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)
“Shit’s about to get real,” Sawyer says, breaking formation to stand at my side, and I feel Ridoc at my back.
“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.”
And she thinks I broke them by using my dagger on the last ascent of the Gauntlet.
“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family!” Amber shouts at Xaden. “For not supporting your father’s rebellion!”
That’s a low fucking blow.
Xaden doesn’t even acknowledge it as he turns to the other wingleaders.
He isn’t demanding proof like Dain. He believes me, and he’s ready to execute a wingleader on nothing more than my word. As surely as if they’re a physical structure, I feel my defenses crack on Xaden’s behalf.
“Can you see my memories?” I ask Tairn. “Share them?”
“Yes.” His head snakes left and right ever so slightly. “A memory has never been shared outside of a mating bond. It’s considered a violation.”
“Xaden’s up there fighting because I told him it was her. Help him.” And gods, I admire him for it. I take a deep breath. “Only what they need to see.”
Wanting and admiring? I’m so screwed.
Tairn chuffs and every dragon besides Sgaeyl stiffens on the wall, even Amber’s. The riders are quick to follow, silence filling the courtyard, and I know they know.
“That spineless wretch,” Rhiannon seethes, her hand squeezing mine even tighter.
Dain pales.
“Believe me now?” I hurl it like the accusation it is. “You’re supposed to be my oldest friend, Dain. My best friend. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you.”
He staggers backward.
“The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement,” Xaden announces, flanked by Nyra and Septon while the commandant hangs back. “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 paces in panic, looking to everyone—anyone for help.
As a whole, the formation moves backward.
“And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire,” Nyra states.
“No!” Amber looks to her dragon. “Claidh!”
Amber’s Orange Daggertail snarls at the other dragons and lifts a claw.
Tairn swivels his massive head toward Claidh, his roar shaking the ground beneath my feet. Then he snaps his teeth at the smaller orange, and she retreats, her head hanging as she grips the wall again.
The sight breaks my heart, not for Amber but for Claidh.
“Do you have to?” I ask Tairn.
“This is our way.”
“Please don’t,” I beg, forgetting to think the words. It’s one thing to punish Amber, but Claidh will suffer as well.
Maybe I could talk to Amber. Maybe we can still work through our issues. Maybe we can find common ground, turn our anger to friendship or at least casual indifference. I shake my head, my heart pounding in my throat. I did this. I was so focused on whether anyone would believe me, I didn’t stop to think what might happen if they did.
I turn to Xaden and beg again, my voice breaking by the end. “Please give her a chance.”
He holds my gaze but doesn’t so much as show a flicker of emotion.
“I let someone live once, and he almost killed you last night, Silver One,” Tairn says. Then, as if this is all that really matters in the end, “Justice is not always merciful.”
“Claidh,” Amber whimpers, the courtyard so unbelievably silent that the sound carries.
The formation splits at the center.
Tairn leans low, extending his head and neck past the dais toward where Amber stands. Then his teeth part, he curls his tongue, and he incinerates her with a blast of fire so hot, I can feel it from here. It’s over in a heartbeat.
A gruesome scream rends the air, shattering a window in the academic wing, and every rider slams their hands over their ears as Claidh mourns.
Don’t freak out if you can’t immediately channel your dragon’s powers, Mira. Yeah, I know you have to be the best at everything, but this isn’t something you can control. They’ll channel when they feel you’re ready. And once they do, you’d better be ready to manifest a signet. Until then, you’re not ready. Don’t push it.
—Page sixty-one, the Book of Brennan
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
“This really isn’t necessary.” I glance sideways at Liam as we make our way toward the door of the Archives. The cart doesn’t even squeak anymore. He fixed that the very first day.
“So you’ve told me for the last week.” He shoots me a grin, revealing a dimple.
“And yet you’re still here. Every day. All day.” It’s not that I don’t like him. To my absolute annoyance, he’s actually…nice. Courteous, funny, and ridiculously helpful. He makes it difficult to loathe his constant presence, even though he leaves wood shavings in little piles everywhere he goes—which is everywhere I go now. The guy is constantly whittling with that smaller knife of his. Yesterday he finished the figurine of a bear.