip class? You? For little old me?” I ask with a wide grin that splits my face. He rolls his eyes lightly, but I can see the same happiness in his brown eyes. The comfort of something familiar that used to be essential. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “I should get going. But I, uh, have some of your favorite candies from Calldyr in my room. I’ll bring them after dinner.” 

I smile at the thought. “Oh, you really are sorry if you’re sharing with me.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Like I ever got away with saying no. Cam sent them for my last birthday.” 

My eyes widen at the mention of a friend I haven’t thought of in months. “Cam! Gods, he always did give great gifts. How is he?” 

Dain shrugs. “He’s acting strange honestly. I think he’s fighting with Halden again. That always sets him off.” 

“So nothing has changed,” I comment dryly. “If only Halden’s talents were more suited to running a kingdom and not making people want to kill him.”

Dain narrows his eyes. “Something you want to talk about, Vi?”

I snort a laugh at the look in his eyes. “No, I haven’t seen either of the Tauri brothers in a long time. But I do miss Cam and I hope he’s doing well. Tell him that.” 

He nods easily. “I will. You’ll be able to send letters yourself next year, you know?” 

I smile. “I know. I can’t wait to write Mira.” 

“She’s going to be so proud of you,” Dain tells me seriously and it makes my smile widen. “I should let you rest. Are you in pain?”

I shake my head immediately. I have another conversation lined up before I succumb to sleep again. “I’m okay. Get going. If you didn’t save my favorites, I’ll stab you.” 

Dain laughs to himself and stands. “I remember when that threat used to mean a quill and not a dagger.” But he doesn’t look upset at the change, which means something to me. 

He moves to exit the room, and turns back to me slightly in the doorframe. “I’m glad you’re safe, Vi. I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, Dain.” 

I wait for a moment after the door closes behind him, and then I turn to the small storage closet door, partially concealed by a curtain. 

“You can come out now,” I call out teasingly. Liam steps out of the closet rubbing the back of his neck and my eyes water at the sight of his bright blue eyes unclouded by the haze of pain. I’m sure his arm is bandaged under his tunic, but he looks healthy. 

“Hey, boss,” he calls out hesitantly. “Caught me again.” 

“Get over here and give me a hug or you’re fired,” I tell him thickly and he immediately crosses the room and wraps his arms around me so lightly that I can barely feel it. I hold the material of his shirt tightly. “Gods, Liam. I’m so happy you’re safe.” 

He pulls back and smiles down at me, tugging over the chair so he can sit by my side. “Thanks to you.” 

I shake my head. “You were in danger because of me.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “I’m the one who insisted on practicing my signet. I picked a fight knowing I didn’t have the right weapons. All of your injuries are because of me, Violet.” 

“Incorrect,” I tell him stubbornly. “It was my choice. My plan. Besides, all that matters is that we’re here, right?” 

“Right,” he agrees. 

I smile widely at him, before glancing at the door that Dain just left through. “Did he try to read my memories?” 

Liam immediately shakes his head. “He didn’t try to touch you at all. Believe me, I was paying attention. He just sat there like a sad puppy for almost an hour until you woke up.” 

I smile at that. “See? Dain Aetos is not a bad man. He’s not beyond redemption.” 

He rolls his eyes, but I can see that he’s starting to believe me. “Well, he has good taste in friends, at least.” 

I giggle. “Liam Mairi, I think you are getting downright fond of me.” 

Liam smiles and squeezes my hand. “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

My smile is broken by a loud yawn. “Oh, what the fuck,” I mumble. “I’ve been sleeping for almost a whole day.” 

“Head injuries are a bitch,” Liam tells me sagely. 

I wrinkle my nose. “No kidding.”

“Did you manifest your signet?” Liam asks suddenly, like he can’t hold back anymore. But I can’t give him any answers. 

I shake my head. “No signet.” 

“I could have sworn…” his voice trails off. Liam is wonderful but I can’t reveal dragon secrets. 

“We’ll prepare better for next time,” I tell him seriously instead. “I’m going to make you a poisoned dagger to carry with the same paralytic that worked during Threshing. Even if you aren’t carrying a particular dagger because it’d be bad to get caught with, you won’t be left at such a disadvantage ever again.” 

Liam smiles and nods. “You’re such a mother hen,” he teases. “The squad was joking a few weeks ago that poison is your way of showing affection.” 

“Shut up,” I tell him with a massive eye roll that makes my head pound again. I really need to stop doing that. “I’m going to put you to work as soon as I get out of here!” I threaten. 

Liam laughs at me and settles more fully in the chair, passing me the pain draught I didn’t realize he grabbed. I’ll blame that one on my injuries. I notice with a smile that he smells it first. I taught him that one. 

“Take it. I’m perfectly fine now. We’ll talk more about everything later. I’ll be here to keep watch until Xaden gets here.” 

I smile at the thought. “Who’s the mother hen now?” I tease, before I drink the bottle he hands me. 

—

They keep me there for another night and most of the next day, which I think is overkill. Besides the soreness and headache, I’m fine. I’m moving and my sensitivity to light is almost gone. Xaden insists on bringing my dinner to his room and settling me there for the night, despite my many complaints that I’m fine to walk to the dining hall. 

Xaden looks pained. “Please, Violet?” 

“I was supposed to meet Liam after dinner,” I argue weakly. It’s difficult to say no to him, especially when he’s looking down at me with pleading eyes and calling out my name so softly. 

“I will tell him to meet you in my room.”

I sigh and allow myself to be led. It is a good thing that most people have gone to eat, because I’m not sure how else I’d explain my Wingleader’s nervous hovering as he sets a pace that I can only describe as glacial… and my legs are about half the length of his. Xaden is also carrying my bag and the handful of medicine that Winifred sent me off with, like the weight of it would set back my recovery.

I bite back a retort about my legs and arms not being broken. Xaden means well. The truth is that I’m grumpy from being stuck at the healers’ for so long. I don’t have great memories of that place. 

Xaden leaves to get me food, and I look at the bed in thought. I don’t want to lay down in my regular clothes, but Xaden would probably object to Liam visiting when I’m wearing a nightgown. Plus the bruising on my back is still there, and I want to cover it as much as possible.

I can’t even wear my corset. I’ve felt naked since I woke up without it, but Nolon assured me that it’d be safe after tomorrow. 

I take off the clothes I’ve been in all day and grab one of Xaden’s large tunics instead, not upset by the way it hangs down to my mid-thigh. I shrug it on gingerly before crawling under the blanket. If I’m going to be stuck being treated like a sick patient, I might as well be comfortable. I did miss Xaden’s bed. 

After settling, I try to center myself by focusing on my shields and exploring my connections with my dragons. Andarna still seems more distant than usual, but Tairn assures me that she is just resting. My heart aches at the thought of what she did for me. I swear that I’ll do everything I can to avoid abusing such a power again. 

In the wake of another attack, there is so much to do, and a large part of me wishes I was up being productive instead of sitting here. But there’s no way Xaden is going to let me out tonight to stop by the Lab, even if I’m desperate to update all of my notes on venin after I get the chance to speak to Liam. 

I’m still fighting off an annoyed look on my face by the time Xaden returns with my plate in hand. 

His eyes darken. “I know you’re pouting right now, but I’m still horribly tempted by the sight of you in my clothes.”

I raise an eyebrow and my expression morphs into a small smirk. “Yeah? Are you the kind of guy who wants to see me wearing your flight jacket? Let everyone know that I’m spoken for?” 

“You know what, Violence?” Xaden asks, walking forward to kiss me on the forehead and hand me my food. “I think I am. Eat your food. Liam will be here soon.” 

I start nibbling at everything while Xaden disarms and puts away all his weapons in their proper place. Then he grabs all of my daggers from my bag where I had them stored with my corset and thigh sheaths and puts those away too in the space he must have cleared out next to his own collection. Except for the poison dagger, which he sets on the nightstand. I usually do that, but I forgot in my haste to get comfortable. 

Xaden is so cute sometimes. I predicted he’d be neat because he’s such a control freak, but he really is very particular. He likes to keep everything clean and in order, and he remembers where I like to put things easily. Even if he obviously values his personal space, he never hesitates to find ways to make me welcome in his room. Despite the fact that I am way more likely to leave my things lying around. 

I think about my feelings for Xaden as I eat another bite of turkey. Being stuck in bed for two days left too much time for that self-reflection I have been procrastinating on. 

It’s hard to believe I met Xaden half a year ago. The rational part of my brain is still screaming at me that we are moving too quickly and I am racing towards heartbreak, but there is nothing I can do to stop how I am feeling.

Even if the path leads to devastation, I fear that I would still choose to walk it with him. I said once that Xaden was worth a bit of absurdity, and isn’t love the most absurd experience of them all? It’s the one place where logic is unable to make a home. 

I’m in love with Xaden Riorson. Desperately and foolishly in love with him, with every single part of my soul, as bruised and battered as it may be. All that I am is his, even the bits I don’t like to acknowledge the existence of. 

