I sigh, facing forward. “I miss sex.” I really do, and it’s not just the physical gratification, either. There’s a sense of connection in those moments that I crave, a momentary banishment of loneliness.
The first is something I’m sure Xaden would be more than capable of providing, if he ever thought of me that way, but the second? He’s the last person I should be craving, but lust and logic never seem to go hand in hand.
“If you’re looking for a little fun, I’m happy to oblige—” Ridoc starts, shoving his floppy brown hair off his forehead with a wink.
“I miss good sex,” I counter, smothering a smile as someone walks from the front of formation toward the dais, indistinguishable through the rows of the squads ahead of us. “Besides, apparently you’re spoken for.” Have to admit, it feels good to tease a friend about something so trivial. It’s a tiny slice of normalcy in an otherwise macabre environment.
“We’re not exclusive,” Ridoc counters. “It’s like Rhiannon and what’s-her-name…”
“Tara,” Rhiannon offers.
“Will you all shut the hell up?” Dain barks in his superior-officer voice.
Our mouths snap shut.
Mine drops open again when I realize it’s Xaden climbing the steps to the dais. My stomach lurches as I suck in a tight breath. “This is about me,” I whisper.
Dain glances back at me, confusion furrowing his brow before whipping his attention toward the dais, where Xaden now stands at the podium, somehow managing to fill the entire stage with his presence.
From what I remember reading, his father had that same magnetism, the ability to hold and capture a crowd with nothing but his words…words that led to Brennan’s death.
“Early this morning,” he begins, his deep voice carrying over the formation, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds.”
A collection of murmurs and gasps fills the air, and Dain’s shoulders stiffen.
“As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonorable, is a capital offense.”
I feel the weight of a dozen glances, but it’s Xaden’s I feel most of all.
His hands clench the sides of the podium. “Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders.” He dips his chin toward our wing, and two riders—Garrick and Bodhi—break formation, then climb the steps to stand behind Xaden, their hands at their sides. “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran.”
“Both Tyrs. How convenient,” Nadine, one of our new additions to the squad, says from the row behind Ridoc and Liam.
I look back over my shoulder and pin her with a glare.
Liam keeps his eyes forward.
“But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived,” Xaden continues, his voice rising. “A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be brought to swift justice.”
Shit. This is about to get ugly.
“I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail.” Xaden’s focus shifts to the center of the formation. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”
The quadrant draws a collective breath before an uproar rips through the crowd.
“What the hell?” Dain bites out.
My chest tightens. Gods, I hate it when Dain proves me right.
Rhiannon reaches for my hand, squeezing tight in support as every rider in the courtyard’s attention pivots between Xaden, Amber…and me.
“She’s a Tyr, too, Nadine,” Ridoc says over his shoulder. “Or are you only biased against marked ones?”
Amber’s family stayed loyal to Navarre, so she wasn’t forced to watch her parents executed and wasn’t marked by a rebellion relic.
“Amber would never.” Dain shakes his head. “A wingleader would never.” He turns completely to face me. “Get up there and tell everyone that he’s lying, Vi.”
“But he’s not,” I say as gently as I can.
“It’s impossible.” His cheeks flush a mottled shade of red.
“I was there, Dain.” The reality of his disbelief hurts so much more than I expected, like a blow to my already battered ribs.
“Wingleaders are beyond reproach—”
“Then why are you so quick to call our own wingleader a liar?” My brows rise in challenge, daring him to say what he’s so careful to keep quiet.
Behind him, Amber steps forward, separating herself from the formation. “I have committed no such crime!”
“See?” Dain swings his arm, pointing toward the redhead. “Put a stop to this right now, Violet.”
“She was with them in my room,” I say simply. Shouting won’t convince him. Nothing will.
“That’s impossible.” He lifts his hands, as though ready to cup my face. “Let me see.”
The shock of what he intends to do has me stumbling backward. How have I forgotten that his signet allows him to see others’ memories?
But if I let him see my memory of Amber’s participation, it will also show him that I stopped time, and I can’t let that happen. I shake my head and take another step back.
