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Wheat in Wartime Masterlist
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My favorite thing about fanfic authors is they can identify any gap in a canon timeline where characters are offscreen and exploit the ever living fuck out of it
Ridoc Gamlyn x fem!reader who are now exclusive, apparently [1.1k words]
summary: Your year's resident comedian has taken a liking to you. Unfortunately for him, you're not so easily wooed. Fortunately for him, he doesn't give up easily. He wants to be able to call you his, even if he has to take up carpentry to do it.
CW: relentless flirting, they both operate under the knowledge that reader could fully hand Ridoc his ass if she wanted to, black cat/golden retriever maybe?, fluff
You seem to have gained a shadow at some point on your trek from the dining hall to Battle Brief.
Seeing as you’re not Basgiath’s resident shadow wielder, it means that someone is following you.
“Gamlyn.”
“Oh my gods, she knows my name.” Ridoc murmurs reverently, mistaking—or choosing to interpret—your acknowledgement of him as an invitation to move to your side instead of trailing behind you like a creep.
The acknowledgement was supposed to be a fuck off.
“How’d you know it was me?” he continues, unperturbed by your silence and the way your pace increases in hopes of shaking him.
You don’t.
“It must be the undeniable chemistry between us.” You can picture the smile he’s wearing as he continues his soliloquies; warm and sticky, easy. The kind of smile one wears when they’re hot and they know it. “Can’t believe neither of us have done anything about that yet.”
“You’ve tried,” you deadpan, mentally cursing yourself for caving and responding; he’s like a fucking dog with a bone.
“And yet,” he whispers, leaning in like he’s telling you a secret. “We’ve yet to do anything about it.”
“There won’t be anything done about it.”
“About what?”
You pause to look at the idiot. He stops too, smiling at you unbothered by the bodies of other cadets who have to navigate around the two of you in the hallway.
“About the undeniable chemistry,” you drawl.
It was clearly a trap—the bastard's brows rising victoriously. “So, you feel it too, huh? I knew it. You like playing hard to get, gorgeous?”
“For the love of Amari, you are unbelievable,” you groan, barely restraining yourself from stomping your foot petulantly as you pivot and continue towards the classroom.
Ridoc seamlessly falls into step with you. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It sure sounded like one.”
You shoulder your way through the door of the lecture hall and descend the stairs to find a seat. Your shadow is hot on your tail and ready to take the empty seat beside the one you stop at, only to come up short and frown down at your bag as you unceremoniously dump it there.
“What do you want, Gamlyn?”
You hear the telltale huff of a thoroughly unimpressed dragon in the back of your mind—which you translate to something along the lines of don’t play dumb, Stubborn One—that you do your best to ignore.
“Uhm, to act on this thing going on between us, obviously.” A man truly has no right looking so good while being so obnoxious.
“There’s nothing going on between us.”
Ridoc’s dark eyes flash in excitement, a dimple appearing as he smirks at you. “Not yet, maybe.”
“Get over it,” you huff, slamming down into your chair and readying your notebook for class to start. “It’s not happening.”
He heaves a sigh as he steps around you and takes the seat on your other side.
“Fine, but can I at least ask why?”
You look over at him, really look.
There’s an unruly curl that insists on hanging over his forehead despite him constantly pushing it back, still a touch damp from whatever shower he took after sparring this morning. His tanned skin looks like it’d be warm to the touch, as though perpetually sun-kissed despite it being notoriously cloudy lately. His lashes are dark and long and, dammit, Ridoc is pretty.
He’s pretty and distracting and insistent and strong and loyal and you have no doubt he’d be so much fun.
But…
“You don’t get told no a lot, do you?”
His eyes flash down to your shoulder for a moment before they return to your eyes. “No, not really.”
“Fine.” You turn your focus to the front of the room, watching as Professor Devera enters and sets up at the podium. “You want to know why it isn’t going to happen?”
“Please.”
Fuck, and now he’s begging.
“Because I have no interest in being just another notch on your bedpost.”
The silence that meets you leaves you thinking the conversation might finally—blissfully—be over.
So why does that thought leave your stomach feeling hollow?
“Oh,” Ridoc hums. “I see.”
You let out a sigh, still not looking at him. “Yeah.”
“So you want to be a notch, just not another.”
“I- what?”
“Hey, no judgement, I can work with that.” He’s smiling again; one dimple mocks you as he too moves his attention forward, watching Colonel Markham enter the room to join the professor at the front. “I have to admit, I’m not usually a relationship kind of guy. But for you? I can make an exception.”
Your mind has stuttered to a complete halt, only a faint sound of amusement coming from your dragon among the eerie ringing that has replaced the sound of the quickly filling classroom.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Ridoc turns and grins—grins!—at you. “You don’t want to be just another notch on my bedpost? I’ll replace the whole frame. Brand new, just for you. I’ll take up fucking carpentry and build it myself if that’s what you’d like.”
All you can bring yourself to do is shake your head, as if rattling around Ridoc’s words in your brain will make them settle into something that makes sense. “You’re crazy.”
His grin grows impossibly wider. “Crazy about you.”
“Ew.”
“What? Too cheesy? Okay, I’ll dial it back. Sorry, new to this whole exclusive thing.”
“Who’s exclusive?” Rhiannon asks as she takes the seat on your other side.
“We are!” Ridoc answers for you, slapping a hand on your thigh.
You flick his hand away, turning towards your new seatmate to deny it all when Rhiannon sighs happily. “Thank gods! Fucking finally, he hasn’t shut the hell up about you in weeks, you know?”
What…the fuck?
“Oh, Ridoc?” Violet chimes in from Rhiannon’s other side. “His dorm room’s been so disturbingly quiet lately, I thought we were going to have to do a wellness check.”
Rhiannon snorts. “For the love of Loial though, please learn how to sound proof your room.”
But your brain must have taken some serious damage during sparring that you can’t remember because not only have you still not figured out how the hell this conversation ended up here of all places, but the only thing you manage to focus on—and parrot weakly—is, “weeks?”
Ridoc’s thigh presses into yours as Devera calls the class to attention, the rider’s grin downright wicked as he leans over and whispers loud enough so only you can hear.
“Oh, haven’t you heard? The roster’s been cleared for weeks, babe. I’ve been waiting for you.”
if rebecca yarros really wants to make money she should just make ridoc and bodhi go at it for like three chapters yaoi does way better than character death
Hello darling! I am humbly requesting our beloved Xaden Riorson and the prompt "Don't shut me out" please, your writing is so beautiful! 🙏🙏💝
(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)
Summary: "Don't shut me out."
Authors Note: Ugh I love this scenario especially with our favourite Wingleader! There's nothing than a soft and comforting shadow daddy. Hopefully I did it justice and gave you exactly what you wanted <3
The first night, Xaden thinks you just need space.
The second night he starts to worry.
By the third, he’s ready to start a fight.
Because you haven’t slept properly since the challenge with the flier.
The challenge where tensions between the riders and the fliers finally spilled over, exploded in a violent confrontation and one particularly boisterous flier tried to fight dirty against you.
You haven’t eaten more than a few bites.
You've barely spoken.
And worst of all, you won’t let him near you.
Not physically. Not emotionally.
Every time he reaches for you, you pull away like his touch burns.
Every time he asks if you’re alright, you say the same thing in that empty, distant voice:
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
He knows it. You know it, but neither of you acknowledge it.
Tonight, he finds you sitting on the floor beside the bed in your shared room in Aretia, knees drawn to your chest, staring blankly at the wall.
You don’t even notice he’s entered at first and that alone terrifies him. He's so used to your eyes automatically finding his and lighting up at the simple sight of him.
His jaw tightens slightly.
“Did you eat today?”
Nothing.
The shadows around his feet stir restlessly as he closes the door behind him.
“Sweetheart.”
Your expression flickers at the nickname.
Barely, but enough for him to see.
Slowly, carefully, he crouches a few feet in front of you—not too close. Not pushing.
Not yet.
“You can keep pretending you’re okay,” he says quietly, “but I know you.”
Your throat bobs once before you look away and that hurts him more than yelling would’ve.
Because you’ve never looked at him like this before.
Like you’re hiding. Like you’re ashamed.
Xaden exhales slowly through his nose, forcing patience into himself.
“Talk to me.”
Silence.
The fire crackles softly behind him.
Outside, distant voices echo through Aretia, but inside this room it feels like the world has stopped breathing.
Finally, after several moments, quietly—
“I can still see his face.”
The words are so soft he almost misses them.
Something inside him immediately aches.
You swallow hard, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
“I close my eyes and I see him hitting the ground.” Your voice shakes slightly now. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
“You were defending yourself.”
“I killed him.”
The crack in your voice nearly destroys him.
You finally look at him then, and the devastation in your expression hits like a physical blow.
“He looked scared,” you whisper. “Right at the end, he looked scared and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Xaden’s chest tightens painfully.
You curl tighter into yourself, fingers trembling slightly where they grip your sleeves.
“I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
Xaden moves before he even consciously decides to.
Slowly. Carefully.
He kneels directly in front of you now.
“You don’t get to carry this alone.”
Immediately, your expression shutters again. Your instinct to retreat and bury the guilt that's been threatening to choke you for days now.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I said—”
“I know what you said.” His voice sharpens slightly—not angry, but firm enough to stop you. “And I’m telling you I don’t believe you.”
Your eyes sting instantly at the sudden intensity in his voice.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admit shakily. “You’ve all killed people before. The marked ones, the riders—everyone just keeps moving and I—” your breathing catches painfully “—I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Xaden’s face softens so immediately it almost undoes you completely.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The gentleness in his voice is worse than pity.
You look away again quickly before he can see the tears gathering.
Too late.
“Look at me.”
You shake your head.
“Please.”
That’s what gets you.
Not command. Not pressure. But pleading.
Please.
Reluctantly, you lift your gaze.
His expression nearly breaks your heart.
There’s no judgment there.
No disappointment. Only concern. Only love.
“You think there’s something wrong with you because you’re devastated after taking a life?” he asks quietly.
You blink hard. “I shouldn’t feel this weak.”
His brows draw together immediately. “Weak?”
“You all handle it.”
“No,” he says firmly. “We survive it.”
That lands hard enough to make you still.
Xaden shifts closer carefully, slow enough to give you time to pull away.
You don’t.
“I need you to listen to me,” he says softly. “The fact that this hurts means you’re still you. It means you still care. Do you understand how rare that is here?”
A tear finally slips down your cheek.
“I can’t stop seeing it.”
“I know.”
Another tear follows.
“I can’t sleep.”
“I know.”
“I feel sick all the time.”
“I know.”
His voice never changes, never hardens. It just stays steady and warm and heartbreakingly patient.
And somehow that makes the tears worse.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” you whisper brokenly.
Xaden’s expression crumples slightly at the words.
“I know you didn’t.”
The sob that escapes you then sounds almost startled, like you’d been fighting it for days and your body finally gave up.
Immediately, Xaden closes the remaining distance between you.
One hand slides gently to the back of your neck while the other pulls you into his chest carefully, giving you every opportunity to resist.
You don’t.
You fold into him so suddenly it almost knocks the breath from him.
“There you go,” he murmurs softly into your hair.
And that nearly destroys you completely.
Because you didn’t realise how exhausted you were from holding yourself together until he said it.
Your hands clutch tightly at his shirt while the sobs finally come properly, harsh and uneven against his chest.
Xaden just holds you through all of it.
No judgment. No lectures.
Just steady warmth and grounding pressure and his hand smoothing repeatedly through your hair.
“You don’t have to shut me out,” he says quietly after a while.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I didn’t know how to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to do it perfectly.”
Another shaky breath leaves you.
“I thought if I said it out loud it would become real.”
Xaden’s arms tighten around you slightly.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “it was already real. You don’t have to survive it alone on top of that.”
You cry harder at that, because that’s exactly what you’ve been trying to do.
Carry it alone. Punish yourself alone. Mourn alone.
Xaden presses a kiss gently into your hairline.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
You don’t answer, which is answer enough.
His jaw tightens faintly. “Okay.”
You sniff weakly. “…Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
“That tone says otherwise.”
Despite everything, you feel the faintest shift in his chest like he’s suppressing a relieved laugh because you’re finally talking properly.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
Before you can protest, he carefully shifts, lifting you up from the floor entirely.
You let out a tiny startled sound. “Xaden—”
“Nope.”
“I can walk.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then put me down.”
“No.”
Normally you’d argue harder, but tonight you just bury your face into his neck instead.
His expression softens instantly.
He carries you to the bed, settling you carefully against the pillows before pulling the blankets over you.
“You’re going to eat something,” he says.
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s unfortunate for you because I already asked someone to bring food.”
You blink at him. “You did?”
“I’ve been worried for three days,” he says flatly. “Of course I did.”
Your chest aches painfully at the quiet honesty of it.
He sits beside you then, one hand still resting against your leg like he’s reassuring himself you’re really there.
“You’re going to sleep tonight too.”
“I don’t want to dream.”
Something flickers across his face then.
Understanding.
Without a word, he shifts further into the bed beside you and opens an arm toward you automatically.
An invitation.
You hesitate for only a second before moving into him.
Immediately, his arm wraps tightly around you, pulling you fully against his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs softly into your hair.
And for the first time since the challenge you finally believe you might survive this too.
warnings: depression, self harm (jo purposefully clenches her fists so tightly she draws blood), rejection, swearing, crying
a/n: this chapter is actually just about depression, and reaching out for help when you need it. so take care of yourselves, read at your own discretion, and know that it really does get better <3
masterlist | ao3
—
But you don't know how much of my time has been spent keeping myself alive.
— I Think I'm Doing Great by Lora Mathis
—
Ridoc won't look at me. I took the empty seat beside Violet at breakfast, and he averted his gaze from me the entire time, even going so far as to turn his shoulder to me.
He's giving me the literal cold-shoulder treatment.
If the ache in my chest didn't make it hard to breathe, I'd be laughing at the pun. As it is, though, I just keep my head down and try to bury myself in Violet's conversation with Sawyer.
At least all of it makes morning formation easier to swallow.
Commandant Panchek steps up to the podium after Captain Fitzgibbons finishes the death roll and says, "To even out the numbers between squads, all Third Squads are hereby disbanded, and all cadets will be reassigned."
I know I'm not going to end up back in Second Squad, but there's a small part of me that still hopes someone will be merciful and let me go back to my friends.
I'm not that lucky.
"Joan Graycastle: First Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing."
Second Squad protests loudly—everyone except Ridoc—but they all quiet with a harsh glare from Commandant Panchek. I just give Rhiannon a small shrug and join my new squad, finding the one empty spot in their formation quickly. It's right next to Second Squad.
Right next to Ridoc.
Shit.
I don't miss the half-step he takes away from me when I find my place, and I definitely don't miss the way it feels like all of the air is punched out of my lungs.
I knew this was a possibility. I knew any of them would hate me for lying to them for so long.
So why does this hurt so fucking bad?
After we're dismissed, my new Squad Leader, Nilah Horne, greets me with a tight smile. "Joan."
"Nilah."
"I know it's a demotion, joining another squad, but Warren and I already talked about the possibility beforehand, and if you want to be Executive Officer—"
"Gods, no," I sign, interrupting them mid-speech. "That's really kind of you to offer, but I didn't even want to be Squad Leader, I was just the only option."
"Okay." Their smile is a little more genuine now. "I can get you a copy of our class schedule when I go upstairs, I know we were hardly in any of the same ones."
"Thanks." I walk with them to the dorms and gratefully accept their old class schedule. It's crumpled and worn from being at the bottom of their bag, but I can still read it, so it hardly matters. "Where do you all sit for Battle Brief?"
They seem genuinely surprised by that. "You don't have to move for that if you don't want to."
I think about where I usually sit in that class—right beside Ridoc—and I can't bear the thought of sitting through ninety minutes with him ignoring me so blatantly.
"I should sit with you," I sign back. "I'd expect anyone new to my squad to do the same—full integration, right?"
They give me a long look before they shrug. "Okay. We're on the lefthand side of the second aisle in the room, just a few rows down from the top. And we sit on the right side of the Fourth Wing section of the gathering hall for meals, but we'll walk there together for lunch."
"Sounds good." I smile back at them, trying to get it to reach my eyes, and I think I'm almost successful.
Almost.
—
Sawyer starts to stand up from his spot at the end of the row for our usual seats in Battle Brief, but I wave him down as I pass by. "New squad, remember?" I sign to him quickly, then keep walking to the other side of the room to join the second years in First Squad, tacking myself onto the end of their seating arrangement with a tight smile and a nod at the vaguely familiar faces.
And a heavy urge to look over my shoulder at my friends that I barely hold back.
With me being newly added to the squad, there are five second-years: myself, Nilah, Warren, Ivara, and Kalyn. Nilah smiles back at me and Warren gives me a nod, but the other two barely look my way when I sit beside them—nothing more than a brief acknowledgement of my existence before they go back to their notes. Not that I blame them, I'm practically a stranger.
But when I sit beside them for history, it's the same treatment. Again in dragonkind. And again in physics.
So I make sure I get to their table for dinner before Nilah and Warren do and give Ivara and Kalyn as genuine a smile as I can muster. "I'm Joan, we never got properly introduced."
"We know who you are, Graycastle," Ivara says with a roll of her eyes. "You're hard to miss."
I furrow my brows. "Okay?"
"You're also bad luck," Kalyn practically growls. "Everyone in your land nav group dies but you? Everyone in your squad dies but you?" He narrows his eyes at me. "Stay the fuck away from us and our squad, got it? You don't get to just join us and pretend that everything is fine, because it's not. Everyone you get close to dies." His lips drop in a sneer. "If I were in Second Squad, I'd be thanking the gods you didn't get pawned back off on us—I might actually live to see graduation."
Then they both grab their trays and move tables, leaving me with nothing but a gaping jaw, wide eyes, and the taste of ash in my mouth.
Violet passes where I'm sitting, and slows down when she sees me all alone. "Want to come sit with us?" she offers gently.
I shake my head and give her a tight smile, the expression not reaching my eyes. "Lost my appetite." I stand up and grab my tray, but Violet's voice stops me from walking away completely.
"We're meeting in my room after dinner," she says, and I hear the words she leaves unsaid.
To talk about the Archives.
I nod, then finally walk away, dumping my tray on my way out the door. "Thoughts on a mid-evening flight?" I ask Astar, Concealing myself on the walk to the dorms to change into my flight leathers.
"In favor, but you knew I would say that."
Of course I did; Astar has a hard time denying me anything, and with my inability to run off my anger for the last week due to my broken ribs, we've been flying more than usual since he can use magic to keep me secure. It's not as good as running, but I'll take what I can get. Anything is better than the frustration starting to bubble in my gut.
He's waiting for me in the flight field, his scales turning golden in the setting sun as his eyes follow me all the way to his leg, but he only extends it for me to get to his seat when I drop my Concealment. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I snap the flight goggles over my eyes and brace myself for the flight. "Not really." Which we both know actually means not yet.
He hums low in understanding. "Hold on." Then he wraps magic bonds around me and we launch into the sky.
It only takes a couple minutes of the wind in my face for me to start talking to him, though it's barely more than a whisper. "I thought I was finally making it out of the mud, Az." I look up at the stars, and sigh. "I was finally starting to pull myself up and keep pace with everyone else, but now it just feels like they're shoving me back into it." Then I ball my hands into fists and clench until my nails start to break skin. "And I can't do anything about it."
