She leans back in her chair, but that narrowing of her eyes isn’t defeat. Oh no, she’s sizing me up as a worthy opponent.
Game on.
“Do you know why I’m such a successful collector?” the viscount asks, practically vibrating with excitement. “I have a gift for knowing what it is people want, what motivates them to give up their treasures.” Gods, he’s Varrish’s opposite. Our signets really aren’t that different than mindwork. “I think you and I could strike a deal if you consider that I could deliver your wildest dreams.”
Xaden strokes my thigh absentmindedly, but it helps keep me grounded. “And what do you think my wildest dreams are?” I ask.
“Peace.” Tecarus nods, his movements growing more erratic the more excited he becomes. “Not for you, of course. That’s not what motivates you. Peace for the people you love.”
Xaden’s fingers still.
“Peace for him,” Tecarus finishes.
My next breath is shaky. “I’m listening.”
He presents his offer, and I have to admit, for a second, it’s tempting. Spending a few years as his personal guard dog, monitoring the riderless wyvern who have begun flying over routinely in patterns that look suspiciously like control, in return for living out the rest of my days with Xaden, our dragons, and my loved ones on an isle committed to peace sounds perfect. It’s also the coward’s way out and completely unfeasible. The isles don’t accept Navarrians even as visitors.
“Running away from the Continent to whatever land you’ve secured from the Deverelli isn’t going to help the people I like or the ones I don’t even know. It’s just that—running away.”
Tecarus’s jaw flexes, and I get the impression he’s not used to being told no.
“Even if I give the luminary to Tyrrendor?” He glances at Brennan. “Word spread quickly that Navarre let your cadets go without so much as a drop of blood spilled. Though I do wonder why that is, don’t you?”
Yes. Every day.
“Dragons owe you no explanation.” Brennan shrugs. “And my sister just earned the luminary. Or are you going back on your deal?”
“I would never break my word.” Tecarus glances Xaden’s way and leans forward onto the heavily embroidered forearms of his tunic. “Everything we know about the dark wielders.” He nods at the silver-browed general, who slides a leather-bound book across the table to Brennan. My fingers immediately itch to open the cover. “But I never said I would give you the luminary if she wielded. I said we would enter discussions.”
You have to be fucking kidding me. My hand tightens over Xaden’s, like that’s going to stop him from strangling the viscount with shadows or me from losing absolute control of my power. I should have brought the conduit into the meeting.
“Then let’s discuss. What do you want in exchange for us leaving with the luminary today? Weapons?” Brennan asks. “Because that’s what we’re offering. The luminary is useless here, but we’ll put it to use supplying your drifts with the weapons they need for the venin you can’t capture.”
Hopefully the details of how they managed to catch that one are in the book.
“Weapons are a good start,” Tecarus agrees with a nod, his gaze sliding to Cat. “And you take the hundred flier cadets I’ve given shelter to after their academy was destroyed back to Aretia with the luminary.”
I’m sorry…what the fuck?
“And what would you like us to do with your cadets?” Xaden asks, tilting his head slightly. “Gryphons don’t fare well at altitude.”
“They’ve never been given the chance to adjust,” Tecarus argues. “And I want you to educate them just as I assume you are doing with the rider cadets. Keep them safe, teach them to work together, and we might have a chance of surviving this war. We’ve seen riderless wyvern patrolling the skies, no doubt reporting what they see instantly to their creators, in the last few weeks. Our reports say they’ve ventured as far west as Draithus. It won’t help the fliers to stay safe here in the south—not when they want to fight. And who better to teach the fliers how to kill wyvern than dragon riders?”
Train with gryphon fliers? Take Cat back to Aretia? I would rather face down a dozen venin. Unarmed. Without Tairn or Andarna.
“There’s no way to fly them into Tyrrendor,” Mira points out.
A muscle in Xaden’s jaw flexes. “There is. But there’s no guarantee they’ll survive it.”
“We’ll take the chance,” Syrena answers. “It’s the cadets’ best shot at living long enough to fight the dark wielders.”
“This is my offer. Take it or leave it,” Tecarus demands.
There’s no way—
“Done,” Brennan answers. “As long as each flier we take brings a crossbolt with them.”
I’m going to throttle my brother.
From the dangerous waves of the Arctile Ocean to the lowest plains of the Tyrrendor plateau, the Cliffs of Dralor rise to over twelve thousand feet in places, making them unflyable by gryphon. While there are three well-carved paths within Navarre to ascend the plateau, along the Krovlan border exists only one…and it is deadly to both gryphon and flier.
Do not attempt under any circumstances.
—CHAPTER TWO: THE TACTICAL GUIDE TO DEFEATING DRAGONS BY COLONEL ELIJAH JOBEN
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
My neck aches as I stare up, and up, and up the Cliffs of Dralor to where they disappear into a thick layer of cloud cover.
It’s been four days since we struck the deal with Tecarus. Three nights ago, we delivered the luminary—a ring nearly as tall as Sgaeyl of vibrant blue crystals—to an offshoot of the valley above Aretia where the new forge is located. Yesterday, all cadets were ordered to get a good night’s sleep, pack for a three-day mission, and assemble for flight formation at four in the morning, and now we’re standing in a field west of Draithus, eyeing the drifts gathered on the other side of First Wing as the sun burns off the early morning haze.
“He can’t be serious,” Ridoc says beside me in formation, his neck craned at the same angle as mine. Between the hundred Aretian cadets and an equal number of fliers packed into this grassy field, I’d guess ninety-five percent of us look exactly the same, gawking at the steep, barely visible, narrow trail my brother just pointed at with absolute incredulity.
The series of ledges and switchbacks carved into the granite cliff looks more suitable to a mountain goat than a gryphon and blends so well into the terrain that it’s no wonder the Medaro Pass has been kept secret.
Until now.
