“Thank you.” She writes the sentence down in the notebook she’s brought with her.
Ancient king. I flip to the first page of the book, and my shoulders sag. It bears a date from twenty-five years ago.
“It’s hand-copied from an original,” Jesinia signs. “About five years before the quadrant received the printing press.”
Right. Because nothing in the Archives is older than four hundred years except the scrolls from the Unification. Sweat cools on the back of my neck as I translate a few more sentences for her from various pages, surprised at how much I still remember after not practicing for a year, then hand the tome back when I finish the last sentence she has marked.
If I hurry, I can bathe the sweat off and still catch breakfast.
“We’re working on removing all the dead languages from the public section of the Archives and translating them for easier reading,” she signs with an excited smile, then puts her things away. “You should come by and see how much we’ve accomplished.”
“Riders aren’t allowed past the study table,” I remind her.
“I’d make an exception for you.” She grins. “The Archives are almost always empty on Sundays, especially with most third-years cycling home for break.”
A scream rends the air, and my head shoots up. Across the courtyard, a second-year from Third Wing is dragged from the academic building, between two older riders, followed by Professor Markham.
What in Amari’s name?
Jesinia pales and sinks farther into the shadows of the alcove as he’s hauled into the dormitory building, where the tunnels beneath lead across the canyon and into the main campus of Basgiath. “I think,” she signs, starting to breathe raggedly. “I think that’s my fault.”
“What?” I turn to face her fully.
“That rider requested a book yesterday, and I recorded the request.” She leans toward me, panic growing in her eyes. “I have to record the requests. It’s—”
“Regulation,” we both finish signing at the same time. I nod. “You didn’t do anything wrong. What was the book?”
She glances toward the doors where the rider disappeared. “I should go. Thank you.”
It’s only the fear in her eyes that keeps me from asking her again before she rushes off, leaving me staring at the tome in my lap, realizing how dangerous my “research project” really is.
“Wait for me!” Rhiannon calls out later that day, jogging up through the crowd of riders as we reach the steps beside the Gauntlet, where most of us are bottlenecked as we wait for our turn to climb up to the flight field.
“We’re still here!” I wave before my gaze returns to moving restlessly over the people closest to us, watching their hands, their weapons. I trust my squadmates implicitly, but no one else. All it takes is a well-timed stab in a crowd, and I could bleed out without even knowing who’d killed me.
“This isn’t right,” Sawyer mutters, refolding our homework map for RSC. “I can’t get number four no matter how many times I count the little elevation lines.”
“That’s north,” I tell him, tapping the bottom of the folded monstrosity. “You’re looking at the wrong sector for question four. Trust me, I had to ask Ridoc for help last night.”
“Ugh. This is some infantry bullshit.” He shoves the map into his pocket.
“Why won’t you just accept that I am a land navigation god and ask for help like everyone else?” Ridoc teases Sawyer as Rhi catches up to us. “Finally! You’d think leadership would be on time.”
“Leadership was in a meeting,” Rhi replies, holding up a collection of missives. “And leadership was given the mail!”
Hope leaps up, replacing the hypervigilance for a second before I can squash it.
“Ridoc,” Rhiannon says, handing over a letter. “Sawyer.” She turns, giving him the next one. “Me.” She flips that one to the back. “And Violet.”
He wouldn’t, I remind myself before taking the letter from her, yet I can’t help but hold my breath as I open the unsealed flap of the envelope.
Violet,
Sorry it took me so long to write. I only just realized the date. You’re a second-year!
My shoulders droop, which is just…pathetic.
“Who’s it from?” Rhiannon asks. “You look disappointed.”
“Mira,” I answer. “And no, not disappointed…” My words trail off as we move forward in line.
“You thought it would be a different lieutenant,” she guesses correctly, her eyes softening in sympathy.
I shrug, but it’s hard to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I know better.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” She drops her voice as we shuffle closer to the steps.
I nod. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Are you two together?” she whispers. “I mean, everyone knows you’re sleeping together, but something’s off with you.”
I glance ahead, making sure Sawyer and Ridoc are engrossed in their letters. This is a truth I can easily give her. “Not anymore.”