How could I not be unconditionally his? I was ruined after seeing the pieces of himself that Xaden shared with me back when we were only sparring together. Now that I’ve had such intimate access to the whole man for weeks, in all his roughness and his softness too, I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Xaden asks. 

I think about telling him, but my body is still hurting and Liam will be here soon. Or maybe it’s another reason, but I’ve met my quota for self-reflection for the week. I smile gently instead, and I try to communicate with my eyes how much he has grown to mean to me. “Because you’re beautiful,” I tell him honestly after I swallow my bite. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

His eyes soften and he joins me to sit on the edge of the bed. “That’s my line.” 

Xaden reaches a hand out to cup my cheek and I lean into it gratefully for a few long moments. Then I sigh and sit up straighter to finish eating. 

There’s a knock on the door sometime later and Xaden flicks the door open with a shadow and Liam slips in quickly. Neat trick. He smirks like he knows that I think so, and grabs my finished plate to set it on the desk. 

“Hi, Liam,” I say from bed. It’s so good to see him up and healthy that I can’t stop my wide grin. I’d get up to hug him again but I am definitely not wearing pants under the blankets. I said I was going for maximum comfort and I meant it. 

“Hey, boss,” Liam greets me with a wide smile. He pulls Xaden’s desk chair so he can sit next to me. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly healthy,” I insist with a dramatic pout. “I could have gone to the dining hall but Xaden is being Xaden again.” 

Liam laughs, while Xaden just snorts at my prodding. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I went and told Jesinia that you won’t be able to meet this week.” 

“Oh, that is today. Thank you so much, Liam. I completely forgot.” 

“I’d be a pretty bad assistant if I didn’t remember your schedule,” he teases me with a smile. “Did you ever get your chocolates?” 

My eyes widen and I almost move to jump out of the bed before I think better of it. Not wearing pants, I remind myself. 

“I did! Xaden, can you pass me the box in my bag?” 

Xaden reaches for my bag where I left it by the bed and hands me a small black box.

I open it with a hum of satisfaction at the familiar chocolates and I hold it open to Liam. “Try them. They are one of the few things about Calldyr that I enjoyed.” 

“Why do you have chocolate from Calldyr?” Xaden asks. I watch Liam freeze with the chocolate halfway to his mouth and I almost giggle at his bug-eyed expression. 

“One of our old friends sent it to Dain for his birthday. He stopped by the infirmary yesterday to apologize for everything that happened at formation. Chocolates won’t make me forgive him, but they certainly won’t hurt.” 

Xaden’s brows furrow, and I can appreciate that he takes the time to consider his words before he opens his mouth. Liam and I share a glance, and he finally manages to eat one of them. I can see the shine in his eye at the rich taste and I tilt the box towards him to offer another wordlessly while Xaden processes. 

“I’m glad Aetos apologized,” he settles on eventually. I smile gently because I know the restraint that took. 

“He did. He wants to be friends again and I told him that we’ll see if he treats me better and keeps his hands to himself. Liam was there the whole time, so don’t worry. He didn’t try to touch me without permission.” 

Xaden’s face relaxes and I take the risk of offering him one of the chocolates. He turns his head away pointedly for someone who admittedly has a sweet tooth. I shrug. More for me and Liam. 

“These are really good,” Liam compliments as he eats his third. 

“They should be. They’re from the most expensive little pastry shop.” I take another piece and pop it into my mouth. “So, important things first. What happened to the body?”

“I retrieved your dagger and got rid of it,” Xaden responds easily. 

“Did you recognize him?” I ask hopefully. “I didn’t have the foresight to get any of his information this time.” 

“I didn’t recognize him, but according to his jacket, he was a second-year cadet from the Third Wing. Sound seeking signet patch.”

My eyes narrow. “Interesting.” That probably explains how he was able to locate us. I turn back to Liam. “Do you remember how it felt when he grabbed your arm?” 

Liam furrows his brows. “It was just… pain. Hopeless pain with no end in sight. It felt like waves of stinging sensation throughout my entire body, not just from my arm.” 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Liam,” I tell him quietly. “Excuse me for saying that is all interesting.” 

“Why is that?” Liam asks, unbothered by my fascination with his traumatic experience. He lifts his forearm and I examine the unblemished skin once again. 

“Because I don’t think it was a signet. It definitely wasn’t fucking sound seeking. It doesn’t sound like he was channeling from you either, not the way that the one during Threshing did in the forest. If that was the case, it probably would have felt more like draining. If he was stronger, I bet that humans being drained would become desiccated… like the barrens, but there are no marks,” I explain slowly, brows draw together in thought. “From what you’ve described, it’s more like he was channeling magic into you, like waves of electricity.” 

“Does that tell us anything important?” Xaden asks. I consider his words. 

“Fundamentally, it doesn’t change the approach of fighting them. Don’t let them get their hands on you. Don’t let them channel from the earth because there is no telling what kind of range their abilities can have given the recorded state of Barrens. Now they’re just likely to cause extreme pain… the fact that we have to get in close to kill them but keep far enough not to die is a problem… but we don’t have effective long range options… not even considering the presence of wyvern…” 

My voice trails off. “Violence?” Xaden prompts, but Liam gets his attention. 

“Give her a minute.” 

Fighting the venin on the ground seems to be an altogether bad situation. I can only hypothesize on their abilities based on the ones exhibited by the weak ones. How are riders on dragons supposed to get the advantage? Especially if wyvern are involved. There has to be something we can do. How else could the riders of old have pushed them back before? 

There’s something else there. Something I haven’t considered. Why can’t I think of it? Is it my concussion or do I just not have enough information yet?

I look at Liam’s arm again thoughtfully. I need to consider this from all angles. Then I might be able to stumble towards a useful conclusion. 

“This is all hypothetical,” I mumble. “He might have been wearing a fake jacket and his attack on Liam was some kind of signet. Which is also a fucking concern.” 

If cadets can be turned into weak venin, it stands to reason that stronger venin may also have been riders before channeling from the earth, ones who have managed to ascend given the words from my attacker the day of Threshing. They might still retain their signets even after turning toward dark wielding, which has disastrous implications. Or is that too far of a stretch? 

“But that doesn’t sound like any signet I’m familiar with,” my voice continues trailing off as I verbalize some thoughts and not others absent-mindedly. “It’s either a signet and we have to assume that stronger venin may retain their signets as well, or it was a venin ability and that may have its own ramifications.” If only I could get my brain to work, I could figure out what those ramifications are. 

Let’s see. If they can cause debilitating pain, is it purely contact based? Or is that something they can do at a distance? Why didn’t the venin who attacked me at Threshing use it when I jumped on him? 

My eyes widen. Because he was holding two weapons. Maybe it’s a good thing he stole my dagger. That day could have ended much differently. 

“I keep coming back to the fact that Tairn said they are weak ones. Because of what the first one said during Threshing, I know they can ascend, and that implies a structure for advancement given channeling enough magic. If only I had information on the levels and relative power differences,” I say to myself. I love a classification system, and it would be great for my research. 

Even if I discover a poison that works on weak ones, will it be useful for a full-fledged venin threat? Am I wasting my time? 

I go quiet again for another minute, before deciding that I don’t have enough information to draw conclusions. Xaden and Liam are both rapidly considering my disjointed words. 

Liam sees my distraction fade and speaks up. “Final thoughts, Vi?”

I hum. “Undecided. Let me think about it some more when I’m not recovering from a concussion.” 

All of this thinking is making my head hurt. 

They both nod, and Liam speaks up. “I have a question,” Liam opens. 

I love questions. “Go.” 

“I saw you enter the turret. I didn’t think you’d make it, but then you were right there in front of me and he had a dagger in his chest. Are you not telling me something that happened in the turret because you can’t?”

Xaden opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “That’s correct.” 

I’m not going to lie to Liam. 

Liam stares at me for a moment before nodding. “So your signet isn’t distance wielding?”

I laugh at his disappointment. “No, but wouldn’t it be funny if I predicted two signets in our squad?” I catch his eye and continue seriously. “I’m sorry this isn’t something I can share with you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Liam tells me. “No worries, Vi. You saved my life. I’m not exactly going to complain about how you did it.” 

I smile widely at him. “Anytime, Liam. Can you tell me what you remember from before I got there?” 

He nods. “I was in the turret and I had climbed the stairs. I saw you in the window—” 

“Did you catch what I said?” I interrupt with a smirk. 

“I’m not going to repeat it.” 

“Then how will I know if you read my lips correctly?” 

“The fact that I don’t want to say it right now should be proof enough that I did.” 

“Hm, well, I disagree. And you call me the boss, so…”

Liam rolls his eyes and recites clearly, “Xaden Riorson is the most handsome cadet in the quadrant.” 

I giggle gleefully. “Excellent work. Glad we could at least gather some data.” I turn towards Xaden with a smile, who is just looking in between Liam and I with faint amusement. “Lip reading practice with his signet. I had to pick a few phrases. In some ways, he’s lucky for the interruption because I had some real good ones for the next five windows prepared.”

Xaden smirks at me. “Were they all about how handsome I am?” 