Even when my palms start to sting, I don't let up. I squeeze harder, and harder, channeling all of my anger and frustration into the simple act of clenching my fists, and it hurts, but it feels good—
Blood drips from my hands onto Astar's scales, and the shock of the bright red on the pristine white pulls me out of my daze. Then a splash of water hits the blood, and I uncurl my hands completely as I realize I'm crying. "I'm sorry." The knot in my chest is looser after the release from the pain in my hands, but I hate that Astar is the one that got messy from it.
"It's just blood, Little One." Then he growls deep in his throat. "But do not hurt yourself for relief—there are plenty of other people in this world that can and should suffer your wrath instead."
I choke out a silent laugh at that. "Yeah, I can think of a couple."
A sapphire Blue Dragon joins us in the air a moment later, and Aaric looks as comfortable as ever sitting on Molvic's back in his newly-acquired flight leathers. "Hi."
"Hi," I murmur back, my heart warming at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"
"Astar thought you could use some moral support. And you skipped dinner, which you only ever do when you're unconscious, sick, or there are brussel sprouts involved."
"If I wanted that much green leafy shit in my mouth at one time, I'd eat a salad."
I can't see his smile very well, but I know he is, even as he rolls his eyes at me. "Talk to me, Jo."
I look down at my hands, at the bloody crescent moons my nails have made in my palms, and sigh as tears begin to fill my waterline. "I think I'm drowning, Cam."
It's only the second time I've called him his first name, but the effect is immediate. "Take us down."
When my feet are back on the ground, Aaric is there with his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. "I've got you, Joey."
And then I crack wide open in the middle of the flight field.
—
There's nothing to say about my being forty-five minutes late to Violet's room, or my bloodshot eyes, or the fact that my brother is half a step behind me, and at this point, I don't care. Violet opens her door after my second knock, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Are you okay?"
"No," I sign back, because I don't have it in me to pretend right now—not after breaking down so severely that Aaric had to carry me all the way from the flight field. "Sorry we're late."
She pulls both of us into her room, her eyes lingering on the bandages around my palms. "I didn't know Aaric was coming."
"I made her promise no more stupid shit without me," he offers as an answer. "And I'm not skipping out on an opportunity to steal from our dad."
The tension in her shoulders releases at the joke. "And who are we to deny you that?" She sits on her bed, leaving plenty of room for either one of us to join her, but I don't move from my spot against the far wall. Sawyer is in the desk chair, and there's room to sit beside Rhiannon on top of Violet's desk, but I don't want to step any closer to a certain corner of the room; I don't want to risk getting frostbite.
"Jesinia said it has to be on a Saturday night," Violet says, tucking her legs underneath her. "That's when it's the quietest in the Archives, and she can be away from her duties long enough to lead us where we need to go without it being suspicious."
"So this Saturday, then," Rhiannon says with a nod. "Xaden will be here, and there shouldn't be any land navigation trainings."
Sawyer rubs the back of his neck. "That's not very long to plan."
"Then let's get started." Violet pulls out a notebook and pen and flips to a blank page. "This is what we know: there's one scribe posted outside the Archives that we'll need to keep unconscious—shouldn't be too hard, he's usually asleep anyway."
"I'll stand guard," Ridoc volunteers immediately. "You won't need an ice wielder where you're going."
I look up, hoping to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze trained on Violet, then on the pen he twirls between his fingers. I try to accept his reasoning for what it is, rather than what he's not saying: he doesn't want to be anywhere near me.
Violet lifts her eyebrows in surprise, glancing briefly at me, Aaric, Sawyer, and Rhiannon, before putting the pen back to paper. "Okay." She writes down his name and the word 'guard'. "Jesinia will guide us through the Archives, then Jo and Aaric will go into the vault and get the journals." She writes down both of our names, then looks up at me. "How many can you Conceal?"
"As many as we need."
"That's not as helpful as you think."
I shrug. "I've Concealed myself and Astar for two hours, so however many people you think is equal to him."
"Holy shit, Jo," Aaric whispers in awe. I just squeeze his wrist in return.
"That's…" Her eyes get wider the longer she thinks about it. "Wow, okay, yeah. Then who else do we need on the team?"
"Imogen," Rhiannon says immediately. "She can erase recent memories."
"And Quinn," Sawyer adds. "I'll guard her body while she astral projects."
Violet writes down both of their names. "Anyone else?"
"Bodhi," Aaric offers. All of us turn to look at him, and he just raises a brow before saying, "He's a Section Leader. At the very least, he should know just to give us an alibi."
I'm the only one close enough to see the slight blush on his neck peeking out from under the collar of his flight jacket.
Violet writes his name down and smiles to herself. "This is actually kind of starting to look like a plan." Then her eyes meet mine and her smile falters. "We'll have to tell them who you are."
I swear the temperature in the room drops, but I don't look at Ridoc when I sign, "I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
I look at Aaric, and he nods. "I trust you, Jo. If you trust them, then so do I."
"Yeah," I sign to Violet.
"Okay." She closes her notebook and smiles at all of us, and I don't need any further invitation to leave the room.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I take Aaric's hand and Conceal us both, then he leads me through the hallway, back down the stairs, across the quadrant, and through the college until we stop at the fourth door on the third floor of the family quarters.
Nathaniel takes one look at me, and opens the door as wide as it goes. "Mardred is finishing up the kitchen preparation for tomorrow, she'll be home soon." He crouches down in front of me when I sit on the sofa, and cups my cheek in his large palm. "What can I do for you, love?"
I lean into his hand and let the tears pooling in my eyes slip down my face. "Can I have some migraine tea?"
"'Course." He kisses my forehead, then walks to the kitchen to start on the tea. "Anything for you, Camlaen?"
"I'll take some tea as well," he answers, then wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. "You'll be okay."
Ten minutes later, when my tears have run out for now, Nathaniel comes back in with a mug for each of us. Passing them both off, he kneels at my feet and removes my boots with so much gentleness it spurs another round of tears. "You can rest, Princess. Whatever it is, it'll pass."
He doesn't linger. He takes off Aaric's boots as well, and sets both pairs by the door, then returns to the kitchen to finish cleaning the dishes in the sink, leaving me and my brother to the quiet.
"You should skip classes tomorrow."
I slip out from under his arm to look at him with an arched brow. "Are you kidding me? Absolutely not."
"Joey." His eyes are so full of concern it makes my chest ache. "You admitted to me that the only sense of relief you've felt in the last couple weeks was from hurting yourself. Take a fucking break."
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and hold back even more tears as I reply, "Any sign of weakness is eaten alive here, I can't slip up; not with Varrish watching my every move."
"Fuck Varrish. Fuck the cadre." He cups my face with both hands and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. "You said it yourself, Jo; you're drowning."
I huff out a breath. "Just because I said it doesn't make this any easier."
He sighs, and pulls me back into his side. "I know. But it won't get any easier if you run yourself into the ground, either."
Mardred walks in a few minutes later, unfazed at the boots by the door, but she does freeze when she sees my splotchy cheeks and runny nose. "Oh, Princess." She sets her bag and apron down, then crosses the room and pulls me into a hug. "Have you two eaten?"
"I did, but she hasn't," Aaric tells her. "Lost her appetite."
"Now, that won't do. Nathaniel?"
"Already on it." He comes in a moment later with a plate of crackers, meats, and cheeses, and puts it in my lap. "Let me grab the drinks." He walks out again, then comes back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Cinnamon," he murmurs, handing one mug to Aaric, "and peppermint," he says, handing the other mug to me.
"You're staying the night," Mardred says, and it's not a question.
"Sure." Aaric gives her a small smile. "I'll have to leave for class, but Jo can stay all day—she's not going tomorrow."
I narrow my eyes at him, but Mardred is thrilled at the news. "A full breakfast, then. Do you have classes tomorrow, love?"
"Just a meeting in the morning." Nathaniel smooths out Mardred's hair with a soft smile. "And that new recipe you wanted to try."
"Good." She takes my hand in both of hers, and squeezes it gently, mindful of the bandages wrapped around my palm. "I'll write to the General myself, if I have to, but you deserve to rest, dear heart. You both do. So that means you're staying tomorrow as well, Camlaen, classes be damned."
He opens his mouth to argue, but Mardred gives him a stern look, and he doesn't bother. "Okay."
Then she pulls us into a hug, kisses my cheek without commenting on the salty tears starting to run down my skin, and whispers, "It's good to have you both home."
—
a/n: so actually the real heroes of the story are mardred and nathaniel (named after the characters of one of the married couples i play d&d with, they're adorable) for treating the codependent siblings like people, rather than riders or cadets or royalty. god, i love 'em. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
warnings: depression, self harm (jo purposefully clenches her fists so tightly she draws blood), rejection, swearing, crying, hurt/comfort
a/n: this chapter is actually just about depression, and reaching out for help when you need it. so take care of yourselves, read at your own discretion, and know that it really does get better <3
masterlist | ao3
—
But you don't know how much of my time has been spent keeping myself alive.
— I Think I'm Doing Great by Lora Mathis
—
Ridoc won't look at me. I took the empty seat beside Violet at breakfast, and he averted his gaze from me the entire time, even going so far as to turn his shoulder to me.
He's giving me the literal cold-shoulder treatment.
If the ache in my chest didn't make it hard to breathe, I'd be laughing at the pun. As it is, though, I just keep my head down and try to bury myself in Violet's conversation with Sawyer.
At least all of it makes morning formation easier to swallow.
Commandant Panchek steps up to the podium after Captain Fitzgibbons finishes the death roll and says, "To even out the numbers between squads, all Third Squads are hereby disbanded, and all cadets will be reassigned."
I know I'm not going to end up back in Second Squad, but there's a small part of me that still hopes someone will be merciful and let me go back to my friends.
I'm not that lucky.
"Joan Graycastle: First Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing."
Second Squad protests loudly—everyone except Ridoc—but they all quiet with a harsh glare from Commandant Panchek. I just give Rhiannon a small shrug and join my new squad, finding the one empty spot in their formation quickly. It's right next to Second Squad.
Right next to Ridoc.
Shit.
I don't miss the half-step he takes away from me when I find my place, and I definitely don't miss the way it feels like all of the air is punched out of my lungs.
I knew this was a possibility. I knew any of them would hate me for lying to them for so long.
So why does this hurt so fucking bad?
After we're dismissed, my new Squad Leader, Nilah Horne, greets me with a tight smile. "Joan."
"Nilah."
"I know it's a demotion, joining another squad, but Warren and I already talked about the possibility beforehand, and if you want to be Executive Officer—"
"Gods, no," I sign, interrupting them mid-speech. "That's really kind of you to offer, but I didn't even want to be Squad Leader, I was just the only option."
"Okay." Their smile is a little more genuine now. "I can get you a copy of our class schedule when I go upstairs, I know we were hardly in any of the same ones."
"Thanks." I walk with them to the dorms and gratefully accept their old class schedule. It's crumpled and worn from being at the bottom of their bag, but I can still read it, so it hardly matters. "Where do you all sit for Battle Brief?"
They seem genuinely surprised by that. "You don't have to move for that if you don't want to."
I think about where I usually sit in that class—right beside Ridoc—and I can't bear the thought of sitting through ninety minutes with him ignoring me so blatantly.
"I should sit with you," I sign back. "I'd expect anyone new to my squad to do the same—full integration, right?"
They give me a long look before they shrug. "Okay. We're on the lefthand side of the second aisle in the room, just a few rows down from the top. And we sit on the right side of the Fourth Wing section of the gathering hall for meals, but we'll walk there together for lunch."
"Sounds good." I smile back at them, trying to get it to reach my eyes, and I think I'm almost successful.
Almost.
—
Sawyer starts to stand up from his spot at the end of the row for our usual seats in Battle Brief, but I wave him down as I pass by. "New squad, remember?" I sign to him quickly, then keep walking to the other side of the room to join the second years in First Squad, tacking myself onto the end of their seating arrangement with a tight smile and a nod at the vaguely familiar faces.
And a heavy urge to look over my shoulder at my friends that I barely hold back.
With me being newly added to the squad, there are five second-years: myself, Nilah, Warren, Ivara, and Kalyn. Nilah smiles back at me and Warren gives me a nod, but the other two barely look my way when I sit beside them—nothing more than a brief acknowledgement of my existence before they go back to their notes. Not that I blame them, I'm practically a stranger.
But when I sit beside them for history, it's the same treatment. Again in dragonkind. And again in physics.
So I make sure I get to their table for dinner before Nilah and Warren do and give Ivara and Kalyn as genuine a smile as I can muster. "I'm Joan, we never got properly introduced."
"We know who you are, Graycastle," Ivara says with a roll of her eyes. "You're hard to miss."
I furrow my brows. "Okay?"
"You're also bad luck," Kalyn practically growls. "Everyone in your land nav group dies but you? Everyone in your squad dies but you?" He narrows his eyes at me. "Stay the fuck away from us and our squad, got it? You don't get to just join us and pretend that everything is fine, because it's not. Everyone you get close to dies." His lips drop in a sneer. "If I were in Second Squad, I'd be thanking the gods you didn't get pawned back off on us—I might actually live to see graduation."
Then they both grab their trays and move tables, leaving me with nothing but a gaping jaw, wide eyes, and the taste of ash in my mouth.
Violet passes where I'm sitting, and slows down when she sees me all alone. "Want to come sit with us?" she offers gently.
I shake my head and give her a tight smile, the expression not reaching my eyes. "Lost my appetite." I stand up and grab my tray, but Violet's voice stops me from walking away completely.
"We're meeting in my room after dinner," she says, and I hear the words she leaves unsaid.
To talk about the Archives.
I nod, then finally walk away, dumping my tray on my way out the door. "Thoughts on a mid-evening flight?" I ask Astar, Concealing myself on the walk to the dorms to change into my flight leathers.
"In favor, but you knew I would say that."
Of course I did; Astar has a hard time denying me anything, and with my inability to run off my anger for the last week due to my broken ribs, we've been flying more than usual since he can use magic to keep me secure. It's not as good as running, but I'll take what I can get. Anything is better than the frustration starting to bubble in my gut.
He's waiting for me in the flight field, his scales turning golden in the setting sun as his eyes follow me all the way to his leg, but he only extends it for me to get to his seat when I drop my Concealment. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I snap the flight goggles over my eyes and brace myself for the flight. "Not really." Which we both know actually means not yet.
He hums low in understanding. "Hold on." Then he wraps magic bonds around me and we launch into the sky.
It only takes a couple minutes of the wind in my face for me to start talking to him, though it's barely more than a whisper. "I thought I was finally making it out of the mud, Az." I look up at the stars, and sigh. "I was finally starting to pull myself up and keep pace with everyone else, but now it just feels like they're shoving me back into it." Then I ball my hands into fists and clench until my nails start to break skin. "And I can't do anything about it."
Even when my palms start to sting, I don't let up. I squeeze harder, and harder, channeling all of my anger and frustration into the simple act of clenching my fists, and it hurts, but it feels good—
Blood drips from my hands onto Astar's scales, and the shock of the bright red on the pristine white pulls me out of my daze. Then a splash of water hits the blood, and I uncurl my hands completely as I realize I'm crying. "I'm sorry." The knot in my chest is looser after the release from the pain in my hands, but I hate that Astar is the one that got messy from it.
"It's just blood, Little One." Then he growls deep in his throat. "But do not hurt yourself for relief—there are plenty of other people in this world that can and should suffer your wrath instead."
I choke out a silent laugh at that. "Yeah, I can think of a couple."
A sapphire Blue Dragon joins us in the air a moment later, and Aaric looks as comfortable as ever sitting on Molvic's back in his newly-acquired flight leathers. "Hi."
"Hi," I murmur back, my heart warming at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"
"Astar thought you could use some moral support. And you skipped dinner, which you only ever do when you're unconscious, sick, or there are brussel sprouts involved."
"If I wanted that much green leafy shit in my mouth at one time, I'd eat a salad."
I can't see his smile very well, but I know he is, even as he rolls his eyes at me. "Talk to me, Jo."
I look down at my hands, at the bloody crescent moons my nails have made in my palms, and sigh as tears begin to fill my waterline. "I think I'm drowning, Cam."
It's only the second time I've called him his first name, but the effect is immediate. "Take us down."
When my feet are back on the ground, Aaric is there with his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. "I've got you, Joey."
And then I crack wide open in the middle of the flight field.
—
There's nothing to say about my being forty-five minutes late to Violet's room, or my bloodshot eyes, or the fact that my brother is half a step behind me, and at this point, I don't care. Violet opens her door after my second knock, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Are you okay?"
"No," I sign back, because I don't have it in me to pretend right now—not after breaking down so severely that Aaric had to carry me all the way from the flight field. "Sorry we're late."
She pulls both of us into her room, her eyes lingering on the bandages around my palms. "I didn't know Aaric was coming."
"I made her promise no more stupid shit without me," he offers as an answer. "And I'm not skipping out on an opportunity to steal from our dad."
The tension in her shoulders releases at the joke. "And who are we to deny you that?" She sits on her bed, leaving plenty of room for either one of us to join her, but I don't move from my spot against the far wall. Sawyer is in the desk chair, and there's room to sit beside Rhiannon on top of Violet's desk, but I don't want to step any closer to a certain corner of the room; I don't want to risk getting frostbite.
"Jesinia said it has to be on a Saturday night," Violet says, tucking her legs underneath her. "That's when it's the quietest in the Archives, and she can be away from her duties long enough to lead us where we need to go without it being suspicious."
"So this Saturday, then," Rhiannon says with a nod. "Xaden will be here, and there shouldn't be any land navigation trainings."
Sawyer rubs the back of his neck. "That's not very long to plan."
"Then let's get started." Violet pulls out a notebook and pen and flips to a blank page. "This is what we know: there's one scribe posted outside the Archives that we'll need to keep unconscious—shouldn't be too hard, he's usually asleep anyway."
"I'll stand guard," Ridoc volunteers immediately. "You won't need an ice wielder where you're going."
I look up, hoping to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze trained on Violet, then on the pen he twirls between his fingers. I try to accept his reasoning for what it is, rather than what he's not saying: he doesn't want to be anywhere near me.
Violet lifts her eyebrows in surprise, glancing briefly at me, Aaric, Sawyer, and Rhiannon, before putting the pen back to paper. "Okay." She writes down his name and the word 'guard'. "Jesinia will guide us through the Archives, then Jo and Aaric will go into the vault and get the journals." She writes down both of our names, then looks up at me. "How many can you Conceal?"
"As many as we need."
"That's not as helpful as you think."
I shrug. "I've Concealed myself and Astar for two hours, so however many people you think is equal to him."
"Holy shit, Jo," Aaric whispers in awe. I just squeeze his wrist in return.
"That's…" Her eyes get wider the longer she thinks about it. "Wow, okay, yeah. Then who else do we need on the team?"
"Imogen," Rhiannon says immediately. "She can erase recent memories."
"And Quinn," Sawyer adds. "I'll guard her body while she astral projects."
Violet writes down both of their names. "Anyone else?"
"Bodhi," Aaric offers. All of us turn to look at him, and he just raises a brow before saying, "He's a Section Leader. At the very least, he should know just to give us an alibi."
I'm the only one close enough to see the slight blush on his neck peeking out from under the collar of his flight jacket.
Violet writes his name down and smiles to herself. "This is actually kind of starting to look like a plan." Then her eyes meet mine and her smile falters. "We'll have to tell them who you are."
I swear the temperature in the room drops, but I don't look at Ridoc when I sign, "I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
I look at Aaric, and he nods. "I trust you, Jo. If you trust them, then so do I."
