“There was a time my kind dwelled in every mountain of this range,” Tairn tells me. “That cave is undoubtedly part of the network of chambers that runs throughout this range for a wintering den. This entrance would have been inhospitable to any approach but direct flight—to protect the young…and the adolescent.”

“I heard that,” Andarna quips.

“Kiralair says our squad has another box in hand,” Cat tells us as I finally reach the cave’s entrance, stepping out of the wind.

“We’re so winning that pass.” Visia grins, and Cat walks out of the snow and onto the rocky floor of the cave.

“Does every gryphon have lair in their name?” I ask Cat, hoping the subject change might change the aim of her sharp tongue from Sloane.

“Of course not. Is every rider named Sorrengail?” She folds her arms and bounces back on her heels like she’s trying to stay warm.

“That right there is why I don’t like you.” Sloane crosses into the cave. “You’re—”

Visia slips and I lunge forward, catching her hand and tugging her into the cave as snow crumbles where she’d just been standing.

“You all right?” I ask, pulling her farther into the cave and scanning her startled face.

“Of course she is. You never seem to have a problem saving her,” Cat mutters.

“I’m fine.” Visia nods, dropping her hood and revealing the dragonfire burn scar down her hairline. “That’s going to make it hard to leave.”

I shoot Cat a withering look, but she’s too busy watching her gryphon, Kira, stretch across the hole in the path, then safely squirm her way in to notice.

“Reason number two.” Sloane holds up two fingers and walks past Cat into the dark cave. “Needless to say, there are no mage lights in here.”

And I’ve never been that good at producing them. Anything I wield with lesser magic is going to be swallowed up in this darkness. I rest my hand over my stomach as if that will help the instant rise of nausea from the smell of earth around us. At least it’s missing that damp scent from the interrogation chamber, but it’s close enough to make me pause.

“You ended the one who kept you prisoner,” Andarna reminds me, following Kira in, tucking her wings tight to fit through the opening.

“Fear isn’t always logical.” I glance at the other riders. “Any chance either of you is a fire wielder? Because I don’t think you want me wielding in here.” Keeping the energy strung between my hand and the conduit for fifteen feet puts me into a sweat every time, and I can only keep it going for a few seconds.,

“No signet yet,” Visia responds.

“Me, either,” Sloane answers, peering into the darkness.

“You brought a dragon.” Cat gestures wide, motioning toward Andarna.

“She can’t breathe fire yet.” I offer Andarna a smile. “But she will.”

“Remind her that I can sever her head with one bite,” Andarna growls, the sound higher than Tairn’s menacing rumble.

“I will not. What does Tairn tell us?”

“We don’t eat our allies,” she mumbles, but there’s a distinct tap of her talons against the rock floor.

“Great. Why they stuck me with you three, I’ll never know. You’d think one of us would have a good mage light down.” Cat removes her bow, then swings her pack from her back and rummages past the full quiver to pull out a small, unlit torch.

“Are you kidding me?” I gawk as she brings a piece of wood no larger than my palm from the bag, shakes her head, and reaches for another. “You carry one of those around with you?”

“Obviously.” Cat digs into her bag again. “The fact that you don’t says that you haven’t been appropriately scared of the dark yet. Shit, I can’t find the fire rune Maren made.”

“You all trade runes?” Visia stares in open shock.

“And you call yourselves a family. Of course we share. Whoever can make it, does. Then we all trade so everyone is equally equipped.” Cat shakes her head and stands, muttering a curse. “I can’t find it.”

“That’s…brilliant,” I admit. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“You’re used to hoarding power,” she says with a dismissive shrug. “Not sharing it. Now, unless someone has an idea for fire—”

“Got it.” I yank off my gloves, then stuff them into one pocket and pull my conduit from the other, beckoning a trickle of my power to rise. It tingles, then burns as it flows down my hand, through my fingers, and into the conduit. The tendrils of energy light our immediate surroundings.

“That’s so awesome.” Visia smiles. “Can all of you do that?”

“No. It just hums for most of us. Glad to see you’ll have all the light you need.” Sarcasm drips from Cat’s voice.

“Take it,” I order Sloane.

“I’d rather live.” She puts her hands up.

“If I thought it was going to kill you, I’d hand it to Cat.” I hold the conduit out to her.

Cat snorts, but I think there was a note of laughter there.

“Good point.” Sloane takes the conduit, and I concentrate on keeping the energy connected.

“Back up three steps. Good, another two,” I tell her, and my fingers tremble as she does, stretching my signet.

“Wow,” Visia whispers.

“Stick the torch into the energy, Cat.”

“You think that’s safe?” she asks.

“I have no clue, but I’m game to try if you are.” I keep focused on the conduit, on the flow of energy, on the heat I keep checked by controlling the door to Tairn’s power.

Kira clicks her tongue in a series of sounds I’ve become accustomed to but have no hope of ever understanding.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Cat mutters, then lowers the torch until it catches fire.

I immediately drop my hand, cutting off the power, and I send a prayer of thanks to Dunne that it worked. Felix is probably going to have my head on a pike tomorrow at lessons. “I’ll take it. Thanks, Sloane.”

Sloane hands the conduit back like it might explode.

“Damn,” Cat says, glancing from the torch, to the conduit, to me. “I hate that you’re so…”

“Badass?” Sloane suggests, smiling in a way that reminds me of her brother.

“Powerful,” Cat admits, looking away before slipping her pack back on, changing hands with the torch instead of passing it off.