I shake my head. “No. Some of them were about how cute you can be or how you’re a great kisser. I’d say best in the quadrant but I’m not willing to test out the competition.”

Xaden looks pleased at my words, and Liam groans audibly. “I can’t believe you’re interrupting my story to flirt with Xaden in front of me. You’re the one who asked.”

I shrug, conscious of the lingering soreness in my body as I stretch my arms. “I’ve been in bed on painkillers for over two days. Do you know how much I usually get done in the average 48 hour period? What am I saying? Of course you do. The point is that I’ve been bored. I’m basically feral at this point. Let me flirt with my boyfriend or my head is going to explode.” At least maybe then it will stop hurting. 

Liam laughs at my suffering expression. “Okay, okay. Can I continue?” 

“Please.” 

“So, I was in the turret and I saw you in the window, and then I heard a noise in the courtyard. When I went down the stairs, he was waiting for me. No matter what I did, he didn’t seem to even react. We fought for a few minutes until we both lost our weapons. Then I was too concerned about his hands and he used that in order to push me back. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have let him gain the upper hand on me."

“Did he say anything?” 

“He mentioned you.” 

“Another one of my admirers. I figured. What exactly?” 

“He asked where you were. I asked what he wanted with you and he said some ridiculous thing about eliminating the weak cadets.” 

“We must eliminate the weakest parts of the wing to fly,” I mumble, flashing back to that day months ago. 

Liam’s eyes flash. “That was it.” 

“Well,” I say after a long pause. “I suppose it’s good that we can confirm there is only one party sending them to kill me. That’s exactly what our friend from Threshing had to say.” 

Xaden’s eyes are stormy, and I reach out to grab his hand from where it’s resting on the blankets. I take a deep breath. 

“What are we going to do about this?”

Liam blinks. “I don’t see what we can do, boss. We don’t have any leads. Checking the names from the death roll hasn’t gone anywhere.” 

I stare at him for a moment. “It’s not that we don’t have any leads,” I remind him. “They are just a bit more challenging to pursue.” 

Xaden sits up straighter. “What are you talking about?” 

“There’s nothing more interesting than a locked door,” I tell him clearly. 

“The Healer’s Quadrant,” he says in understanding. “You want to see what’s behind that ward.” 

“Desperately,” I tell him. “I have thought about it every day for months.” 

“Violence,” Xaden starts. “That’s not possible.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not a fair statement. It’d be difficult and definitely a risk. But it’s possible.” 

“What are you even hoping to find in there?” Liam asks. 

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. 

“And I don’t know if that is reason enough to risk everything,” Xaden says. 

“I know, okay? I’m not saying we have to do it. I’m just saying that it’s inaccurate to say that we have no leads. We could give it a try, if you’re willing,” I offer. I understand their hesitancy, but it’s not like I haven’t thought about the risks. 

“How would we even get in?” Liam interjects curiously. “You told me there is a ward on the door, and a much stronger one behind that.” 

“Imogen,” I say immediately. They both turn to look at me in surprise. 

“What does that mean?” Xaden asks. “Her signet doesn’t do anything about wards.” 

I look at them and continue my train of thought. “Imogen can erase recent memories. We’d need to kidnap Nadine, who has the ability to unweave wards and will certainly not go willingly. I’ve heard Carr talking to her about her abilities. She can definitely get us in the door without having to hurt ourselves, and hopefully the door. I know the rounds schedule and I’d be able to incapacitate any healer who entered pretty easily and knock them out safely for a few hours. Imogen is the answer to wipe the memories of Nadine and any other witnesses. You and Liam have signets suitable to keeping watch. If you get Imogen to agree, the risk is minimal and the potential for reward is high.” 

Xaden blinks in surprise. “Why does it sound like you’ve been planning this for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

I shrug. “I spend a lot of time thinking about contingencies. It’s like a hobby. If I told you every little thing that I hypothetically considered doing, you’d never have time for anything else.” 

“I suppose that’s fair.” 

“Plus Nadine is a bitch,” I add, which makes both of them laugh. “What? Even if she wouldn’t remember, I would. And Imogen would also be able to push her around a little bit, which I feel is nice revenge for how she treats her. Her face when she’s kidnapped by several marked ones and the girl who threatened her at formation? I don’t think money can buy that kind of entertainment.” 

“Vicious,” Xaden tells me with a grin. “But I don’t know if Imogen would be interested in this plan, even if she gets to bully a first-year.”

I just laugh and shake my head. “Maybe if you don’t tell her I came up with it. I doubt she has a ton of faith in my abilities.” 

“I have faith in your abilities, Violet,” Xaden adds seriously and I smile at him. “But we need to be cautious. Something like this could turn out very badly for us.” 

“It could,” I agree immediately. “Or we could get in safely and Nadine’s signet could not work on the second ward. I understand there are many things that could go wrong. But there’s always the chance it gives us important information that could help. If Imogen agrees, it’s at least possible. Without her, it’s not worth trying.”

Xaden looks at me for a long moment. “I’ll talk to her,” he offers slowly. 

I smile at his words. It’s more than I thought I would get. Liam continues watching our back and forth silently, head whipping between the two of us. 

“I can live with that. Promise you won’t threaten her again if she insults me?” I risk asking. 

He looks at me seriously. “I think you know I can’t do that.” 

I sigh heavily. That is what I feared he would say. “You can’t force people to like me, Xaden.” 

“No, but I can force them not to treat you poorly for fear of retribution.” 

It’s sweet. It’s well-meaning. It’s totally fucking unnecessary. 

“Xaden,” I start slowly. “Imogen is your friend, and we probably should not rain down retribution on our friends.” He only shrugs, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Tell Imogen about the plan and see what she thinks. But do not threaten her on my account if she says no or says something rude about me. I’ll deal with it.” 

He looks like he wants to argue and I raise an eyebrow. I may be bedridden, but I will not be backing down from that fight. 

“Fine,” he relents. “Until we make a decision, focus on getting better. If this does happen, it won't be until you're all healed.”

I nod, trying to temper my excitement. I need to know what’s behind that door and I’m tired of waiting. At least Xaden is less likely to be angry when I scheme with him instead.

Chapter Text

I sigh happily as Xaden rubs the salve for bruising all over my back. The bruises are practically gone now, faded away in most areas and a sickly yellow left behind in others, but I’ve been enjoying this new part of our routine for the last several days. “I think I’m going to miss you spoiling me,” I tease. “This part of being bruised is nice.” 

I can practically hear Xaden roll his eyes as his hands easily take up more of the expanse of my back. His hands brush against the relic decorating the area between my shoulders and travel down my spine. “You don’t need to get injured for me to spoil you. In fact, I request that you do not.”

“I know,” I tell him, hiding my silly smile in the pillow. I’ve never felt so safe and taken care of before Xaden. 

He lifts up off the bed so I can sit up, passing me one of his shirts because I don’t like the feeling of the salve sticking to the sheets under me when I’m wearing my nightgown. 

I didn’t have to tell Xaden that. He just noticed, and proceeded to start handing me his clothes to sleep in at night since the last attack. I slip the large tunic over my shoulders and stand up to stretch, which I try to remember to do every night before bed unless Xaden distracts me. 

As I reach down to touch my toes, I can feel his eyes on me. See? Distraction. 

“How was your day, honey?” I ask to distract myself from pouncing on him. 

“Busy,” Xaden grunts, eyes never leaving me as I lean back and pull up one of my legs to carefully stretch the muscles. “Things will be easier once flying is suspended for the cold.” 

I grimace at the reminder. It started snowing, and I’ve already started to feel the stiffness in my body that I’ve come to associate with the winter.  

“What’s wrong, little spy?” Xaden asks, seeing the look on my face. 

I just shake my head and move on to the next leg. “Nothing is wrong. I just… I don’t like the reminders that come with the winter.” 

“What does that mean?” 

I sit on his rug so I can push my knees out and stretch the muscles around my hips. “My body is not suited for most things, but the cold is certainly high on the list. My muscles and joints get tense and cause me more pain than normal. I’m also more prone to injury, and flare-ups.” 

His brows are furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

I smile at him and extend one leg to stretch towards it. “I’ll be okay.” 

“What do your flare-ups look like?” Xaden asks. 

I shrug lightly. “Sometimes my body is so fatigued or the pain is so severe that I can’t get out of bed. Stomach issues, dizziness, numbness in my limbs. There are things I can do to help, but there’s nothing I can do to change how I was made.” 

I thought I’d be more uncomfortable, laying out my weakness at the feet of someone who I have never seen as anything less than the epitome of strength, but the understanding look on his face never fades to pity. Xaden never looks at me like I’m less than him. 

“Will you tell me if you start to feel like that?” His voice is careful, like he’s worried about upsetting me. 

I just smile at him and stretch out my other leg and reach for my toes. “I will. But don’t worry about me, honey, I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” he tells me with clear relief. “What helps you?” 

I think about it for a moment. “Warm baths and hot water bottles. Staying hydrated and away from foods that aggravate my stomach. Gentle exercise and stretching. I’m usually back on my feet in a day or two.” 

