“Like what?” He turns in his seat to face me.

“Something like what those silver scars on your back are from.” I hold my breath, waiting for the answer, waiting for him to say anything that might let me in.

Even from twenty feet away, I can see him tense. “Why do you want to know?”

My grip tightens on the pommel scales. I instinctively knew the scars were private, but his reaction says there’s more to them than just a painful memory. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

Sgaeyl startles, then launches into the air, leaving Tairn and me behind.

“Are you pushing for a reason?” Tairn asks.

“Can you give me one not to?”

“He cares for you. That’s already hard enough for him.”

I scoff. “He cares about keeping me alive. There’s a difference.”

“Not for him there isn’t.”

…

The afternoon skies above Basgiath are crystal clear in the middle of May for the first battle of the War Games that signify the approach of graduation. As much as I want to feel excitement that I’m so close to actually surviving my first year in the Riders Quadrant, my stomach is tight with anxiety.

Battle Briefs are getting more redacted. Professor Carr is getting more anxious that I haven’t manifested a signet like almost the entire first-year cadets. Dain is acting weird as fuck—friendly one minute and indifferent the next. Xaden is getting more secretive—if that were even possible—canceling some of our training for unexplained reasons. Even Tairn feels like there’s something he’s not telling me.

“What do you think our assignment is going to be?” Liam asks from my right as we stand in formation in the center of the courtyard with the rest of Fourth Wing. “Deigh thinks we’re on offense. He won’t stop going on about getting to kick Gleann’s ass—” He pauses, as if listening to his dragon. “Guess dragons hold grudges,” he finally whispers.

Leadership is gathered ahead of us, getting their assignments from Xaden.

“We’re definitely on offense,” Rhiannon answers from my left. “Otherwise, we’d already be in the field. I haven’t seen a single rider from First Wing since lunch.”

My stomach bottoms out. First Wing. Go figure they’d be our first opponent. Anything goes out there during War Games, and Jack Barlowe hasn’t forgotten that I put him in the infirmary for four days. He gave me a wider berth for weeks after Xaden executed Oren and the other kids who had attacked me—and of course everyone stopped fucking with me after Amber Mavis. But still, I’d catch a look from him as we passed in the halls or in the cafeteria, pure hatred burning in the glacial blue depths of his eyes.

“I think she’s right,” I tell Liam, struggling not to fidget as the sun bakes through my flight leathers. It’s been a while since I’ve envied the scribes and their cream uniforms, but this weather has me feeling like we got the shorter end of the uniform stick. It also doesn’t help that I must have slept wrong, because my knee is killing me, and the stabilizing wrap feels like it’s a million degrees. “Why do you think riders wear black anyway?”

“Because it’s badass,” Ridoc answers from behind me.

“So it’s harder to see when we bleed,” Imogen chimes in.

“Forget I asked,” I mumble, watching for any signs that the leadership meeting will be over soon. Bleeding is the last thing I want to do today. “Are we on offense or defense?” I ask Xaden.

“Little busy right now.”

“Oh no, am I distracting you?” A smile curves my mouth.

Shit, am I flirting? Maybe.

Do I care? Oddly enough…no.

“Yes.” His tone is so gruff that I have to press my lips in a tight line to keep from laughing.

“Come on. You’re taking forever over there. Give a girl a hint.”

“Both,” he growls, but he doesn’t shut me out with his shields—which I know he can do—so I have a little mercy on him and the meeting he’s supposed to be leading and leave him be.

Offense and defense? This afternoon should be interesting.

“You hear from Mira?” Rhiannon whispers, shooting me a quick glance.

I shake my head.

“That’s just…inhumane.”

“Did you honestly think they’d break the no-correspondence rule? Even if they tried, Mom would have shut that down with a quickness.”

Rhiannon sighs, and I don’t blame her. There’s not much more to say on the subject.

The leadership meeting breaks up, and Dain heads over with Cianna. He’s practically beaming, his hands clenching and unclenching with nervous energy.

“Which is it?” Heaton asks. “Offense or defense?”

“Both,” he says as the other squad leaders report back to their riders.

I fake surprise and glance past him, but Xaden and the section leaders are nowhere to be seen.

“First Wing has taken a defensive position in one of the practice forts in the mountains, and they’re guarding a crystal egg,” Dain tells us, and the older riders in our squad murmur with excitement.

Makes sense. It’s probably a symbolic nod to the different breeds of dragons bringing their eggs to Basgiath when Navarre unified.

“What are we missing?” Ridoc asks. “Because you guys seemed thrilled about an egg.”

“From past years, we know that eggs are worth more points,” Cianna says, grinning enthusiastically. “Flags have statistically been the lowest, and captured professors rank somewhere in the middle.”

“But they like to switch it up,” Dain adds. “The same way we could be going for a real objective on the line only to discover it’s not as valuable as we thought.”

“So how is this both offense and defense?” Rhiannon asks. “If they have the egg, then clearly we should go get the egg.”

“Because we’ve also been given a flag to defend and no outpost to do it in.” He grins. “And our squad has been assigned to carry it.”

“You gave Dain the mission to defend Fourth Wing’s flag?”

“I’m hoping he learned something from your sister’s lesson at Montserrat,” Xaden replies, but his voice is quieter, which I’m starting to learn means he’s farther away. I can’t help but wonder if we’ll have the ability to communicate this way in a few months when more distance separates us.

My chest aches at the thought that he won’t be here. He’ll be risking his life on the front lines.

“And who is going to carry this flag?” Imogen asks.

Dain somehow manages to smile even wider. “That’s going to be the fun part.”