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)
“Did they take Cordyn?”
Garrick shakes his head. “Skipped right over it and hundreds of other miles. They targeted Pavis and stayed there.”
“It’s a good staging point”—Bodhi drops his voice when a trio of fliers out of First Wing walk by—“for Draithus. Has to be.”
They’re coming for us.
Many of our most esteemed tacticians have tried to estimate the approaching tipping point—where the outcome of the war may have been decided even though we still fight. Many believe it will come in the next decade. I fear it will arrive much sooner than that.
—CAPTAIN LERA DORRELL’S GUIDE TO VANQUISHING THE VENIN PROPERTY OF CLIFFSBANE ACADEMY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
We split as the hallway grows too crowded, and I continue up and up the stairs, climbing to the fifth floor, then nodding to Rhi and Tara as I pass by the open door to Rhi’s room. Clearly, by their wide smiles, they don’t know yet, and I decide to give them a few more minutes of blissfully ignorant happiness and keep walking down the long hallway to the back stairs.
The service stairway is dark, but mage lights wink on as I climb the steep, wrought-iron spiral staircase to its end. I open the door with lesser magic, then step out onto the narrow walkway that runs along the apex of the roofline and close it behind me.
Xaden sits on the edge of the small defensive turret thirty feet away, and the only shadows surrounding him are the ones the dying afternoon light casts. If I didn’t feel his turmoil saturating the bond between us, I’d think he was up here for the view, the very picture of control.
Step by careful step, I cross the eastern line of the roof, careful not to let the breeze rip the plate from my hand or screw with my balance.
“What did I tell you about risking your life in order to talk to me?” he asks, his gaze focused on the town below.
“I’d hardly call that risking my life.” I set the plate on the wall, then climb up to sit next to Xaden. “But I do now understand how you’re so damn good at Parapet.”
“Been practicing since I was a kid,” he admits. “How did you know I was up here?”
“Other than being able to track you through the bond? You told me in a letter that you’d sit up here waiting for your father to come home.” I reach for the plate, then hold it in front of him. “I know chocolate cake isn’t going to fix this, but in my defense, I got it for you when I’d just thought you’d had a shit day, before I knew what really happened.”
He glances at the slice, then leans in and brushes his mouth over mine before grabbing it. “I’m not used to people taking care of me. Thank you.”
“Get used to it.” The cold seeps into my leathers from the wall beneath us, and I note the heavy gray clouds moving in from the west. “It’s already snowing up the pass. I bet we get seven inches tonight.”
“Maybe more if you’re good.” A corner of his mouth lifts as he cuts into the cake with the fork.
“You’re making dick jokes?” I brace my hands on the top edge of the wall.
“You’re talking about the weather.” He takes a bite, then cuts another one and hands me the fork.
“I was being considerate and giving you the option of not talking about what happened. Would you rather I talk about how translating is going with Dain?” I take the offered bite and give the fork back. Damn, no wonder he loves this cake. It’s better than anything we had at Basgiath.
“I’d rather you stop being considerate and ask.” His gaze locks with mine.
I swallow, getting the feeling he’s not just talking about today’s loss. “Were you there?”
“Yes.” The fork clicks against the plate as he sets it in his lap.
“Tairn didn’t tell me.”
“I think Sgaeyl somehow blocked him out.” He cocks his head to the side. “Pretty sure we’re both blocked out right now, which means—”
“They’re fighting.” There’s a hard wall beyond my own shields.
“Garrick and I flew in from Draithus once Emery put out the call, but by the time we got there…” He shakes his head. “Imagine Resson, but about ten times the size. Ten times the number of civilians.”
“Oh.” The cake settles in my stomach like ash, and we both fall quiet. A long moment passes before I rise to the challenge in his eyes and ask, “What are you up here thinking about?”
“We’re outmatched.” He looks away and flexes his jaw. “Outmatched and spread too fucking thin to be anything but a nuisance to them. We can’t communicate fast enough. We aren’t effective or any kind of real barrier when we’re sending out riots of three.” His gaze shifts eastward. “They can take the rest of Poromiel—take us—whenever they want, and I have no clue why they don’t. We have no idea how many of them are assembling in Zolya or where the fuck all these wyvern are hatching from. There’s no plan except hold the line, and the line isn’t holding.”