His eyes flare. “You figured out how to raise the wards.”

I blink, then scowl. “I hate it when you do that. Is my face really that easy to read?”

“To me? Yes.” He looks toward the rocky path that leads down to Riorson House. “We should go now. How long will it take to raise them?”

“No.” I shake my head and turn toward my squad, seeing Sloane, Visia, and Cat clearly waiting for me. Guess I don’t need to ask where I’ve been assigned. “We’ll talk about it later. Discussion paused.”

“At least tell me what was missed the first time.” Xaden quickly catches up to me.

“Dragons.” I pat Andarna’s foreleg as we approach the trio of waiting cadets. “‘The six most powerful’ refers to dragons, not riders.”

“In that case, I can have them up before you get back.”

“No, you can’t.” I shoot him a glare.

“Are you two fighting silently?” Cat asks, glancing between Xaden and me, her perfectly arched brows rising slowly.

“They do that,” Sloane informs her.

Xaden ignores them both completely, keeping his gaze locked onto mine as we reach them. “And just why can’t I?”

I lean up and brush my lips over his cool cheek. “Because you’ll need Tairn. Now go warm up. I have a mission to fly.” Without another word to him, I turn to my squadmates. “Let’s go.”

The art of imbuing comes naturally to only a handful of signets, and automatically only to one: the siphon.

—A STUDY ON SIGNETS BY MAJOR DALTON SISNEROS

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Forty minutes later, the four of us are hiking down a steep, snow-covered ridgeline to a cave only accessible by foot in the sector our group has been assigned to, and Lucky Me is in the lead, which leaves Cat at my back.

At least Andarna’s there to protect it should the flier get any stabby ideas about how to get me out of Xaden’s bed.

“This is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to fly with you.” Andarna huffs at the powdery snow, scattering a portion in a shimmering cloud of frozen misery.

“This is what the mission called for, and you need your strength to fly back,” I tell her, trudging forward through the knee-high layer of fresh hell and hoping I don’t fall through into any older strata.

The only one who isn’t struggling is Kiralair, Cat’s silver-winged gryphon, who walks at Andarna’s side. Only those two are light enough not to cause an avalanche on the nonexistent path.

“Anything?” Tairn asks as he flies to the next peak, his voice tense.

“We haven’t even made it to the cave you selected,” I respond, spotting the mouth of the cave about twenty yards ahead only because Tairn pointed it out under the camouflage of the snowy outcropping above. The riot left us at the only fully stable section of terrain, an outcropping of rock left bare by the vicious wind.

“I still find this plan lacking,” he lectures. “Leaving you on one peak to explore another for a possible energy signature leaves you in unacceptable danger.”

“From whom?” I tug my fur-lined hood closer to ward off the wind when it shifts, stinging the tips of my exposed ears. “Do you really think any wyvern could—”

“I’m coming back.”

“It’s entirely too easy to rile you.” I laugh, and the sound echoes off the snow-covered bowl, making us all take pause.

“For fuck’s sake, Sorrengail,” Cat hisses once it’s clear the snow around us is staying put. “Are you trying to get us buried in an avalanche?”

“Sorry,” I whisper over my shoulder.

Her eyes widen. “Did you just apologize to me?”

“I can admit when I’m wrong.” I shrug and continue forward.

“I’m fully present and capable of protecting her,” Andarna snipes at Tairn.

“You do not yet breathe fire.”

“Fire would only serve to melt the mountain,” she reminds him, and I glance back to see her carefully picking her path, her scales reflecting the snow in an almost silvery sheen in places. “I still wield teeth and claw should the aristocrat bare her vitriol.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t?” Cat asks.

“Do you even think you’re wrong? Ever?” I ask, pushing forward. “I honestly think you might be worse than a dragon when it comes to confidence.”

“Arrogance,” Andarna corrects me. “The flier doesn’t have the skills to back up a word like ‘confidence.’”

I snort, but bite back the laugh before it can endanger us. Ten more feet and we’ll be at the cave. If Tairn locates a second while we’re retrieving the first, we’ll be ahead of Claw Section, who has already found three to our section’s two, according to Tairn.

Dragons are nothing if not competitive.

“What?” Cat asks.

“Andarna thinks you’re arrogant, not confident,” I tell her.

“She is,” Sloane agrees.

“Just because your brother didn’t like me doesn’t mean you know me,” Cat whispers at Sloane.

“No.” I turn to face Cat, making her pause in the footsteps I’ve carved in the ridgeline. “You want to pick a fight? You come at me.”

Cat cocks her head to the side and studies me. “Because you feel guilty for her brother’s death.” It’s not an accusation or even a dig. Just the truth.

“Because I promised him I’d take care of her. So, you can aim all that hatred right here.” I tap my gloved hand to my chest.

“He was wrong to ask that of you.” Sloane catches up, Visia close behind.

“Because Imogen would have been a more capable protector?” I ask, only able to hold her too familiar blue gaze for a heartbeat before looking away.

“No. Because you already carry the weight of protecting Xaden’s life. It was unfair of him to burden you with mine, too.” She huffs a breath into her cupped, gloved hands to warm them.

I blink as my eyes sting from something other than the wind, then turn to continue trudging through the snow toward the cave, whose entrance is nothing but a narrow, icy ledge. “It looks bigger than we thought from the air.” But still not wide enough for any dragon bigger than Andarna to squeeze into.