“As I said,” she continues. “Intriguing. I’ll see you Saturday after next?”
I nod, and we leave after thanking her again, passing Nasya, who has started to snore in his seat.
We’re halfway through the tunnels before Xaden speaks.
“Tell me what other book is in the bag.” Guess the argument is still festering inside him, too.
“It’s The Fables of the Barren.” There’s no point lying to him.
“You gave that to her? Why?” Xaden’s head slants in my direction, and he stops in the middle of the tunnel, grasping my elbow gently as fear flashes in his eyes.
“I loaned it to her, and because she asked.”
“With that text, she could have turned you in.” Anger burns in his eyes.
“And if I report that she’s not recording my requests, she’ll be at Markham’s mercy.” I grip the strap of the bag a little tighter. “Trust has to go both ways to mean anything.”
“Both ways, but you’re shutting me out while I’m trying my damnedest to open up to you.”
Says the man who’s never so much as told me he loves me. If he does. Gods, I’m so sick of having to make the first move when it comes to this man. And today isn’t the day to open myself up to that rejection, too.
“Sure, as long as you can keep your secrets. Has it ever occurred to you that this”—I gesture between us—“is all because you don’t trust me?” I take a step backward. “You expect complete, blind faith without giving it. It. Goes. Both. Ways.”
“I’m the one who doesn’t trust you?” Shadows curl around his ankles, following him as he pivots, heading up the tunnel. “I’ll see you later. I have to find Bodhi.”
He’s heading off on revolution business, no doubt, and leaving me behind. Again.
“That’s all you have to say?” I call out, frustration locking my muscles.
“No good can come of the things I want to say right now, Violet,” he says over his shoulder. “So, instead of digging a deeper hole with words I’ll regret later, I’m going to take some space and do something productive, because this isn’t.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he doesn’t get to choose when we have a fight, but he asked for space, and I can do the mature thing and give it to him.
When I wake in the morning, the other half of my bed hasn’t been slept in and his things are gone. I can’t stop my chest from tightening at the thought that he’s headed back to the front lines, that either of us could be killed at any moment, and the last words we said to each other were in anger.
Dragons do not answer to the whims of men.
—COLONEL KAORI’S FIELD GUIDE TO DRAGONKIND
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My heart pounds erratically as I walk past First and Second Wings’ dragons with the rest of my squad two days later for flight maneuvers.
Kaori stands in front of Fourth Wing, shifting his weight nervously beside Varrish, who watches me with a focus that makes my skin crawl, like he’s mentally tabulating how many strikes he’s going to make me wield in punishment for not producing Andarna. And the way Solas lurks behind him, his one golden eye narrowed on me, makes me wonder if Varrish will even wait until tomorrow.
Because obviously, from his angle, he can see that she isn’t here, and worse, he looks happy about it.
I made it to twenty-seven strikes in an hour this morning with Carr before my temperature spiked, and he seemed disappointed. That makes two of us, considering I didn’t hit a single point I aimed for. My arms feel like dead weight after all that wielding. If Varrish forces me up to that mountainside again today, I’m not sure I’ll come down.
“There is something off about that orange,” Rhiannon notes, adjusting the strap of her flight goggles as we approach Third Wing.
“You mean, like the fact that he torched Third Squad without a second thought?” Ridoc questions, buttoning his flight jacket.
“And Varrish seems so…controlled.” Sawyer stretches his arm across his chest. “Kind of uptight, you know?”
Unlike me, Sawyer’s only seen him at the surface level. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, fighting off the nausea that threatens to expel my breakfast.
“It’s definitely an odd pairing,” Rhi agrees as we reach Claw Section’s dragons. There aren’t any third-years on the field today, leaving more than enough room for the second-year dragons to spread out, but gods forbid Tairn not stand in the front row like the star of the show. I can already see his head above the others from here, and I’m pretty sure I just heard him chuff a sigh of annoyance.
Varrish’s mouth quirks into a polished smile at me, but the glint in his eyes makes the hold I have on my Archives doors weaken, trickling power into my system in preparation to fight.
“And what’s the deal with the way he stares at you?” Sawyer asks, shifting beside me to block Varrish’s view. “He’s always smiling at you like…” He shakes his head. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Like he knows something you don’t,” Rhi finishes, giving the Red Clubtail from First Squad a wide berth as we pass. “Is there some history with your mom, maybe? Some bad blood?”
“Not that I know of.” They don’t even know the half of it, but how could they when I haven’t told them? “But he’s obsessed with Andarna.” There, there’s some of the truth.
“She all right?” Sawyer asks. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She’s been resting a lot.” I prepare myself for the utter misery of full leathers in the stagnant late-summer heat, then start buttoning as we approach Tairn. “She can keep up with simple maneuvers, but the stuff we’re doing now? Formation flights and timed rolls? There’s no point in putting her through this kind of stuff.” Selective truths.
“Makes sense.” Sawyer nudges me with his elbow. “See you up there!”
“You look a little queasy,” Rhi notes once the guys are out of earshot. “Everything all right?”
“I’m fine.” I force a quick grin and try to think of anything besides how much it’s going to hurt when Varrish gets ahold of me. “Varrish looks eerily delighted that Andarna isn’t here.”