"Yeah," I sign to Violet.
"Okay." She closes her notebook and smiles at all of us, and I don't need any further invitation to leave the room.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I take Aaric's hand and Conceal us both, then he leads me through the hallway, back down the stairs, across the quadrant, and through the college until we stop at the fourth door on the third floor of the family quarters.
Nathaniel takes one look at me, and opens the door as wide as it goes. "Mardred is finishing up the kitchen preparation for tomorrow, she'll be home soon." He crouches down in front of me when I sit on the sofa, and cups my cheek in his large palm. "What can I do for you, love?"
I lean into his hand and let the tears pooling in my eyes slip down my face. "Can I have some migraine tea?"
"'Course." He kisses my forehead, then walks to the kitchen to start on the tea. "Anything for you, Camlaen?"
"I'll take some tea as well," he answers, then wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. "You'll be okay."
Ten minutes later, when my tears have run out for now, Nathaniel comes back in with a mug for each of us. Passing them both off, he kneels at my feet and removes my boots with so much gentleness it spurs another round of tears. "You can rest, Princess. Whatever it is, it'll pass."
He doesn't linger. He takes off Aaric's boots as well, and sets both pairs by the door, then returns to the kitchen to finish cleaning the dishes in the sink, leaving me and my brother to the quiet.
"You should skip classes tomorrow."
I slip out from under his arm to look at him with an arched brow. "Are you kidding me? Absolutely not."
"Joey." His eyes are so full of concern it makes my chest ache. "You admitted to me that the only sense of relief you've felt in the last couple weeks was from hurting yourself. Take a fucking break."
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and hold back even more tears as I reply, "Any sign of weakness is eaten alive here, I can't slip up; not with Varrish watching my every move."
"Fuck Varrish. Fuck the cadre." He cups my face with both hands and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. "You said it yourself, Jo; you're drowning."
I huff out a breath. "Just because I said it doesn't make this any easier."
He sighs, and pulls me back into his side. "I know. But it won't get any easier if you run yourself into the ground, either."
Mardred walks in a few minutes later, unfazed at the boots by the door, but she does freeze when she sees my splotchy cheeks and runny nose. "Oh, Princess." She sets her bag and apron down, then crosses the room and pulls me into a hug. "Have you two eaten?"
"I did, but she hasn't," Aaric tells her. "Lost her appetite."
"Now, that won't do. Nathaniel?"
"Already on it." He comes in a moment later with a plate of crackers, meats, and cheeses, and puts it in my lap. "Let me grab the drinks." He walks out again, then comes back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Cinnamon," he murmurs, handing one mug to Aaric, "and peppermint," he says, handing the other mug to me.
"You're staying the night," Mardred says, and it's not a question.
"Sure." Aaric gives her a small smile. "I'll have to leave for class, but Jo can stay all day—she's not going tomorrow."
I narrow my eyes at him, but Mardred is thrilled at the news. "A full breakfast, then. Do you have classes tomorrow, love?"
"Just a meeting in the morning." Nathaniel smooths out Mardred's hair with a soft smile. "And that new recipe you wanted to try."
"Good." She takes my hand in both of hers, and squeezes it gently, mindful of the bandages wrapped around my palm. "I'll write to the General myself, if I have to, but you deserve to rest, dear heart. You both do. So that means you're staying tomorrow as well, Camlaen, classes be damned."
He opens his mouth to argue, but Mardred gives him a stern look, and he doesn't bother. "Okay."
Then she pulls us into a hug, kisses my cheek without commenting on the salty tears starting to run down my skin, and whispers, "It's good to have you both home."
—
a/n: so actually the real heroes of the story are mardred and nathaniel (named after the characters of one of the married couples i play d&d with, they're adorable) for treating the codependent siblings like people, rather than riders or cadets or royalty. god, i love 'em. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
warnings: swearing, thoughts of death, implied murder, fire
a/n: i definitely meant to get this out on Saturday, but it wasn't finished by the time i left for my friends' wedding, so it's getting published today instead!
masterlist | ao3
—
I hate how much she's had to come up here. It explains why she doesn't complain about the smell, or the heat, and that doesn't make me feel any better about visiting the burn pit. I hate how familiar this place must be for her, now.
Will I have to get familiar with this place, too?
Jo sits at the edge of the turret, her feet dangling over the edge, and Sloane and I sit on either side of her.
Just the two steps closer to the valley—closer to the Blue Dragon—eases some of the ache in my chest. It's been persistent the last couple days, since I first saw the Blue, almost making it impossible to sleep. I have half a mind to ask for some pain tonic from the infirmary, but I know the only thing that will make this go away is making it through Threshing and bonding with the Blue.
Mine.
"What was your Threshing like?" Sloane asks Jo, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Brutal," she signs. "I almost died." Then she leans back and lifts her uniform top to show us the white relic on her hip. She points at the tip of the dagger tail, and I can faintly see a raised scar within the shimmering magic. "I was actively bleeding out when Astar finally claimed me. We were the last bonded pair to land in the valley, and both of us were covered in blood at that point."
"Did you know?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Did you have a feeling, after Presentation?"
Did you feel the same way I do?
"He wasn't at Presentation."
My eyes widen at her signs, and glancing at Sloane, she's just as surprised by that as I am.
"I don't think he wanted to give anyone else the idea that they could fight for his attention—he'd already chosen me." She smiles—a true, genuine smile. "Plus, it made for a very dramatic entrance, which I think was his only goal."
I huff out a laugh at that, but my eyebrows pull together as I look out at the valley again. What's going to happen tomorrow? How hard will I have to fight?
That's a useless question, because I already know the answer: I'll fight as hard, and as long, as I have to.
Am I going to die?
The ache in my chest seizes so tightly I think I actually am going to die, right now, in this moment. As soon as it appears, though, it retreats to the same uncomfortable pull just under my ribs.
No dying, got it.
Jo looks between the two of us, then signs, "All you have to do tomorrow is live." She meets my eyes, then Sloane's. "Bond, don't bond, doesn't matter: just make it to sundown."
Sloane swallows thickly, blinking back tears. "Liam made it sound so easy in his letters—"
"You don't have to be your brother, Sloane," Jo signs, cutting her off. "Being you is more than enough."
She subtly wipes away the tears starting to brim in her eyes, then she huffs and rests her head on my sister's shoulder. "That was cheesy."
Jo leans her head against hers and pats her leg with one hand, and holds mine with the other. I squeeze her hand, trying to memorize the feeling of this moment. If it's the last one I have with the two of them, I'm glad it's this one.
—
Lynx and I are standing at the back of our squad, waiting for Professor Kaori to let all of the first years into the valley for Threshing to begin. Usually we'd stand in the same order as formation, but we're the tallest in our squad, and it doesn't make sense to bother with formation now when there's a high likelihood we all won't make it back out of this valley.
The ache in my chest pulls taut, and I flinch.
"You good?" Lynx asks, glancing down at my hand as I rub my chest.
"Yeah," I whisper back, not willing to elaborate at the moment. "You?"
"Oh, sure." He cracks a grin. "I can't wait to walk into the belly of the one hundred and seventeen beasts waiting for us to fuck up so they can get rid of us for good."
I roll my eyes with a slight laugh. "That's a great attitude to have."
"In a few minutes, you'll be let into the valley, and Threshing will begin," Professor Kaori says, using lesser magic to project his voice so all of us can hear him. "If you have not bonded with a dragon by dusk, leadership will find you within the valley and escort you out. We'll be watching, but there will be no interference from any senior riders.
"I don't recommend walking in groups—dragons are less likely to approach and more likely to torch you if there are others around. Trust your gut; if your dragon has already chosen you, they'll lead you to them."
The ache under my ribs almost burns with how insistently it pulls me toward the entrance of the valley.
"Good luck."
Lynx pulls me into a quick hug. I hesitate, just for a second, then return the hug tenfold. "See you on the flight field."
I find Sloane when Lynx lets go, and pull her into a hug as well. I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've ever hugged, and given the way she tenses under me at first, she's not comfortable with the gesture, either. She relaxes after a second, though, and squeezes my ribs even harder when I whisper, "Stay alive," into her hair.
The bells ring for the hour, and we all enter the valley as Threshing officially begins.
—
Every direction the ache pulls me in leads to another cadet searching for the Blue, like the dragon is forcing me to prove my worthiness by taking out the competition.
They're not competition because we're not competing—the Blue is mine.
The shadows start to stretch as the sun sets, but I don't let the frustration creeping at the base of my neck take hold. I still feel the pull, and it's stronger than ever, so I follow it through the valley, doubling back over the same blood-stained dirt, until I step into a clearing.
The Blue Dragon, in all its glory, gleaming in the setting sun, is waiting for me. "Took you long enough, Princeling."
His voice is resonant in my head, sounding clear as a bell as I take in his words. And then my face drops. "You know who I am."
"Of course I do; I chose you, didn't I? Did you think it was a secret you could keep from someone who has seen your heart?"
Well, when he puts it like that… "No." I take a step forward, and another, and another, until I'm close enough to touch him, and when I do, the ache in my chest finally eases. "You already know my name. What should I call you?"
He stands up to his full height, the tips of his horns catching the sunset just right. "Molvic. I'll give you my full name on the flight field—best to only spell it once." He extends his leg toward me, just enough to know it's intentional without giving me any help to get to his seat. "Well?"
I run up his leg and haul myself into his seat, like I've done it a hundred times before, and for once in my life don't try to hide the smile pulling at my lips.
This is where I'm meant to be.
—
General Sorrengail is standing right beside the rollkeeper as I give them Molvic's full name, so I make sure to keep my eyes down the whole time I spell his name—and even until I'm halfway back down the flight field. I pass Sloane as she heads to the rollkeeper, and pull her into a hug.
"We did it!" she cheers in my ear. Her smile is as bright as the sunset on the horizon when she pulls back. "Thoirt." She points at the strawberry-Red Daggertail beside Molvic. "Yours is the Blue, isn't it?"
"Molvic," I confirm with a grin of my own.
She gives me one more hug, then runs up to Visia, who bonded the Brown Daggertail beside Molvic.
"Your sister," Molvic murmurs. I follow his line of sight until I see Jo crossing the flight field. She stops by Sloane first, giving her a hug and a quick congratulations, then she's walking right to me.
I meet her halfway, wrapping my arms around her and lifting her into the air in a hug. "I love you, you know that?" Of course she knows that, and I know she loves me, too, but I have to say it, to remind her.
Her arms just wrap even tighter around my shoulders.
"You should move," Molvic warns, "or you'll be the shortest-lived rider in history."
I put Jo down and pull her closer to Molvic, just in time for another dragon to land where we were standing not seconds earlier.
"Good choice," Jo signs to my dragon, then she gasps. Her eyes go from my dragon to me in rapid succession, a look of awe on her face. Then the bells ring out the hour, and her lips lift in a wide smile. "I have to go. I'm so proud of you."
I pull her into another hug. "I love you, Joey," the childhood nickname easily falling into place. Then I let her go with a wave. "Go be responsible, or whatever."
"Love you, too."
The next hour is spent waiting for the rest of our squadmates to return to the flight field. Lynx and Avalynn both bonded around noon, so Sloane, Visia, and I join them to watch the skies for everyone else.
"Don't get me wrong, I loved bonding so quickly, but having to wait on the field for the last seven hours has been terrible," Lynx says to me with a slight grin. "Anxiety for everyone else beats anxiety for myself, though, so I've tried to keep my complaining to a minimum."
"And failed," Avalynn says from his other side. "He only stopped when his dragon threatened to drop him back in the valley."
I raise my eyebrows at him, and he just shrugs. "What? It's a good threat."
Baylor is the last to join us, and he lifts Avalynn in a hug as he laughs. "We bonded!" Then he's pulling all of us into a group hug. "We did it!"
His laugh is so infectious, I can't help but join in.
When the bells ring out for eight o'clock, General Sorrengail stands up at the dais with the rollkeeper, and we all move back to our dragons as she starts to speak. "Another Threshing complete." Lesser magic amplifies her voice across the flight field, and sparks of anticipation shoot up my spine.
I'll be able to do that soon.
"Congratulations to the new riders in our midst. The challenges don't stop here, but you'll face them with your newfound family here in the quadrant." She looks at all of us, and even though I know I'm too far away for her to see me clearly, I avert my gaze all the same. "Riders, take the next step into your bright futures."
"She means that literally," Molvic says. "Step forward."
I do as he says, mimicking the other first years.
"Now, we celebrate!"
Fire erupts around me, licking across my back as it wraps around my chest and shoulder, burning to the point of pain. But as soon as the pain almost makes me fall to a knee, it disappears, leaving a tingling sensation over the left side of my chest. I unbutton the top of my uniform and pull at the collar to see a glittering sapphire blue dragon head sitting near the center of my chest.
Right over my heart.
"Your relic," Molvic confirms, with more than a little pride in his voice. "You'll need a mirror to see its entirety."
"Then I won't bother taking my shirt off now," I mutter, looking up at him with a slight smile. "You sure about this?"
"Positive. You've never doubted yourself before, Camlaen Tauri; don't start now." He chuffs, the air blowing my hair off my forehead, and I fully grin.
All of the other first years on the field are banding together to celebrate, and I have half a mind to join them, but even more than that, I want to stay here, with Molvic.
Mine.
"There are some things you need to know, Princeling," Molvic says to me. "Go with your friends, but I'll call you to come back when the field clears."
My brows furrow, but I table my thoughts for now. "Okay."
It takes over thirty minutes for Molvic to call me back to the flight field, and another ten for me to get back from the dorms to where he's standing alone. "What do you need to tell me?"
He leans down low until his face is nearly level with mine. "What do you know about White Dragons?"
My eyebrows lift at the question. "They're one of two dragons born from the same egg—one pigmented, one not…" My voice trails off as I look at my dragon more closely, my eyes going wide. "You're his twin." The White Dragon that bonded with my sister last year…his twin is standing right in front of me, talking in my head.
"Yes, Ghrian; Astar and I are twins. Which means the danger his rider had channeling from him is the same danger you will have when you channel from me."
It's as if the world stops spinning. I stare at him, my stomach on the floor, as dread fills my lungs. "What?" I could die. Jo didn't die, and I know that's because she's the strongest person I've ever met, and I also know she would never let me face this without her help, but I could die—
"Breathe, Princeling."
I suck in a breath at his order, the spots in my vision clearing. "Thanks."
"You will survive this. There will be no dying, remember?"
I nod, taking another deep breath to get the panic out of my system. "No dying," I agree. "Thank you."
"We're in this together, Ghrian. You're not alone."
The words wrap around my shoulders like a blanket in the winter, and I feel myself calm down even further.
Jo already did this.
It's that fact that let's me breathe easily again.
Jo already did this—so I can, too.
—
a/n: astar wanted to see what jo would do with the threat of failure looming over her head. molvic wanted to see what aaric was willing to do to ensure his success. and that's that on pushing siblings to their limits to make sure they come out better than they went in. also, i put aaric's relic on his left chest/shoulder/ribs. i imagine molvic's head over his heart, his neck and shoulders curving around his shoulder and pec, and then his wings spanning over his ribs on his front and back, with his tail curling around his hips. pls don't ask me to draw it cuz i can't draw for shit. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
i genuinely love it when chapter revisions turn into a rewrite, because 99% of the time the chapter is even better than it was, but as a person with a weekly update schedule this is very stressful
warnings: swearing, thoughts of death, implied murder, fire
a/n: i definitely meant to get this out on Saturday, but it wasn't finished by the time i left for my friends' wedding, so it's getting published today instead!
masterlist | ao3
—
I hate how much she's had to come up here. It explains why she doesn't complain about the smell, or the heat, and that doesn't make me feel any better about visiting the burn pit. I hate how familiar this place must be for her, now.
Will I have to get familiar with this place, too?
Jo sits at the edge of the turret, her feet dangling over the edge, and Sloane and I sit on either side of her.
Just the two steps closer to the valley—closer to the Blue Dragon—eases some of the ache in my chest. It's been persistent the last couple days, since I first saw the Blue, almost making it impossible to sleep. I have half a mind to ask for some pain tonic from the infirmary, but I know the only thing that will make this go away is making it through Threshing and bonding with the Blue.
Mine.
"What was your Threshing like?" Sloane asks Jo, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Brutal," she signs. "I almost died." Then she leans back and lifts her uniform top to show us the white relic on her hip. She points at the tip of the dagger tail, and I can faintly see a raised scar within the shimmering magic. "I was actively bleeding out when Astar finally claimed me. We were the last bonded pair to land in the valley, and both of us were covered in blood at that point."
"Did you know?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Did you have a feeling, after Presentation?"
Did you feel the same way I do?
"He wasn't at Presentation."
My eyes widen at her signs, and glancing at Sloane, she's just as surprised by that as I am.
"I don't think he wanted to give anyone else the idea that they could fight for his attention—he'd already chosen me." She smiles—a true, genuine smile. "Plus, it made for a very dramatic entrance, which I think was his only goal."
I huff out a laugh at that, but my eyebrows pull together as I look out at the valley again. What's going to happen tomorrow? How hard will I have to fight?
That's a useless question, because I already know the answer: I'll fight as hard, and as long, as I have to.
Am I going to die?
The ache in my chest seizes so tightly I think I actually am going to die, right now, in this moment. As soon as it appears, though, it retreats to the same uncomfortable pull just under my ribs.
No dying, got it.
Jo looks between the two of us, then signs, "All you have to do tomorrow is live." She meets my eyes, then Sloane's. "Bond, don't bond, doesn't matter: just make it to sundown."
Sloane swallows thickly, blinking back tears. "Liam made it sound so easy in his letters—"
"You don't have to be your brother, Sloane," Jo signs, cutting her off. "Being you is more than enough."
She subtly wipes away the tears starting to brim in her eyes, then she huffs and rests her head on my sister's shoulder. "That was cheesy."
Jo leans her head against hers and pats her leg with one hand, and holds mine with the other. I squeeze her hand, trying to memorize the feeling of this moment. If it's the last one I have with the two of them, I'm glad it's this one.
—
Lynx and I are standing at the back of our squad, waiting for Professor Kaori to let all of the first years into the valley for Threshing to begin. Usually we'd stand in the same order as formation, but we're the tallest in our squad, and it doesn't make sense to bother with formation now when there's a high likelihood we all won't make it back out of this valley.
The ache in my chest pulls taut, and I flinch.
"You good?" Lynx asks, glancing down at my hand as I rub my chest.
"Yeah," I whisper back, not willing to elaborate at the moment. "You?"
"Oh, sure." He cracks a grin. "I can't wait to walk into the belly of the one hundred and seventeen beasts waiting for us to fuck up so they can get rid of us for good."
I roll my eyes with a slight laugh. "That's a great attitude to have."
"In a few minutes, you'll be let into the valley, and Threshing will begin," Professor Kaori says, using lesser magic to project his voice so all of us can hear him. "If you have not bonded with a dragon by dusk, leadership will find you within the valley and escort you out. We'll be watching, but there will be no interference from any senior riders.
"I don't recommend walking in groups—dragons are less likely to approach and more likely to torch you if there are others around. Trust your gut; if your dragon has already chosen you, they'll lead you to them."
The ache under my ribs almost burns with how insistently it pulls me toward the entrance of the valley.
"Good luck."
Lynx pulls me into a quick hug. I hesitate, just for a second, then return the hug tenfold. "See you on the flight field."
