It’s only the marked ones and my squad who don’t begin to argue amongst themselves, some quiet, some outright yelling.
“Was this what you had in mind?” Xaden asks me, his gaze swinging over the crowd.
“Not exactly,” I admit, leaning heavily on him but managing to stay on my feet. My uniform is clean, my rucksack packed, and I’m wrapped and braced from ankle to broken arm, but more than one cadet is staring at my face. After a quick look in the mirror, I understand why.
Nolon must have only mended the most severe of my injuries, because my face is a collage of new, purple-black bruises and older, greenish ones, and that pattern only continues beneath the cover of my uniform.
Xaden damn near shook the entire time it took for me to change.
“If you don’t believe me, ask your dragons!” Dain shouts.
“If their dragons agree to tell them,” Tairn says, on his way back from the Vale. I’d finally trusted my mother enough to drink the antidote about ten minutes ago—which Tairn had claimed was the only logical move, and he bonded me for my intelligence, after all.
“What has the Empyrean decided?” We aren’t the only ones making choices tonight.
“It will be up to the individual dragon. They will not interfere, nor will they punish those who choose to leave and take their clutches and hatchlings with them.”
It’s better than the alternative, which was full-scale slaughter of the dragons choosing to fight. “Are you really okay?” I ask him again. The bond between us feels strange, like he’s holding back more than usual.
“I lost Solas in a network of caves while I was hunting him, so I was unable to kill him and Varrish myself for their actions. When I do find him, I will prolong his suffering before death.”
I understand the feeling. “And Andarna?”
“Being made ready for flight. We’ll pick her up on our way out.” He hesitates.
“Prepare yourself. She still sleeps.”
Knots of apprehension twist in my stomach. “What is wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The elders have never seen an adolescent remain in the Dreamless Sleep this long.”
My heart plummets.
“You’re lying!” Aura Beinhaven shouts, snapping my attention back to the current situation as she charges toward Dain, blade in hand.
Garrick steps into her path, drawing his sword. “I have no problem adding to my body count for the day, Beinhaven.”
Heaton draws their axe at the base of the steps, the purple flames dyed into their hair matching the shade of my pinkie finger, and faces the formation alongside Emery, who already has his sword ready with Cianna protecting his back.
Xaden was busy for the five days I spent in that cell. He came back with every graduate who bears a rebellion relic and a good share of their classmates. But not all.
“We’d better hurry this along.” I look up at Xaden. “The professors are going to be here any minute.” The distraction Bodhi engineered in the flight field bought us time to meet without teachers noticing, but not much, especially considering that Devera, Kaori, Carr, and Emetterio are among those on campus still.
“By all means,” Xaden replies, a look of boredom on his face. “Feel free to convince them.”
“Share the memory of Resson but nothing further,” I tell Tairn. “It’s the easiest way for them to all have the same information.”
“I loathe that idea.” He’s complained before that sharing memories outside of a mating bond isn’t exactly comfortable.
“Have a better one?”
Tairn grumbles, and I can see the moment it happens. There’s a ripple through formation of tilted heads and gasps.
“There we go.” I shift my weight to the less injured knee, and Xaden’s hand tightens around my waist, leaving his dominant arm free.
Xaden sighs. “I guess that’s one way to accomplish the goal, though I wish you’d left some parts out.”
Parts like Liam’s death.
“It’s true!” someone in Second Wing yells, stepping out of formation and stumbling in shock.
“What the hell are you talking about?” another shouts, looking at the rest in confusion.
“If your dragons don’t choose—” Dain starts, but his voice is overpowered by the outbreak of mayhem within the ranks.
“How’s it going there, wingleader?” Sarcasm drips from Xaden’s tone.
“You think you can do better?” Dain turns a slow glare his way.
“Can you stand on your own?” Xaden asks me.
I nod, grimacing through the sharp bites of protest all throughout my body as I straighten.
He steps forward, raises his arms, and shadows rush in from the wall at our back, engulfing the formation—and us—in complete darkness. There’s a glimmer of a caress across my cheek, right where it’s split to what feels like bone, and more than one cadet screams.
“Enough!” Xaden bellows, his voice amplified, shaking the very dais under our feet.
The courtyard falls silent.
