“No offense, but I can fry this entire place with a lightning bolt if I want to, and I need to see Xaden, so go.” I pat his arm and keep striding toward the feeling, using it to guide me.
“I mean, your aim is shit according to you, but I get the rest!” he calls out, falling behind.
I don’t bother with a mage light as I pass the area where we usually stand in formation and keep walking toward the figures lounging against the only opening in this godsforsaken wall. There’s only one place Xaden can be.
“Tell me he’s not out there,” I say to Garrick and Bodhi, whose features I can barely see in the moonlight.
“I could tell you that, but I’d be lying,” Bodhi remarks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re not going to want to see him. Not tonight, Sorrengail,” Garrick warns with a grimace. “Self-preservation is a thing. Notice we’re not with him, and we’re his best friends.”
“Yeah, well, I’m his…” I open my mouth and shut it a few times because…fuck if I know what I am to him. But the longing that holds my heart hostage, this driving need to be at his side because I know he’s suffering, no matter if it means throwing myself headfirst into uncertainty…I can’t deny what he is to me. I kick off the leather slippers of my dress uniform—they’re more of a hazard than anything, and in this wind? Well, we’ll see how it goes. “I’m just…his.”
For the first time since last year, I step up onto the parapet.
As for the 107 innocents, the children of the executed officers, they now carry what shall be known as the rebellion relic, transferred by the dragon who carried out the king’s justice. And to show the mercy of our great king, they will all be conscripted into the prestigious Riders Quadrant at Basgiath, so they may prove their loyalty to our kingdom with their service or with their death.
—Addendum 4.2, the Treaty of Aretia
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Walking the parapet on Conscription Day is a certifiable risk.
Walking the parapet in a dress uniform, barefoot, in the dark? Now this is madness.
The first ten feet, while I’m still inside the walls, are the easiest, and as I reach the edge, where the wind ruffles my skirt like a sail, I start to doubt my plan. It’s going to be hard to get to Xaden if I fall to my death.
But I see him sitting about a third of the way across the narrow stone bridge, staring up at the moon like it somehow adds to the burden he carries, and my heart fucking hurts. He had the lives of all one hundred and seven marked ones carved into his back, taking responsibility for them. But who takes responsibility—takes care—of him?
Everyone across the ravine is celebrating his father’s death, and he’s out here mourning it alone. When Brennan died, I had Mira and Dad, but Xaden’s had no one.
You don’t really know me. Not at my core. Isn’t that how he replied when I told him that I’d end up falling for him? As if knowing him would somehow make me want him less, but everything I learn about him only makes me tumble harder and faster.
Oh gods. I know this feeling. Denying it doesn’t make it any less true. My feelings are what they are. I haven’t run from a challenge since I crossed this parapet a year ago, and I’m not about to start now.
The last time I stood here, I was terrified, but the distance to the ground isn’t what has my pulse pounding now. There’s more than one way to fall. Shit. That ache in my chest burns brighter than the power coursing through my veins.
I’m in love with Xaden.
It doesn’t matter that he’s leaving soon or that he probably doesn’t feel the same for me. It doesn’t even matter that he warned me not to fall for him. It’s not an infatuation, our physical chemistry, or even the bond between our dragons that keeps me reaching in every way possible for this man. It’s my reckless heart.
I’ve kept out of his bed—out of his arms—because he’s adamant I can’t fall for him, but that ship has long sailed, so what’s the point in holding back? Shouldn’t I grab hold of every moment we can have while he’s still here?
I take the first step onto the narrow stone bridge and put my arms out for balance. It’s just like walking along Tairn’s spine, which I’ve done hundreds of times.
Except I’m in a dress.
And Tairn isn’t going to catch me if I fall.
He’s going to be so pissed when he hears that I did this—
“Already am.”
Xaden’s head snaps in my direction. “Violence?”
I take a step and then another, holding my frame upright with muscle memory I didn’t have last year, and begin to cross.
Xaden swings his legs up and then fucking jumps to his feet. “Turn around right now!” he shouts.
“Come with me,” I call over the wind, bracing myself as a gust whips my skirt against my legs. “Should have gone with the pants,” I mutter and keep walking.
He’s already coming my way, his strides just as long and confident as if he was on solid ground, eating up the distance between us as I move forward slowly until we meet.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” he asks, locking his hands on my waist. He’s in riding leathers, not a dress uniform, and he’s never looked better.
What am I doing out here? I’m risking everything to reach him. And if he rejects me… No. There’s no room for fear on the parapet.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
His eyes widen. “You could have fallen and died!”
“I could say the same thing.” I smile, but it’s shaky. The look in his eyes is wild, like he’s been driven past the point where he can contain himself in the neat, apathetic facade he usually wears in public.
It doesn’t scare me. I like him better when he’s real with me anyway.