I find Sloane when Lynx lets go, and pull her into a hug as well. I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've ever hugged, and given the way she tenses under me at first, she's not comfortable with the gesture, either. She relaxes after a second, though, and squeezes my ribs even harder when I whisper, "Stay alive," into her hair.
The bells ring for the hour, and we all enter the valley as Threshing officially begins.
—
Every direction the ache pulls me in leads to another cadet searching for the Blue, like the dragon is forcing me to prove my worthiness by taking out the competition.
They're not competition because we're not competing—the Blue is mine.
The shadows start to stretch as the sun sets, but I don't let the frustration creeping at the base of my neck take hold. I still feel the pull, and it's stronger than ever, so I follow it through the valley, doubling back over the same blood-stained dirt, until I step into a clearing.
The Blue Dragon, in all its glory, gleaming in the setting sun, is waiting for me. "Took you long enough, Princeling."
His voice is resonant in my head, sounding clear as a bell as I take in his words. And then my face drops. "You know who I am."
"Of course I do; I chose you, didn't I? Did you think it was a secret you could keep from someone who has seen your heart?"
Well, when he puts it like that… "No." I take a step forward, and another, and another, until I'm close enough to touch him, and when I do, the ache in my chest finally eases. "You already know my name. What should I call you?"
He stands up to his full height, the tips of his horns catching the sunset just right. "Molvic. I'll give you my full name on the flight field—best to only spell it once." He extends his leg toward me, just enough to know it's intentional without giving me any help to get to his seat. "Well?"
I run up his leg and haul myself into his seat, like I've done it a hundred times before, and for once in my life don't try to hide the smile pulling at my lips.
This is where I'm meant to be.
—
General Sorrengail is standing right beside the rollkeeper as I give them Molvic's full name, so I make sure to keep my eyes down the whole time I spell his name—and even until I'm halfway back down the flight field. I pass Sloane as she heads to the rollkeeper, and pull her into a hug.
"We did it!" she cheers in my ear. Her smile is as bright as the sunset on the horizon when she pulls back. "Thoirt." She points at the strawberry-Red Daggertail beside Molvic. "Yours is the Blue, isn't it?"
"Molvic," I confirm with a grin of my own.
She gives me one more hug, then runs up to Visia, who bonded the Brown Daggertail beside Molvic.
"Your sister," Molvic murmurs. I follow his line of sight until I see Jo crossing the flight field. She stops by Sloane first, giving her a hug and a quick congratulations, then she's walking right to me.
I meet her halfway, wrapping my arms around her and lifting her into the air in a hug. "I love you, you know that?" Of course she knows that, and I know she loves me, too, but I have to say it, to remind her.
Her arms just wrap even tighter around my shoulders.
"You should move," Molvic warns, "or you'll be the shortest-lived rider in history."
I put Jo down and pull her closer to Molvic, just in time for another dragon to land where we were standing not seconds earlier.
"Good choice," Jo signs to my dragon, then she gasps. Her eyes go from my dragon to me in rapid succession, a look of awe on her face. Then the bells ring out the hour, and her lips lift in a wide smile. "I have to go. I'm so proud of you."
I pull her into another hug. "I love you, Joey," the childhood nickname easily falling into place. Then I let her go with a wave. "Go be responsible, or whatever."
"Love you, too."
The next hour is spent waiting for the rest of our squadmates to return to the flight field. Lynx and Avalynn both bonded around noon, so Sloane, Visia, and I join them to watch the skies for everyone else.
"Don't get me wrong, I loved bonding so quickly, but having to wait on the field for the last seven hours has been terrible," Lynx says to me with a slight grin. "Anxiety for everyone else beats anxiety for myself, though, so I've tried to keep my complaining to a minimum."
"And failed," Avalynn says from his other side. "He only stopped when his dragon threatened to drop him back in the valley."
I raise my eyebrows at him, and he just shrugs. "What? It's a good threat."
Baylor is the last to join us, and he lifts Avalynn in a hug as he laughs. "We bonded!" Then he's pulling all of us into a group hug. "We did it!"
His laugh is so infectious, I can't help but join in.
When the bells ring out for eight o'clock, General Sorrengail stands up at the dais with the rollkeeper, and we all move back to our dragons as she starts to speak. "Another Threshing complete." Lesser magic amplifies her voice across the flight field, and sparks of anticipation shoot up my spine.
I'll be able to do that soon.
"Congratulations to the new riders in our midst. The challenges don't stop here, but you'll face them with your newfound family here in the quadrant." She looks at all of us, and even though I know I'm too far away for her to see me clearly, I avert my gaze all the same. "Riders, take the next step into your bright futures."
"She means that literally," Molvic says. "Step forward."
I do as he says, mimicking the other first years.
"Now, we celebrate!"
Fire erupts around me, licking across my back as it wraps around my chest and shoulder, burning to the point of pain. But as soon as the pain almost makes me fall to a knee, it disappears, leaving a tingling sensation over the left side of my chest. I unbutton the top of my uniform and pull at the collar to see a glittering sapphire blue dragon head sitting near the center of my chest.
Right over my heart.
"Your relic," Molvic confirms, with more than a little pride in his voice. "You'll need a mirror to see its entirety."
"Then I won't bother taking my shirt off now," I mutter, looking up at him with a slight smile. "You sure about this?"
"Positive. You've never doubted yourself before, Camlaen Tauri; don't start now." He chuffs, the air blowing my hair off my forehead, and I fully grin.
All of the other first years on the field are banding together to celebrate, and I have half a mind to join them, but even more than that, I want to stay here, with Molvic.
Mine.
"There are some things you need to know, Princeling," Molvic says to me. "Go with your friends, but I'll call you to come back when the field clears."
My brows furrow, but I table my thoughts for now. "Okay."
It takes over thirty minutes for Molvic to call me back to the flight field, and another ten for me to get back from the dorms to where he's standing alone. "What do you need to tell me?"
He leans down low until his face is nearly level with mine. "What do you know about White Dragons?"
My eyebrows lift at the question. "They're one of two dragons born from the same egg—one pigmented, one not…" My voice trails off as I look at my dragon more closely, my eyes going wide. "You're his twin." The White Dragon that bonded with my sister last year…his twin is standing right in front of me, talking in my head.
"Yes, Ghrian; Astar and I are twins. Which means the danger his rider had channeling from him is the same danger you will have when you channel from me."
It's as if the world stops spinning. I stare at him, my stomach on the floor, as dread fills my lungs. "What?" I could die. Jo didn't die, and I know that's because she's the strongest person I've ever met, and I also know she would never let me face this without her help, but I could die—
"Breathe, Princeling."
I suck in a breath at his order, the spots in my vision clearing. "Thanks."
"You will survive this. There will be no dying, remember?"
I nod, taking another deep breath to get the panic out of my system. "No dying," I agree. "Thank you."
"We're in this together, Ghrian. You're not alone."
The words wrap around my shoulders like a blanket in the winter, and I feel myself calm down even further.
Jo already did this.
It's that fact that let's me breathe easily again.
Jo already did this—so I can, too.
—
a/n: astar wanted to see what jo would do with the threat of failure looming over her head. molvic wanted to see what aaric was willing to do to ensure his success. and that's that on pushing siblings to their limits to make sure they come out better than they went in. also, i put aaric's relic on his left chest/shoulder/ribs. i imagine molvic's head over his heart, his neck and shoulders curving around his shoulder and pec, and then his wings spanning over his ribs on his front and back, with his tail curling around his hips. pls don't ask me to draw it cuz i can't draw for shit. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
heyyy!! i LOVE your fourth wing stories ❤️ was wondering if you might be open to doing a request of a garrick tavisxtauri!reader with a littleee complication haha... where she's in the same year as garrick (who's been secretly in love with her for ages) and they have mated dragons, BUT she and xaden have been together since first year until xaden starts drifting to violet and she notices. when she confronts him he admits he loves violet in a way he never has with her and they break up, garrick stands by her and slowly she falls for him and she's terrified of being hurt again but when garrick is poisoned and almost dies in onyx storm she freaks tf out and can't help but confess her love for him while taking care of him afterward :)) would love to read your writing for this, but if it's not your cup of tea no worries, much love anyways!! ❤️
Anon, I am so, so glad you sent me this request, but am so sorry for how long it took. I just hope that the wait has been worth it, and here is 20k for your troubles.
Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Canon typical violence and language
You had known that it wasn’t going to last, but you hoped it would.
Unfortunately, most things that started with death didn’t have a happy ending.
Something changed that day at Threshing. You hadn’t planned on heroics. Your goal was simple: bond a dragon, get out, and stay as far away from Alic as possible.
But then you saw him, barely conscious, bloodied, moments from death, and Alic standing over him, ready to strike.
You didn’t think. Maybe it was the years of swallowing your screams. Maybe it was the countless times you’d turned your back, told yourself it wasn’t your place. Maybe it was the fact that it had once been you, bloody and unconscious laying in front of your brother. Maybe something inside you finally shattered.
All you knew was that one second, you were watching. The next, your blade was in Alic’s shoulder.
The look he gave you, that fury, that disbelief, you’d never forget it. You had no doubt in your mind that he would have killed you right then if not for two things happening.
First, the man you’d just saved, moving faster than you expected, wrapping an arm around your waist and yanking you sideways into his body.
Turns out, he wasn’t unconscious.
The second thing, the thing that truly shattered everything, was Xaden Riorson appearing out of nowhere, bloodied and bruised, and slicing your brother’s throat right in front of you. So close the spray of blood hit your face.
Xaden Riorson . . . Fen Riorson’s son. If - If he was here, who was Xaden saving because it sure as hell wasn’t -
You turned your head, breath caught in your chest, and found yourself staring into the eyes of the man still holding you.
Garrick Tavis.
The realization hit like cold steel.
Marked ones. You had just helped marked ones kill your brother.
Oh gods, were they going to kill you now? If they didn’t - Halden was going to. Or your father would and make it look like an accident. Then Cam, the only brother you had worth a damn, was going to be alone, and -
Garrick seemed to sense your rising panic. His arm tightened around your waist, and his voice brushed your ear as he murmured, “We’re not going to hurt you.”
You shivered.
“Garrick-” Xaden started, his tone edged with warning.
“She just stabbed her godsdamn brother for me, Xaden. I’m not fucking hurting her.” Garrick snapped.
Xaden turned to you then, like he was really seeing you for the first time. His eyes softened, barely, and he held out his hand.
You stared at it like there was a blade hidden beneath his palm.
“Though you clearly have good instincts not trusting me.” Xaden bit his lip, and you thought he might’ve been hiding a smirk. “You saved my best friend, Tauri. I’m not hurting you either.”
How were you supposed to take the hand of the man who had only ever looked at you like he wished you’d drop dead?
Garrick’s hold on you tightened. Not threatening, but steady. Reassuring. “I’d help you up, but your asshole brother wrecked my ankle.”
You looked at the hand in front of you. The hand of someone you were raised to hate. The hand that represented everything you’d been taught to fear and despise.
And you took it.
Roars cracked through the forest. The ground shuddered beneath your feet as Xaden hauled you upright, and your breath caught as two enormous, terrifying dragons stepped out from between the trees.
Your eyes were immediately drawn to the one on the left.
It was a stunning shade of emerald, its scales catching the light like polished stone. Its eyes were locked onto you, piercing, intelligent, assessing. You couldn’t look away. Almost without your brain’s permission, your feet began to move, carrying you toward it like something in you recognized it before you understood why.
It didn’t flinch. Instead, it gave a huff of impatience, like you weren’t walking fast enough.
“You are the Princess?”
You startled. The voice wasn’t spoken, but it rang clearly through your head, imperious and resonant, echoing with command.
She was speaking in your mind.
You hesitated. Were you supposed to answer out loud? In your thoughts?
She snorted, amused. “It does not matter. I can hear either.”
“Yes,” you said aloud, stopping in front of her. Speaking in your head just felt . . . too strange.
She stared at you for another moment, then lowered her head to yours. For one terrifying second you thought she was going to burn you alive, but instead a gust of hot steam from her nostrils blew your hair back. “You are mine now.”
Your eyes widened. Did she mean what you thought she did?
“Are you sure this is the one you chose?” Another voice echoed in your mind, this one very clearly male, but more melodic, almost musical in its tone.
You blinked, turning toward the second dragon. The brown one. He was watching you just as intently.
But - dragons didn’t talk to other humans, only their chosen ones.
How could you hear both of them?
“At least my human is still standing.” She snapped at him, but there wasn’t any malice behind it. It almost felt . . . playful?
The other dragon made a growling noise, his eyes moving past you to Garrick. “He will rise. He is strong.”
You turned just in time to see Garrick shove off Xaden’s offered hand. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself upright, favoring one leg but steady on the other. Then his eyes landed on the brown dragon, and they went wide with disbelief.
“As I said. Strong.” The dragon’s voice rumbled with pride. “Come here, Garrick Tavis.”
Garrick didn’t hesitate.
It took him a few moments, but he limped over to join the three of you, stopping once he stood beside you. He shot you a bewildered look, but you had no idea what to say. What could you say?
“We have chosen you two as our Riders.” Your dragon said, her voice like steel wrapped in fire. “You will not disappoint us.”
Garrick inhaled sharply and glanced toward her. The realization hit you at the same time it seemed to hit him. He could hear her too. Just like you could hear his.
“Beathas is my mate,” Garrick’s dragon growled, his tone low and unmistakably threatening. “It means you will protect her rider like she has already done for you.”
Mates. Oh Gods, your dragon and Garrick’s dragon were mates. That meant -
Your dragon, Beathas you now knew, turned her great emerald head toward you. “Yes, Princess. You two are now bound, and you must continue to protect him as you already have.”
Your eyes snapped to Garrick’s He was already looking at you, shock written across his face.
In that moment, the truth settled over you both like a shroud.
You were tethered now. Bound by your dragons. Linked until death pulled you apart.
A princess and a marked one.
—-----------------
For weeks, every day after that felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You kept bracing for someone to strike, convinced that word would leak out about your involvement in Alic’s death, but . . . nothing happened. Of course everyone found out about you and Garrick’s dragons, but other than that, there wasn’t a word. It seemed that Xaden had taken the fall willingly. Publicly, he claimed responsibility for the kill and made no attempt to hide it.
Why? Why protect you when he could have made you the number one target in the quadrant? You had no idea.
But slowly, days passed, and you started to breathe easier than you had in years.
You learned that you and Garrick were able to talk to each other in your minds as well as your dragons, and he turned out to be a welcome presence. The more you got to know him, the more thankful you were that your dragons were bonded. He eased your anxiety. He made you smile, even laugh, something you felt like you hadn’t done in so long it felt foreign. The two of you started spending more time together, even more so when a training exercise gone wrong killed half your squad, and you got reassigned to his and Xaden’s squad.
Getting to know Garrick however meant you got to know the rest of them, and while there was obviously some trepidation, Garrick brought you into the fold like you were any other rider and not the Princess of Navarre.
Then there was Xaden Riorson.
Somehow, saving Garrick’s life had earned his respect. He didn’t look at you like he wanted you dead anymore. Now his eyes watched, measured, and gods help you, teased.
You might even call him a friend.
Then Reunification Day arrived.
You were a mess of nerves and tension, and you were terrified the smallest thing was going to make you snap. You didn’t want to go. It was the first time you’d be setting your eyes on not only your other brother, but your father, in months. You’d been informed by the General earlier that he’d be coming. You knew they’d have questions, and they weren’t ones you were ready to answer. You also didn’t know if they knew about your and Garrick’s dragons, and you definitely didn’t want to have that conversation.
It didn’t help that Garrick and Xaden had been uncharacteristically silent over the past couple of days.
You missed them.
“There is an easy way to fix that problem.” Beathas’s voice echoed down your bond, warm and amused.
“I don’t think I can fix that problem.” You told her, smoothing down your rider issued skirt with shaking hands. “Not when it was my family that caused it.”
You could almost see her tilting her head at you, even across the bond. “Do you truly believe after these past few months they hold you responsible for what happened to their parents?”
They should. You deserved every bit of their anger. Of their silence.
You heard her scoff. “Do you need Chradh to reassure you of his rider’s feelings towards you?” There was a knowing edge to her voice, a lilt that sounded suspiciously close to a smirk.
“I don’t have time for this right now. Promise you won’t mourn too long if my father or Halden kills me?” The joke tasted bitter, even to you.
Her growl rumbled through your mind, her voice downright menacing this time. “They will never get the chance.”
Something in her voice settled the knot in your chest just a little.
And, gods help you . . . you believed her.
You took one last look in the mirror, and headed out of your door to meet your fate.
There were people everywhere. You couldn’t walk a few steps forward without bumping into someone’s shoulders and apologizing. Which of course made their eyes widen and then profusely apologize to their “princess”. You fought the urge to roll your eyes every time.
Finally, you managed to find a small alcove, faintly lit by the mage lights. It wasn’t private by any means, but it gave you enough space to breathe and enjoy the drink in your hands. For the first time in days, you let your mind drift to that garden where all your bonds were housed. The emerald one with Beathas, the dark brown one that connected you to Chradh, and the gold one, lined with amber, that was Garrick’s. It was strong, so you knew he was near, and you found yourself looking in the crowd for him even though you were sure you were the last person he wanted to see.
“Well, if it isn’t my sister.”
The voice sent a trail of ice down your spine, along with the fingers he dug hard into your shoulders with familiar cruelty. You didn’t turn to face him though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“I’m surprised you showed your face honestly.” Halden continued, voice low and venomous. “After you let our brother die.” He hissed the next words in your ears.
Shivers crawled down your back, and you felt yourself shrinking, curling inward. The strong, steady woman you had become since threshing began to fade beneath the weight of old patterns. Halden’s grip would leave bruises. His anger always did.
“That is not who you are anymore.” Beathas’s voice snapped through the fog, sharp and wild and blazing with fire. “You are brave, and you are strong. Stronger than him. If you do not like his hands on you, make him let you go.”
Her power surged in your chest, steady and warm, like standing beside a living bonfire. She was right. Halden may be in the infantry, might be more physically strong and a better fighter, but now, you had something he would never have.
A dragon.
You opened that door to Beathas’s power, barely an inch, just enough to let your shoulders heat, not harming you, but enough for him to feel it.
Halden yelped and jerked his hands away, swearing under his breath.
You turned in your chair, heat blazing in your eyes as you glared at him. “Remember that the next time you think about putting your hands on me, Halden. Or Cam for that matter.” You told him, your voice calm but deadly.
Pride roared down the bond.
His eyes were dark, full of a familiar fury that normally would have made you cringe away, but with Beathas’s silent support, not anymore. “I know you had something to do with Alic. Riorson might take the credit, but I know you played a part.” He hissed the next words, “and I’ll never forgive you for it.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, and startled slightly as something smooth brushed against your ankle. You glanced down, and the softest smile formed on your lips as you glimpsed a shadow wrapping around your calf, a silent show of support from a man hidden in the crowd. You looked back up at Halden, feeling stronger than you ever had in your life. “I can live with that.” You told him.
Before Halden could respond, a new voice rang out, rich and booming.
“Ah, my children found each other!”
You swallowed, but you refused to let the fear creep in as your father approached. Xaden’s shadow tightened protectively around your leg, and you took a subtle breath, letting it ground you. You plastered a smile on your face as he approached. “Hey, dad.”
You had expected him to take one look at you and give you the same disappointed look he always had. Your father had never had any problem expressing his displeasure at the few choices you’d been allowed to make.
Instead, your mouth almost dropped as he gave you a blinding smile, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss against your cheek. “You look lovely, darling. Strong.”
