“When you wield lightning, come and talk to me,” Devera counters.
“Before you graduate, you’re going to learn how to take on a dark wielder and survive,” Brennan promises. “It requires a different style of fighting, and honing your signets, which you may have noticed are a bit testy up here. Remember, magic is a little wild out here beyond the wards, but we’re currently deciphering Warrick’s journal in order to get our wards operational as quickly as possible. We’re also working on getting our forge up and running to supply both our forces and the gryphon fliers with weaponry, which is part of our mission—”
A grumble of disapproval ripples through the auditorium.
“Knock it off,” Brennan chastises. “Fliers are dangerous, but they are not the enemy you’ve been raised to fear, though some are still hostile toward us, as evidenced by the attack on Samara four days ago.”
Fliers attacked Samara? My pulse stutters. Mira.
“Which brings us back to Battle Brief,” Devera continues. “One dragon was injured, but no riders were lost in the attack, according to our sources, mostly because there was only one dragon present at the outpost during the attack— political turmoil, remember? The wards did not fail, but a drift of fliers infiltrated the post, killing a dozen infantry before two of them were killed in the lowest level of the fortress.”
No riders were lost. She’s all right. Once my heart falls out of my throat, I can think again.
“They were looking for weaponry,” I whisper. “That’s where the armory is.” Navarre’s citizens might not know that we’re gone, but the drifts do.
“Say it,” Rhiannon urges quietly.
I shake my head, unwilling to follow my thoughts to their logical conclusion.
“What questions would you ask about the attack?” Devera cuts in. “This one’s been briefing officers for too long and doesn’t remember the art of teaching.” She cuts another mean side-eye at Brennan.
“Fuck it. I’ll say it,” Ridoc mutters. Then asks at full volume: “Were they looking for weaponry?”
“Absolutely.” Brennan nods. “That’s the only reason for fliers to attack Navarrian outposts directly.” He glances at me like he knows the question was really mine, and then stares in that challenging look of disapproval he mastered before the age of fifteen, daring me to rise, to stop avoiding the consequences of my own actions.
Fine. “Did the fliers attack Samara before or after the news of our… ” Gods, what are the right words for what we did? “Departure from Basgiath leaked into Poromiel?”
Brennan’s stare softens in approval.
“After,” Devera answers.
The lump in my throat swells painfully, threatening to rip apart what facade of calm I have left. They attacked because they know we can’t supply them. They’re defenseless.
“It’s not your fault,” Rhiannon whispers.
“Yeah, it is.” I focus on taking notes.
Brennan turns to the map. “On to enemy movements. In the last week, venin have taken the town of Anca. Not surprising, given its proximity to the recently fallen Zolya.”
I don’t bother looking at Anca. My gaze is locked on Cordyn, where Viscount Tecarus has the only other known luminary. It’s the next largest city between Zolya and Draithus, and still outside venin-controlled territory. The seaside city was a two-day flight from Basgiath, but from here? I bet Tairn could make it in twelve hours.
“Ten,” he corrects me. “But it’s not entirely safe,” he states, but it’s not an argument.
“So Xaden says, but neither is being here beyond the wards without a forge to arm anyone, including ourselves.” Good thing we’ll have the wards up soon.
“She makes a good point,” Andarna agrees. “Can you carry a luminary?”
“That question insults me.”
“Can you carry a luminary while insulted?” she prods.
Tairn growls.
“What’s concerning is that it appears the town was drained, and then the dark wielders pulled back to reassemble in Zolya,” Devera says. “What does that tell us?”
“They’re organized and basing out of Zolya,” Rhiannon answers. “It’s like a supply trip for an ongoing campaign.”
“Silver One!” Tairn’s tone changes. “A riot approaches!”
My breath seizes as my head swings toward the back of the theater, as if the small windows there will give me any clue of what’s coming.
“Yes. They’re not just consuming but occupying territory for the first time. Good—” Brennan quiets, no doubt talking to Marbh, then focuses as the entire theater falls silent. “Everyone get to the great hall and wait there,” he orders, turning to Devera as the auditorium descends into quiet chaos.
“How many?” I force myself to breathe through the terror and shove everything into my pack and stand as everyone around me does the same in a hushed panic.
“Are they coming for us?” Ridoc asks quietly. “Navarre?”
I thought we’d have more time. How can this already be happening?
“I don’t know,” Rhiannon answers.
“Can Tairn take Codagh?” Aaric asks as I throw my pack onto my back.
My mouth opens and shuts as I think of General Melgren’s dragon. I don’t even want the answer to that question.
And Tairn is suspiciously quiet.
“Shortest revolution in history.” Sawyer mutters a swear word and yanks the drawstrings of his pack tight.
