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)
My entire body tenses. “Be very careful with your words.”
“Are you in love with him?” he asks, his voice breaking on the last word as he pivots to face me fully. “Because Garrick and I heard the end of what he said in the interrogation chamber, and trust me, I might be in love with him after that declaration, but are you? Really and truly?”
“Yes.” I hold his stare long enough that he knows I mean what I say. “And that’s never going to change.”
Dain’s jaw flexes and he nods once. “Then I’ll trust him as much as you do.”
I nod back slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he agrees.
Mastery of one’s signet does not occur at Basgiath,
nor in the years directly after.
No rider alive truly believes they’ve reached the
limitations of their power.
The dead ones may feel differently.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT (UNAUTHORIZED EDITION)
CHAPTER FIFTY
“Better.” A week later, Felix pops a grape into his mouth, then motions to the stacked rocks and the tendrils of steam at the base that only last a second before they’re whisked away by the wind and snow. “You almost hit it that time.”
I clench the energy-warmed conduit in my hand. “I did hit it.” I sway on my feet and shake off my exhaustion. Too many late nights have been spent translating Warrick’s journal from the beginning, too many lunches have been eaten in that cold wardstone chamber, and I’ve definitely spent too much time with Dain.
I’d almost forgotten how good he really is with languages, how quickly he catches on.
“No.” Felix shakes his head, then plucks another grape from the bunch. How are those things not frozen? The ground has accumulated about six inches of snow in the hour we’ve been out here. “If you’d hit it, the rocks wouldn’t be there anymore.”
“You said to use less power, remember? Smaller strikes. More control.” I shake the orb in his direction. “What would you call that?”
“Missing the target.”
Snowflakes sizzle into steam as they land on the bare skin of my hands, and it’s all I can do to not glare at the professor.
“Here.” He shoves the bunch of grapes into the pack at his feet, then reaches for the orb, plucking it from my hand. “Strike the conduit.”
“I’m sorry?” My eyes bulge as I swat a loose tendril of hair from my face.
“Strike the conduit,” he says like it’s the simplest task, holding the metal-and-glass orb only inches away from my fingers.
“I’d kill you.”
“If only you could aim,” he teases, his smile flashing white. “You clearly understand how energy and attraction work, as evidenced by how you took those wyvern out, right?”
“I struck into the cloud.” My brow crinkles. “I think. I can’t really explain it. I just knew that lightning can exist within a cloud, and when I wielded, it was there.”
Felix nods. “It’s about the energy fields. It’s quite similar to magic that way. And you”—he touches my hand with the orb—“are the greatest energy field of all. Summon your power, but instead of letting the conduit have it all, cut it off yourself.”
I shift my weight and swallow hard, fighting the tide of fire that lifts the hairs on my arm. Imagining the Archives doors shutting all but the last few inches, I allow only a fraction of Tairn’s power to reach my hands.
My fingertips graze the metal of the orb, and it crackles with the familiar sight of whitish blue tendrils of pure energy branching from my fingertips against the glass and gathering into a single, delicate stream at the alloy medallion in the center of the conduit. Unlike the shimmering strands I pull from Andarna’s power to temper runes, this is physical, like a tiny, sustained lightning strike. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I let the power flow from me into the conduit just like I do every night, imbuing stone after stone now that I know how to change them out once they’re fully imbued. “I love watching it do that.”
It’s the only time my power is beauty without destruction—without violence.
“You’re not watching it, Violet. You’re doing it. And you’re supposed to love it. It’s better to find joy in your power than it is to fear it.”
“I don’t fear the power.” How could I when it’s so beautiful? So varied? I’m afraid of myself.
“You shouldn’t be,” Tairn lectures. He’s been commenting off and on the last hour—whenever he hasn’t been trying to get Andarna to stop chasing the two new flocks of sheep Brennan had moved into the valley. “I chose you, and dragons make no mistakes.”
“What’s it like to go through life so self-assured?”
“It’s…life.”
I manage not to roll my eyes by keeping all my focus on limiting Tairn’s power.
“Good. Keep going. Let it flow, but think trickle, not flood.” Felix slowly draws the conduit away. “Don’t stop.”