Your stomach twisted. Who was this man and what had he done with your father?
You forced a smile, slightly unsure. “Thank you.” You said, ignoring the way Halden was practically burning a hole in your side with his glare.
Your father studied you, head tilting slightly. The smile still sat on his lips, but now his gaze was sharp and calculating. “I never would have thought you had it in you, you know?”
You blinked, your smile faltering. “Had what in me?”
Your father’s smile widened. “It was a smart move, but how did you manage to make a specific dragon bond with you?”
Fury exploded down the bond, and you felt Beathas’s growl almost vibrating in your skull at the implication. She was outraged, and so were you. He knew better. Anyone with half a brain did. “I didn’t. She chose me.” You said, offended.
He frowned for a heartbeat before the pleasant mask slid back into place. “Just luck then. Well, I can’t think of a better way for you to keep an eye on those marked ones than by having a dragon mated to one of theirs.”
You froze.
The shadow wrapped around your leg vanished in a heartbeat, slipping away before you could even take a breath. You followed it, and your heart leapt into your throat as your eyes caught on the two last people you wanted to hear that.
Garrick’s expression made something in your chest crack. Not confusion, not even anger. It was betrayal. He took a step back. Then another. You wanted to shout after him. He knew you. He had to know that you would never -
But did he?
He tore his gaze away and snuck off into the night, and when you went to his arch in the garden of your mind, you found a wall of gold, blocking you out. Your hand stroked it, soft and gentle, but it did not give.
“I will speak with him.” Chradh’s warm voice spoke in your mind. “Beathas and I know where your loyalties lie.”
You swallowed, turning your gaze over to Xaden as your thoughts drifted. When did your loyalties change? Was it the moment you stepped between Garrick and Alic? When the marked ones looked at you with wary kindness instead of open hatred? Or had it been earlier still? When you overheard your father discussing the wyvern and decided you couldn’t sit by another moment without doing something about it? When you had decided you couldn’t let the rest of the continent feel as helpless as you did trapped in that castle?
Xaden’s eyes widened, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, and he vanished into the darkness after Garrick.
Your father hadn’t seemed to notice your distraction, but Halden’s gaze was knowing . . . too knowing.
“I’m proud of your cunning, daughter.” He pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Keep us informed.”
He left you then, Halden following with a smirk.
Little did they know that was the last thing you would ever do.
At that moment, you decided you didn’t want to wait anymore for Chradh to talk to Garrick. You needed to find him, explain to him that you had no loyalty to your family. Your loyalty was to him, to Xaden . . . to the people who’d helped you become someone you could finally be proud of.
You took off in the direction you had seen them disappear, but you’d barely made it around the building when a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the shadows. “You need to give him space to calm down.” Xaden’s voice whispered in your ear.
Your breath caught.
You turned to face him, braced for the cold fury you remembered from your first months in Basgaith. The piercing look like you were something rotten under his boot. What you found there instead was softness and concern. You still had to say it. You needed to say it. “Xaden I swear, I haven’t said a word. I never will. I’m done with my family, no matter what my father seems to think.” The words tumbled out too fast, breathless, afraid he wouldn’t let you finish.
But he didn’t interrupt.
When you stopped, he simply held your gaze.
“I know.”
You froze for a second, thinking you must have misheard him, but after a couple of moments you realized you hadn’t. “You believe me?” You asked, your eyes wide in disbelief.
A smirk curved his lips, so familiar, but gentler than it used to be. “I do. You’ve never given me a reason not to.” His arm, that you had forgotten was wrapped around you, gave you a little squeeze. “You’ve made your intentions pretty clear.”
You didn’t know what to say. You had expected Xaden to be the hardest one to convince, but he hadn’t. He’d just . . . believed you.
“Give Garrick an hour,” he said gently. “He’ll realize he’s not thinking straight.”
You nodded, trying to keep your emotions from leaking through, even as a shiver ran down your spine. His arm slid off your waist, his hand dragging slow and deliberate across your back . . . pausing at your hip, a whisper of pressure before it dropped away.
“I’m going to check on the others. Everyone’s on edge.”
You watched him turn to leave, your thoughts a mess of confusion and something else you didn’t want to name.
Then he turned around, and you were even more shocked to see an actual smile on his face. “By the way, good job putting your brother in his place. It’s nice to see a little fire in you.”
A laugh slipped from your lips, unbidden, because you knew he intended that double meaning.
His smile widened like he’d meant for that to happen. Then he vanished into the shadows, leaving you standing in the dark, unsure of what to feel . . .
It was about thirty minutes later when the gold warmth of Garrick’s bond wrapped around your mind again, gentle as a hand reaching out in the dark.
“Will it make you feel better if I call myself an idiot or if I let you do it?” His voice was sheepish and familiar and utterly him.
You couldn’t help but smile. “Neither, but a hug would help.” You told him.
There was an immediate knock at your door.
You barely even had the chance to open it. Garrick stepped forward at once and wrapped his arms around you in a hug so tight you struggled to catch a breath.
You wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair.
You wrapped your arms tighter around him, something inside you finally loosening. His apology was everything you needed.
And in that moment, with your heart steady against his, you weren’t thinking about what came next.
You knew you were exactly where you needed to be.
—-----------------
Okay, so you might be a little drunk.
To be fair, when Garrick had handed you the bottle he did warn you that it was strong.
You just hadn’t listened. You had never had more than a couple of glasses of wine at dinner before, and you had every right to celebrate right now.
You survived. You’d made it through your first year of Basgaith with only minimal scarring and just a little major trauma. Part of you had wondered from the beginning if you were going to make it this far, and you could now say that you did.
You were proud of yourself.
You leaned your head back against the wall, letting the warm buzz settle through your limbs. The stars above looked a little blurry, but that only made them prettier.
You glanced at Garrick, still lounging beside you, laughing at something someone across the fire had said. Gods, you were grateful for him. Every time he’d made you laugh when you thought you were about to cry. Every shoulder he gave when you did. Every time he reminded you that you weren’t just surviving, you were fighting. As terrifying and haunting the memory of your brother’s death was, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it.
It led you here.
“Well, look who it is.” Garrick said with his signature smile as a large shadow loomed over you.
You glanced up and your smile turned into a full grin as Xaden settled down next to you. “Thought you didn’t do parties, squad leader?” You teased, nudging his shoulder.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I was bored,” he said, accepting the drink Garrick handed him, but his eyes never left yours. “You clearly are not.”
“This is my first time being drunk.” You told him with a pout, leaning back on your hands. “Let me live.”
A ghost of his smile curved his mouth, gone as fast as it came. “Far be it from me to deny you an adult experience, Princess.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. Then you felt it, that familiar brush.
His shadow curled slowly around your thigh, like it was testing your skin for warmth.
You inhaled, suddenly aware of just how close he was sitting.
“I’m going to go get another drink.” Garrick said, rising to his feet. He smiled at you, but there was something too polished about it. “You’re cut off.”
You scowled. “Buzzkill. You just want to go hit on Natalie.”
An emotion passed through his face, but it was so quick your brain didn’t have the chance to interpret it. “Hey, kill two birds with one stone.” Garrick said, giving a tight shrug. “We’ve got the next few days off. Might as well find someone to enjoy it with.” He turned before you could respond, disappearing into the dark.
That stung more than it should have.
Instead of focusing on it, you turned your attention back to Xaden. “I don’t suppose I could sweet talk you into getting me another drink?”
Xaden shook his head, “If Garrick’s cutting you off, it’s for a good reason.”
Yeah, they were probably right. Didn’t mean you had to like it though.
You looked down, distracted as Xaden’s shadow tightened around your thigh, like a hand that didn’t want to let go. “Why do you always do that?” You asked, voice quiet. “With your shadows?”
He didn’t answer at first. Just watched you with that unreadable stare you were still learning to translate. Xaden Riorson didn’t offer information freely. But this time, he surprised you. “I thought the flirting was obvious.”
You blinked.
Wait. What?
You must have misheard him. “You’ve been flirting?”
He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that frustratingly smug way.
“With me?” You repeated, more incredulous than before.
“You’re really making me question my flirting skills right now, Princess.” Xaden shifted to face you fully, amusement dancing behind those dark eyes.
Heat flooded your cheeks. Xaden could be sharp, even cruel, but he wasn’t that cruel. If he said he’d been flirting . . . he meant it.
You fumbled for something to say. “You should. You’re terrible at it. I still think you hate me at least half the time.”
“Half?” His voice dipped lower, and your breath caught as he leaned the slightest bit closer to you. “Your percentage is off.”
Were you leaning closer to? You definitely were, but who could blame you? Xaden’s eyes could draw in the tides from the moon. “Oh? Is it seventy-five percent?” You murmured.
Xaden’s nose brushed yours and you forgot how to breathe all together. “More like twenty-five.”
Then, Xaden Riorson closed the distance between the two of you, and kissed you.
He tasted like mint and something darker underneath. His hand cupped your jaw with the kind of confidence you’d only ever associated with a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and that was you.
You hadn’t expected it. Not really. Not from him.
But what shocked you more was that you didn’t pull away. You let yourself lean in. Let yourself feel it.
And gods could he kiss.
Not in the earth-shattering, lose your mind way you might’ve imagined your first real kiss at Basgaith might feel, but it was firm. Heated. Certain. Like this wasn’t new for him, and like he wanted it to be something new for you.
By the time he pulled away, you were breathless and maybe just a little obsessed with the taste of him. Your hands were fisted in his shirt, and you didn’t even remember moving them.
“So, does my kissing make up for my terrible flirting skills?” He asked, his voice low and a little smug.
You shook your head, fighting a grin as you gave him a light shove. “Maybe twenty-five percent of it.”
Xaden didn’t go far. He tugged you back against him until you were nestled against his side. “Guess you’ll just have to help me practice that then.” He murmured near your ear, one of his hands sliding around your back to hold you close.
It was . . . nice.
You couldn’t remember the last time someone had held you like this. Like they wanted you close. Like they weren’t afraid to be seen doing it.
And Xaden, gods, he was warm, solid. Safe in a way you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.
You rested your head on his shoulder, placing your own hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze. “I think that can be arranged.” You whispered, heat flooding your cheeks as you felt him press a sweet kiss to the top of your head.
Your eyes flickered back across the circle to collide with Garrick’s.
His jaw was tense. Eyes unreadable.
But as soon as he saw you watching, his expression shifted. Softened. The tightness eased from his shoulders. He didn’t look away. A breath later, his presence wrapped gently around your mind. “You want this, sweetheart?” His voice, quiet and steady, echoed in your thoughts.
Xaden’s hand continued its slow path along your spine. You curled closer without meaning to.
“Yeah,” you replied, your voice smaller in your own head. “I think I do.”
You watched as Garrick’s shoulders dropped with the weight of your words. A small smile curved his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t think of a better person for you.”
And for a moment, you hated how much it sounded like a goodbye.
—-----------------
You were surprised how easy it was. How naturally you slipped into a relationship with Xaden Riorson like the two of you had been in one all along. There wasn’t much of a shift between friendship and something more. There was just an ache of awareness. You started looking for him in every room, waiting for the whisper of his shadows to brush against your skin, craving his kisses like a secret.
Yet, even in that closeness, a space started to grow, small at first. Easy to ignore until you couldn’t anymore.
You started to realize how often Xaden Riorson disappeared.
As second years, you now had weekends off. It was a perk that you’d been looking forward to, along with finally being able to write Cam, and something that you thought you’d be enjoying with Xaden. Except almost every weekend, you’d never been able to find him. When you asked him about it, he shrugged you off and suggested you hadn’t been looking for him in the right places.
At first, you didn’t let it bother you. After all, whenever the two of you made official plans, he was always there, occasionally late, but there. You told yourself not to be suspicious. You had no real reason to be, but your mind kept turning, piecing together moments you hadn’t thought twice about before. They left gaps.
Then something else clicked. Garrick was always gone around the same time Xaden was. You’d never tracked his whereabouts before, something you could easily do with your bond, but now you realized he vanished almost exactly when Xaden did.
You’d bet all the money in the Tauri vault that they were doing something together, and it was so far away you couldn’t feel him when they were gone. The silence unsettled you. When the bond went dark, it felt like someone had ripped a vital thread from inside you. You hated how empty it made you feel, how vulnerable.
You were determined to figure out why.
It was a weekend now, and the bond had lit up again, informing you of Garrick’s return without a word from your dragon. You let it guide you towards him, something your dragons had taught you how to do, citing that it would be an advantage in battle. You had to admit it was helpful now as you traveled down the steps of your dorm, following the path of gold.
Until two infantry cadets stepped in your way, blocking you from moving further.
Your heart leapt into your throat. There was only one reason infantry cadets would be in the Rider’s Quadrant, and your suspicions were confirmed when Halden made his appearance, jaw clenched and eyes cold.
“You know, I always knew you were weak, but I never realized how easily you’d spread your legs for a traitor.” He said, but you noticed he didn’t take a step towards you, to touch you.
While his presence had your heart racing, you knew you couldn’t show an ounce of fear or anger. He’d just use it to his advantage. “At least I didn’t have to sleep my way to a passing mark. Please tell me Violet Sorrengail kicked you in the balls when she caught you.”
Yeah, maybe he heard about you and Xaden, but you’d heard about him too.
His jaw tensed, and you could see the battle in his eyes to keep calm. Something he’d never been good at, but it seemed your warning from last time held. “Do you really think the traitor’s son sees you as anything more than a way to get close to this family?” He finally took a step forward, but you refused to yield any ground. “As soon as he has what he needs, he’s tossing you to the wolves, and our father will have your head.”
It took everything in you not to flinch, not to show Halden how many times you’d actually considered that possibility only to be told by Beathas that it would never happen.
“And my answer remains the same,” her voice spoke in your mind, always watching, always providing support. “He’s testing your armor, brave one. Searching for a crack. Do not give him one.”
She was right.
Instead of answering his question, you raised your eyebrows at him. “And what is it he wants to know, Halden?” You let your finger drag over one of the handles of the dagger strapped to your chest. It was a special dagger that your father had given you as a parting present before you left for Basgaith.
You knew what it did.
Just like you knew Halden had a matching one strapped to his chest.
His smirk was vicious. A viper waiting to strike. “This is a warning, sister.” He hissed. “I won’t let you jeopardize my crown with your pathetic attachments.” He spat the last word like poison. “I’ll end them, if I have to.”
“Because that worked out so well for Alic.” You snapped.
You hadn’t meant to say it, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Halden’s answering smirk made your stomach twist.
“The difference is, I always get what I want.”
Beathas’s growl echoed in your mind as Halden walked away, nodding for the cadets to follow him.
You stood there for a moment, trying to calm your heart even as panic threatened your mind. “Did he just imply that he would destroy Garrick and Xaden?” You asked Beathas, making sure you hadn’t been the only one to hear the veiled threat.
“If I ever see your brother I will flay him alive.” The rage in her voice coiled around you, hot and unforgiving.
You took that as a yes.
You had to find Garrick and Xaden, now, before Halden made good on his threat.
It didn’t take long for the gold thread of your bond to pull you across the courtyard and down a narrow corridor -
Right to the weapons inventory?
“You have to tell her. I hate lying to her.” Garrick snapped, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard it.
“Do you think I like it either? Fuck Garrick this isn’t just black and white” From the exasperation in Xaden’s voice, you had the feeling this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument.
“It is. She’s your fucking girlfriend man. She deserves to know where you are. Where we are.”
You. They were talking about you.
“Do you trust her?”
Your breath caught. Did he?
“Of course I trust her, or I wouldn’t be in a relationship with her.” Xaden hissed back at him.
Your heartbeat settled a little.
“Then you better tell her, or I will.” Garrick said, and your heart stuttered again at his words. You never would have thought he cared for you enough to go up against his best friend from pretty much birth.
“He cares for you deeply, Princess. More than you know.” Beathas’s voice curled softly down the bond.
“I don’t think you’ll have to, considering she’s on the stairs eavesdropping on this whole conversation.” Xaden interrupted your thoughts.
What? How the hell did he . . . Your eyes followed a shadow, gliding across the last few stairs and slipping around the corner like a wisp of smoke. You followed it to find Garrick and Xaden staring at you. Xaden’s face was carefully composed into a blank mask, meanwhile Garrick couldn’t hide the guilt in his. “Is it still eavesdropping when the conversation is about you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What are you doing here?” Garrick asked, but the second your brows lifted, realization dawned across his face. “You followed the bond.”
“I was coming to find you, and then I got accosted by my brother -”
Xaden stepped closer, his face turning concerned, “Halden? Did he touch you?” but you put a hand up to stop him from getting any closer.
“No. He threatened the two of you. Implied that he was going to end both of you if he had to, so of course I came to find you immediately.” Your eyes flicked to Garrick, sharp as a blade. “Because I don’t keep secrets from the people I care about.”
Guilt darkened Garrick’s expression, and for a moment, you hated the way your heart twisted for him. He hadn’t deserved the jab. He was the one trying to pull Xaden toward honesty.
But hurt didn’t care about fairness.
Then you looked over at Xaden. His face was a wall, every trace of concern wiped clean, replaced by that infuriating, unreadable mask. “Good to know that you trust me enough to sleep in my bed at night, but not enough to trust me with your whereabouts.” When his face didn’t change, and he didn’t move a muscle, you let out a scoff deciding that you had more than enough.
You turned on your heel, anger burning in your chest, but you didn’t make it far. A band of shadow slid around your waist, velvet soft and unmistakably firm. You froze.
“Xaden Riorson,” you growled, not bothering to hide the fire in your voice. “I swear -”
“Garrick, give us a minute.” Xaden said, stepping towards you.
“I think I’ll stay,” Garrick said quietly, but firmly. “Unless she tells me to go.”
Xaden’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. “Apparently my best friend needs to hear it from you, Princess.” His voice was low. Controlled. But his shadows were already coiling tighter.
You let yourself sink into the bond for a moment, speaking to him where Xaden couldn’t hear. “It’s fine, Gar. You might want to go check and make sure none of Halden’s guards followed me anyway.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, and you glanced over at him to find him looking at you, his shoulders set stubbornly. He would stay, you realized. Even if Xaden told him to go, he would stay for you if you wanted. That simple truth sent a warmth blooming in your chest, steadying you.
“I’m sure,” You said, even though it was a lie.
When he was gone, you turned your attention back to Xaden, and he dropped his shadow from you. You held his gaze, but his eyes dropped to the dagger at your chest. The one your father had given you. He tapped it with his finger once, then looked back up at you. “Do you know why that dagger is different from your others?”
You swallowed, but nodded. You knew what that dagger did, and what it killed.
Did Xaden?
“We’re making more of them,” he said, pulling out a dagger from his own belt, one made of the same alloy. “And giving them to Poromiel.”
The words hit like a blow to the chest. Your heartbeat stuttered, then pounded so violently it was all you could hear.
They weren’t just flying under the radar. They were smuggling classified weapons.
They were committing treason.
Gods what the hell were they thinking? If they got themselves caught, there wasn’t even anything you could do to help them. Xaden would be killed. Garrick would follow.
You wanted to scream at him. For being reckless. For dragging Garrick into this. For making you care so godsdamned much about someone who clearly didn’t care about his own life. But yelling wouldn’t change him. You knew that. You’d always known that. The only thing that could possibly protect them from getting caught was . . .
You.
