My muscles protest the sudden movement after hours of riding, but I make it to his shoulder, then slide down the familiar ridges of his scales until my feet touch ground at Basgiath.

The second I’m clear, slipping the strap of my bag to my shoulder, Tairn launches skyward. He’s strong but also heavy, and his talons barely clear the roofline of the infantry quadrant as he flies off.

Officers stand in stunned silence against the walls, staring at me with blatant shock, and I open the Archives doors just a crack to fill my body with enough energy to wield just in case one of them decides to make a move. Hands up, I scan the threats around me, taking note of the one captain in navy blue reaching for his sword. I retreat toward the wall beside the stairs leading up to the administration building until I feel frozen stone against my back.

Sgaeyl lands an instant later, momentarily obscuring my view of my would-be enemies, and Xaden dismounts, shadows in one hand and a sword in the other as he echoes my previous movements, giving only me his back as he retreats to my side. When Sgaeyl launches from the courtyard, Teine sweeps down, taking her place in perfectly timed coordination.

Movement up the stairs catches my attention, and I pivot, putting myself between Xaden and my mother as she descends with slow, deliberate steps, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed shortsword, Nolon a few steps behind her.

Here we go.

Shadows stream around me, racing across the cobblestones and stopping at the first step just as my mother reaches it. Her sigh is pure annoyance, and twin bruises lie in half circles beneath the eyes she narrows at us.

“Mom.” Power crackles, lifting the loose tendrils of my hair as I glance back at the man who helped hold me prisoner.

“Really, Violet? You couldn’t use the front door?” She glances at Mira, and then her gaze turns upward as Cath descends. Her face falls, but she holds her posture rigid as ever.

“He’s not with us,” Mira says, holding her sword pointed at the captain who’s been working his way out. “In fact, he’s pretty pissed we came.”

Mom’s head tilts slightly in a movement I know means she’s talking to Aimsir. “Seems we’ve been fully invaded.”

“We’re not here to fight you. We’re here to fight for you,” I tell her. “You might not believe me, but your wards are in danger.”

“Our wards are perfectly fine, as I’m sure you can feel.” Mom crosses her arms as Dain joins us. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She calls across the courtyard,

“Hollyn, open the damned gates before one of these dragons takes off the roof.” She looks pointedly at the shadows blocking her path.

They lift, retreating to the tips of my boots.

“Let the others know the gates are opening,” I tell Tairn.

“I will position myself accordingly.”

A full minute later, the guards throw open the gates, revealing the rest of our squad dismounting.

“Trust me, Mom. The battle you’re expecting isn’t at Samara: it’s here.” I explain my line of thinking in the few minutes it takes for my squadmates to reach us. “Someone is going to take down your wards.”

“Not possible, cadet.” She shakes her head as night descends in true around us. “They’re heavily guarded every moment of every day. The biggest threat to the wards would be you.”

“Let us check,” Xaden says at my back. “You know your daughters would never strip Navarre of its protection.”

“I know exactly who my daughters are. And the answer is no.” Her dismissal is curt. “You’re lucky to be alive crossing enemy airspace. Consider retaining your lives a personal gift.”

“I think not.” Mira’s gaze sweeps the courtyard. “This courtyard should be full at this hour with soldiers returning from mess, and yet I only count five soldiers. One captain and four cadets, and no, I’m not counting the healers in the corner. You’ve sent every available body to Samara, haven’t you?”

The temperature in the courtyard plummets from freezing to nearly unbreathable.

“The guards behind you have signets in mindwork, Mother. In fact, I’d bet money that the most powerful riders on campus are you and…who? Professor Carr?” Mira moves forward fearlessly. “Our forces can render aid or conquer. It’s your choice.”

Mom’s nostrils flare as tense seconds pass.

“If you won’t take them to the wards,” Dain says from somewhere behind me, “I will. My father showed me where they are last year.” Which is precisely why he’s with our squad.

“Who do you want to be? The general who saves Basgiath, or the one who loses it to the very cadets who rejected your lies?” I lift my chin.

“Black really does suit you, Violet.” It might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.

“Like Captain Sorrengail said, it’s your choice. We’re wasting time,” I retort. With night fallen, it’s officially solstice.

Mom’s gaze jumps to Mira, then slides back to me. “By all means, let’s inspect the wards.”

My shoulders dip in relief, but I keep my power at the ready as we climb the steps into the administration building, swallowing the knot of apprehension in my throat as we approach Nolon.

“Violet—” he starts.

Just the sound of his voice makes bile rise in my throat.

“Stay the fuck away from Violet, and I’ll consider letting you live, if only to mend riders if there’s a battle coming,” Xaden warns the mender as we pass him near the entryway.

Mage lights glow above our heads as we walk into the familiar halls, a pair of healers scurrying by, coming from the direction of the mess hall where another group of cadets in pale blue peer out of the doorway.

“Chradh is worried,” Tairn remarks, his voice tense.

“What would Garrick’s dragon be worried about?” Xaden asks on the pathway shared by all four of us.

“Runes,” Sgaeyl answers.

That’s right. The Brown Scorpiontail found the lure in Resson because he’s highly sensitive to them. “Basgiath was built on runes,” I remind them.

“This is different. He senses the same energy that he detected in Resson.” Tairn’s tone shifts. “His rider officially has control of the dormitory with Devera.”

Garrick’s in place.

Mom leads us down the hallway and into the northwest turret, then descends the spiral staircase that reminds me so much of its southern counterpart that my breath catches at the scent of earth.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I hear the sound in my mind as clearly as if it were real, as if I were back in that interrogation chamber. Xaden’s hand takes mine, lacing his fingers through my own.

“You all right?” he asks, shadows wrapping around our joined hands, their touch as soft as velvet.

For a second, I debate playing it off, but I was the one who demanded full disclosure, so it only seems fair that I give it. “It smells like the interrogation chamber.”

“We’ll set that room on fire before we leave,” he promises.

At the base of the stairwell is…nothing. Just a circular room paved with the foundation stones.

Mom looks to Dain, and he walks past her, examining the pattern, then pushing on a rectangular stone at his shoulder height. It gives, and stone scrapes stone as a door swings open in the masonry, revealing a mage-lit tunnel so cramped it would give even the bravest person claustrophobia.