“You can do it!” Rhiannon yells from the top as I reach the chimney structure.
“Or you can do us all a favor and fall!” another voice yells. Jack, no doubt. At least it’s only been our squad at practice sessions, but every first-year can watch now, either from the base of the course or the edges of the cliff above.
I look up at the hollow column I’m supposed to climb, then dart back a few feet along the path.
“What are you doing?” Rhiannon shouts as I grab one of the ropes and drag it horizontally across the surface of the cliff, sending pebbles into free fall.
It’s heavy as hell and protests the stretch, but I manage to get the bottom portion onto the chimney structure. Pulling the rope as tight as it can go, I plant one foot on the side of the shaft and give the rope a tug, then send up a prayer to Zihnal that this is going to work.
“Can she do that?” someone snaps.
I’m doing it now.
Then I lift my other foot and begin to climb up the chimney, using only the right side, walking up stone and leveraging my weight with the rope, hand over hand. The line slips about halfway up as the rope scrapes over a large boulder, but I quickly take up the slack and keep climbing. My heart thunders in my ears, but it’s my hands that are killing me. It feels like flames are eating my palms, and I grit my teeth so I don’t cry out.
There it is. The top.
The rope barely cuts the corner of the structure now, and I use what’s left of my upper-body strength to pull myself up, scrambling to my hands and knees on the path.
“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”
“Get up!” Rhiannon shouts. “One more!”
My chest heaves and my lungs ache, but I make it to my feet. I’m on the last ascent, the final path to the flight field, and standing in front of me is a ramp made of wood that juts out ten feet from the cliff wall, then curves upward like the inside of a bowl, the highest point level with the cliff top ten feet above.
The obstacle is meant to test a cadet’s ability to scale a dragon’s foreleg and reach its saddle. And I’m too short.
But Xaden’s words that the right way wasn’t the only way have played over and over in my head all night long. By the time the sun rose and chased away the darkness, I had a plan.
I only hope I can actually pull it off.
I unsheathe my largest dagger from home and wipe away the sweat on my forehead with the back of my dirty palm. Then I forget the agony in my hands, the throbbing of my shoulders, and the twinge in my knee from landing wrong after the pillars. I block out all the pain, lock it behind a wall like I’ve done my entire life, and focus on the ramp as though my life depends on making it.
There’s no rope here. There’s only one way I’m getting over this.
Sheer fucking will.
And so I charge, using my speed to my advantage.
There’s a drumlike sound as my feet beat against the ramp and the incline sharpens. Just because I haven’t personally conquered this obstacle doesn’t mean I haven’t watched my squadmates take it over and over again. I throw my body forward and momentum carries me upward, running up the side of the ramp.
I wait until I feel the precious shift, the moment gravity reclaims my body almost two feet from the top, and I swing my arm up and slam my dagger into the slick, soft wood of the ramp—and use it to fling myself the last foot upward.
A primal scream rips from my throat as my shoulder cries in protest just as my fingers graze the lip of the edge. I throw my elbow over the top to gain more leverage and pull myself up and over, using the handle of my dagger as a final step before lurching onto the top of the cliff.
Not done yet.
On my stomach, I turn to face the ramp, then reach over the side and yank my dagger free, sheathing it at my ribs before I stagger to my feet. I made it. Relief sucks the adrenaline straight out of my body.
Rhiannon’s arms sweep around me, taking my weight as I gasp for air. Ridoc hugs my back, squeezing me like I’m the filling of a sandwich as he hollers in happiness. I’d protest, but right now they’re all that’s keeping me upright.
“She can’t do that!” someone shouts.
“Yeah, well, she just did!” Ridoc tosses over his shoulder, loosening his grip on me.
My knees shake, but they hold as I suck in breath after breath.
“You made it!” Rhiannon takes my face in her hands, tears filling her brown eyes. “You made it!”
“Luck.” I draw in another breath and beg my galloping heart to slow. “And. Adrenaline.”
“Cheating!”
I turn toward the voice. It’s Amber Mavis, the strawberry-blond wingleader from Third Wing who was Dain’s close friend last year, and there’s nothing but fury on her face as she charges toward Xaden, who’s only a couple of feet away with the roll, recording times with a stopwatch and looking rather bored with it all.
“Back the hell up, Mavis,” Garrick threatens, the sun flashing off the two swords the curly-haired section leader keeps strapped to his back as he puts his body between Amber and Xaden.
“The cheater clearly used foreign materials not once but twice,” Amber yells. “It’s not to be tolerated! We live by the rules or we die by them!”
No wonder she and Dain are so close—they’re both in love with the Codex.
“I don’t take kindly to calling anyone in my section a cheater,” Garrick warns, his massive shoulders blocking her from view as he turns. “And my wingleader will handle any rule-breaking in his own wing.” He moves to the side, and I’m met with Amber’s glaring blue eyes.
“Sorrengail?” Xaden asks, arching an eyebrow in obvious challenge, a pen poised over the book. I notice not for the first time that other than his Fourth Wing and wingleader emblems, he doesn’t wear the patches others are so fond of displaying.
“I expect the thirty-second penalty for using the rope,” I answer, my breaths steadying.
“And the knife?” Amber’s gaze narrows. “She’s disqualified.” When Xaden doesn’t answer, she turns that glare on him. “Surely she’s out! You can’t tolerate lawlessness within your own wing, Riorson!”
