CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Xaden. For the first time, the sight of him fills my chest with hope. He won’t let this happen. He might hate me, but he’s a wingleader. He can’t just watch them kill a dragon.
But I know the rules probably better than anyone else in this quadrant.
He has to. Bile rises in my throat, and I tilt my chin to quell the burning. What Xaden wants, which is always debatable, doesn’t matter here. He can only observe, not interfere.
I’m going to have an audience for my death. Fantastic.
So much for hope.
“And if we don’t want to rethink our actions?” Jack shouts.
Xaden looks toward me, and I swear I can see his jaw clench, even from this far away.
Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities. Xaden’s words come back to me with alarming clarity, and I rip my gaze from his and concentrate on the three probabilities in front of me.
“There’s nothing you can do, right? Wingleader?” Jack bellows.
Guess he knows the rules, too.
“It’s not me you should worry about today,” Xaden responds and Sgaeyl tilts her head, nothing but menace in her eyes when I glance over.
“You really going to do this?” I ask Tynan. “Attack a squadmate?”
“Squads don’t mean shit today,” he seethes, menace curling his lips into a sinister smile.
“So I guess that’s a no on the flying?” I toss over my shoulder again, and the golden dragon chuffs low in its throat in response. “Great. Well, if you can back me up with those claws, I’d really appreciate it.”
It chuffs twice, and I spare a glance down at its claws.
Or should I say…paws.
“Oh, fucking hell. You don’t have any claws?”
I turn back to the three men just as Jack roars a battle cry and sprints toward me. I don’t hesitate. I whip my blade across the rapidly closing space between us, and the dagger finds its mark in the shoulder of his sword arm. His sword falls as he hits his knees, crying out this time in pain.
Good.
But Oren and Tynan have charged at the same time, and they’re almost on me. I fling my second dagger at Tynan and catch him in the thigh, slowing but not stopping him.
Oren swings for my neck and I duck, unsheathing another blade and slicing him along the ribs just like I did during our challenge. My ankle isn’t going to let me kick, or even land a decent punch, so it’s up to my blades.
He recovers quickly and pivots with the sword, catching me at my stomach in a clean slice that would eviscerate me if not for Mira’s armor. Instead, the blade skims the scales, sliding right off me.
“What the hell?” Oren’s eyes fly wide.
“She’s destroyed my shoulder!” Jack cries, stumbling to his feet and distracting the others. “I can’t move it!” He clutches the joint, and I grin.
“That’s the thing about having weak joints,” I say, palming another blade. “You know exactly where to strike.”
“Kill her!” Jack orders, still clutching his shoulder as he backs away a few steps, then turns and runs in the opposite direction, disappearing into the tree line in no time.
Fucking coward.
Tynan jabs with his sword and I spin away, white-hot pain stealing my sight for a heartbeat before I swipe backward, plunging my dagger into his side, then pivoting, shoving my elbow up into Oren’s chin as he attacks, rattling his head.
“You fucking bitch!” Tynan screams, pressing his palm against his oozing side.
“Such an original”—I take advantage of Oren’s dazed expression and slice open his hip—“insult!”
The move costs me, and a scream rips from my throat as Tynan’s sword cuts into my upper right arm, along the direction of the bone.
The armor keeps it from penetrating my ribs, but I know I’ll have a hell of a bruise tomorrow as I wrench myself away, blood flowing freely as I peel myself off the sword.
“Behind you!” Xaden shouts.
I pivot to see Oren’s sword held high, ready to separate my head from my shoulders, but the golden dragon snaps its jaw and Oren stumbles to the side with terror-filled eyes, as if he’s just now realized that it has teeth.
I sidestep and knock the handle of my blade against the base of his skull.
He crumples, unconscious, and I don’t wait to see him fall before turning back toward Tynan, who has his bloodied sword ready.
“You can’t interfere!” Tynan shouts at Xaden, but I don’t dare look away from my opponent long enough to see how the wingleader reacts.
“No, but I can narrate,” Xaden retorts.
