“You can’t be serious.” Someone’s voice lowers to a hiss.

“You’ll put everything at risk,” Garrick warns as sleep tugs at me, the only escape from the searing pain.

Tairn bellows so loudly, my rib cage vibrates. At least he’s close.

“I wouldn’t say that again,” Imogen mutters, “or he’ll probably eat you. And don’t forget, if she dies, there’s a damn good chance Xaden does, too.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t, just reminding him what the stakes are,” Garrick replies.

Can Tairn feel the disconnect between us? Is he suffering the same way I am? Was the sword poisoned, too? Can Andarna fly? Or does she need to sleep?

Sleep. That’s what I want. Cool, blissful, empty sleep.

“I don’t give a fuck what happens to me!” Xaden yells at someone. “We are going and that’s an order.”

“No need for orders, man. We’ll save her.” That’s Bodhi. I think.

“Live up to your nickname and fight this, Violence,” Xaden whispers against my ear. Then he says louder, to someone farther away, “We have to get her to him. We ride.” I feel the shift as he begins to walk, but the agony of movement against the wound is too much, and I fade into blackness.

…

Hours pass before I wake again. Maybe seconds. Maybe days. Maybe it’s forever and I’ve been sentenced to an eternity of torture by Malek for my sheer recklessness, but I can’t bring myself to regret saving them.

Maybe it’s better if I die. But then Xaden might die.

Whatever is wedged between us right now, I don’t want him dead. I’ll never want that.

A steady rush of wind at my face and the rhythmic beat of wings tells me we’re flying, and it takes all the energy I have to lift a single eyelid as we pass over the Cliffs of Dralor. The thousand-foot drop is unmistakable. It’s what made the Tyrrish rebellion not only possible but nearly successful.

The poison scorches every vein, every nerve ending in my body as it runs through me unchecked, slowing my heartbeat. Even the irony that I’m going to die by poison, something I have unparalleled knowledge of, can’t make me muster the energy to speak, to offer any thoughts on an antidote. How can I when I don’t even know what’s been used on me? Until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know venin existed outside fables, and now there’s nothing but pain and death.

It’s only a matter of time, and mine is short.

…

Death would be preferable to existing for another second in this pyre of a body, but it’s apparently a mercy I’m not allowed as I’m jostled awake.

Air. There’s not enough air. My lungs struggle to inhale.

“You’re sure about this?” Imogen asks.

Each step Xaden takes brings a new wave of agony that starts in my side and ripples through my whole body.

“Stop fucking asking him that,” Garrick snaps. “He made his decision. Support him or get the fuck out, Imogen.”

“And it’s a bad one,” another man retorts.

“When you have a hundred and seven scars on your back, then you get to make the fucking decisions, Ciaran,” Bodhi snarls.

Tairn’s roar startles me, and I twitch, which only intensifies the already indescribable torture racking my body now.

“What was that?” Garrick asks from somewhere to the left.

“He basically said that he’ll cook me alive if I fail,” Xaden replies, holding me closer. I guess that part of the bond is still in place. My cheek falls against his shoulder, and I swear I feel him brush a kiss over my forehead, but that can’t be right.

You don’t keep secrets from someone you care about, let alone secrets that are going to cost me my life any second if the stuttering beat of my heart is any indication.

It’s struggling to pump the liquid fire that’s cauterizing my veins.

Gods, I wish he’d just let me die.

I deserve it. I’m the reason Liam is dead. I’m so weak-minded that I didn’t even realize Dain took my memories and used them against me—against Liam.

“You have to fight, Vi,” Xaden whispers against my forehead as we move. “You can hate me all you want when you wake up. You can scream, hit, throw your fucking daggers at me for all I care, but you have to live. You can’t make me fall for you and then die. None of this is worth it without you.” He sounds so sincere that I almost believe him.

Which is exactly what got me into this situation in the first place.

“Xaden?” a familiar voice calls out, but I can’t place it. Bodhi, maybe? One of the second years? So many strangers. And no friends.

Liam is dead.

“You have to save her.”

You’re all cowards.

—The last words of Fen Riorson (redacted)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

XADEN

“She’ll be all right.” Sgaeyl’s voice is gentler than she’s ever deigned to use with me. Then again, she didn’t choose me because I needed coddling. She chose me for the scars on my back and the simple fact that I am the grandson of her second rider—the one who didn’t make it through the quadrant.

“You don’t know that she’ll be all right. No one does.” It’s been three fucking days, and Violet hasn’t woken up. Three never-ending days I’ve spent in this armchair, walking a knife’s edge between sanity and madness, studying every rise and fall of her chest just to be sure she’s still breathing.

My lungs only fill when hers do, and the time between my heartbeats is filled with sharp, all-consuming fear.

She’s never looked fragile to me, but she does now, lying in the middle of my bed, her lips pale and chapped, the ends of her hair duller than their usual bladelike hue. For three days, everything about her has felt as though the life was leached from her body, only a shadow of her soul left beneath her skin.

But today, at least, the morning light shows her cheeks have a little more color along the darker line of her flight goggles than yesterday.

I’m a fucking fool. I should have left her at Basgiath. Or sent her with Aetos, even if it strained Sgaeyl and Tairn. She never should have suffered the punishment Colonel Aetos delivered. For a crime she didn’t even know I was committing. Didn’t even suspect.

I run a hand through my hair. She wasn’t the only one who suffered.