I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for that, but I like to think he forgivesme.
—RECOVERED CORRESPONDENCE OF LIEUTENANT XADEN RIORSON TO CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Xaden yanks Aaric through just as the door slams shut, shadows scattering along the floor like fallen leaves.
I sag, leaning over and bracing my hands above my knees as I gasp for air.
“You made it!” Rhiannon ducks her head to mine, smiling wide.
“And we have to keep making it,” Xaden reminds us. “Robes off. Keep to the plan.”
My heart slows somewhat, and I straighten, then shrug out of the scribe’s robes, putting them in Quinn’s outstretched palms.
Bodhi helps Aaric out of his, careful with his blistered hands.
“Did you get them?” Jesinia signs, hope lighting her face.
I nod. “Will they suspect you?” Nasya looks more unconscious than asleep against the wall.
“Not if I get us back to the dorms quickly,” she replies.
“I’ll take care of him,” Imogen says, heading over to Nasya.
“He shouldn’t remember much. I hit him from behind,” Sawyer admits, stuffing the robes into a large cream laundry bag.
I translate for Jesinia.
“I’ll just berate him for falling asleep,” she signs back, offering Sawyer a smile, and I translate.
He blinks, pausing for a long second before taking the last robe—Aaric’s— and putting it into the bag. “Damn, your hands…”
The blisters that have popped are bleeding, and those that haven’t look like they might go at any second.
“That’s a rebound burn,” Bodhi says. “It will clear up overnight if treated.”
“Change to the plan.” I glance at Xaden, but he merely lifts an eyebrow. “Ridoc, take Aaric to your room and keep his hands hidden. Rhi, go to the infirmary and ask for Dyre. A mender will draw too much attention. It might take him some time to report if he’s not on duty, but he should keep quiet if you call in the debt he owes me. You’ll have to sneak him into the quadrant—”
“Good idea. I can do that.” She nods to the guys. “C’mon. Now.” The three of them take off down the hallway.
“I’ll take the laundry,” Jesinia signs.
I translate for Sawyer, and he hands over the bag.
“Let’s move,” Xaden orders.
“Go,” Jesinia urges. “We’re clear here.”
“Thank you,” I sign, then head out with Xaden and the others.
“How did it go for you?” Xaden asks Quinn as we pass the stairs on our left and continue toward the Healer Quadrant.
“I projected into commons and made it clear I was looking for lemonade because we’ve all been drinking in Imogen’s room.” She grins, a dimple popping in her cheek. “And then I managed to take a walk as Violet and Rhiannon.”
My mouth drops and I nearly stumble. “You projected looking like someone else?”
She nods. “I can distort my own features a little, but it’s way easier in the astral plane. My signet is stronger because Cruth was my great-aunt’s dragon. But she’s not a direct descendant, so I don’t have to worry about going mad like those whose dragons bond in the direct familial line. Dragons aren’t supposed to even get close to family lines for that exact reason—like they listen to human rules.” She glances at Imogen. “I still can’t quite get the right shade of pink for your hair.”
We fall quiet as we pass by the infirmary. It’s the last obstacle before we can split up in the quadrant as planned.
“Well, that was blissfully uneventful.” Bodhi pushes open the door to the bridge.
“Speak for yourself,” Imogen replies, smacking him in the chest as she walks by. “You weren’t in charge of keeping Xaden calm while Aaric had Violet trapped behind the wards with him.”
I scoff, because we both know that’s not how that went down.
Xaden’s jaw ticks.
We part once we reach the other side of the bridge. Imogen and Quinn take the stairs to their rooms, Bodhi and Sawyer head to commons to make as much of a scene as they can in order to be remembered, and Xaden and I climb to the first floor and escape into the courtyard.
The October air cools my flushed cheeks.
“You feel all right?” Xaden asks as we pass a group of cadets.
“Thirsty from sprinting, but…” I don’t bother fighting the smile that stretches across my face. “But good.”
