“My signet is classified.”

“And she already knows what it is,” Varrish says, shaking his head like this is all no big deal. “Doesn’t she? That’s why she’s so angry with you. She blames you for what happened to her friend.” He walks forward. “It’s amazing what you can learn by simply observing.”

Dain shakes his head. “I’m not doing this.”

“Then who are you going to practice on to extend your ability past recent events? We’re running out of civilians around here for Nolon to mend, and if you think she hasn’t told the rest of her squad your little secret, you’re giving her far too much credit.”

Holy shit. While Carr is my teacher, Varrish is Dain’s. What the hell is our vice commandant’s signet?

Dain stiffens, his eyes searching mine.

I don’t deny it. I can’t. I’m a shitty liar, and with the lie-finder—or whatever his signet is called—on the other side of the room, I’m better off keeping my mouth shut.

“This is what your signet is made for. You’re the first line of defense, Aetos. She could be a Poromish spy or a gryphon rider. You could save the entire kingdom by just plucking her secrets from her memory.” Varrish looks at me like I’m an animal made to be studied. “You can see what really happened that day when the two marked ones were killed by”—he cocks his head to the side—“gryphons, wasn’t it, Cadet Sorrengail? The truth is waiting, Wingleader Aetos, and you’re the only one who can see it.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. I concentrate on steadying my heart rate and holding Dain’s gaze.

“Holy shit,” Ridoc mutters. “He can what?”

I keep my focus on Dain. How can someone be so familiar and yet such a stranger? He’s the same boy I climbed trees with, the same one I ran to whenever anything went wrong. But he’s also the reason Soleil and Liam are dead.

“You could learn what it is she sees in him,” Varrish whispers, getting closer to Dain. “Why she chose him over you. Don’t you want to know? All the answers are right there. You just have to know where to reach.” Have to give it to him, he’s convincing as fuck.

The war within Dain’s eyes makes my throat tighten, and when he reaches for my face with both hands, I arch my neck, leaning as far back as the chair will let me.

“No.” I force the word out.

“No.” He repeats my refusal slowly, then drops his hands, his gaze falling from mine. “I will not participate in an interrogation assessment of a cadet with a prior injury,” he says over his shoulder at Varrish.

Then he walks out.

I drag a breath in, air wheezing past the tightness of my throat and into my lungs.

Rhiannon’s eyes meet mine, then slide shut slowly in relief.

“Well, that was disappointing and anticlimactic,” Varrish says with the first frown I’ve ever seen on his face. “Fucking rule follower. Back to typical tactics, I guess.” He draws back before I can brace and throws a hard punch to my dislocated shoulder.

Agony overwhelms every one of my senses.

Then there’s only black.

Nolon hovers above me when I wake. I jolt up from the wooden bed, and he rears back.

“There she is,” he says, settling into the chair next to the bed.

“What time is it?” I glance around the room, quickly spotting Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Ridoc sitting on bunks. They don’t look any more injured than they did before I passed out.

Before Varrish punched my shoulder out of the socket. Gingerly, I rotate the joint, then look at Nolon. I’m mended. There’s an ache but nothing more, and I can see out of both eyes.

He nods.

“It’s morning,” Rhi answers, worry lining her forehead. “I think.”

I reach for Xaden, but the pathway is opaque again. He’s gone.

“The vice commandant called me in to heal you.” Nolon’s voice drops, and he leans forward. “So he can shatter you again and again until you break. I’m on orders to remain in the antechamber for the rest of your interrogation, which he’s extended until tomorrow.”

Dread knots my empty stomach.

“Is that normal?” Sawyer asks, leaning toward me and bracing his forearms on his knees.

“No,” Nolon answers, holding my gaze. “He wants whatever it is you know, Violet.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes lightly. “Is it worth holding on to?”

I nod.

“Is it worth watching your squadmates tortured?”

I wince but nod again.

“I think I’ve had my head buried in other matters for too long.” He sighs, then stands. “Why don’t you walk me to the door?”

I swing my legs over the bunk, then do as he asks, following him to the chamber’s door. Rhiannon isn’t far behind. “You’d better find a way out,” he whispers to me before speaking through the open window. “I’m done for now.”

The door opens, and Nolon escapes. “I’ll close it,” he tells whoever is on the other side. His eyes meet mine through the window as he shuts the door, the lock audibly clicking into place…but not the window.

Rhiannon tugs me down, and we both drop into a crouch.

“I’ve been thinking about my other patient,” Nolon says casually.

“What about him?” Varrish replies.

“He spent the night in the infirmary again. Sorrengail will have to sleep off the mending for another hour or so. Why don’t you walk back with me and see if your particular skills could be of use? I might be overlooking something.”

Rhiannon and I exchange the same confused look.

“You think the sessions are failing?” Varrish asks.

“I think I’ve done all I can for him,” Nolon answers. “I’m not going to sit here all day and waste time while she’s sleeping—”

“Fine, we’ll go,” Varrish replies. “We have to be quick. The others are fetching breakfast.”

“Then by all means, let’s make it fast.”