Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
As I stare at their retreating back, I wonder what the circular patch on their upper right arm with water and floating spheres means. I know the triangular patch to the left of that one, with the longsword, means they’re not to be messed with on the mat. Since Dain told me about the patch denoting his top secret signet, I’ve been paying close attention to the patches other cadets have sewn into their uniforms. Most wear them like badges of honor, but I recognize them for what they really are—intelligence that I might one day need to defeat them.
“I didn’t realize Heaton actually knew how to speak.” Two lines appear between Ridoc’s brows.
“Maybe they figure they should at least say hi before we’re potentially roasted today,” Rhiannon says.
“Back into formation,” Dain orders.
“Are you going with us?” I ask.
He nods, still not looking at me.
The eight of us fall into two lines of four, the same as the other squads around us.
“Awkward,” Rhiannon whispers from my side. “He seems kind of pissed at you.”
I glance up over Trina’s slim shoulders as the breeze whips at the braid I’ve woven like a crown. It’s working a few of Trina’s ringlet curls loose, too. “He wants something I can’t give him.”
Her eyebrows rise.
I roll my eyes. “Not like…that.”
“I wouldn’t care if it was like that,” she replies under her breath. “He’s hot. He has that whole boy-next-door-who-can-still-kick-your-ass vibe going for him.”
I fight a smile because she’s right. He so does.
“We’re the biggest squad,” Ridoc notes behind us as the squads farthest left—from First Wing—file out through the western gate in the courtyard.
“What are we down to?” Tynan asks. “Hundred and eighty?”
“Hundred and seventy-one,” Dain answers. Squads from Second Wing begin to move, led by their wingleader, which means Xaden is somewhere ahead of us.
My nerves are reserved for the obstacle course, but I can’t help but wonder which way his scales will tip today.
“For a hundred dragons? But what will we…” Trina asks, nerves cutting off her words.
“Stop letting fear leach into your voice,” Luca snaps from behind Rhiannon. “If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.”
“She says,” Ridoc narrates, “inducing more fear.”
“Shut up,” Luca fires back. “You know it’s true.”
“Just portray confidence, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I lean forward so our squadmates behind us can’t hear me as Third Wing begins to march for the gate.
“Thanks,” Trina whispers in reply.
Dain’s narrowed gaze finally locks on mine, but at least he doesn’t call me a liar. There’s enough accusation in his eyes that I might as well be tried and convicted of it, though.
“Nervous, Rhi?” I ask, knowing we’re about to be called next.
“For you?” she asks. “Not at all. We’ve got this.”
“Oh, I meant about the history test tomorrow,” I tease. “There’s nothing going on today to panic about.”
“Now that you mention it, the whole Treaty of Arif might just be the death of me.” She grins.
“Ahh, the agreement between Navarre and Krovla for mutually shared airspace for both dragons and gryphons over a narrow strip of the Esben Mountains, between Sumerton and Draithus,” I recall, nodding.
“Your memory is terrifying.” She shoots me a smile.
But my memory isn’t going to get me up the Gauntlet.
“Fourth Wing!” Xaden calls out from somewhere in the distance. I don’t even need to see to know that it’s him who gave the order and not his executive officer. “Move out!”
We file off, Flame Section, then Claw, and finally Tail.
There’s a bit of a bottleneck at the gate, but then we’re through, walking into the mage-lit dimness of the tunnel that we take every morning to reach the Gauntlet. Shadows blanket the edges of the rocky floor along our path.
What are the limits of Xaden’s power anyway? Could he use shadows to choke out every squad in here? Would he need to rest or recharge after? Does such a vast power come with any sort of checks or balances?
Dain falls back so he walks between Rhiannon and me. “Change your mind.” It’s barely a whisper.
“No.” I sound way more confident than I feel.
“Change. Your. Mind.” His hand finds mine, concealed by our tight formation as we descend through the passage. “Please.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “Any more than you would leave Cath and run to the scribes yourself.”
“That’s different.” His hand squeezes mine, and I can feel the tension in his fingers, his arm. “I’m a rider.”
“Well, maybe I am, too,” I whisper as light appears ahead. I didn’t believe it before, not when I couldn’t leave because my mother wouldn’t let me, but now I have a choice. And I choose to stay.
“Don’t be—” He cuts himself off and drops my hand. “I don’t want to bury you, Vi.”
“It’s inevitable that one of us will have to bury the other.” It’s not macabre, just fact.