“They will not stay down if you keep stuffing them in like”—Tairn sighs— “that.”

I bite back a smile and race to meet my squad.

Have to give it to Brennan and the Assembly. We might be sharing books and cramming ourselves into every open room on the first floor for lectures, but every cadet is clean, fed, housed, and learning.

History is held in what I think was Xaden’s father’s office, and we started a new unit on the Tyrrish Rebellion yesterday so everyone can know what really happened six years ago, but we’ve only gotten far enough to cover the political landscape of the years before the rebellion.

Instead of challenges and hand-to-hand, Emetterio has us running the steep, rocky trail to the valley every day until our aching lungs adjust to the altitude, but he’s warned us not to get too comfortable slacking off. Pretty sure the number of cadets vomiting beside the trail would indicate we’re not, but the urgency in his tone pushes us to run harder.

“Hawk Nose” Ulices has taken over physics, which only gives him another reason to spend an hour every other day glaring at me. And “Battle-Ax” Kylynn is set to take on flight maneuvers once the Assembly agrees we’re safe enough to let the riot rise from the hidden protection of the valley, which means we have more than two hundred restless dragons.

Suri, the member of the Assembly with the silver-streaked hair who blatantly hates me, flew off with Xaden and the other lieutenants two days ago. Not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s in danger, worrying every single second that he might be in battle, has me breathing through another wave of nausea as we file into the rebuilt theater in the northwest wing of Riorson House.

The sight is more than impressive. Not just that there’s enough seating for every cadet, but that of all the things they could have rebuilt in the last six years… they chose a theater.

“Welcome to Battle Brief,” Rhiannon says, leading us halfway down the steps on the right and into our seats.

“Good. Maybe they’ll tell us what’s happening in Navarre,” Visia says from the row ahead of us. Besides Aaric and Sloane, there are four other first-years, whose names I have yet to learn.

Unlike our usual Battle Brief, we’re seated as if in formation: by wing, section, and squad. And unlike the map at Basgiath, this one is the height and width of the large stage where the curtain would hang, and it includes the isles— the five large and thirteen smaller islands that surround the Continent in every direction.

“Those red and orange flags,” Ridoc notes from my left, pointing up at the map. “Are those… ”

“Enemy territory, I’m guessing,” Sawyer remarks, sitting next to Ridoc.

“Not like Poromish enemy.” Ridoc takes his pen and parchment out of his pack, and I do the same, balancing the bound notebook on my lap. “Like… dark wielder enemy.”

“Right. Drained land, destroyed cities like Zolya. Red is old movement and orange is new.” Nearly all of the Krovlan province remains untouched, but the enemy is just a day’s flight from our border. The only movement I notice since viewing this map in midsummer is up the Stonewater River—toward Navarre. “Did you guys get letters to your families?”

My friends couldn’t give out our location, but they could warn their loved ones to leave the border region, or just leave. I wouldn’t put it past Melgren to start executing the families to punish those who deserted.

And it’s all my fault. I’m responsible for Andarna’s wing, for forcing the exposure of the truth before Aretia was ready to act, for bringing a hundred riders here without permission, for the worry etched in Brennan’s forehead about boosting the sheep population for all the dragons I led here, and for putting a target on my friends’ families’ backs. I grip my pen so tight it groans under the strain.

How could I make every right decision last year and every wrong one this year?

They all nod, with Rhiannon adding, “I’m hoping it convinces them to move.”

Aaric doesn’t bother turning from his seat directly in front of me. “I declined the offer to correspond,” he says over his shoulder instead.

“I bet you did.” I force a small smile. His father would shit himself if he knew Aaric had not only joined the quadrant but turned against Navarre.

“Any luck on the wardstone?” Rhi asks, and every head turns. Even Aaric and Sloane look over their shoulders.

“I’ve translated the section we need three times, and I think I’m close.” My smile echoes theirs because I think I might actually have it. “I know it’s been three days, but I’m a little rusty, and it’s the oddest form of magic I’ve ever read about, which is probably why it’s never been done twice.”

“But you think it will work?” Sloane asks with blatant hope in her eyes.

“I do.” I nod, straightening my shoulders like the weight of their expectations is physical. “I just need to be sure it’s right.” And I’d better be right. Those wards are our best defense if wyvern crest the Cliffs of Dralor.

“Let’s get started!” Professor Devera says from the stage, her voice carrying over the hundred of us easily, and everyone turns to face her.

“It’s just like being at Basgiath,” Ridoc says with a smile. “But you know… not.”

Rhi leans in and whispers, “Odd magic?”

“I… ” My face scrunches. “I think the First Six practiced some kind of blood magic,” I whisper even quieter than she had. I’ve translated the passage three times and come up with the same words every time, but I’ve never heard of using blood in… anything.

Her eyebrows rise. “You sure?”

“As I can be. Jesinia came up with the same translation for the passage, but I think I should probably go over it one more time. Just in case.”

“Yeah. Just in case.” She nods.

“Welcome to your first official Battle Brief as traitors,” Devera announces.

That gets everyone’s attention. A pit forms where my stomach used to be.

“Get used to the sound of the word,” she says unapologetically, her gaze scanning over us. “Because that’s what Navarre now considers us. Whether or not that’s how we feel about the choice we made to defend those who cannot defend themselves, that is how we will be seen by the friends and loved ones we left behind. But personally, I’m proud of every single one of you.” Her eyes find mine. “It’s hard to leave behind everything you know, everything you love, because your honor demands it. With that said, please welcome Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh, who will take the place of the Scribe Quadrant Curator, since we don’t have them here.”

Markham’s position. Will Jesinia or the two other cadets start their own quadrant here without anyone to teach them? The Assembly finished debriefing and clearing Dain for attendance this morning, so he’s sitting in the front row with the section leaders. I’m glad he’s out of isolation but also glad he’s keeping his distance.

“We believe in sharing information here in Aretia,” Brennan says as he takes the stage with Devera.

“Still can’t believe he ditched your last name,” Sawyer says under his breath.

My year-mates are the only ones who know who Brennan is, and it seems Devera and Emetterio are going along with the name change as well. Maybe Kaori would have, too, if he’d come with us, but he’d looked at me, clearly torn, and said his place was with the Empyrean.

Everyone who stayed had their reasons. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

“He had to. Besides, I like his name. It’s Tyrrish for resurrected,” I reply. He’s still just Brennan to me.

“First,” Brennan begins, “we’ve done as you’ve asked and kept you in your respective wings. Second Wing and Third Wing, you know that Eleni Jareth and Tibbot Vasant are now your respective wingleaders. We expect any missing section leaders or squad leaders to be replaced by tomorrow, and you’ll notify Devera of your choices.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“You won’t choose for us?” someone from First Wing asks. That’s the protocol at Basgiath.

“Are you saying you’re not capable?” Brennan challenges.

“No, sir.”

“Excellent. Moving on.” He turns our direction. “We double-checked the rolls to be sure, but it appears that not only does Fourth Wing currently boast this year’s Iron Squad—”

The first-years seated in front of us holler, since that honor of boasting the largest number of surviving first-years after Threshing is ours for the second year in a row. Baylor, the stocky one with the skull-trimmed black hair, shouts the loudest, and the corner of my mouth rises when he shoulder bumps Aaric into joining in.

“—but Flame Section has the unique honor of being completely intact.” Brennan looks down at Bodhi. “Durran, you brought every single cadet. I guess that would make you the Iron Section.”

Holy shit. I don’t even bother trying to suppress my grin, now. I knew that Fourth Wing brought the most cadets, but we kept our entire section together?