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)
“One more reason for the unbonded to hate us,” Rhiannon mutters.
“So, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” We start down our hallway, passing a few other rooms before meeting up with the main corridor that leads to the rotunda. Have to say, the first-year rooms aren’t as spacious as the second-years’, but at least we both got ones with windows.
A grin curves her lips. “I felt like celebrating.” She darts a quick side-eye at me. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?”
We melt into the crowd moving toward the gathering hall. “Haven’t found anyone I want to celebrate with.”
“Really? Because I heard that you and a certain squad leader had a moment last night.”
My gaze whips toward hers, and I nearly stumble over my feet.
“Come on, Vi. The entire quadrant was out there, and you don’t think someone saw you?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to get a lecture from me. Who gives a shit if it’s frowned upon to be in a relationship with a superior officer? There’s no regulation, and it’s not like any of us is guaranteed to live through the day.”
“Solid points,” I admit. “But it’s…” I shake my head, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that with us. I’d always hoped it would be, but when he kissed me—there was nothing there. Like. Nothing.” It’s impossible to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Well, that’s shitty to hear.” She hooks her arm through mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I sigh.
A door opens farther down the hall, and Liam Mairi walks out with his arm wrapped around the waist of another first-year who bonded a Brown Clubtail. Looks like everyone was celebrating last night except me.
“Good morning, ladies.” Ridoc forces his way through the crowd and slings an arm around each of our shoulders as we enter the rotunda. “Or should I say, riders?”
“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction.
“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees.
“It’s definitely better than dead. Where’s your relic?” I ask Ridoc as we pass through the columns of carved dragons and take the steps into commons.
“Right here.” His arm falls off my shoulders, and he shoves the sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown mark of a dragon silhouette on his upper arm. “You?”
“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.”
“That will keep you safer if you’re ever separated from that massive dragon of yours.” His eyes dance. “I swear, I thought I was going to shit myself when I saw him on the field. What about yours, Rhi?”
“Somewhere you’ll never see,” she responds.
“You wound me.” He slaps his hand over his heart.
“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there’s a smile on her face. We move through commons and into the gathering hall, then make our way through the line for breakfast.
It’s odd to be on this side of it, and I startle at the sight of the guy behind the counter.
It’s Oren.
He glares at me with a hatred that trickles like ice down my spine. I skip his station, opting for fresh fruit that I know can’t be tampered with, just in case he decides to take my approach to conflict and poison me.
“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters behind me. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.”
“I can.” I shrug, taking my chances with a mug of apple juice. “I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out for the good of the wing.” We head toward the Fourth Wing section and find a table with three extra seats.
“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts.
“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench.
“Sorry, Sorrengail!” the other says over his shoulder as they find another table, leaving this one empty.
What the hell?
“Well, that was really fucking weird.” Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and I follow, putting our backs to the wall as we step over the bench and sit, setting our trays in front of us.
I’m half tempted to give my underarms a whiff to see if I smell.
“Even weirder?” Ridoc remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing.
Following his line of sight, my eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take his seat.
“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews.
Jack moves to another table—whose occupants won’t make room for him—and then finds a place two tables down.
“How the mighty have fallen,” Ridoc notes, watching the same show I am, but there’s no satisfaction in watching Jack struggle. Feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered.
“Hey, Sorrengail,” the stocky girl from First Wing I beat in my second challenge says with a tight smile as she walks past our table.