You knew exactly what your brother would watch for. You’d grown up learning your father’s tactics. How he hunted, how he punished. If they started to close in, maybe you could misdirect them. Maybe you could draw their gaze somewhere else. If you couldn’t save Xaden and Garrick after they got caught . . . maybe you could stop it from happening at all.
“You have to let me help.”
Xaden’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you have any idea how much help I could be for this? I know all the ways they could possibly catch you-”
“And your brother is clearly out to get you,” Xaden interrupted. “Which makes you a target.”
“So what, I’m supposed to hide while you and Garrick get yourselves killed?” You shot back.
He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened.
. . . You hated that he had a point.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t take your eyes off him. “I can handle my brother. I think I’ve proved that several times now.”
Xaden’s face softened the slightest bit, and you couldn’t help but melt a little yourself as he cupped your cheek. “I know you can, but you know what he has access to. He can have you followed all the time. It’s easy for Garrick and I to slip away. Not you.”
Once again, you hated that he was right. With Xaden’s shadows and Garrick’s second signet . . . they could disappear in moments. You didn’t have that luxury. All you’d wanted since the moment you stepped into the Rider’s Quadrant was to matter. To help. And here was the opportunity, right in front of you. A way to do something that counted. Yet, you were helpless.
Again.
Left out of the decision making from the two people you had learned to trust most in the world. Your boyfriend. Your best friend.
You took a step back from him, shaking your head. “You still should have told me.”
“I should have, or Garrick should have?” Xaden asked, raising his eyebrows.
You had to fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “My boyfriend,” You shoved him lightly in the chest. “Who trusts me should have. Don’t try to blame other people for your mistakes, Xaden Riorson. It’s beneath you.”
A flash of regret crossed his face before it was back to the stoic expression you knew.
“And don’t bother coming to my room tonight.” You stepped back. “Wouldn’t want Halden catching you in the act of caring.” You said, and then turned on your heel, leaving him behind in the dark room.
You’d barely made it outside when a large form came out from the shadows, startling you for a moment before you realized who it was. “I wanted to tell you.”
You let out a sigh, but kept walking. “I know you did. I heard that part. Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed at you.”
Garrick fell into step beside you, putting his hands in his pockets. “You can be pissed at me, but Xaden . . . he was trying to protect you in his own fucked up way.”
A laugh left your lips, but there was no humor in it. “You’re right, it was fucked up, and I’m not in the mood to listen to you defend him right now.”
Garrick didn’t say anything for a moment, but kept pace with you all the way to your room. Once you put your hand on the door knob, you felt his presence wrap around your mind. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about this a long time ago. Before you and Xaden even became a thing.”
Funny, how Garrick always managed to find the words. Even when it hurt. Even when Xaden didn’t.
You turned back to face him after opening your door. “Listen, I’m pissed off. I get why you didn’t tell me. Doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.” You took a step inside your room. “So just give me that time to be pissed off, and leave me alone until I can stop being hurt about it.”
Garrick looked stricken once more at your words. “I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt -”
“Please, Garrick. I need time.” Your voice was soft, pleading, despite the anger still sizzling in your veins.
After a heartbeat he nodded, even though it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do.
You shut the door on him, but couldn’t bring yourself to block him out completely with the bond. Instead, you turned to your dragon’s emerald bond. Beathas had been uncharacteristically quiet during that whole interaction, and it didn’t take a scribe to know why. “That goes for you too. I know you can’t tell me your mate’s secrets, but I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
Beathas’s voice was warm when she responded, not judging your anger at all. “I understand, Princess, but know this. If Chradh, his rider, or I had any choice in the matter, you would have been told long before now.”
You believed her.
But the ache didn’t go anywhere.
—-----------------
Your feet hurt, your stomach growled, and you were sweating like you’d just gone five rounds on the sparring mat.
At five a.m., someone had dragged you out of bed and tossed a bag over your head. Next thing you know you were in the middle of a grassy field with Garrick and two infantry cadets for company. There Professor Grady had told you that your squad had been split up into three parts, and your job was to find each other.
In the middle of the forest. With nothing but a map.
You were miserable, but honestly it wasn't different from most days lately.
It had just become harder to tell whether it was the training or everything else making you feel this way.
Glancing over the map again, your eyes kept drifting to Garrick. Gods, you missed him. You hadn’t shut the bond. Not once, but he’d never tried to talk to you through it either. You couldn’t blame him for that. After all, he was only giving you what you asked for.
You’d never realized how woven into your life he was, until he wasn’t anymore.
“Why do you constantly avoid all the easy ways to fix your problems?”
Yeah, your silent treatment with Beathas had lasted a grand total of about six hours.
“I’m still mad at him. At both of them.” Even if that anger had dulled into something more like disappointment. Or loneliness. Or maybe just stubborn pride.
You hadn’t spoken to Xaden either. He wasn’t one to show his emotions, so you weren’t surprised that he hadn’t done anything to show that he missed you. You had caught him glancing at you on more than one occasion though. Not to mention the stray shadow you’d seen lingering a little closer than natural. You didn’t know what was worse. That he was still watching, or that you wanted him to.
“It’s been two weeks. Would you please just put my rider out of his misery? The amount of ridiculous plans I’ve had to listen to about getting you to forgive him-”
“Chradh!” Beathas chided her mate.
Chradh didn’t often speak to you, but it was almost always a pleasure when he did.
As if Garrick could sense you were talking about him, those hazel eyes shifted to you, and he gave you a tentative smile when he caught you looking.
You returned it, but quickly turned your eyes back to your map.
You could’ve sworn you heard Chradh groan, long suffering and dramatic. Dragon patience only went so far.
You tried to refocus on the map, but land navigation had never been your strong suit. Translating paper to terrain was a special kind of hell.
It would help if the infantry cadets would do anything besides sneaking glances at you and whispering to each other. It was almost like they were waiting for something.
“You’re holding the map upside down.”
You looked up. Garrick stood in front of you, that tentative smile tugging at his lips as he gently reached out and rotated the map. Your fingers brushed, and you pulled your hand back, ignoring the warmth that followed. “I knew it was supposed to be like that.” You muttered, even though the heat rising in your face betrayed you.
He raised his eyebrows, but one of those dimples threatened to appear with his smile. “So you were just trying to get us lost for fun?”
You shrugged, “Someone should enjoy this. Amari knows they’re not.” You said, nodding your head over to the other cadets who were now glaring at you.
He hesitated. Then, like sunlight through clouds, you felt the amber warmth of him wrap around your mind. It almost made you sigh in relief. Finally, he was here. “I miss you.”
You couldn’t lie to him. Not when he was looking at you like that. Like he’d give anything to earn your forgiveness. “I miss you too.” You whispered down the bond. “Both of you.”
Garrick swallowed hard, his smile dimming at your words, but he didn’t pull away. “Xaden’s been irritatingly grumpy while you’ve been ignoring us too.”
You raised your brow at him. “How is that any different than normal?” Your tone was teasing, but you couldn’t help but be a little relieved to learn that Xaden wasn’t as fine with your fight as he appeared.
“If you’re not willing to forgive me yet, at least talk to him? For my sake?” Garrick pleaded.
It struck you again, Garrick’s quiet, infuriating compassion. Even now, when you hadn’t spoken in weeks, he wanted you to talk to Xaden. Even if it meant you still ignored him.
You really hoped that Xaden realized what an amazing best friend he had.
“I’ll consider it.” You answered softly down the bond, reaching out to squeeze his forearm.
He didn’t say anything. He just smiled, and it almost made you want to forgive him on the spot.
“So that’s it?” one of the cadets snapped, yanking you and Garrick out of the quiet bubble you’d slipped into. “You got us lost?”
You opened your mouth to respond, pissed that you were getting blamed, when Garrick spoke before you could.
“It’s not her fault. We’re supposed to be working together, and all you’ve done is stand there, stare at her, and whisper like cowards. What’s your problem?”
So you weren’t the only one who noticed their staring either.
But they didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down. If anything, they looked relieved. Like this was the moment they’d been waiting for.
You watched with wide eyes, as the two started pulling out their weapons from their sheaths, the one on the left pulling out two small daggers while the one on the right pulled out a longsword. “Oh, we don’t have a problem,” the one with the longsword said, voice like ice. “We have a mission.”
Your stomach dropped.
Oh gods. Halden. What the hell had he done?
The one on the left bared his teeth. “This is for Alic.” His eyes burned with nothing but fury and hate.
Then they lunged.
You didn’t think. You moved. Training took over. You were just close enough to Beathas to speak to her, but not close enough to draw power. You were sure it was the same for Garrick. You knew this would have to be a combat situation. You drew your daggers in a single heartbeat, dropped into a roll beneath his swing, and slashed at his ankles.
He jumped before you could make contact, turning around and charging towards you again.
It took everything in you not to glance toward Garrick. Not to check if he was bleeding, breathing, still standing. But the bond between you pulsed, steady and alive. That had to be enough. You knew how good of a fighter he was. He could handle this.
You could handle this too.
You shut out everything, even Beathas shouting down your bond that she and Chradh were on their way, and focused entirely on your attacker. You studied the angle of his swings, the way he moved. He was stronger, but slower. His swings were wild, more strength than skill.
You could work with that.
You stayed close. Low. Fast. You let him do all the work, knowing that as time passed, he’d only get more frustrated and slower. That’s when you could strike.
Just like Xaden had taught you.
Gods you hoped you lived long enough to tell him thank you.
A grunt of pain cracked through your focus. Garrick’s.
You looked. His sword was gone, flung to the dirt. His attacker had cornered him.
Panic seized you.
Not Garrick. Please, not him. Anyone but Garrick.
You didn’t have time to come up with a plan, to go through all the options. Your opponent was stumbling towards you after you’d made a painful cut across his calf, but Garrick was more important. “GARRICK!” You threw down the bond.
He turned just in time to catch the dagger you flung his way.
You had a single heartbeat of relief.
Then pain exploded.
Your other dagger went flying as your hand bent the wrong way under the force of a brutal kick.
You were pretty sure something snapped.
You didn’t scream. Couldn’t. Pain could wait. Survival couldn’t.
You dropped fast, clawing for the dagger with your good hand. Your fingers grazed cold metal -
Then he was on you.
His weight crushed you. Your hand was pinned between your bodies, and pain burst down your arm as he grabbed your hair and slammed your head toward the dirt.
White light invaded behind your eyes. Everything blurred, until you saw the dagger glinting above you, catching the sunlight. Your attacker raised it overhead, both hands gripping the hilt. “Goodbye, marked fucker.” He spat.
Beathas roared.
Garrick screamed your name.
But you moved first.
The silver dagger was already in your hand, and you drove it into his side.
He stared at the wound like he couldn’t believe it. You yanked the blade free and drove it in again.
And again.
And again.
You didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Even as tears blurred your vision. Even as he dropped the knife and collapsed on top of you, dead.
Your mind still screamed: danger!
You didn’t even hear Garrick’s repeated yell of your name until he tore the cadet’s body off of you and pulled you into his arms.
The knife fell from your hand the second his arms wrapped around you.
You grabbed his shirt instead, bloody and torn, and held on like it was the only thing keeping you from drowning.
In a way, it was.
A moment ago, your mind was screaming, danger. Now, it whispered something else.
Safe.
You shattered.
Every moment of terror you shoved aside came crashing down. Garrick cornered. The horror, the rage, the disbelief that your brother had set you both up to die. Sobs tore through you as you buried your face in his chest, repeating how sorry you were over and over. This was your fault. Once again, Garrick had almost been killed due to the actions from someone in your family.
How many more would it take before he abandoned you?
The thought made you cling harder, as if holding tight enough could keep him here. As if you could anchor him with just your hands.
Garrick didn’t let go. Not for a second. He shushed you softly, and you could feel his heart pounding against your ear. His breath was shaky as he pressed his face into your hair. He rocked you gently, arms so tight around you that you knew you’d have bruises.
You didn’t care.
“I thought he had you.” Garrick whispered, his voice raw. “Gods I thought he had you.” He choked.
“I thought he had you too,” you cried, clutching at him with your good hand. If you could have pressed yourself entirely into him, you would have. Just to feel, to know that he was still breathing. When he’d been cornered, you’d let yourself imagine it. A world without Garrick.
Empty.
Garrick leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, using one of his hands to brush your tears away, and then he cupped your cheek.
You leaned to his touch without thinking, drawn to him like gravity. His hazel eyes held yours. You couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to.
He said your name so softly, so gently, as if he spoke it too loudly it would startle the trees. “I can’t -”
A frantic yell broke through the trees behind you. Wild, panicked, shattered.
Xaden.
Oh gods. What if they’d gone after him too?
“Xaden!” You screamed, tearing yourself from Garrick’s arms and sprinting toward the sound of his voice right as he broke through the trees.
His shadows caught you first, slipping around you in that silken way you’d come to love. A breath later, his arms wrapped around you, trembling. The tears came again, sharper this time, as he pressed his lips to your head and slid a hand into your hair, holding you tight against his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you.”
You let him hold you, closed your eyes, and breathed him in until the sobs finally faded. Then, slowly, you turned your head, finding him in an instant.
Garrick.
The look on his face, so raw, so wrecked, tore something deep inside you open.
—-----------------
When they arrived at the weapons inventory, you were already there, waiting.
Xaden dropped his empty bag at the door with a dull thud and barely looked at you before turning to Garrick. “I assume this is your doing.”
Garrick didn’t flinch. “I told you. I’m done keeping this from her.” He told him, not an ounce of regret in his tone.
“Thank you,” you whispered softly down your bond with him. Then you turned to your boyfriend, your voice firm. “We have to talk.”
Garrick gave your shoulder a final squeeze before slipping out, the silence he left behind louder than the storm in your chest.
“Guess it’s too much to hope for a, ‘glad you’re still alive kiss’?” Xaden asked, voice light, but eyes still watching you too closely.
Until that day in the woods, that might’ve been what would have happened. You would have eventually forgiven Xaden for keeping this from you. The two of you would have gone back to normal. You would have given him a bright smile, thrown your arms around his neck and let him kiss you and fuck you until you couldn’t think.
Then your brother tried to kill you.
Now all you could think about was fighting back.
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Xaden. There has to be something I can do.” Your voice cracked, half plea, half defiance.
He was shaking his head before you could even finish. “You can’t.”
“Yes I can!” You protested. “I want to help! I want to feel like I’m doing something!”
“Do you want to help?” Xaden stepped forward, towering over you. “Or do you want revenge?”
The words struck like a slap. You flinched before you could stop yourself.
You felt his cool shadows against your skin, tilting your chin up so you had to look into his dark eyes. “I don’t hold it against you. I’m not sure I won’t kill him outright after what he did to you and Garrick if I ever see him.”
He was partially right. You knew that. There was a small, dark, part of you that craved revenge for your sake and Garrick’s against your brother.
But it wasn’t everything. It wasn’t the most important part.
“This is why I joined the Rider’s Quadrant, Xaden.” You tried to reason with him. “I wanted to get out of that prison of a castle and help the helpless. You can help me do that. It’s all I wanted -”
“You’re being selfish.”
Of all the things that you had expected him to say, that hadn’t even crossed your mind.
“There’s more at play other than what you want.” Xaden said, his voice hard, final. “You don’t even realize what you’re asking when you say you want to help.”
You stiffened. “Do you really think I don’t get what’s at stake?”
“No, you don’t.” He interrupted sharply. “There are still things you don’t know about that are more important than either one of us -”
“So tell me!” You didn’t care if you were begging anymore. He had to see it. You know he did. The way his secrets were ripping the two of you apart. “Stop being so self sacrificial and let me help you -!”
Xaden grabbed your shoulders, startling you. “You’ve seen the scars on my back.” He said, quieter now. “Every one stands for a marked one.”
Your eyes widened at the revelation. You had known they were a product of his father’s rebellion, but you hadn’t known what they were for. “Xaden . . .” You said softly.
“If I let you into this, it’s not just me. It’s not just Garrick. If you’re caught, if your brother, or father drags you into interrogation, it won’t stop with you. You’ll die, yes, but so will every single marked one I’ve fought to protect.” He let that hang between you. “Is that a weight you really want to carry?”
His words didn’t just land. They cut. Deep. You’d been dating Xaden for almost a year now, and you had no idea the responsibility that was on his shoulders. Tears started heating your eyes, and you swallowed to try and keep them at bay as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.
His voice softened, shadows coiling faintly as his arms came around you again, like the moment could still be salvaged if he just held you tightly enough. “I care about you so fucking much, but I won’t risk all of them for you.”
Those words? They were the ones that hurt the most.
Because you couldn’t even be angry. Not when he was right.
—-----------------
It was cold. Colder than it should’ve been for October, and you cursed yourself for not bringing your jacket. You hadn’t been thinking about it, or anything at all really. In the moment, all you were concerned with was getting out.
Today, your cracked relationship with Xaden Riorson split wide open when his dragon’s mate bonded with none other than your brother’s ex-girlfriend.
Violet Sorrengail.
It wouldn’t have hurt so bad if you hadn’t already seen the chemistry building. The way their eyes lit when they looked at each other. The way she loved fighting with him, verbal or physical. The way he gave it right back to her like it was giving him life. The little sparring match they had on the mat the other day confirmed it. There were sparks. Sparks that you and Xaden hadn’t felt in a long time.
Maybe not ever.
You shivered, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you leaned against the stone wall, closing your eyes, doing everything you could not to let the tears fall.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
You weren’t even surprised Garrick had found you. He always knew when you were hurting. “I feel like it does.” Your voice was barely louder than the wind.
He sat down beside you, and next thing you knew, your flight jacket was wrapped around your shoulders.
He had gotten it for you. Without even being asked.
“Our dragons are mated.” He said, as he settled in beside you, so close that the warmth from his side began to cut through the chill. “That didn’t stop you from falling for Xaden. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean he’s falling for Sorrengail.”
You glanced at him, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself like it could shield you from more than just the cold. “Garrick, you can’t pretend you haven’t noticed the tension. Everyone in the damn wing has. Newhall has been giving me pitying looks for weeks.” You murmured.
When you shivered again, Garrick wrapped his arm around your shoulder, holding you close to his side. “Well, first off, fuck her, and second of all, fuck all of them.”
You couldn’t help but smile a little at the utter conviction with which he spoke.
“Yeah, maybe him and Sorrengail have some tension, but it’s the, ‘I want to kill you’ kind, not the ‘I want to kiss you’ kind.” He reassured you, as his hand started stroking up and down your arm. “And they don’t have what you two have. History, years of knowing each other. It would take a hell of a lot to undo that.”
A single, traitorous tear slipped down your cheek. “I don’t think it would. A year ago, maybe. Now? It feels like one little storm could rip us apart.” You leaned over, resting your head on Garrick’s shoulder, soaking up his warmth like a balm. “I hate it.”
“You two are stronger than you think.” He whispered, resting his head on top of yours, pulling you even closer to his side.
You both sat in silence, just breathing, sinking into each other’s presence like it could hold the pieces of you together. You wished you could borrow Garrick’s optimism, but it felt like you were drunk on the parapet, swaying, already bracing for the inevitable fall. Once it occurred, you wouldn’t have a relationship with him anymore. You weren’t even sure what you could be anymore. He and Garrick had become such huge parts of your life -
The thought rang throughout your head like two swords clashing together for the first time, and your heart immediately went into overdrive.
“If I lose Xaden . . .” You hesitated, swallowed. “Do I lose you too?”
You couldn’t keep the words inside. You had to know. You and Xaden’s relationship ending would be a devastating blow, but Garrick? Your dragons were mated. He was your best friend. Garrick could read you and know what you need in moments without saying a word. He was one of the best parts of your life.
