“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” She smiles sweetly at me.
“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut,” Liam teases. “But I’m sure Riorson would be fine with my reviewing a couple candidates, especially if it means you’ll stop flipping him off in front of his entire wing.”
“And how exactly would you be reviewing candidates? What will you be scoring?” Rhiannon asks, one eyebrow raised above her wide grin. “This I have to hear.”
I manage a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at how horrified he suddenly looks. “Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll make sure to run any potential liaisons by you.”
“I mean, you could watch,” Rhiannon continues, blinking innocently at him. “Just to be sure she’s fully covered. You know, so no one…sticks it to her.”
“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”
Even Sawyer laughs.
“Fuck me,” Liam mutters under his breath. “I’m just saying that since you’re protected at night now—” We laugh harder, and he blows out a deep breath.
“Wait.” I stop laughing. “What do you mean I’m protected at night? Because you’re next door?” My smile vanishes. “Please tell me he’s not making you sleep in the hallway or something obnoxious.”
“No. Of course not. He warded your door the morning after the attack.” His expression clearly says I should know this. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”
“He what?”
“He warded your door,” Liam says, quieter this time. “So only you can open it.”
Shit. I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s more than slightly controlling, and way out of line, but also…sweet. “But if he’s the one who warded it, then he can get in, too, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Liam shrugs as Professors Markham and Devera walk down the stairs, heading for the front of the room. “But it’s not like Riorson is going to kill you.”
“Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart.” I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.
He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention.
Except, apparently, he is.
“If we can get started?” Markham calls over the room, and we fall silent as he places the scroll Liam and I had delivered to him before breakfast on the podium. “Excellent.”
I write Sumerton down at the top of the page and Liam trades his knife for a quill.
“First announcement,” Devera says, stepping forward. “We’ve decided that not only will the winners of this year’s Squad Battle receive bragging rights—” She grins like we’re in for a treat. “But they’ll also be given a trip to the front lines to shadow an active wing.”
Cheers break out all around us.
“So if we win, we get a chance to die sooner?” Rhiannon whispers.
“Maybe they’re trying a reverse psychology thing.” I glance at the others around us who are clearly overjoyed and worry about their sanity. Then again, most everyone in this room can stay on their dragon.
“So can you.”
“Don’t you have better things to do with your day than listen in on my self-loathing?”
“Not particularly. Now pay attention.”
“Stop butting in and maybe I can,” I counter.
Tairn chuffs. One day I might be able to translate that sound, but it’s not today.
“I know the Squad Battle doesn’t commence until spring,” Devera continues, “but I figured that news would give you all the proper motivation to apply yourselves in every area leading up to the challenges.”
Another cheer resounds.
“And now that we have your attention.” Markham lifts his hand and the room quiets. “The front lines are relatively quiet today, so we’re going to take this opportunity to dissect the Battle of Gianfar.”
My quill hovers above my notebook. Surely he didn’t say that.
The mage lights rise to the Cliffs of Dralor that separate Tyrrendor, lifting the entire province thousands of feet above the rest of the Continent, before shining brightest on the ancient stronghold along the southern border. “This battle was pivotal to the unification of Navarre, and though it happened more than six centuries ago, there are important lessons that still impact our flight formations to this day.”
“Is he serious?” I whisper to Liam.
“Yeah.” Liam’s grip bends his quill. “I think he is.”
“What made this battle unique?” Devera asks, her eyebrows raised. “Bryant?”
“The stronghold was not only set for a siege,” the second-year says from high above us, “but was equipped with the first cross-bolt, which proved lethal against dragonkind.”
“Yes. And?” Devera prompts.
“It was one of the final battles where gryphons and dragons actually worked alongside each other to annihilate the army of the Barrens,” the second-year continues.
I glance left and right, watching the other riders begin to take notes. Surreal. This is just…surreal. Even Rhiannon is writing intensely.