My words are optimistic, but the truth is that I’ve had bad stretches that last for weeks. But I don’t have the freedom to go catatonic for that length of time. Challenges are starting up again in a few weeks. 

Xaden nods seriously as if I’m telling him the secrets of the world. “That’s good to know.” 

Rising to join him in bed, I cuddle up to his naked torso happily. Xaden wraps his arms around me immediately and pulls the covers over us. I haven’t slept in my own room in weeks, and I haven’t had any nightmares since the day I told Xaden about them either. It’s absolutely wonderful, but it has the added consequence of making me dread the end of the year, and Xaden’s graduation, even more.

I’m more confident now that Xaden sees a future with the two of us together, but now that means I’ll have to cope with being separated from him. Unfortunately, I realized recently how terribly in love with Xaden Riorson I am, and the idea of being apart from him is vile. 

—

“Can I ask you something?” Liam opens suddenly. I don’t look up from the work table where I am carefully bottling one of my latest creations. It was an interesting one. Quite acidic, and required a special vial for storage which I had to special order in town. I was optimistic about recording results given the next opportunity. 

“Have I ever said no?” I tease, carefully portioning out the rest of the liquid into the last of the vials in a row and bottling each of them. Liam waits until I finish and remove my gloves. 

I pick up a quill—continuous ink fucking finally—and I add my observations to my notebook. I’ll need to label them, but that can wait until I sate Liam’s curiosity. 

Once I put down my quill and look at him, I notice the blonde shifting in obvious discomfort. “What’s wrong?” I ask in surprise. 

“I have a theory,” Liam says, and I bite back a ridiculous laugh. Oh, Liam. I am bowled over by affection for him. Liam has to be the best thing that Xaden has ever given me, daggers included. 

I school my features into something serious. I love a good theory. 

“Tell me.” 

“Well, I want to. But it’s about you, and I don’t want to overstep.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, consider my interest piqued. What is your theory about me?” 

Liam’s face flushes and I find myself more and more intrigued. What on earth could it be? Right before he opens his mouth, I am struck by a terrible feeling that I know exactly what his theory is. He’s the only person in a position where he’d be able to connect some very particular and very embarrassing dots. 

“Okay,” he starts after taking a deep breath. “You know how everybody is talking about some freak weather events recently. I realized two things.” He looks at my face, and continues at my horrified silence. “It’s never happened when we’re together. And it started the day of the formation where I learned Tairn started channeling to you. My memory of the attack is admittedly blurry but it was definitely raining and I think I remember hearing thunder after you screamed for me.” 

I look at him with wide eyes “Liam,” I start hesitantly. “You’re asking me something that I don’t have an answer to yet.” 

“Yet. That’s the important word there.” Liam is quick on his feet, and quick in wit. “You see, I thought I was wrong after what happened, but you assured me that wasn’t your signet and I believe you. Maybe I believed you easily because I already had this thought bouncing around up there.” 

I can see that being true. “It’s… complicated.” 

“Try me.” 

“You’ve regretted those words before!” I call out, face fully red. “Believe me when I say you do not want to know. I know what you’re insinuating, and I’m not going to tell you there is any error in your logic because that would be a lie. But I can’t manifest anything in a traditional sense… not alone…” 

Well, not that I’ve tested that. Why would I, when I have a wingleader so willing to do it for me? 

Liam’s eyes widen in understanding, and I want to die. I’d drink the poison in front of me if I didn’t know it was such a nasty way to go. “Oh.” 

I stop just short of praying for Dunne to strike me down here and now. 

“Yes, oh,” I mumble. “And when that particular… activation method… is not the only sign, I will come clean. Until then, I am begging you to never bring this up again.” 

Liam nods quickly, face going red. “So every single time that lightning has struck…” 

“Liam, I am going to poison you,” I threaten plainly. “It will not be fatal but it will not be pretty either.” 

He lifts up both hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m done!” 

I wait for a beat. “It was an impressive deduction,” I allow regretfully. 

Liam smiles widely. “Thanks, Vi. I learned from the best. Will you also tell me what you figured out regarding balance? Eventually?” 

I nod. “I will. Now my extreme embarrassment has left me tired. Let’s call it a night.” 

I simply cannot stand to be perceived by Liam for another moment longer. It’s time to stage a strategic retreat. He walks me to the third-year floor in silence as my thoughts run wild, with lingering embarrassment and thoughts of balance. 

“Night, Liam,” I call out quietly as I approach Xaden’s door. 

“Goodnight, boss.” 

I open the door and smile immediately at the sight. Xaden is sitting in his armchair, in a simple pair of sleep pants only, reading a book. He’s reading my book. He had asked if I’d bring The Fable of the Barrens over, but I hadn’t seen him reading it yet. He is cradling it carefully, and he looks up surprised at my entrance. 

“Hey, little spy. You’re earlier than you usually are.” 

I smile and start taking off my boots and weapons. “Liam embarrassed me so I called it a night before I was tempted to fire him. From life, with something sharp.” 

Xaden lifts an eyebrow in question and I giggle. “It’s not serious. He just had a theory about the, uh, unforeseen weather events that have been occurring only when he’s off duty.” 

His onyx eyes widen in understanding. “He connected the dots?” 

I groan and Xaden stands to free me of my corset. I had already pulled off my thick long-sleeved tunic. “Oh, he connected them, alright. I wanted to die. If the rest of my squad makes the same connections, I think I’m going to have to flee the continent. Fleeing the kingdom wouldn’t be far enough. Not when all my friends ride dragons bar one.” 

Xaden laughs lightly and turns me around, leaning down to press a peck to my nose and my pouting lips. “Don’t be dramatic. We can definitely play it off as happening in your sleep.” 

“We’ve fucked in the mornings and the afternoon before, Xaden!” I call out accusingly. It’s not often, but we’ve taken advantage of a quick hour or two of free time here and there. There is a consequence to having a boyfriend that looks like Xaden. The realization that I’m allowed to touch him makes it near impossible not to at every opportunity.

“Oh, that’s right,” he observes with a smug look on his face that I want to wipe on the mat. “Well. That’s unfortunate. Not for me, obviously, it’s great for me. But unfortunate for your alibi.” 

I groan and thump my head against his chest as my corset falls free and hits the ground. I didn’t realize he was still unlacing it. 

“This is all your fault,” I tell him half-heartedly. I have very much been a willing participant. 

“You keep telling yourself that, Violence.”

“I keep thinking that it’s something I can control, but it never works,” I complain. “Maybe I’m just not as good at shielding as I think I am.” 

Xaden smiles and shakes his head. “In case you don’t remember, I have a problem keeping my shadows under control when it comes to you and I have great shields. Maybe it’s just a consequence of the frighteningly perfect.” 

I smirk. “We are pretty good at that.” 

Xaden laughs out loud, in that unreserved way he saves for our moments alone at the end of the day. “I can’t believe that is what you’re smug about.” 

With a cheeky smile, I shrug and lean farther into his body. “What? I can’t be smug about my admittedly fantastic sex life? It’s going to be the death of me if my squad ever connects those dots though.”

“You’ll survive some teasing,” he tells me with a sweet smile. “And for the record, you have great shields. You’re great at keeping them up too.”

I blink in surprise. “How do you know that?” 

Xaden looks at me for a long moment. “We have a connection, because of the dragons.”

“What does that mean?” I ask curiously. “I’ve sensed other sources of power in my mind, but it sounds like you can see more.” 

Xaden hesitates for a moment. “I just have more practice. Here, close your eyes.” I follow his instructions. “You said you’ve recognized those other sources of power. Take down your shields and try to feel for them. One of them is Sgaeyl, and the other is me.” 

I ground in my mental labyrinth and focus on the paths in front of me, including the two unknown streams of energy. If I look closely enough, I can recognize that one is a dark blue and the other is a wispy black, and I can tell that the path resembling shadows has to be Xaden. 

Instead of keeping my feet planted, I force myself forward. I follow the path that I know leads towards him. As I get closer, I feel him. I gasp in surprise. 

‘Can you sense that?’ Xaden asks. 

“I sense it. I sense you. That’s how you can tell when I’m shielding,” I murmur in surprise. I can feel the way that Xaden has opened a path for me to feel his presence in my mind, but he could just as easily close it. I could probably close my mind to him too. That’s what I’ve been doing already. 

‘That’s not all,’ Xaden says. ‘Open your eyes.’

I blink my eyes open and focus on Xaden. 

‘We’ll be connected for the rest of our lives. We can communicate, and with enough practice, we’ll always be able to find each other,’ Xaden says, except his lips do not move. My eyes widen and I stifle a gasp. 

“Did you just—” 

“I didn’t know if that would work, but I hoped,” Xaden says out loud. My mouth is still gaping. 

“How did you do that? Can I do that?” I ask immediately. “I want to do that.” 

Xaden laughs at my enthusiasm. “You’re a quick study. Just try it.” 