Him leaving would be like snuffing out the sun. You’d be nothing but a cold, desolate land.
Garrick didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have to think about it. He answered almost as soon as the words left your lips. “Are you kidding?” Garrick pulled back just enough so that he could look into your eyes. “You’re never getting rid of me, sweetheart. I’d rather chop my own arms off than lose you. And you know I’d do it too.” He said, giving your arm an extra squeeze.
The warmth in his voice, the steady affection in his eyes, made your heart stutter unevenly. You’d never deserve this man. No matter how much good you did in the world, it would never be enough to earn Garrick in your life.
Gods help you if you ever lost him.
You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. This time you were unable to stop the tears as they fell. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Garrick.” You murmured against his skin. “Please . . . don’t ever leave me.” You whispered.
Garrick kissed the top of your head, his hand slow and steady as it traced up and down your back. “Never.” He replied, his voice thick with emotion.
You closed your eyes, holding him tighter. Even if the world fell apart tomorrow, even if Xaden walked away, you’d still have this moment.
You’d still have Garrick.
—-----------------
You had known it wasn’t going to last, but gods . . . that didn’t make it hurt any less.
From the moment that Xaden had pulled you aside, you’d known. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was the way his eyes wouldn’t quite meet yours, the sadness coiled tight behind them. Maybe it was the way his shadows retreated from your presence. Maybe it was the quiet way he said your name, soft, like it might be the last time.
Or maybe you’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Xaden Riorson was never meant to be yours forever.
And now he wasn’t yours at all.
Still, he’d been decent, even kind. He hadn’t looked smug or relieved to be free of you, to finally be with her.
Instead, his regret had been real. His sadness had nearly undone you.
But his words shattered something inside of you.
“It’s Violet isn’t it?”
He didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
You hated how collected he was. How gently he said it. “Do you love her?”
Xaden’s onyx eyes pierced you, but when he finally answered, his voice was soft. “You don’t want me to answer that question.”
You gave him a bitter smile, even as your world collapsed around you. “You already did.”
You knew Xaden. He would have admitted it if he didn’t love her.
In a matter of months, Violet Sorrengail had done what you hadn’t in a year and a half.
She made Xaden Riorson fall in love with her.
And you never could.
Gods, what was wrong with you?
“There is nothing wrong with you, Princess.” Beathas’s voice, more gentle than you’d ever heard, whispered down the bond.
“I don’t want to talk right now.” You snapped back, more harsh than you wanted to be when she was trying to help you, but she was wrong. There was some part of you that was broken. Something that clearly couldn’t measure up to Violet.
“That is not true -”
You slammed a wall down on your bond before she could say another word.
She could break through it if she really wanted to, but you knew that she would respect your privacy.
For now.
You had managed to find a quiet spot outside since it was well past curfew, and pressed your back against the wall. You didn’t care if the cool stone chilled your skin as you slid down it. Any sensation other than pain would be welcome at this point.
You didn’t want to be that person. The one that sobbed uncontrollably when her boyfriend broke up with her. The one that questioned every moment, every fight, that might’ve caused the implosion.
The one that wondered what she did wrong.
So much of your life you’d been considered weak, helpless. You couldn’t let Xaden Riorson reduce you to that again.
But Gods, did it hurt so bad you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
Your sobs started coming faster, and your hand clutched at your chest, pulling the fabric into your fist as you closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but you couldn’t. All you could concentrate on was the hurt, the ripping of your heart to shreds as you walked away from him, and the hurt made breathing harder.
You were hyperventilating by the time you felt warm hands clasping your cheeks, thumbs brushing lightly under your eyes as if he could erase the tears before they fell.
“Please . . . go . . . away.” You said, trying to take a gasping breath between each word. You refused to open your eyes. You didn’t need to anyway. You knew who it was, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.
“No.” Garrick said, his voice soft and oh so tender, a little unsteady. Like seeing you hurt like this hurt him too.
“Please,” you whispered again, shaking your head to try and dislodge his hands, but his fingers stayed, warm and steady against your skin, as though letting go wasn’t an option.
He leaned in until his forehead was pressing against yours, and you shivered at the contact. “I’m not leaving you like this.” He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, but closed it again, his jaw tightening.
“Xaden-” Gods, even just saying his name felt like talons scraping down your vocal chords.
“I don’t give a fuck about Xaden right now.” While his words were harsh, his voice was not. “He’s not the one crying.”
Garrick was right. Xaden wasn’t crying over you like you were him. Why would he? He had Violet. He had gotten everything that he wanted.
And you were here crying to his best friend, scrambling to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart. “Why?” You finally opened your eyes to look at him, even though he was blurry through your tears. “Why wasn’t I good enough for him?”
His thumb brushed the tear track on your cheek, slow, deliberate, like he could wipe away the hurt itself. “I don’t know what’s going through his head right now, but I know one thing.” Garrick made sure you were still looking at him before he spoke. “You were good enough for him.” He said, the words firm, but there was a break in his voice he didn’t bother to hide. “More than good enough for him and anyone else you decide to love.”
The fragile grip you had on the remaining pieces of your heart loosened, and you threw yourself into Garrick’s arms. You sobbed into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, almost as if he could bring back the shattered pieces of your heart if he held you close enough.
You wished it was possible.
—-----------------
Your back hit the wall, and your head followed, the thud a dull echo in the quiet hall. You dragged in a slow breath, though it felt like it scraped your lungs raw. The last day had been nothing short of a nightmare. You had fought venin and wyvern, two people died, and watched your ex boyfriend unravel when he almost lost his current girlfriend.
Oh, and your father had disowned you and, for good measure, tried to have you killed.
You let out another sigh and opened your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking through the narrow crack in the door. Inside, Xaden sat vigil at Violet’s bedside, shoulders hunched, jaw set, eyes locked on her as if sheer will might bring her back.
You’d never seen him like that. So out of control. So . . . scared. Even when you and Garrick had almost been killed in the woods, he hadn’t reacted like that. This wasn’t the sharp, controlled Xaden you knew. This was a man terrified. Like losing her would tear something essential from his very soul.
It hurt. But not in the same way it would have months ago.
No, the sharper ache was seeing the man who used to be your friend, someone you’d once loved, look so utterly lost.
Before you could second guess yourself, you eased the door open and stepped inside.
Xaden didn’t look up.
“Is she going to be okay?” You asked quietly.
A short nod.
“Good,” you said, biting your bottom lip, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I just thought I’d check-”
“Why are you here?” His voice was low, but when his eyes finally found yours, the question landed like a blow.
You didn’t think you’d know how to answer, but surprisingly the words came to your lips without much thought. When it came to feelings, you and Xaden had been honest with each other through all of it. There was no reason it had to be different now.
“You were my friend first, Xaden.” You said softly. “Before you broke my heart.” You glanced at Violet for a moment, then back at him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He stared at you in that familiar, unblinking way, like he was digging through your mind to try and figure out if you were sincere or not. Then his shoulders sagged, and you swore he aged ten years in the space of a breath. “I won’t be okay until she wakes up.”
You nodded. You could understand that. “Is there anything I can do?”
Xaden glanced over at Violet, then back at you. “Can you go check on Garrick? He was . . . He was close to Liam too. We all were.”
Garrick.
You let your mind slip down that mental pathway, the one neither of you ever bothered to block. The wave hit instantly. Raw grief, jagged and suffocating. It caught in your throat like smoke.
“I’ll go stay with him.” You promised, stepping toward the door.
You were nearly in the hall when Xaden’s voice stopped you. “Thank you.”
You just dipped your head in reply, too many words lodged behind your teeth.
It didn’t take long to track Garrick down. The bond pulled you unerringly, each step tightening the ache in your chest until you rounded a corner and found him pacing outside the room you’d claimed for yourself.
“Garrick?”
His head snapped toward you. Relief, sharp and unmistakable, flashed across his face, softening the hard line of his jaw.
The healers had tended him, but faint cuts and deep bruises still marked his skin. None of it compared to the exhaustion in his eyes.
And yet, when he looked at you, something else flickered there too. Something warm.
He drew in a breath, and the bond pulsed with it, raw, aching, and unguarded.
“I need you.”
You didn’t think. Your body reacted before you could overanalyze. Stepping forward, you cupped his bruised cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble there. “I’ve got you.” You whispered.
Garrick leaned into your hand without hesitation, the movement instinctive, like a man reaching for warmth in the cold. His lashes lowered, his breath hitching against your palm.
A single tear slid down his cheek. Through the bond, grief pressed against you, heavy and unrelenting, yet beneath it, something else flickered, quick and warm, gone before you could name it.
You guided him into your room, locking the door behind you as if to keep the rest of the world out. He let you steer him to the bed, silent, pliant, watching you like you were the only thing keeping him steady. With the most gentle touch you could, you helped him out of his boots, and then the straps with all his weapons attached, laying them carefully on the wooden table by your bed.
After brushing a curl from his forehead, you let your hand rest on his shoulder. “Do you want anything else?”
He shook his head, but the look he gave you . . . Gods, he was looking at you with so much. It was heavy with things you couldn’t quite read, things that made your chest tighten. Like you were his anchor in a storm he couldn’t see the end of.
You didn’t flinch from the weight of it. “Okay,” You murmured with a soft smile, before taking a step back.
But his hand shot out, gripping yours, calloused fingers trembling slightly. His eyes, shining, pleading, told you more than words ever could.
You placed your free hand on top of his, “I’m just going to get out of my leathers. I’ll be right back.”
Garrick hesitated, then let go, slowly, reluctantly, his fingertips skimming yours until they had no choice but to part.
You didn’t think you’d ever changed faster in your life, not wanting to leave him alone when hurt still bled through the golden path of his bond. In seconds, you were back, finding Garrick still sitting and waiting for you.
Giving him another soft smile, you climbed into bed, pulling back the blankets and patting the spot next to you. “Come on,” you said softly. “You don’t need an invitation.”
For the first time since you’d seen him, Garrick gave you a tiny smile in return. He needed no more convincing, and settled down under the sheets with you.
You thought it might be weird, being in bed with him. You’d known each other for a long time now, and part of that, you’d been dating his best friend, but you and Garrick’s relationship had always transpassed awkwardness.
It seemed like the easiest thing in the world to reach for his bicep and tug him over to you because he was already halfway there. His large arms wrapped around your waist, and he buried his face in the spot where your neck and shoulder met, his breath warm against your skin.
One of your hands drifted to his back, tracing lines and circles on his spine with your fingertips. The other buried in his soft curls like it was second nature, twisting the soft strands around your fingers and massaging the back of his scalp.
You felt any lingering tension in his body melt away as he tightened his grip around you, and the two of you just laid there like that for several moments, listening to the sound of each other’s breaths. His had become so even, you thought he had fallen asleep.
But then, his head lifted, and your whole body froze when you felt the softest brush of his lips against your jaw.
It was barely there, and you weren’t even sure if he’d done it on purpose, but it sent a ripple through you all the same. Heat bloomed under your skin, chasing down your spine. Your leg moved before you could think, hooking around his to keep him close, your fingers tightening in his hair.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice low and raw.
The sincerity in his tone, and the gratitude you felt pouring down the bond, almost knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d never felt someone need you this much.
“Any time you need me, Garrick Tavis.” You whispered, back. Your words steady even as your heart pounded against his chest. “Any time you need me, I’ll be there.”
He didn’t answer. But you felt it, the faintest tremor in his arms before his grip on you tightened, like he didn’t quite believe you, but desperately wanted to.
—-----------------
“Fuck, this tastes horrible.” You coughed, forcing the ale down. “How can you drink this?”
Garrick was all dimples when he responded, “Not all of us grow up on the finest wines on the continent, Princess.” He took another sip, but even you could spot the slight wince as he did.
You gasped in outrage, pointing your drink at him accusingly, “You liar! You can’t stand it either!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He took another sip, and winced even harder.
You let your back rest against the cold stone wall, a smirk on your lips as you reached out to poke his stomach with your toes. “Your pants should be on fire for that, Garrick Tavis.”
“There’s a few ladies I know that will tell you my pants are on fire, but not because of that.” Garrick made a show of brushing his hair back from his face slowly, sending you a flirty wink.
A very unlady-like, drunken snort left your lips. “Sounds like something you should get checked out. Not bragging about it.”
He shook his head, easing his own back against the wall he was resting against. “I can always count on you keeping me humble, sweetheart.”
You let the cold from the stone wall sink into your skin, a more genuine smile tugging at your lips as you watched him. His cheeks were flushed from the ale, his hair a wild mess from the wind, and his smile . . . gods, it had been too long since you’d seen that smile. One that wasn’t weighed down by grief or duty.
It made something warm flicker in your chest.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
His tone was teasing, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. For a heartbeat, the easy grin faltered, softened into something quieter.
You shrugged, the alcohol making honesty feel easy. “I like seeing you so at ease. Haven’t seen it in a while.”
He continued to look at you, that unreadable look that made it a little harder for you to breathe still in his eyes. “Haven’t seen you like this in a while either.”
As the memories of the past few months flooded your mind, you looked away, trying not to let them drown you. So much had changed, and you still felt like you were treading water in a storm that refused to calm.
Xaden had fallen in love with someone else.
Then you had basically forced Xaden to take you on a mission that ended with you fighting venin and wyvern. A mission that ended not only with you discovering the truth about Aretia, but also death.
Only to discover that part of that mission had been an attempt by your family to have you killed for not giving them information about what the marked ones had been up to.
You had known there would be consequences for all the false information and avoided confrontations you had done, you just hadn’t expected them to be that extreme.
You should have known better.
But you’d never forget the look on your father’s face when you appeared beside Garrick. Right before your name was called on the death roll.
Garrick was quiet for a long moment, rolling his mug between his palms. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Garrick’s voice startled you out of your memories, and you give him a confused look. “For what? Sneaking us this horrible ale?”
He shook his head, the smile fading from his lips. “For . . . gods I don't even know. Everything?”
You still didn’t understand. “Everything?”
“With your family. For having to kill your brother because of me. That you now have to keep this huge secret.” He paused, like he didn’t want to say the next words, “If you’d never had to save me, Beathas might not have chosen you. Then everything wouldn’t have happened with Xaden, and you wouldn’t be stuck here forced to watch while he falls in love with some other girl.”
The sight of Xaden and Violet together still hurt, it probably always would, but it didn’t have the power to hollow you out anymore.
“If you hadn’t saved me that day . . . maybe your life would’ve been easier.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “No Garrick Tavis dragging you into rebellions and heartbreak.”
You couldn’t help but blink at him, sure that you’d misheard. Garrick Tavis, doubting himself? The bond pulsed with guilt and uncertainty, so thick it made your chest ache.
“Garrick Tavis,” You paused, trying to find the right words. “Do you seriously think that I’ve ever thought for one second that my life would have been better without you in it?”
He shrugged, dropping his gaze to his hands that he was running up and down his thighs. “Wouldn’t it?”
It wasn’t often that this side of Garrick showed himself. He was generally confident and sure in everything he did. It was one of the things you admired most about him, knowing you could never be that brave.
Seeing him like this? So unsure? And knowing that you were inadvertently part of it?
You hated it, and needed to clear it up immediately.
“No,” You said quietly. “Actually, my life really fucking sucked before you came along.”
Those words made him meet your gaze, the smallest spark in his eyes.
“You’ve shown me friendship. Loyalty.” You hesitated, feeling your heartbeat pick up. “Love.”
HIs gaze caught yours at that, something unreadable flicking in his eyes. The word hung between you, warm and dangerous.
“I never really had any of that before, other than with Cam. And I’d do it all again. Over and over. Even though it led to all this.”
You gestured around you to the cold, filthy walls of Samara.
“I’d rather be sitting here, drinking shitty ale with you than trapped in that palace with the finest wines and silk sheets any day.” You admitted, something other than the alcohol making your cheeks flush. “Here with you, it’s real.”
He stared at you for so long you wanted to turn away, but you couldn’t, caught in his gaze like a moth to the flame. “You promise?” Garrick asked at last, his voice low enough to almost disappear between you.
You gave him a smile, holding your pinky finger out. “I don’t just promise. I swear.”
Garrick leaned forward, wrapping his much larger, warmer, finger around yours. “I swear to not make you ever regret it.”
Before you could argue that you never would, no matter what happened, he stole all the breath from your lungs.
Because Garrick Tavis eased his head down, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, closing his eyes with reverence as if you were Loial yourself, and he was a pilgrim come to worship.
Your eyes widened.
Your stomach flipped, dizzy with butterflies.
You were almost certain your heart forgot how to beat.
Gods . . . his lips were soft.
It wasn’t like before, when he’d kissed your jaw so gently that you weren’t sure if he’d meant to do it at all. No. This was deliberate.
And left you wonderstruck.
He opened his eyes, the green a sudden startling contrast against the brown as he looked at you. “Okay?” He asked, his thumb brushing over the spot his lips had just been.
You nodded before you could think, before you could breathe.
Because gods help you . . .
You were very much not okay.
—-----------------
Either sweat or blood dripped down your forehead. You didn’t have the strength to check. Your skin was burned, inside and out. Around you, the fire you’d raised for protection collapsed into smoke and ash; the ground at your feet bleached to gray.
The venin advanced with slow, satisfied steps, studying you like a specimen. “I’ll say this for you,” she purred, eyes roaming, “You fight better than the pampered princess I was expecting.”
“Not a Princess.” You forced the words out, each breath a rasp. Your hand found the hilt at your thigh and shook as you drew the dagger. “I’m a rider.”
She tsked, and the gray earth crawled closer. “Too bad you’ll be a dead one soon.”
Images flashed in your mind. Beathas’s gold eyes and appraising expression as you stand in front of your dead brother. Xaden’s reluctant, dangerous grin, illuminated by a fire. Aaric’s tight hug, and the relief you felt when you realized you had at least one family member left that still loved you.
Garrick. His hazel eyes, and the way his lips had pressed to your knuckles like a benediction.
Your drew the knife back, ready to throw it with everything you had left, but -
You never got the chance.
The warmth that flooded your mind wasn’t fire this time. It was steadier, quieter, amber instead of red, and it sank deep into your bones. You didn’t need to see him to know. You felt him. You fell back against his chest,and his arm wrapped around you, helping to support your exhausted body.
At that moment, you knew you were safe.
Your dagger slid from your hand to Garrick’s in one smooth motion. The next heartbeat, it was thrown with not only deadly speed, but accuracy.
You didn’t have to look to know that it met its mark.
You turned your head, gazing up into those gorgeous hazel eyes, looking down at you with the same relief that shone in yours. “You didn’t even let me throw it,” you rasped.
His fingers, now free from their weapon, slipped into yours. “You were taking too long.”
“So sorry. Next time I’ll try to be faster.” You shot back.
Your breath caught as he turned you around and leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours. His breath was uneven against your lips, and the world went quiet. The smell of smoke clung to him, but beneath it was that comforting smell you’d recognize anywhere. A scent that was purely him. “I’d really appreciate it.” He held your hand against his chest where you could feel his pounding heart against your fingers. “I’d hate for Beathas to burn me alive for letting her rider die.”
You shouldn’t have asked. You were terrified of the answer, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Is that the only reason?” You had to know. Were you overreacting? Were you imagining the looks, the touches - the kisses?
Did he . . . feel something more for you?
He hesitated for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to answer. His emotions were so strong you felt them radiating down your bond. The leftover panic, the relief of being reunited safely, but then - there was something else. Something warm and sweet. It wrapped around you like a blanket, soft and comforting.
