Dain steps into view, and my heart hits the stone floor as he surveys my friends, then turns toward me. His eyes widen as he takes stock of my bruised and swollen face. “Violet.”
“Dain is here.” I reach for Xaden even as fear freezes me in place. This can’t happen. I’m unsure how much Dain knows, but it’s definitely not as much as I do.
“I’m on my way.” The tense tone of Xaden’s voice is all it takes for me to know how deep the shit is about to get.
“You can’t do anything.” I reinforce my shields, putting all my mental energy into the task and drawing power from Tairn to bolster them, stacking the bricks two deep around my mental Archives.
“I don’t understand,” Sawyer says. “Why is our wingleader here?”
“He’s advocating for her like Riorson said a wingleader should,” Ridoc answers, hope in his voice. “Aren’t you?”
“He’s not,” I answer, keeping my eyes on Dain and his hands.
“Regulations state that riders should be healthy before beginning interrogation assessment,” Dain barks, ripping his gaze from mine to address Varrish. “Cadet Sorrengail is clearly not healthy.”
I blink in sheer surprise.
“Such a rule follower.” Varrish clucks his tongue. “Regulations say they should, not that they have to be. It’s more realistic that a rider would be wounded when captured.”
“What am I doing here?” Dain demands.
“Testing a theory.” Varrish smiles. “But while we’re waiting for our guest to arrive, you should practice on her.” He points to me.
Guest? My fear is replaced with anger. “Don’t come. Varrish wants to see if you will. I think he’s testing the bond-blocking mixture.”
“If he sees your memory, the entire movement is at risk.”
“And if you come in here, whipping shadows around, he’ll know I have something to hide, and this will become a real interrogation. Your only option is to trust that you trained me well enough.” A rescue sounds great in theory but would fuck all of us.
“Violet—” The plea in his voice nearly breaks me.
I shove that last brick in place and block Xaden out.
“You want me to…” Dain lifts his brows.
“Yes. Use your signet on her. Only to draw out the secret phrase, of course.”
“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.
