“Good point.” He jerks open the door to the tunnels, and I walk inside.

“I know what I need to look for, but I’m not sure where it would even exist.”

“Which is?” He asks as we move toward the stairs.

My pulse is thrumming with excitement to finally see the forge, get a look at the luminary that the revolution needs so badly, too.

“I need a firsthand account from one of the six. My father talked about seeing one once, so I know they exist. Question is if they’ve been translated and redacted into uselessness.” We turn into the staircase and both stop abruptly.

Major Varrish blocks our path. “Ah, nice to see you, Lieutenant Riorson.” His smile is just as greasy as ever.

Fear squeezes my heart. Xaden is carrying enough contraband to see him executed two dozen times.

“Wish I could say the same,” Xaden retorts.

“Found her!” Varrish calls up the stairs. “Shouldn’t you be headed over to the main campus, Riorson? Surely that’s where officers lodge when visiting.” His gaze flicks my way.

It takes all my willpower not to retreat.

“There you are, Cadet Sorrengail.” Professor Grady offers me a genuine smile as he descends, his arm linked through Ridoc’s, whose hands are behind his back.

Ridoc shoots me a warning look, and dread settles heavily in my chest.

No. Not today. We’re being taken.

“Turns out, you’re quite hard to catch by surprise,” Professor Grady says, a note of admiration in his voice. “Your door doesn’t allow anyone entrance.” He glances at Xaden, his focus shifting to the exposed swirls of his rebellion relic just under his jaw. “I’m guessing she has you to thank for that, since second-years can’t ward. Makes nabbing her for interrogation training a little difficult.”

“I’m not going to apologize.” Xaden’s eyebrows lower as Varrish’s riders— the ones who usually dump my belongings on the flight field—both turn the corner above Professor Grady. One escorts Rhiannon, and the other, Sawyer. Both of them have their hands bound behind their backs.

Looks like our squad is next for interrogation…and I almost just saw the mother of all secrets around here. I force myself to breathe, fighting to keep the nausea at bay.

“She’s on leave.” Xaden sweeps me to the side, putting me behind his back. “And recovering from an injury.” Shadows race from the edges of the stairwell, rising to form a waist-high wall. “He’ll use this opportunity to kill you for the embarrassment Tairn put him and Solas through.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“His intentions are pretty fucking clear. Trust me.”

“No, you’re on leave,” Varrish says, delight sparkling in his eyes. “Cadet Sorrengail is headed out for training.” He jabs his finger at the wall of shadow and winces. “Well, that’s fascinating. No wonder you’re so coveted. The pair of you really are quite something.”

“You can’t protect me from this any more than you could Threshing,” I tell Xaden, stepping out from the shelter of his body. “You know it’s true.”

“You weren’t mine at Threshing,” he counters.

“I’m not yours now,” I remind him. “I’ll be fine,” I say out loud. “Drop the barrier.”

“Do listen to your little girlfriend,” Varrish suggests. “I’d hate to report that you disobeyed a direct order, or worse—cancel her leave for next weekend. There’s really nothing you can do here.”

Oh, fuck. That is not the way to deal with Xaden. Ordering him around only makes him push that much harder. And separating Tairn and Sgaeyl for two weeks is more than they can take.

“I’m not in your chain of command, therefore I’m under no obligation to follow your fucking orders, and there is always something I can do. She’s in no condition to be tortured, and if her fucking wingleader isn’t here to advocate for her, then I will.”

“Sgaeyl!” I reach out through the one pathway I avoid at almost every cost. “They’re going to cancel next week’s leave if he doesn’t relent.”

“How hurt are you?” Grady asks, concern on his face.

“Dislocated my shoulder last week,” I answer.

“I chose him for his inability to relent,” Sgaeyl reminds me.

“Not helpful at the moment. Do I need to remind you of what he’s carrying?”

“Fine. But only so this conversation ends.”

“Her wingleader is otherwise engaged,” Varrish says to Xaden. “And feel free to continue to argue with me. You’re right. You’re not under my chain of command, but as I had to remind her dragon, she is. Or did you not hear about her disciplinary session? I’d hate for her to have to repeat it simply for you to learn your lesson, Lieutenant. Then again, you could always join us.”

Xaden smiles, but it’s not the kind that warms my heart. It’s the one that chills every cell in my body to ice, the cruel, menacing curve I first saw on the dais when he was my wingleader. “One day, Major Varrish, you and I are going to have words.” He drops the shadow barrier and lifts a brow at me. “You went to Sgaeyl?”

“I make no apologies for saving your ass from your own stubbornness.” I put out my good hand, and Grady steps forward, binding it mercifully to the one protruding from the sling. At least he didn’t wrench my hurt shoulder behind my back, but damn, the rope is tight. “There’s a book on my desk that needs to be returned to the Archives.”

Anger burns in the depths of his gold-flecked onyx eyes. “I’ll see that it’s done.”

“See you next week,” I whisper. “Tell her page three hundred and four mentions a text I’d like to read next.”

“Next week,” he responds with a nod, his fists clenched as Varrish walks by with the others in my squad. “Violence, remember it’s only the body that’s fragile. You are unbreakable.”

“Unbreakable,” I repeat to myself as Professor Grady leads me away.

The things that happen behind closed doors in the Riders Quadrant in order to turn young cadets into full-fledged riders are enough to turn even the staunchest of stomachs. Those prone to queasiness should not pry.

—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT (UNAUTHORIZED EDITION)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The key can be found in my desk drawer.

As far as secret phrases go, that one is laughably uncreative, but nevertheless, it’s the one I’m quietly given after we enter the training facility. The entrance is so well hidden in the cliffside under the foundation walls of the quadrant that I’ve never seen it in all the years I’ve lived here. It’s remarkably accessible for its intended purpose.

The antechamber of the windowless, guarded cave isn’t too bad as far as torture chambers come. It could even double as an office. A large wooden desk consumes the center of the space, with a high-backed chair on one side and two on the other. They disarm us as soon as we arrive, our weapons taking up a respectable amount of the desk’s surface.

But it’s the two chambers beyond that make me wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Both doors are braced with steel, and both have a barred window currently held closed by a steel latch.

“You’ve all been given your classified information to protect,” Professor Grady says, leading us into the chamber on the right. There’s a scarred wooden table in the center of the dome-shaped room with six chairs, and along the cobblestone walls are five wooden beds with no mattresses and a door that I’m desperately hoping leads to a bathroom or things are going to get awkward over the next couple of days. “Have a seat.” He gestures to the table.

We all do as we’re told. Rhiannon and I take the chairs across from Sawyer and Ridoc, the wood scraping the stone as we sit, all managing it without the use of our hands.

“For right now, we’re in what’s called a classroom setting. Remember what that means?” Professor Grady reaches behind Sawyer, and a second later, Sawyer’s hands are free.