I close my eyes again, tearing down my shields impatiently and stalking towards my connection to Xaden with purpose. I reach forward and feel the caress of his shadowy presence curiously. The same way that I send individual messages to Tairn or Andarna, I try to do the same to Xaden. 

Hello? 

I have a sinking feeling that it didn't work. Huffing in frustration, I focus harder and walk farther down the path. It may not be a direction I’ve explored, but I know it as well as I know my own mind. With another brush against the shadowy energy closer to the source, I focus on following it to Xaden’s familiar presence and I try again. 

‘If you’re hearing this, I owe you one kiss.’  

‘Only one?’ Xaden asks. ‘Can I renegotiate?’ 

I open my eyes to smile brightly at him. “I did it!” I cheer. Xaden smiles and reaches forward to start unraveling my braid while I celebrate. “That is so convenient! We’ll have to test the range. This might save us quite a bit of dragon back and forth. Very useful when we have to keep quiet too.” 

Xaden laughs and leans forward to nuzzle against me as my hair finally falls free. “Anything you want, Violence.” 

“Anything?” I ask with a feline smirk. Xaden’s eyes darken. 

“Anything.” 

This is fine. I just won’t look Liam in the eye for the next week. 

I allow Xaden to back me up the few steps towards the bed. 

—

“Has Xaden spoken to Imogen yet?” Liam asks. “About your plan.” 

I look up briefly from where I am fiddling with a strip of leather. I have been working on Liam’s poisoned dagger for a few days now. It took time to find adaptable sheaths I’d like to modify, and collect all the materials, but now it’s one of my priorities. I decided to work on some extras while I’m at it. I can work in a sort of assembly line, and if my plan ends up happening, I’ll have the chance to steal more of the other things I’ll need. Stone, meet two birds. Maybe even more if I have my way. 

And Xaden has shown a history of letting me have my way. Gods, I am so in love with him. I should probably tell him soon. But every time I think about it, the words get caught in my throat. 

“I’m not sure,” I tell Liam honestly. Since I’ve been staying away from the gym on account of my bruised spine and recovering shoulder, I haven’t seen much of Imogen outside of squad activities. “If he has, neither of them have told me anything about it.” 

Liam eyebrows furrow. “I think we should do it.” 

“Have you said that to Xaden?” 

“I think you are under the impression that he is an easy guy to disagree with, but that is not the case for those not named Violet Sorrengail.” 

I smirk at his words. “Really? I find him mighty agreeable.” 

Liam snorts and hands me the pieces of leather he’s helping stitch. “The point is that the plan will only happen if Xaden agrees. Imogen would do it if he asked.” 

I frown at that. “I don’t want her just to do it because he pulls the scary shadow wielder routine. Not something like this.” 

“No, I mean that she'll do it if Xaden thinks it’s a good idea. All of us trust him more than anything. She’s being difficult, but if he trusts the plan, she will too.”

After a moment, I nod. “That makes sense. I did get the impression that you all have extreme loyalty towards him. I’m glad he has you all.” 

Liam smiles. “I’m glad he has you too.” 

“Even with my crazy schemes?” I ask with a cheeky smile. 

Liam leans his shoulder towards me, adjusting his grip on the leather and the tool in his hand. He lowers his voice like he’s letting me in on a secret. “Especially with your crazy schemes. Personally, I think Xaden finds them endearing.” 

I bark out a laugh. “Well, I certainly hope so. I drag you both into enough of them.” 

“Eh, what else would I be doing right now if not preparing an arsenal of poisoned weaponry?” 

“Sleeping?” I offer sarcastically. 

“Sleep is for the weak,” he tells me with a grin. “What lesson was that? Ten? No, it came up much earlier. Five?” 

“You think you’re funny,” I start accusingly. “But you are correct about one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I also think we should do it,” I tell him with a cheeky smile. “Otherwise, we are preparing an ambitious amount of poisoned daggers.” 

Liam shrugs. “You’re the ambitious sort. Xaden will get in line. I’ll never bet against you convincing him of something again.” 

“I hope so. I told myself that I’m okay with it if he says no, but I’m a dirty little liar,” I admit. “I’ll definitely be sad if I don’t take a chance at seeing what’s behind that door. I have a feeling it’s something big.” 

“I trust your gut, boss,” Liam tells me seriously. “All we have to do is wait on Xaden and Imogen."

“Oh, good thing we’re not waiting on two stubborn people,” I comment dryly. “This will be a breeze.” 

Liam laughs and sets down the final strap along with the others. I pick up one of the buckles to fiddle with thoughtfully. “I bet you that if he talks to her, Imogen will make a point to send me a wicked glare. Just to make a point.” 

“You’re on. I bet she ignores you like a plague until the day of the heist, and then probably for the rest of the night too.” 

I giggle at his confidence that we’re going to get our way. We sure are bossy for first-years. I show up, rope Liam into my nonsense, and suddenly kidnapping and infiltration are on the agenda. Hopefully. 

—

We’re both wrong, which is fair. Imogen catches my eye pointedly on my way out of the commons two days later. I blink in surprise and follow her wordless command. Liam hangs back while I walk beside her towards one of the empty corridors. It’s a dead end, so Liam waits around the corner. 

I appreciate the gesture, even if he’s probably at the ready to break up a cat fight if needed. 

Imogen turns to look at me. “I said yes, in case you were wondering.” 

I nod. “I figured you would.” 

“What makes you so sure? I almost didn’t. Xaden made it clear you wouldn’t be trying without me.” 

“Two answers to that one. One, you trust Xaden, and he wouldn’t have told you if he didn’t think it had merit. Two, I think he must have told you enough to make you at least a little bit curious.”

She stares at me for a long moment. “You’re forgetting about being able to kidnap a first-year.” 

I smirk. “That one was a touch obvious.” 

Imogen huffs out something close to laughter. “Fine, Sorrengail. I’ll bite. But if you get us caught, I’m definitely killing you before they get the chance.” 

“Fair,” I allow. “Don’t rush though. At least give me the chance to get us out of it first.” 

‘Don’t agree with her. Why do you continue to do this, Silver One?’ Tairn complains in exasperation. 

‘It keeps life interesting,’ I offer and receive the dragon equivalent of an eye roll. 

‘I could do with a bit of the mundane. A fortnight without someone trying to kill you or some incredible risk could be a nice change of pace,’ Tairn tells me, which is a big fat lie. 

‘You find my schemes endearing too,’ I accuse. 'And you'd be bored to tears with another rider.'

He only grumbles in response. But I know the truth. My schemes are a part of the reason I was chosen. 

Imogen nods reluctantly. “That’s it then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

“Tomorrow night?” I answer with a mild amount of surprise. 

“Tomorrow night.”

“Well, shit.” I exhale with a laugh. “That’s actually kind of perfect. See you then, Cardulo.” 

She walks away without another word and I wait for Liam to join me. 

We stare in the direction she walks away. “I guess we get our way,” I say quietly. “I’ll do my best not to get us killed. Last chance to run away from my general taste for chaos.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, boss. I grow on you, like a fungus.” 

I laugh at his words, a clear reference to the books I've gifted him. “Suit yourself. That means we have work to do tonight.” 

—

Xaden is still awake when I creep into his room past two in the morning. He always leaves on a small mage light for me anyways, but I can tell by the fact that he stirs and turns his body towards the door when I close it behind me. I smile and quickly remove my clothes and weapons while he stares at me in silence. When I’m finally clad in one of my nightgowns, I crawl under the covers that he opens up eagerly. 

I curl up on his side. “You talked to Imogen,” I whisper quietly. 

“I did,” he whispers back. “I told you that I have faith in you.” 

I can feel something like a flower bloom in my chest. 

It’s on the tip of my tongue. I think about saying it. I really do. I don’t know why I haven’t yet.  

Xaden has been fantastic. It’s me. I’m the problem. I haven’t told anyone I love them since my father died, and then I lost him. 

I thought about saying it to Halden for a brief flash of time. That blew up before I could. Halden was witty and charming and he pursued me with a fervor that appealed to a younger, more naive version of me. One that received some girlish excitement out of sneaking around with the crown prince. 

Even discounting him cheating on me, I heard enough from his advisors to regret going there with Halden before I ever knew the truth. Now, after everything? That girl seems like a stranger to me. 

Truthfully, I am happy to be done with her. 

An overwhelming truth is so much better than a pretty fiction. If Halden was the pretty fiction, Xaden would be my overwhelming truth. 

I didn’t expect to meet the love of my life on the parapet moments before taking my first real step into the quadrant. Over and over again, I was drawn to him like gravity draws us all towards the earth. I look at Xaden and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I fruitlessly remind myself that we’ve only been together a little over three months. 

It’s on the tip of my tongue. Why can’t I say it? Why does some small, nagging part of me hold on to the idea that saying it out loud is dooming us? I can’t imagine being alone in my feelings, and yet.

What if I jinx it? 

“Thank you,” I tell him instead. “For what it’s worth, I’m excited to scheme with you. I’ve never really had back-up before you and Liam. It means a lot to me not to be alone.” 

