“Now that’s settled.” Mira reaches under the table and pulls out a set of models, putting a six-inch stone keep in the center of the table. “Catch.” One by one, she tosses painted wooden models of dragons at us, keeping one for herself. “Pretend Messina and Exal don’t exist back there, and we’re the only squad available to take back that keep. Think of the power in this room. Think of what each individual rider brings to the table and how you’d use those powers in unison to conquer your objective.”
“But they don’t teach that to first-years,” Liam says slowly from the other side of me.
Mira glances at the whirls of magic on his wrist, but to Liam’s credit, he doesn’t tug his sleeve down. It’s hard to remember sometimes that the third-years are the first riders who will serve with the children of the leaders of the Tyrrish uprising—an uprising that could have left our borders eventually defenseless and the innocent people of Navarre war casualties. Everyone in this room has become accustomed to Liam, Imogen…even Xaden. But those in active service have never flown with anyone marked by a rebellion relic.
The Tyrrish riders who remained loyal to Navarre during the uprising were promoted, not punished, and the riders who turned against king and country were killed or executed. And just like my grief at Brennan’s loss was directed at Xaden that first day at the parapet, there will be more than one rider who misdirects their own anger at marked riders.
I clear my throat.
Mira’s gaze meets mine, and I lift an eyebrow at her in clear warning.
Don’t fuck with my friends.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and she directs her attention back to Liam. “They might not teach you this battle strategy as first-years because you’re all busy trying to stay on your dragons. You had your first taste of strategy during the Squad Battle, and it’s almost May, which means final War Games should be beginning, right?”
“Two weeks,” Dain answers.
“Good timing, then. Not all of you will survive the games if you’re not prepared.” She holds my gaze for a beat. “This kind of thinking will give your squad—your entire wing—an advantage, since I guarantee your wingleader is already assessing every rider for their own abilities.”
Xaden flips his dragon model over his knuckles but doesn’t reply. He hasn’t spoken a word to Mira since arriving.
“So let’s do this.” Mira stands back. “Who is in command?” She glances toward Quinn. “And let’s pretend that I don’t have three years of seniority on even the highest-ranked of you.”
“Then I’m in command.” Dain sits up straight, his chin rising a good inch.
“Our wingleader is here,” Liam argues, pointing at Xaden. “I would say that puts him in command.”
“We can pretend I’m not here, just for the sake of the exercise.” Xaden sets his dragon on the table and leans back in his chair, draping his arm across the back of mine, a move that makes Dain grit his teeth. “Give Aetos here the position we all know he craves.”
“Don’t be a dick,” I whisper.
“You haven’t even seen me start to be a dick.”
My head turns so fast that it swims, and my mouth drops open as I stare at the side of Xaden’s face. That was his voice…in my fucking head.
He turns, the golden flecks in his eyes catching the light, and I swear I hear him laughing in my mind, though his lips are closed, tilted in that pulse-quickening smirk of his.
“You’re staring. It’s going to get awkward in about thirty seconds if you don’t stop.”
“How?” I hiss.
“The same way you talk to Sgaeyl. We’re all gloriously, annoyingly linked. This is just one of the perks. Though I’m starting to wish I’d tried it sooner. The look on your face is priceless.” He winks and turns back to the table.
He. Fucking. Winked. And is that a hint of a smile?
“You’re. The. Wingleader.” Every word Dain speaks comes out through clenched teeth.
“I’m not even supposed to be here.” Xaden shrugs. “But if it makes you feel better, for the purpose of War Games, you’d be getting your orders from your section leader, Garrick Tavis, which he’d get from me. You’ll be carrying out your maneuvers as a squad for the good of the wing. Just pretend I’m another member of your squad and use me as you wish, Aetos.” Xaden folds his arms across his chest.
I glance at Mira, who’s watching the play-by-play with raised brows.
“Why are you even here?” Dain challenges. “No offense, sir, but we weren’t exactly expecting senior leadership on this trip.”
“You’re more than aware that Sgaeyl and Tairn are mated.”
“Three days?” Dain fires back, leaning in. “You couldn’t make it three days?”
“It has nothing to do with him,” I interrupt, setting my dragon down with a little more force than necessary. “That’s up to Tairn and Sgaeyl.”
“You never considered that it was you I couldn’t stay away from?”
I crook my right arm and jab it into Xaden’s biceps. He doesn’t mean that. Not when he’s still adamant that kissing me was a mistake. And if he does… I’m not going there.
“Now, now, you’ll give our little communication secret away if you can’t keep from being so…violent.” He barely restrains a smile, obviously loving that he gets the last word.
I need to figure out how the hell he’s doing it so I can mentally argue back.
“Of course you rush to defend him.” Dain hurls a hurt glare at me. “Though how you can forget that this guy wanted to kill you six months ago is beyond me.”
I blink up at him. “I cannot believe you went there.”
“Good job remaining professional, Aetos.” Xaden scratches the relic on his neck I’m all but certain doesn’t actually itch. “Really shows those leadership qualities to their best advantage.”
One of the riders down the table whistles low. “Do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? It would be faster.”
Liam smothers a laugh, but his shoulders shake.
“Enough!” Mira slams her hands on the table.
