“Too bad.” Mom forces another smile. “Glad to see you’re alive, Cadet Sorrengail.” Her gaze flashes sideways and instantly hardens to steel. “Even if the company you’re forced to keep is more than questionable.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I can’t step in front of Xaden and make him look weak. I can’t even glance his way without telling my mother where my allegiance lies…without telling myself.
“I always felt that we resolved any of those questions years ago,” Xaden says, his voice low, but he’s gone taut as a bowstring next to me.
“Hmm.” Mom turns toward the citadel in clear dismissal. “Do see if you can master some kind of signet, Cadet Sorrengail. You have a legacy to live up to.”
“Yes, General.” The informal words cost more than I’m prepared to admit, ripping into the confidence it’s taken me nearly eight months to build with talon-sharp precision.
“Good to see you, Violet.” Dain’s dad offers me a sympathetic smile, and Panchek outright ignores us, running to catch up with Mom.
I don’t say a word to Xaden before I climb the stairs, each step making me only angrier until I’m a ball of rage by the time I reach the top of the cliffside.
“You didn’t tell her about how you got out of the attack in your bedroom,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question. “And I’m not talking about me showing up.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“I don’t ever see her. And you told me not to tell anyone.”
“Didn’t realize it was quite like that between you,” Xaden says, his tone surprisingly soft as we start down the box canyon toward the flight field.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” I toss out, intentionally making my tone as flippant as possible. “She spent almost an entire year ignoring me when Dad died.” A self-deprecating laugh slips past my lips. “Which was almost as wholesome as the years she spent barely tolerating my existence because I wasn’t perfect like Brennan or a warrior like Mira.” I shouldn’t be saying these things. These are the thoughts families keep behind their doors so they can wear their polished, perfect reputations like armor when in public.
“She doesn’t know you very well, then,” Xaden remarks, keeping pace with my furious strides.
I scoff. “Or she sees right through me. Problem is, I’m never quite sure which it is. I’m too busy trying to live up to whatever impossible standard she sets to ask myself if they’re even standards I give a shit about.” My narrowed gaze swings to him. “And what was that about anyway? Saying that you resolved questions years ago?”
“Just reminding her that I paid the price for my loyalty.” His brow furrows, but he stares ahead of us.
“Paid what price?” The question slips out before I can stop my foolish tongue. I can’t help but remember what Dain said, that Xaden has reasons to never forgive my mother.
“Boundaries, Violence.” His head lowers for the span of a heartbeat, and when it rises, he’s wearing that polished give-no-fucks mask he’s so good at donning.
Lucky for us, the strain of the moment is broken as Tairn and Sgaeyl land across the field ahead, accompanied by a shiny smaller dragon who makes me instantly smile.
“We’re all flying today?” I ask, following as he walks toward the trio.
“We’re all learning today. You need to learn how to stay on, and I need to learn why the hell it’s so hard for you,” he answers. “Andarna needs to learn how to keep up. Tairn needs to learn how to share his space in a tighter flight formation, and every other dragon but Sgaeyl is too scared to fly closer.”
Tairn chuffs in agreement as we approach.
“And what is Sgaeyl learning?” I ask, eyeing the giant blue dragon.
Xaden grins. “She’s been leading for almost three years now. She’s going to have to learn how to follow. Or at least practice.”
Tairn’s chuff sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and she snaps at him, baring her teeth and coming within inches of his neck.
“Dragon relationships are absolutely incomprehensible,” I murmur.
“Yeah? You should try a human one sometime. Just as vicious, but less fire.” He mounts with an ease I envy. “Now let’s go.”
The Squad Battle is more important than the wingleaders will let on. They like to joke that it’s a game, that it’s just bragging rights for the squad leaders and the winning squad, but it’s not. They’re all watching. The commandant, the professors, the commanding officers—they’re watching to see who will rise to the top. They’re salivating to see who will fall.
—Page seventy-seven, the Book of Brennan
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
“Tap out!” Rhiannon screams as a rider out of Second Wing fights to drag himself forward on the mat, his hands splayed wide, his fingernails digging in as Liam holds him in a leg lock, forcing his back into what should be an impossible arch.
My heart pounds as the excitement of today’s matches reaches a fever pitch.
It’s the last challenge of this portion of the Squad Battle, and the crowd pushes at our backs, forcing me to continuously struggle not to fall over onto the mat. After two events, we’re in seventh out of twenty-four on the leaderboard, but if Liam wins, we’ll jump to third.
My flight time in the gauntlet sky race was the slowest in squad, but that’s because I kept forcing Tairn to release his magical hold on me—and then we’d lose precious seconds while he had to dip to catch me and toss me back in the saddle. Over and over and over again. I swear, the bruises on my ass from landing in the hard divot hurt less than Tairn’s scoff that I’d humiliated his entire family line as we crossed the finish line last.
Mikael cries out in pain, the sound sharp, near earsplitting, and pulling my attention back to the action in front of me. Liam holds fast and presses his advantage.
“Fuck me, that looks like it hurts,” I mutter over the cheering first-years.
“Yeah, he’s not walking for a while,” Ridoc agrees, cringing as the arc of Mikael’s back looks like a broken spine waiting to happen.
With another cry, Mikael slams his palm into the mat three times, and the crowd roars.
