“If you expect me to believe that, then you sorely misjudged me, and I know every reason Xaden has to hate me, and none of them matter.”

“You know about the scars on his back?” he challenges, and I contemplate cutting into his throat to get him off me.

“The hundred and seven for the marked ones he’s responsible for? Yes. You’re going to have to do better than—”

“Do you know who carved those wounds into his skin?”

I blink, and—fuck him—he sees it, the flash of doubt.

“Tap out!” Sawyer shouts from the edge of the mat.

“My hand is a little busy at the moment,” I respond without looking away from Dain.

“Violet—” Dain starts.

“You may have been my oldest friend, my best friend, but that all died the day you violated my privacy, stole my memory, and got Liam and Soleil killed. I will never forgive you for that.” I press just hard enough for the blade to scrape against the stubbled skin of his upper throat.

His eyes flare with something that looks like devastation. “Your mother did it,” he whispers and slowly rises, first to his knees, removing his forearm from my collarbone, and then to his feet. “She wins,” he says as he walks off the mat. “I tap out.”

He didn’t mean that. There’s no way my mother sliced into Xaden a hundred and seven times. Dain’s just trying to get under my skin. I lie there for a handful of breaths, calming my racing pulse. Then I sheathe my blade and roll, gaining my feet awkwardly.

Emetterio calls the next challenge, and I walk off the mat and take my place between Rhiannon and Bodhi like nothing happened.

“Violet?” The question in Bodhi’s eyes makes me shake my head in reply.

“He didn’t touch me.” Every secret in my head is safe.

Bodhi nods, then leaves our mat as Aaric faces off against a guy from Tail Section who looks like he might actually have a shot of ending Aaric’s winning streak.

“Walk with me,” Rhiannon demands, her jaw tense. “Now.”

“Are you pulling rank on me?”

“Do I have to?” She folds her arms across her chest.

“No. Of course not.” I sigh, then follow her to the edge of the gym.

“Was that about the something he stole?” Rhiannon asks. “Because whatever it was, it wasn’t about defeating you.”

“Yes,” I answer, rolling my neck as the aftereffects of the adrenaline roll through me, nausea taking the lead.

She waits for me to add to my answer, and when I don’t, she sighs. “You’ve been off all day. Is it because of the attack?”

“Yes.” I glance over her shoulder and glimpse Imogen watching us. Does she know Masen’s dead?

“Are you really going to make me pry answers out of you?” Her arms fall to her sides. “I swear to Amari, if you answer with a yes one more time…”

I say nothing instead.

“I heard what you said in history, you know.” She drops her shoulders. “You said something about an assassination.”

Fuck. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

She studies me, her gaze flickering between my eyes. “Who else besides Masen is dead that went to Athebyne with you?”

My gaze collides with hers, and my heart starts to pound. “Ciaran. He was in Third Squad.” I’m not telling her anything that isn’t easily answered by anyone else.

“And you were attacked on assessment day. Imogen’s been targeted twice since Parapet, too. So were Bodhi and Eya.” Her gaze narrows. “Dain has one of those classified signets,” she whispers. “What did he steal, Violet?”

Gods, she’s putting it together too quickly. She’s also owed as much of the truth as I can give her. “A memory,” I say slowly.

Her eyes flare. “He can read memories.”

I nod. “No one is supposed to know.”

“I can keep a secret, Violet.” Hurt flashes across her features, and I feel another thread of our friendship unravel as though I’d pulled it myself.

A chorus of cheers goes up behind us, but neither of us looks.

“I know.” It’s barely a whisper. “And I trust you implicitly, but not every secret is mine to tell.” Dread digs its claws into my stomach. She’s going to figure it out—it’s only a matter of time. And then her life will be in as much jeopardy as mine.

“Dain stole one of your memories,” she repeats. “And now you think the other riders with you during War Games are being picked off.”

“Stop,” I beg her. “Do us both a favor and just…” I shake my head. “Stop.”

Her brow knits. “You saw something you weren’t supposed to, didn’t you?”

She tilts her head to the side, then looks away.

I stop breathing. I know that look. She’s thinking.

“Is that the memory he stole?”

“No.” I inhale. Thank gods she’s off the mark with that one. Movement to the right catches my attention, and I glance over to see Aaric walking our way, cradling his left wrist. “Shit. I think he’s hurt.”

“What killed Deigh?” Rhiannon asks.

Suddenly, there’s not enough oxygen in the room, on the entire Continent, but I manage to pull air through my lungs as I face her. “You already know that part of the story.”

“Not from you,” she says quietly, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges as she narrows them. “You were holding Liam, and then you had to fight. That’s what you said. What. Killed. Deigh?” The whispered words cut me to the quick. “Was it another dragon? Is that what happened out there?”

“No.” I shake my head emphatically, then turn as Aaric reaches us. “Finally lose?”

He scoffs. “Of course not. But I did break my wrist. I’m supposed to come tell you,” he says to Rhiannon.

“I’ll take him to the infirmary,” I tell her.

“Violet—” she starts, her tone indicating that she doesn’t think our conversation is over, but it is. It has to be.