His eyes are so soft in the dim lighting. “Violet, you’re never going to be alone again. Not only are our lives tied together, but I want to be right beside you.” He hesitates for a moment. “After graduation, we’ll get leave because of the dragons to visit each other and we can write letters if you want. I’m still going to be here for you, no matter what.” 

My breath catches. “You’d write me letters?”

Say it. It’s the truth and he makes me feel like I can do anything. Like the distance between us after graduation will really be manageable. 

Xaden nods. “I’d do anything for you. But you’ll have to forgive me if mine are not as good as yours at first. I've never written letters before, only reports. We can’t communicate anything sensitive, of course, but we can send sweet nothings to each other as much as we want as long as we’re okay with command reading it. Prepare for a lot of stories about my friends being idiots.” 

Say it. He understands me better than I understand myself sometimes. He gives me what I need before I can even articulate it. 

I smile at him brightly. “I’d say I can’t wait but that would be a lie. I cherish every moment I get to have with you here, in this room. Or even seeing you around the quadrant. But it makes me happy that you’re willing to make it work. I would love to exchange letters with you.” 

With a satisfied sigh that I can feel in my spine, Xaden tightens his arms around my shoulders. “You act like it’s an imposition. I’d write you hundreds of letters if it meant I’d have you waiting for me when I get back. I’d fly a ridiculous number of hours back and forth from some distant outpost just to sleep next to you for a single night.” 

Say it. Because… Xaden deserves to know. He deserves to know that he’s loved fully and completely. The same way that he’s made me feel without ever saying the words. Even if he doesn’t say it back, that doesn’t make my feelings towards him any less true. I’m stubborn and much like my loyalties, my love is not fickle. 

I lean up to look at him in the dim lighting and I smile at the soft look on his face. He’s so unbelievably handsome. Not just his perfect face, but who he is. I sense that there is more that I don’t know about Xaden, but I decide that I know enough to make an informed decision. Who cares if we haven't been together long? I feel more for him than I've ever felt for anyone. 

It is an overwhelming truth that I’m in love with Xaden Riorson and I’m probably going to be until the day that I die. An utter inconvenience if you ask me, but I can’t claim to be upset about it. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks me, just like he did a couple weeks ago when I first put a name to my feelings. If I jinx it, so be it. He deserves to know. 

“Because this is the way I look at the man I’m in love with,” I tell him quietly, but with confidence. His onyx eyes widen and he is suddenly very awake. I almost feel bad for interrupting his sleep. Almost. “I am so incredibly in love with you, Xaden Riorson. Everything you’ve done in the past to protect the people you care about, everything that makes you who you are today, everything you will be in the future. I love it all.” 

“Violet,” Xaden whispers gruffly. To my surprise, I can see his eyes water and he tightens his grip around me. His mouth opens soundlessly and he shuts it again. 

I reach out and cup his cheeks lightly. “You don’t have to say it back,” I tell him truthfully. “But it’s my heart and I want you to know that it’s yours. Even if you don’t say the words, you deserve to know that I love you.” 

Xaden pulls me into a deep kiss and I hum happily against his lips. He pulls back and grips at my shoulders roughly to look me in the eyes. “You are my heart, Violet. I love you so much.” My breath catches at hearing the words from his lips. I had thought maybe... but I couldn't be sure. “I’ve never told someone that I love them and it’s terrifying. But you inspire me, and you have from the first day. You’re the bravest person I know.” 

I laugh wetly and realize that we’re both tearing up. “It is a bit scary, isn’t it? I’ve known for a while. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

Xaden shakes his head, and the lights catch the flecks of gold in his eyes like stars in the sky. “You don’t need to apologize, Violence. You are giving me more than I ever imagined I could have. More than I deserve.” 

I capture his lips in another heated kiss with passion dripping from my tongue. “I love you,” I tell him again breathlessly when we’re finally able to tear our lips apart. “You are worth everything. You deserve to have everything you want.” 

“What if all I want is you?” Xaden asks softly. “What if nothing else matters but you? What if I’d watch it all burn for you?” 

“I see you, Xaden,” I tell him with another swift but intense kiss. “You still think I’m capable of turning away from you at the depths of what you’ll do for me.” I brush my fingertips across the scar bisecting his brow. “As much as you like to pretend you’re alone in your devotion, I would move mountains for you. I love you to the point of devastation and cruelty just the same. I will love you when the true enemy is knocking on our doors and I will love you when we’re finally able to sleep at night in peace. I’m not going anywhere unless you can follow and I demand the same. I’m stubborn like that.” 

“Shit,” Xaden whispers. “Your letters are absolutely going to put mine to shame.” 

With laughter bubbling in my chest, I reach forward to wipe away the tears that had leaked and he does the same for me. I smile at how right it feels to hold him in the dark. I love him. How great is that? 

“You’ll learn. You’re quite good at that,” I tell him teasingly. “The only shame will be not being able to fall asleep next to you every single night.” 

“That is the true shame,” Xaden agrees. “We should take advantage of every moment until graduation. Let’s start now.” 

I smile wickedly because a person doesn’t have to be inntinnsic to know where Xaden’s mind is heading. I don’t know if he uses his shadows or his hands but suddenly my underwear are gone and Xaden has rolled over to be on top of me. I’m too busy trying to breathe in between being devoured.

Without coming up for air, Xaden uses our bond to push his thoughts towards me. The overwhelming physical feedback of being in each other’s minds as we come together is enough to make me grip at his shoulders in desperation. 

‘You are so perfect,’ Xaden whispers as his lips nip at the soft skin of my neck and down my chest, pulling down the neck of my nightgown obscenely. ‘It’s like Amari crafted you just for me. I love every single inch of you. Fuck, I could look at you forever.’

He prepares me with his mouth. ‘You always taste so fucking good. If I could fucking sustain myself like this, I would. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.’ 

‘You are so dirty,’ I whisper deliriously, the words sounding breathless even in our minds.  Xaden ramps up his speed as I start to lose myself in the feeling of his mouth. 

‘Don’t act like I don’t feel you clench around my tongue when I talk about how desperate I am for just a drop of your sweetness. You can't hide from me.’ 

“Fuck,” I choke out, hips bucking forward. “I’m, I’m—”

‘Come for me, my love,’ Xaden whispers in the farthest reaches of my mind as his lips wrap around my clit and sucks. ‘Let me taste you fall apart on my tongue and then I’ll satisfy you with my cock.’ 

I scream as my pleasure peaks and I clutch at the sheets desperately. I see the flash of lightning in the window as the sound strikes out around the quadrant with a loud crash that sounds too close for comfort. From the sound it made, the lightning hit something structural. Hopefully not something flammable. 

Xaden crawls up my body, wiping his lips carelessly before he captures my mouth in another deep kiss that makes me groan. My body continues to shudder as he lines himself up and sinks into me. 

Our lovemaking is different in the wake of our confessions. He keeps his strokes deep and slow that I can feel everywhere. Instead of talking out loud, he continues to whisper sweet nothings and dirty words in my mind in a swift rotation that makes my head spin as his mouth keeps occupied with my own. When I need a breath, he drops to my neck and breasts happily. I'll probably have marks to show for it, something Xaden is usually careful to avoid. 

I surrender myself to his onslaught. 

‘I love you,’ I tell him while I still have the mental strength to send something along the bond. I feel my grip on sanity loosening as my pleasure peaks. 

‘I love you,’ Xaden tells me, hips speeding up and stuttering. He reaches down to play with my clit and I can’t hold back my moan, back arching off the bed. He continues thrusting once, twice, three times. 

I hear the sound of lightning striking, but I don’t see the flash as the room is enveloped in a thick haze of darkness. Xaden’s shadows explode from him in an impressive display that shoots out across the room and knocks over his entire weapon display. There is a loud sound of wood and steel crashing as everything falls to the ground in one heap. 

We look at the mess and then each other, laughing breathlessly at our joint lapse in control. I’m beginning to realize that we are a bit of a hazard. We rein in our laughter and wordlessly decide it’s a problem for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” I ask the group gathered in Xaden’s room. We invited Imogen, Liam, Garrick, and Bodhi. “Does everyone know their roles?”

“You asked me for help, Sorrengail,” Imogen growls. “That doesn’t mean I answer to you.” 

Xaden glares at her but I just sigh. “As the only person here who has broken into the Healer’s Quadrant after hours before, I think I can speak with some authority on the matter.” 

“Imogen,” Xaden warns, and I wave him off. 

“Fine. No review necessary,” I interject before we can get off task. I had planned the timeline of tonight carefully. “Let's move on to the light kidnapping portion of the evening.” 

Her eyes sparkle with a bit of amusement, drowning out the annoyance for a moment. There is at least one thing we can agree on. 

See, Imogen, I want to tell her. Common ground. 

With an eye roll, I walk over to Xaden’s side table and I grab my hair pins so I can wrap my braid around the crown of my head quickly. I grab the line of vials that I had prepared and I organize them in my side pocket systematically. 

