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)
“Let me help.” Shit, now I’m begging.
“Not yet.” He reaches out to cup my face, then drops his hand as if rethinking the move. “But I need you to pay close attention to what happens when you leave in seven days with Tairn.” He presses the paper into my hand. “Until then…here.”
“What is this?” I spare a glance downward, but it only looks like folded parchment.
“You told me once that I was scared you might not like me if you got to really know me.”
“I remember.”
“Every time we’re together, we’re training or fighting. There’s not a lot of time for long walks by the river or whatever passes for romance around here.” He squeezes my hand gently, but I can feel every callus he’s built from mastering his weaponry. “But I told you I’d find a way to let you in, and right now, this is all I have.”
My gaze jerks to his and my heart flies into my throat.
“I’ll see you at Samara.” He stands and grabs his rucksack and the two swords leaned up against the wall next to the door.
“How do I find you once I’m there?” My fingers clench the folded parchment. I’ve never even seen Samara. Mom has never been stationed there.
He turns at the door and looks back at me, holding my gaze. “Third floor, south wing, second door on the right. The wards will let you in.”
His barracks room.
“Let me guess—warded for sound and to let in you, me, and anyone you tug through?” The idea of him using that soundproofing for breaking armoires with someone else is enough to curdle the soup in my stomach.
We might not be together, but jealousy’s not exactly a rational emotion.
“No, Violet.” He lifts both swords overhead, then slips them into the sheaths on the pack behind him with practiced expertise and a hint of a smirk. “Just you and me.”
He’s gone before I can even think of a reply.
With trembling hands, I unfold the paper—and smile.
Xaden Riorson wrote me a letter.
Garrick has always been my best friend. His father was my father’s aide, which in a way makes him my Dain, except trustworthy. After Liam, Bodhi was and still is the closest thing I have to a brother, perpetually tagging along a step behind.
—RECOVERED CORRESPONDENCE OF LIEUTENANT XADEN RIORSON TO CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A smile curving my lips, I brace my hands on the top of my head and walk off the stitch in my side as Imogen and I finish our post-run cooldown a few mornings later, entering the courtyard a full half hour before breakfast is set to be served.
He wrote me a letter, and I’ve read it so many times I already have it memorized. There’s nothing remotely dangerous in it, no secrets of the revolution or clues on how to help, but it’s not like he can risk those by putting them in writing. No, this is even better. It’s just about him. It’s little details, like the fact that he used to sit on the roof of Riorson House during the rebellion in hopes his father would come home and tell him it was all over.
“You’ve been grinning like a drunkard for the last three mornings,” Imogen complains, ducking to check under the dais as we pass by. “How is anyone that happy at sunrise?”
Can’t blame her. I’ve been on edge since assessment day, too. So are Bodhi and Eya.
“No nightmares the last few days, and no one’s up at this hour trying to kill me.” My hands fall to my side. I made it a little farther between walking breaks this time.
“Yeah, because that’s the reason.” She rolls her neck. “Why don’t you take him back already?”
“He doesn’t trust me.” I shrug. “And I can’t really trust him. It’s complicated.” But damn do I miss catching glimpses of him every day. Saturday can’t get here soon enough. “Besides, even if two people have unmatched chemistry, that doesn’t mean they should be in a relationship beyond anything physical—”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, then tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “I was finishing a conversation. Not starting one. I’m down for running and weight training with you, but you have friends to talk about your sex life with. Remember? The ones I’m watching you actively avoid at every opportunity?”
Not going there.
“And we aren’t friends?” I question.
“We’re…” Her face scrunches. “Coconspirators with a vested interest in keeping each other alive.”
That only makes me smile bigger. “Oh, don’t go getting soft on me now.”
Her gaze narrows as she looks past me, toward the outer wall. “What in Dunne’s name would a scribe be doing in the quadrant at this hour?”
I startle at the sight of Jesinia waiting in one of the shaded alcoves, tucked away like she’s trying to hide. “Relax. She’s a friend.”