Every head in the dining hall turns his way, and Garrick pounds on his back until Xaden waves him off, taking a drink of his water.

I grin, which earns me about six looks of confusion from our table and one set of rolled eyes from Liam.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

…

We’re only ten days away from graduation, and I’m counting every single one of them. That’s when we’ll find out how far Xaden is being sent from Basgiath. Most brand-new lieutenants are given midland posts, manning the forts along the roads that lead to the border outposts, but someone with Xaden’s power? I don’t even want to think about how far he’ll be.

Or why he still hasn’t admitted there’s something between us. Or even hinted that at least he didn’t regret that one night. I’d take that.

Don’t fall for me…

I feel a familiar prickle along my scalp, and I know Xaden has filed into the Battle Brief room with the rest of the remaining cadets and leadership.

Professor Devera jumps right into today’s brief, but I find it difficult to pay attention.

Today marks six years since Brennan was killed. He’d be a captain by now, or maybe even a major, given the way his career had taken off. Maybe he’d be married. Maybe I’d be an aunt. Maybe our father’s heart wouldn’t have given out that first time from the strain of losing him or that final time that spring two years ago.

“Take me to bed,” I mentally blurt out, then sink down in my seat a little. I don’t regret it, though. Today of all days, I need a distraction.

“It might be awkward in front of all these people.”

I can’t see him from where I know he’s sitting at the top of the Battle Brief room, but his words feel like a caress on the back of my neck. “Might be worth it.”

“And what would you have done differently?” Devera asks, scanning the crowd.

“I would have asked for reinforcements if I’d known the wards were weakening in the area,” Rhiannon answers.

“I haven’t changed my mind, Violence. There’s no future for us.”

“And when no reinforcements are available?” Devera asks, arching a brow. “You have noticed that the graduating classes from the Riders Quadrant are diminishing every year, while the uptick in attacks has cost us another seven riders and their dragons this year, haven’t you? It takes at least a full company of infantry to make up for the loss of one rider.”

“Graduation is ten days away.” The approaching deadline has me on edge.

“I would have temporarily pulled riders from the midland posts to help rebuild the wards,” Rhiannon answers.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Excellent.” Devera nods.

“Are you seriously going to leave Basgiath without—” Without what? Declaring his undying…lust?

“Yes.”

Of course he would. Xaden is a master of containing his emotions, which is probably why he’s so fixed on containing mine, too. Or is there some other reason he’s holding himself back that I’m not considering? The sex was great. Our chemistry? Explosive. We’re even…friends, though the constant ache in my chest tells me it’s gone far beyond that. If he could just be an asshole, then I’d write that night off as just sex—ridiculously mind-blowing sex—and move on. But he’s not being an ass…not usually at least, and now I understand why he takes his job so seriously. He shoulders the responsibility for every marked one in here.

“Whatever you’re thinking can wait until there’s not a room of people between us,” he says.

“What else do you have for me?” Devera continues, calling on a second-year.

It’s been a month and a half since we destroyed my room—and we’ve managed to keep our hands off each other, even though one night wasn’t enough to satisfy either of us, if the tension-filled evenings on the sparring mats are any indication. Of course, we both know anything more would only further complicate an already overly complicated situation.

But surely he’s not relieving this sexual tension that stretches taut between us—with someone else. Surely. The insidious thought spreads with a sickening quickness.

I stop listening as my stomach twists at an all-too-real possibility. “Is there someone else?”

“I’m not having this discussion with you right now. Pay attention.”

It takes everything I have not to turn around and yell at him. If I’ve spent every night tossing and turning in my sheets alone while he—

“That’s a good idea, too, Aetos.” Devera smiles. “A very wingleader answer, if I might say so.”

Oh gods, Dain’s ego is going to be unbearable today during sparring if Devera keeps complimenting him.

Sparring… I clasp my pen a little too hard as I remember the way Imogen looked at Xaden that night. Shit. That would make sense. She carries a rebellion relic, and definitely isn’t the daughter of the woman who killed his father, so she has that going for her, too. “Is it Imogen?”

I’m going to be sick.

“For fuck’s sake, Violence.”

“Is it? I know we said we weren’t going there again, but—” I’m kicking myself for telling him I wanted more now, and for the fact that I should be paying attention instead of fighting with Xaden. “At least tell me.”

“Sorrengail,” Xaden snaps.

I freeze, feeling the weight of every gaze on me.

“Yes, Riorson?” Devera prompts.

He clears his throat. “If reinforcements were unavailable, I would have asked for Mira Sorrengail to temporarily transfer. The wards are strong at Montserrat, and with her signet, she could reinforce the weaknesses until other riders could arrive to strengthen those wards.”

“Good idea.” Devera nods. “And what riders are the most logical choice to help rebuild the wards in this particular mountain pass?”

“Third-years,” I answer.

“Go on.” Devera tilts her head at me.

“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway.” I shrug. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.”

“Point fucking made.”

I slam my shield down and block him out.

“That’s a logical choice,” Devera says. “And that’s all we have for today. Don’t forget that you should be preparing for the last exercise of War Games before graduation. Also we expect each and every one of you in the courtyard in front of Basgiath tonight at nine for fireworks to celebrate Reunification Day. Dress uniforms only.” She lifts her brows at Ridoc.

He shrugs. “What else would I be wearing?”

“One never knows what you’ll come up with,” Devera says, dismissing us.