As I quickly go through my mental checklist, I turn to Xaden. “Xaden, do you know wh—”

“Your lockpick kit is in the drawer. You left it in my jacket yesterday.” I’ve been stealing his jacket while I sneak around on occasion because it always makes Xaden lose his mind when I return. 

I smile and grab it quickly to stow away in my bag, ignoring the looks everyone is shooting between the two of us. “Thank you.” 

Xaden walks up to me to speak quietly while he grabs my hands and draws me closer to his chest so I have to tilt my head back. “Do you have everything you need, little spy?” 

I’m sure some of them catch his words. Liam certainly does. 

“Yes,” I tell him in a low voice. “Imogen, Liam, and I will meet you where I showed you earlier. Make sure you clock the time that the healer leaves.” 

“I will,” he agrees with a heavy sigh. “Stay safe, Violence. Don’t let your guard down. You know how to reach me if you need me.”

“Always.” I smile sweetly at him, and avoid giving him a kiss if only due to our audience. 

‘I love you,’ I tell him through our mental connection. I’m still getting used to using it to communicate, but I’ve been practicing. I’ve also been practicing telling him I love him. I think I’m getting pretty good at it.

‘I love you too.’ We stare at each other for a moment longer until someone clears their throat. 

I walk towards where Imogen and Liam are waiting for me. “Shall we?” 

Liam nods and Imogen rolls her eyes. I’ll take that as a yes. 

—

Finding Nadine’s room is laughably easy. Liam and I followed her after dinner yesterday. 

Breaking into her room is also laughably easy. Like the rest of the first-years who aren’t dating their wingleaders, her room is unwarded. I drop to a knee carefully and I have the door unlocked in under a minute. 

“So fast,” Liam whispers softly and I smirk. Liam is getting good, but he hasn’t had the kind of practice that I have. I must have taken a crack at every kind of locked door in Basgiath multiple times over the last two years. And I regularly time myself. It’s a good idea to always know your own abilities.  

I gesture for both of them to step back and I open the door quietly. The three of us enter the silent room and Nadine is asleep in her bed, unaware that she’s about to have a rough night. I distantly recognize Imogen throwing up a sound shield as the door shuts behind us, enveloping us in an interesting blue light. I’ll probably have some questions about that later. 

If noise isn’t an issue, I decide not to knock her out. Things will go faster if Nadine can walk. Liam’s arm may be healed, but there is no need to make his night rough. 

With a shrug, I gesture for Liam to stand near the top of the bed in case she tries to move. I use my foot to roughly shove at her legs, and she wakes up with a start. 

“W-what—” She starts, eyes going wide at me standing in front of her. Imogen’s hair is shining by the door like a pink beacon and her eyes bounce between us rapidly. “What’s happening?” 

I don’t even attempt to bite back my smile. “Well, you were so defensive when people were being punished for breaking into my room. I figured that meant you wouldn’t mind if we invited ourselves in.” 

Nadine sputters and she sits up, finally noticing Liam next to her when he snorts at my words. Her eyes widen even further. “What the fuck, Sorrengail?” she spits out. “You told me to leave them alone, and I have. Luperco too. No need for whatever fucked up revenge you have planned. I know what people say about you.”  

I can’t help my exasperated laugh. “Oh, Nadine. People don’t know the half of it. And unfortunately, I’m not here for revenge. You’re going to come with us. If you follow directions, you will go back to sleep in your bed tonight without a scratch.” 

Nadine looks between me and the door, and Imogen sends her an evil smile that would make my skin crawl if it was directed my way. Frankly, it’s a nice change in pace to not be the subject of her rage. 

“What happens if I don’t follow directions?” Nadine risks asking. Her voice is shaking, and for a moment, I feel strangely powerful. I haven’t been seen as intimidating many times in my life, not without Tairn at my back, and it’s almost intoxicating. Unfortunately, I have no plans to end Nadine’s life today, no matter how I’m willing to posture to gain compliance. 

I could tell that she feared me that day at formation, and I have no problem playing into that.  

“Well, then where you end up tonight will be a matter of my own personal convenience, but I would really rather prefer for that not to happen. It could get a bit messy, as you can imagine.” 

Nadine clutches at her blankets. “You don’t have to do this.” 

I smile. “Oh, but I really, really do. Now, come on. We’re walking out of the door within the next minute and a half no matter what you do. If you’d like to be wearing shoes or more clothes, I suggest you get a move on.” I meaningfully lean to rest my hip on her desk where her weapons are resting, a clear message that she wasn’t getting out of this another way. “I may be rational on a good day, but Cadet Cardulo here isn’t quite as patient as I am. You haven’t been the nicest to some members of our squad to say the least.” 

She huffs and stands, doing as I ask with a fierce glare. My smile doesn’t falter. 

After she puts on her shoes and a tunic over her sleep clothes, I pass Liam the rope I had measured earlier and a thick strip of fabric. “Bind her hands and gag her.”

She gasps in outrage. “I’m not going to yell!” 

I shrug. “Yes, but you might talk, and I don’t feel like dealing with it. If you don’t cause trouble, we’ll remove it when we get to our destination. Let’s make smart choices tonight, Nadine. I know you can do it. I have faith in you.” My voice is purposefully dripping in sarcasm.  

Imogen snorts at my patronizing tone and I consider it a win. Liam follows directions and we are on our way to meet with the other three participants of this little mission. Garrick and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows at the gagged and restrained first-year stomping next to us with an attitude. She tenses at the three other marked ones in front of her. 

“Hi, boys,” I call out teasingly. “Ready to wreak some havoc?” 

They laugh in surprise and Xaden looks at me with those eyes that I love so much. I wink at him subtly. 

Xaden looks around at all of his inner circle, this group of people he cares about that he’s willingly pulled into one of my schemes. I can’t believe his faith in me. They turn to him, ready at his command. “Let’s move out.” 

Wordlessly, Liam moves to a position where he can keep an eye out on the staffed areas of the Healer’s Quadrant. Bodhi and Garrick move in opposite directions to keep watch, and Xaden joins Imogen and I in pushing Nadine towards the door to the general examination room. “They left less than ten minutes ago,” Xaden updates me quietly. 

Good. We have time. 

Nadine is looking around with pure, unadulterated panic in her eyes. I suppose a group of five marked ones abducting her must be what a prejudiced bitch like her fears the most. 

“Remember, Nadine,” I whisper to her before we turn the corner. “Best behavior.” 

We stand in front of the door and Imogen shoves her forward. “Get to it, first-year.” 

Nadine looks with wide eyes and tries to speak over her gag. 

“There is that talking I didn’t want to deal with. Not here where we are exposed. Let’s skip the part where you pretend to resist or pretend like you can’t. I know what you can, so do it.” 

She looks between the three of us, and Xaden clears his throat. “I think we both know that you’re not getting out of this, cadet.” 

“Fucking go, first-year,” Imogen growls. “Or I’ll make you, and I’ll make it hurt.” 

Simple yet effective. 

Nadine slumps in defeat and turns to work on unweaving the ward. I had Liam tie her hands in front of her with several inches of slack between them so she has enough mobility to use her signet but not enough to fight back effectively if she tried anything. 

To her credit, she unweaves the magical protection on the first door within three minutes. I find myself impressed by her mastery of her signet in such a short time. She definitely needs to live and not remember any of this, because I could find use for Nadine again in the future. However, I know it is Imogen that makes this plan possible. 

We enter the empty room and I gesture for them to pause. I duck my head into all the examination and treatment rooms to make sure there are no surprises. If there are, I have a plan for that, but it’s a thankfully quiet night. I assume that’s because challenges haven’t resumed yet. 

I turn and direct us to the surgical suite. Xaden sucks in a breath when the door finally comes into view, spreading his hands to light a small magelight. 

“You weren’t kidding,” he admits. “That kind of magic is beyond me.” 

I nod, eyes locked on the door that has been haunting the back of my mind for months. “Hopefully it’s not beyond her.” 

I turn back to Nadine and she’s looking at the complex ward in surprise. She mumbles again and this time I walk forward and I pull the fabric from her mouth. “Time for your next job, and then we can all get some sleep tonight. I want in this door.” 

She takes a few steps towards it. “I don’t think I can do this, Sorrengail. This isn’t anything like I’ve ever seen before.” 

“Now, now, don’t be so self-defeating. I think you can do it,” I tell her seriously. “More importantly, you don’t have a choice. Now go.” 

Nadine looks at me in anger. “I don’t know what shit you are all up to but you are definitely violating the Codex. Why should I get myself killed with all of you? You can’t force me to use my signet.” 

Xaden steps forward but I shake my head and take out a vial from my pocket to show Nadine. “Because if you don’t comply, I’m going to keep this all for myself.” 

Nadine blinks in surprise. “What’s that?”

“I have a bit of a talent for poisons, you see,” I explain. “It helps me even the odds for challenges and it’s saved my life a few times. Remember when Tynan was sick for a week? He made the mistake of insulting my dragon. That one was just for fun.” 

Her eyes flash and I know she’s remembering what happened to Tynan. 

“W-why are you telling me this? You’re going to poison me if I don’t unweave this ward?” 

