“We can’t.” Regret saturates the words, and yet I can’t stop myself from winding my arms around his neck. “No matter how much I would rather lock the door and let the rest of the world burn around us.”

“We can.” He lifts a hand to the back of my neck and tugs me closer, until our bodies meet from thigh to breast. “Say the word, and we’ll fly.”

I stare up into his eyes, marking each fleck of gold just in case I won’t get another chance to. “You could never live with yourself if we abandoned our friends.”

“Maybe.” His brow knits for less than a second, so quick I almost miss it as he leans into my space. “But I know I can’t live without you, so trust me when I say there’s a very real, very loud part of me screaming to carry you out of here and fly for Aretia.”

I know the feeling all too well, so before I dare to give it voice, I rise up on my toes and kiss him. At the first touch of our mouths, heat ignites between us, and he grabs ahold of my ass, lifting me. I sense that we’re moving, turning as I part my lips for his tongue and throw all logical thought out the door.

My ass hits the desk and I hold tighter, kiss him harder as he slants his mouth over mine again and again, taking everything I offer and giving it right back. This isn’t the slow exploration we’d shared last night, lingering on every touch, knowing it might be the last time. It’s frantic and wild, hot and desperate.

My hand spears into his hair, holding him closer, like I still have Andarna’s ability to stop time, like I can hold us in this moment if I just keep kissing him.

He groans into my mouth and his fingers work the buttons on my pants at the same moment I reach for his.

“We’ll be quick,” I promise between soul-consuming kisses, flicking open the first button.

“Quick,” he repeats, sliding a hand down my stomach and into my pants, “isn’t usually what you beg me for.” His fingers brush—

Someone knocks.

We both freeze, panting hard against each other’s mouths.

No. No. No.

“Don’t stop.” If this minute is all we have left, then I want it. Gods, if he would just move his hand a fraction of an inch lower…

His eyes search mine, and then he takes my mouth like the outcome of this kiss will decide the battle we’re facing.

“I know you’re in there!” Rhiannon barks through the door, and the knock changes to a pound. “Stop ignoring me before this becomes the most awkward situation known to Navarre.”

“Five minutes,” I beg as Xaden’s mouth slides down my neck.

“Now,” a deep, familiar voice demands, and Xaden puts a step between us, muttering a curse under his breath.

There’s no way. Is there? But just in case there is, my hands fall from Xaden’s pants and quickly redo the button on mine before I hop off the desk and rush to the door, sparing a second to check that Xaden’s clothes are in place, too.

“Disengage your body parts or whatever you’re doing—”

I unlock my door with a flick of my hand and yank it open to find not only every second- and third-year flier in our squad but a few of our first-years, including Sloane.

And Brennan.

Without thought for regulation or decorum, I fling myself into his arms, and he catches me, pulling me tight against his chest. “You came.”

“I left you and Mira here to fight this on your own once before, and I’ll never do it again. I knew I’d fucked up as soon as you left, but gryphons don’t fly as quickly as dragons.” He squeezes harder for a second, then lets me down. “Tell me where I can be of use.”

“Are those fliers?” Every head turns down the hall as my mother approaches with two of her aides, but her steps falter when her gaze shifts toward my brother. “Brennan?”

“I’m not here for you.” He dismisses her without another word in her direction. “Matthias is going to send the fliers to hunt the lures. They’re faster on the ground and better with runes, anyway.”

“We are,” Cat agrees with a casual shrug, assessing the hallway like she’s searching for structural weaknesses. Which she probably is. “And we don’t abandon our drifts. We’ll fight.”

I might not like her, but damn do I respect her. Finding those lures will give us precious time to—

I grab onto Brennan’s arms, and a spark of hope lights within my chest. “Have you ever encountered something you can’t mend?”

“Magic,” he answers. “I can’t mend a relic or anything. Probably not a rune, either.”

If he can do it, we’ll just have to hold on long enough for Codagh to arrive. “What about a wardstone?”

Brennan’s eyebrows shoot up, and I glance past him to Rhiannon. “We have to guard the chamber, at least let him try.”

Rhi nods, then turns to my mother, who’s still staring at Brennan like he’s a hallucination. “General Sorrengail, Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing officially requests permission to guard the airspace above the wardstone chamber.”

Mom doesn’t take her eyes off Brennan. “Granted.”

Though there is some debate, it is greatly believed that turning venin heightens one of the dark wielder’s senses. It is this scholar’s belief that the one responsible for the death of King Grethwild developed keener eyesight. For not even the best of His Majesty’s royal fliers could see through the darkness the venin hid within to slay our beloved king.

—MAJOR EDVARD TILLER’S UNACCREDITED STUDY OF THE VENIN PROPERTY OF THE LIBRARY OF CORDYN

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Dawn is still an hour away as the riders in our squad stand on the ridgeline above the main campus of Basgiath, our dragons lined up behind us. The horizon holds a vague outline, the promise of light, but it winks in and out of my vision as the skyline shifts, the wavering shape on constant approach growing larger with every minute.

Hundreds of feet below, in front of the gates of Basgiath, my mother waits upon Aimsir, with her personal squad, including Mira and Teine, slightly behind her. She’s in front of us all, her three children and the place she’s sacrificed us—and her very soul—for.

“They’re coming,” Tairn tells me, his posture stiff while the others shift their weight or dig their talons into the snow-covered decomposed granite of the mountainside.

Squads from Third and Fourth Wings stand in formation up and down the mountains around us, but both First and Second Wings—half our forces, now that we’re back with the Basgiath cadets—have been sent to the edge of the Vale. while our squad guards the airspace above the hundred yards between the back of main campus and the steep ridgeline we stand on, including the very well-hidden entrance to the ward chamber hundreds of feet below, where Brennan is working. Sloane, Aaric, and the other first-years are with him under the guise of fetching whatever he needs, but Rhi ordered them to Brennan’s side mostly to keep them safe.

“I know.” I glance over my shoulder at where Andarna nips at her harness between Tairn and Sgaeyl. She showed up an hour ago and refused to leave.

“Is this how it felt in Resson?” Rhiannon asks from my right, her hands nervously flitting over her sheaths and scabbard.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“So scared I’m pretty sure either my heart’s going to give out or I’m about to shit myself,” Ridoc answers from her other side.

“I was going to say horrifyingly scared, but sure, that works, too.” Rhiannon nods.

“Yes. That’s exactly how it felt.” I do the customary checks again, not that I’d have time to get back to my room if I left anything. Xaden retrieved the dagger I’d put in Jack’s shoulder, which gives me a full twelve, plus two alloy-hilted ones and the handheld crossbow strapped at my right thigh. I’m fully armed.

Thanks to the daggers we brought with us and the forge here at Basgiath, every cadet is armed.

“Does it ever get easier? Going into battle?” Sawyer asks beside Ridoc, peering down at the college. Infantry has been deployed into every courtyard, every hallway, and every entrance, the last line of a very fragile defense.