“That’s not true!” I mean to shout but it comes out more as a whimper, my voice hoarse from days of screaming. Varrish has twisted everything. “I would never hurt civilians. Dain, you know—”
“I don’t know shit about you anymore,” Dain counters, his face twisting in anger.
“There’s a war out there,” I tell him, desperate to break through before he breaks me. “Poromish civilians are dying, and we’re not doing anything to help. We’re just watching it happen, Dain.”
“You think we should involve ourselves in their civil war?” Dain argues.
My shoulders slump. “I think you’ve been lied to for so long that you won’t recognize the truth even when it hits you in the face.”
“I could say the same for you.” Dain looks toward Varrish. “You’re sure she was trying to take down the wards?”
“I’ve had the journal sent back to the Archives for safekeeping, but yes. The book she stole gave detailed instructions on how the wards were built and could be used as a map to unravel them.” Varrish clasps Dain’s shoulder. “I know this is hard to hear, but people aren’t always who we want them to be.”
Liam pushes off the wall and walks around the pair, coming to my side and crouching down. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to stop this.”
Me either.
“Try not to be angry with her,” Varrish tells Dain, his expression shifting to sympathetic. “We can’t always help who we fall in love with, can we?”
Dain stiffens.
“Riorson pulled her into something she couldn’t possibly understand. You know that. You saw it happen last year.” He sighs. “I didn’t want to have to show you this, but”—he pulls my alloy-imbedded dagger from his own sheath—“she was carrying this, too. That metal you see is what powers the wards. We think they’ve been smuggling them out to wherever they’re planning to stage this war from, weakening our wards little by little.”
“Is that true?” Dain’s gaze flies to mine.
I spot Nora leaning against the doorjamb and shudder. “I can explain. It’s not how he’s portraying it—”
“I don’t need you to explain,” Dain snarls. “I’ve been asking you to talk to me for months, and now I see why you won’t. Why you’re adamant I never touch you. You’re scared I’ll see what you’ve been hiding.” He stalks forward, and I shrink back in the chair.
Xaden, forgive me.
“Remember your ethics, Cadet,” Varrish instructs. “Especially given your attachment to Cadet Sorrengail. Search like you’ve been practicing but focus on the word ward.”
“Lieutenant Nora,” a voice calls from the antechamber. “All leadership is being ordered to assemble. There have been...incidents at the border.”
“By whose order?” Nora demands.
“General Sorrengail’s.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” Nora replies, waving him off.
“We might already be too late,” Varrish says, shaking his head. “Riorson deserted days ago, according to the reports we received this morning. We’re gathering the marked ones now.”
My breath seizes. He deserted. He could be safe in Aretia right now, raising the wards. But Imogen? Bodhi? Sloane? They’re the ones leadership is gathering.
Liam’s hand settles on my shoulder, steadying me. They’ll kill them all, and once they know about Aretia, they’ll hunt the rest. “He can search your memory,” Liam tells me. “But logic says he’ll have to muddle through what you’re thinking first.”
“What have you done, Violet?” Varrish asks. “Orchestrated another attack on an outpost? Find out what you can, Aetos. The safety of our kingdom depends on it. Time is of the essence.”
Dain’s eyes flare, and he lifts his hands.
“You killed Liam,” I blurt.
He pauses. “So you keep saying. But I only searched your memory to prove my father wrong, Violet, and all you did was prove him right. If the marked ones died betraying our kingdom, then they deserved what they got.”
“I hate you,” I whisper, the sound strangled as my eyes prickle and burn.
“She’s stalling,” Varrish snips. “Do it now. And if you see something you don’t understand, I’ll explain it once we know where their army is hiding. Just trust me that we are acting in the best interest of every citizen of Navarre. Our only goal is keeping them safe.”
Dain nods and reaches for me, hesitating at the last second. “She’s bruised everywhere.”
“Show him what you want him to see,” Liam urges.
“She’s nothing more than a traitor,” Varrish retorts.
“Right.” Dain nods, and I close my eyes the second his fingers push in on my tender, aching temples.
They may have blocked me from my power, but that stems from Tairn. The control over my mind? That’s mine, and it’s all I have left.
Unlike last year, I feel Dain’s presence at the edge of my mind this time, right where my shields should be, and instead of recoiling from the assault, I grab hold of that presence and throw myself into the memory, dragging Dain with me.
“Do we have a riot nearby?” Liam asks.
Gravity shifts as I realize my worst nightmare is indeed a living, breathing monster.
Two legs. Not four. Wyvern.
They’d sent us here to die.
