“Bad news first.” That’s my new motto.

“Aetos is our new wingleader.”

My face falls. “Should have expected that. What’s the good news?”

“Cianna, our executive officer, moved up to being executive officer of the section.” Her smile is brighter than any mage light. “And you’re looking at our new squad leader.”

“Yes!” I outright squeal in absolute delight and yank her into a hug. “Congratulations! You’re going to be amazing! You already are!”

“Are we celebrating?” Sawyer asks loudly from the edge of the courtyard.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Ridoc shouts, ale sloshing over the sides of his mug as he rushes toward us. “Squad Leader Matthias!”

“What’s your first order, squad leader?” Sawyer asks, Nadine racing to catch up to his long strides.

Rhi glances over each of us and nods as though coming to a decision. “Live.”

I smile and wish it was that simple.

All tome requests at the Archives of Basgiath must be recorded and filed. Any cadet who fails to do so will be reported for dereliction of duty, as well as punished for the loss of any text they failed to accurately track.

—COLONEL DAXTON’S GUIDE TO EXCELLING IN THE SCRIBE QUADRANT

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I’ve never seen this room before,” Ridoc says five days later, dropping into the seat next to me as the U-shaped amphitheater-style classroom on the third floor fills for Orientation. We’re grouped in our sections and squads within our wings, putting us in the second row on the right-hand side, staring across the recessed floor at First Wing.

The noise outside is growing to a steady hum as civilians arrive for Conscription Day tomorrow, but it’s still quiet within the walls of the quadrant. We’ve spent this week preparing for the first-years’ arrival, learning our roles at Parapet, and drinking entirely too much at night. It definitely makes walking the hallways in the early morning interesting.

“We’ve never been second-years before,” Rhiannon replies from my other side, her supplies perfectly aligned on her desk.

“Good point.” Ridoc nods.

“Made it!” Nadine slides in next to Ridoc, shoving errant strands of her purple hair out of her face with a braced and wrapped hand. “How have I never been in this room before?”

Rhiannon just shakes her head.

“We’ve never been second-years before,” I tell Nadine.

“Right. Makes sense.” She grabs her things out of her bag, then drops it at her feet. “I guess none of our classes were this far down the hallway last year.”

“What happened to your hand?” Rhiannon asks.

“It’s embarrassing.” She lifts the brace so we can see it. “I slipped and sprained it on the steps last night. Don’t worry, the healers think Nolon might have an opening for me tomorrow before Parapet. He’s been run ragged since War Games.”

“That man needs a break,” Rhiannon says, bobbing her head.

“I wish we had a break like the other quadrants.” Ridoc taps his pen on the desk. “Even five or six days to just get away.”

“I’m still recovering from the last six-day break I had away from here,” I try to joke.

Rhi’s face falls, and the rest of our squad quiets.

Shit. That was not the right thing to say, but I’m exhausted. There’s no point trying to sleep when I can’t quit dreaming about Resson.

“I’m around if you want to talk.” Rhi’s kind smile makes me feel like I’m two inches tall for not letting her in.

Do I want to talk? Absolutely. Am I able to? Not after Aetos made it clear not to share my war stories. He’s already targeting Mira—I’m not putting my best friend in that situation, too. Maybe Xaden is right. If I can’t lie, all my friends would be safer if I kept my distance.

“Good afternoon, second-years,” a tall rider says, his voice booming as he strides to the center of the floor, quieting the room. “I am Captain”—he winces, scratching the trim beard that’s a shade darker than his light golden skin— “Professor Grady. And, as you can tell, I’m new this year and getting used to the whole professor title, as well as being around twenty-one-year-old kids again. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the quadrant.”

He turns toward the end of the classroom—the one section where there are no seats—and crooks his fingers at the heavy wooden desk there. Lesser magic makes it screech across the floor until Professor Grady puts his palm out. Then it stops. He turns toward us and leans back against the edge of the desk. “That’s better. Congratulations on living through your first year.” He turns his head slowly, his gaze raking over each and every one of us. “There are eighty-nine of you in this room. From what the scribes tell me, you are the smallest class to walk this hall since the First Six.”

I glance at the empty rows of seats above First Wing. We knew last year that we had the fewest number of dragons willing to bond, but to see how few of us there really are is…disconcerting.

“Fewer dragons are bonding,” I say toward Tairn, knowing Andarna drifted into the Dreamless Sleep a few days ago. “Is that because the Empyrean knows about the venin?”

“Yes.” I can almost hear the exasperated sigh in Tairn’s voice.

“But we need more riders. Not fewer.” It doesn’t make sense.

“The Empyrean remains divided on whether or not we should get involved,” Tairn grumbles. “Humans aren’t the only ones keeping secrets.”

But Andarna and Tairn have already made their choice—of that, I’m sure.

“…But the second year brings its own challenges,” Professor Grady continues as I focus on class. “Last year, you learned how to ride the dragons who chose you. This year, you’ll learn what to do if you fall off. Welcome to Rider Survival Course, or RSC for short.”

“What the hell is that?” Ridoc mutters.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, writing the letters RSC in the blank book in front of me.

“But you know everything.” His eyes widen.

“Clearly not.” Seems to be the theme lately.

“Don’t know what it is?” Professor Grady asks with a grin, staring straight at Ridoc. “Good—our tactics work.” He crosses one boot in front of the other. “RSC is kept classified for a reason, so we get your genuine reactions to the situations at hand.”

“No one wants my genuine reactions,” Ridoc murmurs.

I bite back a smile and shake my head.

“RSC will teach you how to survive if you become separated from your dragon behind enemy lines. It’s a staple of your second year, culminating in two full evaluations you must pass in order to continue at Basgiath—one in a few weeks…and the other around mid-year.”

“What the hell do they do with a bonded rider who doesn’t pass?” Rhiannon asks quietly.

Every member of my squad looks at me. “I have no clue.”