Tairn chuffs.
“We’ll be discussing this later,” I warn Xaden, adding it to a never-ending list.
“You know nothing where she’s concerned.” Xaden shakes his head once at Cat before turning back to Syrena. “The forge is our highest priority. As soon as we secure a luminary, we’ll be operational and able to supply you in full. We have the rest of the material we need to begin, and that’s all you get to know, because you’re right, Syrena. I don’t trust you. Until then, there are twenty-three daggers in these bags.” He points to the bags at his feet.
“Twenty-three?” Syrena asks, lifting a brow.
“I need one of them.” There’s no apology in his words or tone. “Take them or leave them. Either way, Garrick will see your next shipment is delivered at the appointed location.” He backs away, keeping his face toward them. “It’s near Athebyne. I’m not hiding it from you, just not repeating it in front of the rest of her drift.”
“I appreciate the honesty.” It’s surprising and refreshing.
“You have maybe a year until they’re on your border,” Syrena says.
My stomach sours as I remember that Brennan thinks we have way less than that. I need to delve deeper into researching the wards as soon as I’m back at Basgiath.
“We’re all that stands between them and you. You know that, right? Or are you still hiding your heads in the don’t-tell-us-too-much-in-case-we’reinterrogated sand like you were last year?”
“We know,” Xaden responds. “We’ll be ready.”
Syrena nods. “I’ll do what I can to lessen the attacks on the outposts, but until you can openly say you’re supplying us, it’s like asking our forces to believe in specters. They don’t trust you like I do.”
“How you stop them is your business. I meant what I said.” He tilts his head. “Come for our wards, and I’ll watch you die.”
We need to get them under wards of their own. It’s the most logical path. Sgaeyl huffs a blast of steam, and the male flier startles, then comes for the two bags and pivots, handing one to Syrena on his way back to the remainder of the drift.
“Thank you,” Syrena says to Xaden before glancing up at me. “Tell your dragon he’s still the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Sorrengail.”
“I would, but it would just inflate his ego,” I reply, settling back in the saddle as Xaden runs up Sgaeyl’s foreleg to mount. “Stay alive, Syrena. I’m starting to like you.”
She flashes me a smirk of a smile, then turns toward the other flier. “Let’s go, Catriona.”
Catriona. Cat.
The way my stomach hollows has nothing to do with Tairn’s sudden launch into the night sky and everything to do with remembering what Bodhi said weeks ago.
I’ve never seen him care like this, and that includes Catriona.
Oh gods. The way she’d looked at him wasn’t just longing—it was memory.
Cadets who are found absent without leave will be subject to court-martial by their chain of command, if they are not executed on sight.
—ARTICLE FOUR, SECTION ONE THE BASGIATH WAR COLLEGE CODE OF CONDUCT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Air steals the heat from my cheeks, and I pull my goggles into place as Tairn flies for the border with forceful wingbeats. “To avoid jumping to conclusions like last year, she’s your ex, isn’t she?” I ask Xaden, hoping my mental voice sounds a hell of a lot steadier than I feel.
“How do you— Never mind, that’s not important. Yes.” He speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words with the utmost care. “We were over before I met you.”
It shouldn’t matter. I have exes, too. It’s not like we’ve really discussed our sexual or romantic history, right? Of course, neither of them is a gryphon flier who looks like…that, but still. There’s no logical reason for me to feel this ugly twist of irrational—
Shit. What is this? Jealousy? Anxiety? Insecurity?
“All three,” Tairn responds in utter annoyance. “To which I will remind you that not a single dragon chose her. You were selected by two. Pull yourself together.”
His metric is sound but has little to do with what I’m feeling.
“But at one point Xaden chose her.” I lean into the right bank as Tairn hugs the face of the mountain, continuing to climb.
“And at one point, you thought gruel was a satisfactory meal, until you grew some teeth and found the rest of the world’s food waiting. Now cease this line of thinking. It does not serve to make you stronger.”
Easy for him to say.
Silence envelops me for the rest of the flight, and I breathe a little easier once we cross Navarre’s wards. Then guilt settles like a stone in my gut. We’re safe behind our shields, but the drift we just armed won’t sleep with the same certainty.
We land in the field, and I dismount after unbuckling, sliding down Tairn’s foreleg.
“Be ready to go in the morning,” Tairn orders. “Perhaps returning quickly will soften your inevitable punishment for leaving abruptly.”
Because no one punishes dragons.
“I doubt it, but we can try.” I lift my flight goggles as Tairn walks off with Sgaeyl, their tails swishing in rhythm. It’s a little thing, but it makes me smile.
Xaden approaches, then winds his arm around my waist and tugs me to his firm chest before tipping my chin up with his thumb and forefinger so our gazes meet. Worry lines the space between his brows. “Are we going to have to spend our last few hours together talking about Cat?”
“No.” I wind my arms around his neck. “Not unless you’d like to spend them talking about my previous lovers.”
