“Awesome,” I reply with more than a small dose of sarcasm, and everyone but Liam—who’s my shadow once again—scatters in groups of two or three, climbing various staircases.
“This way,” Xaden says, beelining for the southwest tower. We climb and climb, finally reaching the top of the fourth floor, where the door leads us to an open-air observation point that overlooks the valley below, including the Poromish trading post.
“This is one of the most strategic garrisons we man,” I say, looking for any sight of the infantry and riders who should be here. “There’s no way they’d abandon it for War Games.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Xaden looks out over the valley, then narrows his eyes on the trading post a thousand feet below. “Liam.”
“On it.” Liam moves forward, leaning on the stone battlement as he focuses on the structures in the distance beneath us. The trading post is maybe a twenty-minute walk along the wide gravelly path winding down the mountainside our outpost is perched on. The roofs of several buildings just poke out above the circular stone wall of its defenses, a drift of gryphons and their fliers approaching from the south.
Xaden turns on me, and the look in his eyes is anything but welcoming. “What did Dain say to you before we left? He leaned in and whispered something.”
I blink, trying to remember. “He said something like…” I search my memory. “I’ll miss you, Violet.”
His body goes tense. “And he said I was going to get you killed.”
“Yes, but he always says that.” I shrug. “What would Dain have to do with emptying an entire outpost?”
“I have something!” Garrick calls from the southeast tower, holding what looks to be an envelope as he and Imogen cross the thick rampart, coming in our direction.
“Did you tell him about my trips here?” Xaden questions, his eyes hardening.
“No!” I shake my head. “Unlike some people, I never hid anything from you.”
He draws back, his gaze shifting left and right as he thinks before settling on me again and widening. “Violence,” he says softly, “did Aetos touch you after I told you about Athebyne?”
“What?” My brow furrows, and I shove an errant strand of hair out of my face as the wind swirls around us.
“Like this.” He lifts his hand to my cheek. “His power requires touching someone’s face. Did he touch you like this?”
My lips part. “Yes, but that’s how he always touches me. He would n-never…” I sputter. “I would know if he read my memories.”
Xaden’s face falls, and his hand slips downward, cradling the back of my neck. “No, Violence. Trust me, you wouldn’t.” There’s no accusation in his tone, just a resignation that hurts what’s left of my heart.
“He wouldn’t.” I shake my head. Dain is a lot of things, but he would never violate me like that, never take something I hadn’t offered. Except he tried once.
“It’s addressed to you,” Garrick says, handing the envelope to Xaden.
Xaden drops his hand from my face and breaks the seal. I can read the lettering as he opens the missive.
War Games for Xaden Riorson, Wingleader of Fourth Wing.
I recognize the handwriting—how could I not when I’ve seen it all my life? “That’s from Colonel Aetos.”
“What does it say?” Garrick asks, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s our assignment?”
“Guys, I see something just past the trading post,” Liam says from the battlement. “Oh shit.”
Xaden’s face drains of all color, and he crumples the missive in his fist before looking at me. “It says our mission is to survive if we can.”
Oh gods. Dain read my memories without my permission. He must have told his father to where they’ve been sneaking off. I’ve unknowingly betrayed Xaden…betrayed them all.
“That’s not…” Garrick shakes his head.
“Guys, this is bad,” Liam shouts, and Imogen races to his side.
“This isn’t your fault,” Xaden says to me, then rips his gaze from mine and turns to his friends, who are running down the ramparts to join us. “We’ve been sent here to die.”
For there, in the land beyond the shadows, were monsters that dwelled in the night and dined on the souls of children who wandered too close to the woods.
—“The Wyvern’s Cry,” The Fables of the Barren
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Xaden hands Garrick the missive, and the rest of us rush to the battlements to see what we’re up against, but I can’t spot any threat in the valley below or the plains that stretch beyond for miles before the Cliffs of Dralor.
“Something is off,” Tairn says. “I felt it at the lake, but it’s stronger here.”
“Can you pinpoint what it is?” I reply as panic creeps up my throat. If Dain’s dad knows Xaden and the others have been supplying weapons to the gryphon fliers, there’s every chance this is an execution.
“It’s coming from the valley below.”
“I can’t see shit down there,” Bodhi says, leaning over the edge of the masonry.
“Well, I can,” Liam replies, “and if those are what I think they are, we’re fucked.”
