“You’re kidding me.” We got hauled out of bed for War Games?
“Nope.”
“Damn.” Rhiannon grins. “I wish someone made me shatter windows.”
I turn toward her, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, you’ve had way more—”
“Hey, Aetos,” Rhiannon says, leaning on my shoulder and quickly draping her hand over my collarbone to hide Xaden’s insignia and rank. “Good morning, huh?”
Dain looks at Rhiannon like she’s drunk too much mead as he approaches the squad. “Not really, no.” He glances over the rest of us. “I know it’s early…or late, depending on your night, but we’ve spent all year training for this, so wake the hell up.” He turns to face the dais as Panchek takes the podium.
“Thanks,” I whisper to Rhiannon as she stands back at my side. I’m not up for listening to Dain lecture me about my choices. Not tonight.
“Riders Quadrant!” Panchek shouts, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “Welcome to the last event of this year’s War Games.”
A murmur rips through the formation.
“The alert that was sounded is similar to what it would have been if this were a real-life attack—to see how fast you would muster—and we will continue this exercise as if it is. Were the borders to be simultaneously attacked, and the wards faltering, you would all be called into service to reinforce the wings. Colonel Aetos, would you do us the honor of reading the scenario?”
Dain’s dad steps forward, scroll in hand, and begins to read. “The moment we’ve dreaded has arrived. The wards we’ve dedicated our lives to upholding are falling, and there has been an unprecedented, multilevel attack along our borders, putting villages under siege from drifts of gryphon riders. Mass casualties among civilians and infantry are already being reported, as are the deaths of multiple riders.”
He’s laying on the melodrama pretty thick.
“As we would if you were a battle-ready force, we are sending your wings in every direction,” he continues, focusing on each wing until coming to ours. “Fourth Wing to the southeast. Each squad will pick which outpost they will reinforce within that region.” He holds up a finger. “Choices are first come, first served. Wingleaders, however, will be assigned to theirs for the purposes of determining a headquarters for this exercise.”
He turns to each wingleader, giving out orders, but glances in our direction—no doubt looking for Dain—before he turns toward Xaden. Something about the way his smile slips for a heartbeat makes the hair rise on the back of my neck.
“Riorson, you’ll establish your headquarters for Fourth Wing at Athebyne. Wingleaders, assemble your headquarters squads at your own discretion, pulling from any and all riders within your wings. Consider this a test of leadership, as there are no limitations in a real-world scenario. You will receive the updated orders once you reach your selected outposts for this five-day exercise.” He steps back.
Athebyne? That’s beyond the wards…that’s where Xaden flew his secretive mission. My gaze seeks out his, but he’s focused on the colonel.
“Five whole days? This is going to be so much fun,” Heaton exclaims with terrifying glee, running their hand over the purple flames dyed into their hair. “We’re going to pretend war.”
“Yeah,” Imogen adds quietly. “I think we are.”
“Just like real life, you squad leaders need to make your choices quickly, then report to the flight field within thirty minutes,” Panchek decrees. “You’re dismissed.”
“Tairn.”
“Already moving.”
“We’re going to claim the outpost at Eltuval, the northernmost one in our assigned region,” Dain says, turning around to face us as Rhiannon leans over my shoulder again, blocking Xaden’s insignia. “I’m not getting stuck at some coastal outpost when we know that’s not how Poromiel would choose to attack. Anyone have a problem with that?”
We all shake our heads.
“Good, then you heard the commandant. You have thirty minutes to change, pack what you can carry for five days, and get your asses to the flight field.”
Formation breaks and we all scurry to our dormitory rooms.
“What do you think our orders will be when we get there?” Rhiannon asks as we force our way through the bottleneck of cadets all trying to get into the barracks. “More eggs to hunt?”
“Guess we’re about to find out.”
It takes ten minutes to wrap my knees and support my shoulders for a long flight, then dress in my own flight leathers. It takes another five minutes to detangle my hair from Xaden’s handling and braid it, which leaves me exactly five to pack. I throw Xaden’s jacket in my rucksack just in case anyone snoops through my room while I’m gone.
“Wear every single dagger you own,” Xaden demands, startling me.
“I’m already wearing twelve.” I continue throwing items into my overnight pack.
“Good.”
“I’ll see you on the flight field, right?” If he leaves without saying goodbye, I’m going to track him down and kill him myself.
“Yes.” His reply is curt, but I finish packing and head out, meeting Rhiannon and Liam in the hallway.
A buzz of excitement accompanies the crowd as we make our way to the flight field, taking rations the kitchen staff hands out near commons on our way. No doubt we’ll be eating breakfast midflight.
When we arrive, it takes me a second to absorb the sight. Every dragon from the quadrant fills the field, standing in the same formation we keep in the courtyard, and hundreds of mage lights float overhead like hovering stars, giving the space an otherworldly feel, as though we’re in a great hall instead of on the flight field. It’s beautiful and menacing at the same time.
There’s a nervous mix of energy and anticipation and more than one person hurling up whatever they’ve had to drink as the field floods with riders.
“We’re going to win,” Rhiannon states as we make our way through the wings amid way too many snarling dragons and snapping teeth. We’re not the only ones anxious tonight. “We’re the best. We’ll win.” Her face is set in lines of determination. “I can almost taste that squad leader designation for next year.”
“You’ll get it,” I tell her, then turn toward Liam as we approach our section. “What about you? Want to distinguish yourself with glory so you can rise to squad leader?” He’s a shoo-in with his hand-to-hand skills and stellar marks in classes.
“We’ll see.” He’s unusually tense as we keep walking.
We make it to our dragons, and I can’t help but notice that Tairn is standing in what should be Cath’s spot, forcing Dain’s dragon to the side as Dain does a head count. My egotistical dragon is already saddled with Andarna under his wing.