“No, of course not,” I tell her easily, waiting for the moment her shoulders relax. “I already have.” 

She gasps in surprise and I shrug. “The poison was in your waterskin today. This is the antidote. It’s a bit of an interesting one, attacks your nervous system and causes a wide range of neurological side effects. Hallucinations, tremors, even death. Very delayed activation time, but you should start to feel the symptoms within the next four hours.”

‘Vicious,’ Xaden comments in my mind like a caress. Nadine stutters out complaints but I don’t flinch.  

“Unless you were really thirsty earlier, in which case you could start feeling it even sooner.” I add. “Either way, I’d recommend you hurry up. It’s quite hard to recover from if you wait too long to administer treatment.”  

“You are a crazy bitch, do you know that?” Nadine cries out. 

I shrug again. “I’ve been called worse.” 

She turns to Xaden. “You’re the fucking Wingleader. Are you really going to step back and let her poison one of her squad members? Again?”

Xaden smirks and offers a cruel twist to his brow. “I don’t let Violence do anything. Now get to work or you won’t have to worry about the poison at all.” 

The threat is clear. 

Nadine finally turns back to the door to start using her signet, and I nod to Imogen, who stays attached to her side while Xaden follows me to the shelves lining the back wall of the room. I find the bottles of the anesthetic that I need for the rest of my poisoned daggers, and I quickly take four, double the amount as last time, and shove them in my bag, wrapping them carefully in fabric so they won’t break if I have to run.

“Side project?” Xaden asks. 

I nod quickly. “You know me. Do you want to wait in here to keep an eye on Nadine with Imogen, or in the main room with me in case a healer comes in for rounds?” 

“I will wait with you. Imogen can handle her, and I don’t know who is on rounds. It might end up being a rider like Nolon.”  

I shake my head. “He won’t be on duty tonight, so it will definitely just be a healer.” 

“How do you know that?”

“It’s his wedding anniversary. Winnie always forces him to request leave so they can visit the town they met. It’s all quite sentimental. They go every single year, except four years ago when Nolon was stuck mending my dislocated hip.” 

“Old people are kind of cute,” Imogen comments unexpectedly and I snort in amusement. 

“They are,” I agree, before I turn to Imogen. “Call for us if Nadine gets close. A healer should be here for rounds in around forty minutes, but you don’t have to worry about it. That’s my job.” 

Imogen looks up and meets my eyes. “Maybe you’re a bit more than I expected, Sorrengail. Don’t blow it now.” 

I bite back a smile and stare at her unblinkingly. “I won’t if you won’t.” 

I turn and exit back to the main room and Xaden follows. Figuring I have a long time to relax, I set down my bag and pull up a chair. With winter setting in, any time that I can spend off my feet is all the better. I turn to Xaden. 

“So your shadows will tell us if any healers approach, correct?”

Xaden nods, leaning up against the wall closest to me. “We have time.” 

“I want the record to show that I love your shadows,” I tell him with a coy smile. “Good little look-outs.” 

He smirks down at me. “They’re useful.”

Oh, I know that for a fact. But that’s for later. Now is time to focus on the heist. We make light conversation for the next half an hour to kill time. 

“I think you’d love Riorson house,” Xaden tells me with warm eyes. “It might not be the same size as Basgiath but there are one or two secret paths to take advantage of.” 

My eyes light up. “I am beginning to see the appeal of a visit more and more.” 

“We used to use the one that led to the kitchen to cause a good amount of havoc ourselves. Especially when there was chocolate cake to steal.” 

I laugh lightly. “I’m sure. Let me guess. You blamed it all on Garrick.” 

Xaden laughs. “You know me so well, Violence.” 

“I try,” I tell him. “Was Bodhi the peacekeeper between the two of you?” 

He shakes his head. “He’d probably like to think so. He used to follow us around and tell us it was because he didn’t trust us not to get ourselves killed, which is fair in hindsight. Garrick and I would talk non-stop about ignoring my father and joining the Rider’s Quadrant to ride dragons together.”

I smile at the words. Of course Xaden always wanted to be a rider. “I’m not surprised at all. First son of nobility. I’m guessing you were destined for infantry once upon a time.” 

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have done as well there, if we’re being honest. And I can’t imagine life without Sgaeyl.” 

“I understand the feeling. But you do have a sort of frustrating competence about you. You probably would have been ahead in the ranks with minimal effort. It’s funny that you were almost an infantryman and I was almost a scribe, and here we are,” I comment lightly. “I wonder if we would have ran into each other on a night off in Chantara.” 

Xaden smiles at the thought. “I definitely would have flirted with you.” 

I laugh. “You say that now, but I would have just been a quiet little scribe. You might not have noticed me.” 

“No, I would have,” he says with confidence. “I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw you in the turret. If we were on a night out with you all dressed up, I would have probably said something stupid, like I think your hair is pretty. If it was down, I might not have been able to achieve words at all.”

I giggle, imagining the picture he paints. Xaden, probably still in black despite it not being an infantry color. Maybe his hair is cropped shorter for the sake of uniformity, or maybe he would have told them to go fuck themselves and kept it long. No scars or relics, just a tall, handsome man in a bar or walking through the town. Talking to me because he thinks I’m pretty with no daggers or dragons in sight. 

“I might have let you get away with it,” I tell him with a cheeky smile. “One look at you and I probably would have let you get away with a lot.” 

“Will you let me get away with a lot now, Violence?” Xaden questions me with a smirk. 

“Don’t I already?” I ask. “I definitely let you win an argument here and there. It’s more than I give anyone else.” 

“Oh, you let me win?” Xaden asks with a raised eyebrow. 

I nod decisively. “Definitely. Especially when it comes to you wanting to keep me safe. You get so pouty if I don’t let you do the overprotective thing, so I give you a break.” 

His eyes soften, even as I accuse him of pouting. “That is true. You have been surprisingly accommodating lately.” 

I shrug. “We’re currently on a heist because you agreed with one of my plans. I think we’ve both gotten better at bending for one another.” 

Xaden walks forward so he can brush a piece of fallen hair behind my ear, and I smile up at him from my seat with affection dripping from my eyes. “I agree.” 

I smile at him, but my face goes serious when I notice him tense. “Rounds?” I ask. It’s about that time. 

“You’re right. It’s only one healer. You’re up.” 

I stand up and reach into my pouch to grab the powder to knock them out. I pour some into my hand and slink behind the door so they won’t be able to see me when they open it. 

With another wink at Xaden, I watch as he slips into the shadows deeper in the room where he won’t be immediately apparent, especially to someone without the honed perception of a rider. 

As soon as the door opens, the healer walks in and closes the door behind him. I clear my throat and he turns around in shock. He’s treated me before. 

“Violet? We didn’t get any notification you needed help. Are you alright?” 

Well, now that almost makes me feel bad. “I’m great. I want to say I’m sorry about this.” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “About what?” 

I lift up my fist and blow the powder directly in his face. “Catch,” I call out. 

He drops backwards like a stone and Xaden thankfully uses shadows to soften his fall. I smile at him thankfully, dusting the remains of powder off my hands and grabbing another vial from my pouch. 

“This one will give us a few hours,” I tell him quietly while we’re standing by the door. I reach out and carefully pour it down his throat and Xaden manipulates his body towards one of the office chairs. He slumps forward on the desk. “Can you relieve Imogen for a few minutes so she can wipe him?” 

Xaden nods and walks into the surgical suite. After a minute, Imogen walks out and looks at the unconscious healer. “Should we tie him up?” 

I shake my head. “Not necessary. I gave him something that will keep him asleep for the next six hours at least. As long as you wipe the last five minutes, he’ll just assume he fell asleep on rounds. How irresponsible.” 

Imogen snorts and walks forward to press her hand against his temple. I look curiously while she uses her signet. 

After a minute, she pulls back and looks back at my interest with derision. “What?” she spits. 

“I just think you have a very interesting signet,” I tell her seriously. “It says a lot about you that you developed such a key power for covering and keeping everyone safe. Thank you for doing this tonight. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, I want to thank you.” 

To my delight, she looks extremely uncomfortable at my genuine gratitude. She grunts something close to acknowledgement and storms out of the main room without another word. 

I bite back a smile, and I almost manage to get it under control before Xaden walks back in. 

“How’d that go?” Xaden asks. 

“For the plan? Everything is going as expected.” 

“How about in general?” 

He’s clearly angling for how things went after a moment of privacy with Imogen. 

I smile up at him. “We’re all good. Don’t worry about it so much.” 

“I’m always going to worry about you, Violence.” 

Reaching up to brush up against his chest with my palm, I gently push him backwards. “I know, honey. Now let’s join them in there. There shouldn’t be anyone else coming. And even if there is, your shadows will let us know.” 

Xaden nods and turns towards the surgical suite. When I walk in, I blink in surprise. Nadine is covered in sweat from head to toe. She’s breathing heavy, both hands held out towards the warded door. Imogen is still standing menacingly at her side, but Nadine's exhaustion seems to have overridden her fear of the older cadet. 

It seems like she’s… taking advice?