Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Tairn lowers his head in a gesture I recognize as both a threat to them and a favor to me, allowing me to see the rest of the approach.
The gryphons, half eagle and half lion, halt about twenty feet away, and three of their fliers dismount, leaving the pairs at the edges ready to fly at a moment’s notice.
Our trust is as thin as December ice. One misstep and the fracture will have deadly consequences.
The trio walks toward Xaden through the knee-high mountain grass, and I recognize the one in the center almost immediately as the veteran that came upon us at the lake, then fought with us in Resson. Her face is a little more drawn, and she has a new scar down the side of her neck that disappears into her uniform, but that’s definitely her.
But the man on her left isn’t the same. He’s a little shorter, a little more wiry than her stocky companion had been, and there’s no malice under those slashing eyebrows when he glances past Xaden and up to me before quickly looking away.
I can’t help but wonder if the man she’d been with at the lake was killed in the attack.
“Riorson,” the woman calls out, pausing about ten feet from Xaden. “Syrena,” Xaden says, lifting two bags and then setting them on the ground before him. The message is clear: if they want them, they’ll be coming closer to Tairn and Sgaeyl.
Syrena sighs and then motions the others forward.
The younger woman walking on Syrena’s right is dressed in a paler shade of brown than the others. She looks to be my age and shares enough of Syrena’s features that they could be related—cousins, maybe…or even sisters. They have the same straight noses, full mouths, lithe builds, and glossy black hair that contrasts their fair skin, though the younger one’s is plaited in a simple braid over her shoulder. Her eyes are slightly larger, and her cheekbones are a little higher than Syrena’s. She’s the kind of beautiful that would normally lead to positions in a king’s court or on stage in the theaters of Calldyr.
My chest tightens. The way she looks at Xaden isn’t just doe-eyed. There’s an unmistakable longing there, a hunger that has me blinking. It’s like she’s been trudging through a desert and he’s the oasis.
She looks…like how I feel.
“Good to see you made it through the unfortunate assault on Samara,” Syrena says as they reach Xaden.
“You want to explain what the fuck that was about?” Xaden’s tone ventures into less-than-friendly territory. “Because one of your gryphons nearly took me out. If we didn’t have a mender nearby in the Eastern Wing, I’d be down an arm because I hesitated, thinking it might be one of you.” He glances at the other woman. “I thought we were on the same side, but I won’t hesitate if it happens again.”
I lean forward in the saddle, but there’s not much give. Being up here, where I can only guess at what his expression might be, is torturous. Energy crackles in my fingertips, but I hold steady, keeping ready in case this drop doesn’t go according to plan.
“I can’t control every drift, Riorson,” Syrena responds. “And I’m not going to blame other drifts in other chains of command who have to follow orders. We need more weapons than what you can supply. There are enough daggers in that outpost to arm a hundred fliers—”
“Those are powering our wards.” His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“Our wards? Since when do you sympathize as Navarrian? And at least you have wards, Xaden,” the girl on the right argues.
“For now.” Xaden looks in her direction for a split second before returning to face Syrena.
That tone. The way she used his name… They definitely know each other.
“The attacks have to stop, Syrena,” Xaden continues. “In your chain of command or not, the second I hear of fliers actually stealing daggers from outposts or any Navarrian wards being weakened by flier thievery, I’ll cut off what shipments we do have coming your way.”
I suck in a deep breath at his threat.
“You’ll condemn us to death.” Her shoulders straighten.
“You’ll condemn us all to death if you take down the only wards standing between the venin and the hatching grounds at Basgiath,” I say. “It’s our only forge for weaponry, and there’s enough raw magic in that range to feed them for a century. They’d be unstoppable.”
Every head lifts my direction.
“You’re drawing attention.” Tairn growls at the fliers, and they immediately look away.
“I never said I’d sit here silently.”
“Nice to meet you without Riorson’s face attached to yours, Sorrengail,”
Syrena says, her gaze diverted from Tairn. Smart woman. “Though I’m guessing he still doesn’t trust us completely if he’s got you on the back of that enormous dragon of yours.”