“I think we may have caught them off guard,” I admit, guilt hollowing my stomach.
“Let’s go find out exactly how off guard,” Xaden says. “We’ll get some answers for you, Rhiannon.” He gestures toward a hallway. “We need to meet with the Assembly.”
“If you could just make that sound a little less foreboding.” I pause when we pass Aaric.
He’s standing off to the side of the squad, his arms folded over his chest, watching everything and everyone around him. “What now, Sorrengail?” he asks, his mouth tightening.
“He isn’t asking about the schedule,” Xaden says.
“Picked up on that.” I glance from Xaden to Aaric. “Your secret is safe with us.”
“So presumptuous.”
I shoot Xaden a glare. “It’s up to you if you want to tell anyone about your family. Right, Riorson?”
A muscle in Xaden’s jaw ticks, but he nods.
“You swear it?” Aaric bites out.
“I do,” I promise.
It’s all I get to say before Xaden takes my hand and tugs me down the wide hallway, where the crowd finally thins.
“I think I may have fucked up,” I whisper, apprehension growing with each step we take.
“We may have fucked up,” he says, squeezing my hand and stopping us in front of a tall wooden door with more than a few angry, raised voices behind it. “Doesn’t mean we weren’t right.”
“The last time we were here, the people in that room wanted to lock me up as a security threat.” My chest tightens. “I’m starting to think maybe they were right.”
“Only four of them did,” he says, his fingers poised on the black metal door handle. “And I guarantee they’re more pissed at me than they are you. I didn’t exactly answer their summons last night after Brennan mended you.” He pulls open the door, and the raised voices become almost shrill as I follow him in.
“You’ve exposed everything we’ve worked for!” a woman shouts.
“Without so much as a vote from this council!” a man agrees.
“I made the call,” Xaden says once we’re clear of the doorway. “You want to yell? Yell at me.”
Six members of the Assembly look our way from their chairs at the long table, as Bodhi, Garrick, and Imogen stand in front of them as if on trial. We’re all that’s left of the squad that fought in Resson.
“We’re happy to address your choices, Lieutenant Riorson,” Suri says. “Though I’m not sure what the general’s daughter is doing here.”
“Well, the general’s son is right here,” Brennan counters from the other end of the table as Xaden and I walk forward, putting ourselves between Garrick and Imogen.
“You know what I meant,” the woman fires back, shooting Brennan a frustrated look.
The massive, empty armchair Xaden had sprawled across at our last meeting has been moved near the others. Guess they’re still waiting on someone. I glance at the high, intricately constructed back and the figure of a sleeping dragon perched on its pointed tip, then do a double take. In this lighting, I realize that one half is a rich, polished walnut, and the other has a black sheen to it, as if someone polished and sealed burned firewood… as if the chair has been half burned.
Because it probably was.
“And I think I know why she’s here.” Hawk Nose glares with his one eye like I’m something that needs to be scraped away from his boot, but at least he doesn’t reach for the sword at his side when he looks pointedly at our joined hands.
I pull mine from Xaden’s grasp.
He sighs like I’m his biggest problem and snatches it back. “What’s done is done. You can stay in here and chastise us all day, or you can figure out what to do with the hundred riders we brought you.”
“You didn’t bring us riders—you brought us cadets!” Suri shouts, pounding her fist on the table. “What the hell are we supposed to do with them?”
“Such theatrics are above you, Suri.” Felix scratches his beard and all but rolls his eyes at her. “Though the question is valid.”
“I’d suggest you call a formation and divide them into equal wings, for starters,” Xaden suggests, his tone dripping with boredom. “Though they may prefer to stay intact. From what I’ve seen, Fourth Wing has the largest numbers.”
“Because you were their wingleader,” Brennan states. “They were used to following you.”
“And Aetos,” Xaden replies begrudgingly. “He’s the one who called the formation after killing the vice commandant.”
“Aetos is another matter.” Battle-Ax runs her finger over the flat side of her weapon like it’s habit. “He’s confined to quarters until we can ascertain his loyalty, as are the scribes.”
“Cath is enough to vouch for Dain’s loyalty,” I argue. “And Jesinia is the only reason we have Warrick’s journal.” My hand tightens on Xaden’s when all six of the riders startle with surprise. “You do still have Warrick’s journal, right?”
“You have a journal from Warrick?” Battle-Ax leans forward. “As in First Six Warrick?”
“I do. Jesinia helped Violet and her squad steal the journal for instructions on how to use the wardstone,” Xaden says, turning his gaze on Brennan. “And she was right. It contains cryptic instructions in Old Lucerish that need detailed, precise translation, but it’s better than nothing. I was supposed to bring it to you but got sidetracked by her capture.”
“Dad never taught me Old Lucerish, only Tyrrish,” Brennan says to me, lines forming between his brows, and a quiet woman with shiny black hair and wideset eyes keeps her diamond-sharp gaze on him. “But if you can translate it, then there’s a chance we can secure—”
“Secure?” Hawk Nose snaps. “You bring a hundred riders and two hundred dragons here and have the nerve to say that word?” His eyes narrow on me. “You may as well have handed Melgren a map of our location. Or was that what she was truly after?”
“Here we fucking go,” Imogen says under her breath.