“No,” he whispered, his hand flexing on your hip as if he was debating whether to pull you closer or not. “It’s not the only reason.”
Your heart lurched. Your stomach twisted in knots, and your fingers clenched so tightly around his that your knuckles turned white. While he had been close before, he was suddenly much closer, and your eyes couldn’t help but drift down to his lips. You could still feel the way that they had felt against your skin, and for a moment, just one moment, you wondered how they would feel pressed against yours.
His breath brushed your lips, close enough that your next exhale mingled with his. The world had gone silent. Everything seemed to hold its breath. One more inch. That’s all it would take. One more inch and you would know.
Then a dragon’s roar tore through the night.
It split the air, a sound so fierce it rattled through your bones. You flinched, the spell between you breaking as the ground itself seemed to tremble.
You didn’t need Beathas to tell you it was Sgaeyl.
His hand tightened around you, not to pull you closer, but to steady you. For a breath, neither of you moved, the weight of what almost happened hanging between you like smoke.
“Something’s wrong with Xaden,” he said, and this time the panic in his voice wasn’t for you.
You nodded, forcing your body to move even as your heart refused to. Because a part of you still felt the ghost of his breath on your lips, even as the night filled with dragons’ cries.
____________________
Everyone knew that you took early morning runs. It was the one routine you’d never given up, and just because you were at Basgaith helping teach a combat course didn’t mean that was going to stop.
What you didn’t expect though was to find Violet Sorrengail waiting at the end of the trail. She looked out of place in the dawn mist, nervous, but still holding that quiet determination that always reminded you she’d never really belonged to anyone’s shadow.
You came to a stop, breathing hard from the run, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you wasn’t hostile exactly. Just thick with everything that hadn’t been said. Finally, you raised your waterskin, took a long sip, and said evenly. “Can I help you, Sorrengail?”
Her fingers twisted around the strap of her satchel. “You can actually.”
You raised your eyebrows. You weren’t sure what surprised you more, that Violet Sorrengail had the nerve to ask you for help, or that you said you’d hear her out.
Twenty minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from her over breakfast, your mind spinning with all the new information she’d just told you about their last brief mission. “I can’t say I’m surprised by the fact that Halden almost got you all killed.” You said with a shrug. “You know his temper as well as I do.” You looked down at your plate, moving some of the food absentmindedly.
She nodded, and even though you could feel her eyes on you, you didn’t look up. “He’s going to get himself killed, or us if he keeps going on these missions.” She said, but there was an undercurrent to her voice that had your awareness sparking.
“Probably,” You admitted, biting your lip, “but you have to have a royal representative right?” You asked, still fiddling with your food even as your anxiety rose.
It was several heartbeats before she spoke again. “Yes, but . . . it doesn’t have to be him.”
You froze.
She couldn’t possibly be thinking of you -
“If you’re implying what I think you are.” You placed your fork down. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You think I want to ask you?” She leaned forward and whispered the words so no one else could hear. “I know how awkward it is. But Xaden still listens to you. Even if he won’t admit it. And I know you’re probably the smartest out of all the Tauri children. You’re not going to trigger Xaden like he will.”
You swallowed thickly as a wave of grief washed over you. Knowing how much Xaden had put at risk for everyone still made you feel sick to your stomach.
“I understand that you don’t want to be around us, but you’re still our best option -”
Your eyes flashed to hers, irritation flickering in your mind. “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” You snapped at her. “All I’ve cared about for a long time is Xaden’s happiness. Gods, I’ve seen enough of him to know that he deserves it.”
Violet nodded like the two of you had come to some sort of agreement. “Then you’ll step in as the royal representative?”
You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re more like Mira every day, do you realize that?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s a terrible idea. My family is already pissed at me. Both my father and Halden have tried to have me killed. Do you really think they won’t try again? Maybe it’ll even be easier if I’m outside the wards?” The words stung your chest, but you knew they were true. “And what if the rest of you are caught in the crossfire?”
“We’re going to be in it either way.” Violet said, her tone calm, but her eyes pleading. “The question is whether you’ll be at our side or sitting on the sidelines watching and hoping Aaric and Garrick come back unscathed.”
Her words made your heart plummet right to your chest. Aaric and Garrick? They couldn’t possibly be . . .
Almost as if she could read your mind, Violet spoke again. “Aaric is determined to go if you don’t, and you know as well as I do that none of us are able to stop him if that’s what he wants.”
Gods, she was right.
“And Garrick . . . I need someone there to help keep an eye on Xaden.”
Your hands started to shake on the table. You should have assumed this was coming. There was a limited number of people who knew about Xaden’s . . . condition, and you should have known someone else that knew would have to go to help keep him in check. “How long?” Your voice was barely audible, even to your own ears.
But Violet heard you anyway. “At least a month.”
A month.
A whole month without knowing if your brother, your last true remaining family member was still alive.
A month without Garrick at your side.
You wanted to say no. You almost did.
But your chest felt like it was caving in, ribs tightening until every breath scraped raw. Going that long without knowing . . . It would be like trying to survive without lungs to breathe in any air.
You couldn’t do it.
“When do we leave?”
____________________
You didn’t like this place. No matter how beautiful the beaches were.
For one, not being able to talk to Beathas left a giant void in your chest, and it was only made worse by not being able to sense Garrick as well. He was a quiet, constant awareness you hadn’t realized you’d come to depend on until it was gone. You found yourself looking for him and reaching for his touch as if you needed to be reminded that he was there.
Thankfully, he seemed happy to oblige, reassuring you with a hand on the small of your back or a brush of his fingers against yours. It eased your mind, but not enough.
This place reminded you too much of home. Beautiful, but hollow beneath the surface. Everything was monochrome, and nothing but the ocean stood out. It made you uneasy, and eager to get out of here.
Finding out Xaden’s mother was here only made it worse.
There were similarities in their appearances, but as you looked at her, you couldn’t help the flash of anger that burned through you, sharp and protective on Xaden’s behalf, pissed off that he had to find out his mother had a whole other family this way. A family that she seemed to have happily left him for.
Even though you couldn’t speak to him down your bond, you could sense Garrick’s anger as well. It wasn’t possessive, not territorial, but directed squarely at the injustice of it all.
You stayed quiet mostly, observing the interactions among everyone and trying to rid yourself of the feeling of wanting to crawl out of your skin.
“We’re ignoring an obvious answer here. After all, we have a Princess of Navarre, and from what I’ve heard, they already had a . . . working relationship.”
Your eyes shot to Xaden’s across the table, startled that they seemed to know your history.
“It would show great wisdom and dedication to their respective titles were they to contract for three . . . say four years?” Faris said, looking at the other members of the triumvirate.
“Long enough to secure an heir for Tyrrendor and Navarre.”
Two years ago, the thought would have steadied you instead of stealing the breath from your lungs. You had loved that man sitting across from you and would have done anything for him.
Now the thought of being married to him made your stomach turn.
Garrick, sitting beside you, huffed a sarcastic laugh. “If bloodlines equaled allegiance, we wouldn’t be sitting here under interrogation.” Garrick’s hand slid to your knee under the table, giving it a sharp squeeze, grounding, possessive, a silent don’t panic. “He is your son, right?” He asked, glancing at Xaden’s mother.
“A contract marriage would be most wise,” Nairi agreed with a nod, ignoring Garrick. “We could have the legalities performed in the morning at the temple, and then hear what will, no doubt, be a plea for our assistance in their war tomorrow afternoon.”
Panic rose in your chest at what they were suggesting, and your hand reached for Garrick’s on top of your knee. “Except we are both clearly involved with other people.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to press against your ribs. You could feel Garrick’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you didn’t look at him, instead you kept your eyes on Xaden. For the briefest moment, you could have sworn that his lip tilted up in the smallest, knowing smirk.
“Draw up the papers.” Xaden said, gripping the back of Violet’s chair.
Um . . . what?
Everyone was staring at him now. Mira gawking and Violet looking like she was moments from spewing her dinner across the table.
“Ah, there we go!” Faris claps twice. “What an excellent decision. Shall we go with three or four years?”
“Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable.”
“Xaden!” You finally spared a glance for Garrick who looked about three seconds away from launching himself over the table and attacking his best friend. “There’s no way -”
The man didn’t seem at all bothered though. Instead, he seemed more amused. “And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two R’s.”
You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until it left you in a rush. You settled back against your chair, some of the tension melting out of the room.
Xaden looked back at Violet, and you couldn’t help but smile just a little at the affection in his eyes. “My last name is tied to the title, but we could take yours?” He offered.
“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggested lightly, though his thumb traced steady circles against your knee. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”
“That is not what they meant.” Violet whispered at Xaden.
“I don’t give a fuck what they meant,” he responded at full volume as he faced the triumvirate. “You may question our knowledge, test our honor or dedication as riders and fliers. Serve up riddles, fake scenarios, chess games for all I care. But if you think I’m going to leave the only woman I’ve ever loved to contract marriage with another woman, even one I consider one of my closest friends, then the lack of wisdom is yours, not mine.”
A wave of affection, fond, uncomplicated, and entirely free of old hurt moved through you, much more relaxed than you had been moments ago. “Agreed,” you added, leaning the slightest bit closer to Garrick. It was almost like you couldn’t help it. Whenever tension crept in, your body sought him out before your mind even realized why.
Right now was no exception. The tension at the table had you missing your bond with Garrick every second, wishing you could just speak to him to help calm your nerves.
Somehow, he seemed to understand though. As the rest of the conversation continued around you, he kept his hand on your knee, calming you with his touch until dessert arrived.
You didn’t think you’d ever seen someone so happy to eat chocolate cake. He was devouring it even as Cat dropped her silverware, and it rattled on the plate.
Until Violet yelled at him to stop.
Then something changed.
Garrick’s smile faltered.
His hand slipped from your knee as he wobbled in his chair. “I feel . . . I feel -”
His eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed, falling toward the table.
You moved before the thought existed, catching his head inches before it struck the table.
Voices erupted around you. Chairs scraped. Someone shouted his name, maybe Xaden, but the sound reached you warped and distant, like you were underwater.
Your free hand fumbled for his pulse, searching, slipping, pressing harder until . . .
Nothing.
Panic clawed up your throat.
Then -
There.
Yes. There it was. Sluggish, but there.
He wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
Your eyes swung frantically to Xaden’s, the only person in this room who looked as terrified as you felt. “He’s got a pulse, but - but I don’t think he’s breathing.” You said, trying to keep the panic from swallowing you whole.
Xaden nodded, and hooked his arms under Garrick’s shoulders, hauling him from the chair and laying him out on the floor to kneel beside him. “You need to get him breathing.” Xaden told you. His voice was calm, controlled but his eyes . . . they were anything but.
Turning around quickly, your eyes found Dain’s. “Get Trager!” You ordered him.
Dain didn’t argue. He ran.
Without wasting another second, you pinched Garrick’s nose and sealed your mouth over his, forcing air into his lungs.
His lips were cold.
Wrong.
Completely wrong.
But his chest rose under your palm.
Gods, you’d never wished for your bonds more in your life. The silence where your bonds should have been felt like missing limbs. You needed Beathas’s reassuring words, Chradh’s teasing voice -
Garrick’s warm and safe presence -
What if - What if you never heard his laugh again -
No.
You shoved the thought away before it could finish forming. You were not about to lose him. You’d saved his life before. You’d do it again.
Because whether your dragons had bonded the two of you or not, there was no world, none, where Garrick Tavis wasn’t beside you.
Malek wasn’t taking him. Not today. Not when there was still so much you hadn’t had the chance to say.
Not before you told him -
“Keep breathing for him.” Trager arrived then, placing his hand on Garrick’s sternum, forcing all his weight down.
You didn’t hesitate. You drew in another breath and gave it to him.
Again.
And again.
You would keep breathing for him as long as it took.
Stay with me.
Even though it was dark, you screamed it down the silent bond.
Please don’t leave me.
Hands closed around your shoulders, dragging you back before you even realized someone was touching you. You fought it for half a second, panic clawing up your throat, until you heard Xaden’s voice close to your ear.
“It’s shallow, but he’s breathing.” Xaden whispered in your ear even though he still sounded miles away. “Violet’s got it figured out.”
Violet? You hadn’t even realized she’d left the room.
“I’ve got to make him drink this, okay?” It had been so long since Xaden had spoken so gently to you. You weren’t sure if that made you more afraid or calmer. “I’m going to put him on his side, and you hold his head.”
That, you could do. You nodded, and as soon as Xaden got him rolled over, you cradled his head in your lap, your fingers curling into his hair, smoothing it back from his face. The same absent gesture you’d made a hundred times when he teased you for worrying too much. Your free hand found his wrist, your thumb pressing on his pulse point. Reassuring yourself that he was still alive while Xaden and Dain forced the mixture down his throat.
Your thumb pressed harder against his pulse, counting every uneven beat.
You couldn’t lose him.
Not Garrick. Not the person who felt like home even when nothing else did.
The truth hovered just out of reach, terrifying and undeniable -
Garrick sputtered, spitting some of the mixture out, but his eyes flashed open. They were unfocused at first, frantic, until they landed on you.
His brow burrowed faintly, like he was trying to understand why you looked so terrified.
“Oh Gods,” You breathed, the words breaking apart as relief hit so hard your hands started shaking.
Xaden yelled at Garrick to wake the fuck up and drink it. It took Garrick four big swallows, but then the cup was drained and his head fell back into your lap. His eyes found yours for a single, unfocused second, recognition flickering there, before they slid closed again, his head falling back into your lap.
You glanced up at Violet, panic turning your stomach sour, but she gave you a reassuring look. “Give it time,” she said gently. “We’re under the hour mark. He’ll be all right.”
You nodded automatically, even though your body refused to believe her. It took everything in you to hold back the sob that desperately wanted to escape your throat. Instead, you leaned down before you even realized what you were doing, pressing your forehead against Garrick’s as your fingers tightened around his hand. “Come on, Gar. I need you to wake back up.” You whispered against his forehead, leaving a soft kiss against his skin. You needed to see those eyes again.
Because the thought of a world without them, without him, felt unbearably wrong.
Time dragged.
Every second his eyes stayed closed tightened something in your chest. Even though Violet told you he would be fine, every passing moment his eyes weren’t open your anxiety rose.
But they had to open. He had to -
A low groan broke the silence.
Your head snapped up.
“This is my least favorite isle.”
Tears spilled over before you could stop them, relief hitting so hard it almost hurt.
Gods, there were so many things you wanted to say. Needed to say. But all that came out of your mouth was, “don’t ever do that again.”
Garrick’s smile was weak, but it deepened slightly when he realized whose lap his head was in. “Don’t worry. No plans for that.” He groaned again as Xaden and Trager helped you sit him up.
Xaden stepped back, watching the two of you for a long, assessing moment before turning away, relief softening the tension in his shoulders.
“You didn’t win,” Faris snapped.
“You’re dying. I think that qualifies you as the loser.” Violet said, sliding off the table she was perched on.
The words shattered the fragile calm settling over you.
Heat flooded your veins, not fear this time, but fury. Your hands turned into clenched fists, nails digging into your palms so hard you might be bleeding.
They had almost taken him from you.
For sport.
For a lesson.
As if Xaden came to the realization at the same time as you, he jumped to his feet and shoved Faris against the wall, fist cracking against Faris’s jaw. “You poisoned him?” Xaden slammed him into the wall again. “You tried to poison her?” He nodded back toward Violet, as he pulled a blade from his thigh and set it at Faris’s neck.
You didn’t remember drawing your dagger.
You only knew it was suddenly buried in the wall beside Faris’s head, slicing the edge of his ear. You joined Xaden’s side, a second knife poking Faris’s side. “I could have you executed for that. Poisoning the princess of Navarre.”
Faris gave a humorless laugh. “You’re disowned.”
You pressed the dagger harder into his skin. “Maybe, but my father loves resources more than pride. And he loves teaching a lesson more than either.” You pressed the blade harder into his side. “You gambled with his life?” You nodded toward Garrick, still pale but watching. Your blade pierced Faris’s side just enough to nick the skin. “What if I gamble with yours?”
Faris tried to look unimpressed, but his throat bobbed beneath Xaden’s blade. Xaden, standing beside you, saw the sign of fear as well. “Seems reasonable.” He added, his blade shining in the light against Faris’s neck.
“Whoa, whoa.” Ridoc’s voice broke through your haze of anger. “We can’t kill potential allies, even if they suck.”
Xaden turned his head slowly toward Ridoc.
There was no heat in his expression. No fury.
Just calculation.
Violet stepped in at the same time as a hand slid around your waist, warm, steady, and real. Garrick’s tired, pale face looked at you from behind your shoulder, giving a faint shake of his head. All of the fight seemed to leave your body as you let him tug you into his chest.
“As much as I appreciate the effort,” Garrick’s hoarse voice murmured in your ear. “I can’t let you start a war for me.”
You swallowed.
Because the terrifying part wasn’t that he was wrong.
It was that he wasn’t.
You would have done it.
Without hesitation.
Because you -
“You two go outside and get your shit together.” Violet said to you and Xaden before turning her attention all on him. “Come back to me when you’re you.”
Xaden held Violet’s gaze for a long, unreadable second, but then he pushed away from Faris, lowering his blade, and stormed past everyone outside.
You followed him, hands trembling.
The truth was no longer distant or deniable.
You had almost lost him. Again.
The thought of that had broken something open inside of you.
Something so all consuming that you’d never be able to hide it.
Your legs gave out halfway across the sand, dropping you to your knees. You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed with your emotions.
“Have you realized it yet?”
Xaden’s voice made you look up, and his expression, ice cold moments ago, had softened, knowing now as he watched you.
You swallowed, and even though you had the feeling you already knew the answer, you asked the question anyway. “Realized what?”
There it was again, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, like he already knew the answer too.
“How much you love him.”
He said it so casually. Like it wasn’t a life altering moment, merely a simple observation.
Like your world hadn’t just shifted on its axis because Garrick Tavis almost died.
“I can’t think of a better person for you.” He said quietly. “And I can’t think of anyone who deserves you more.”
Sometimes it was easy to forget that someone else knew you almost as well as Garrick did. Someone you’d spent years beside, someone who not only knew your history, but was a part of it.
Someone you once believed you were in love with.
You’d never thought that you’d care if Xaden approved of you being in a new relationship, but now that he had voiced he did . . .
It meant more than you’d expected it to.
You swallowed the emotions down again, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, as you made yourself ask the question you were now desperate for the answer for. “Do you . . . do you think he loves me too?”
Before he could answer though, something behind you caught his attention. “You’re going to have to ask him that yourself.”
Xaden helped you to your feet, and you turned -
Garrick, being helped by Trager, was walking toward you.
This time, you didn’t pretend you didn’t feel it -
The way your heart raced.
The way your body pulled toward him.
The way you wanted to kiss him.
The right way this time.
You closed the distance between you before you could second guess it, hurriedly slipping an arm around his waist to help support his weight. “You shouldn’t be walking.” You chided him, even though some of the tension in your chest loosened as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
“I’m fine, and I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” He grumbled, his voice still rough from the poison.
Letting out a sigh, you glanced back over at Trager. “I’ll wait with him until Chradh gets here. Do you care to go get our stuff?”
“On it,” Trager said, giving Garrick a pat on his shoulder. “Glad you’re okay man.”
Garrick nodded, and Xaden approached then. “I’m going back in there with Violet. You two need to talk.” He said, giving you a meaningful look that made your heart jump as anxiety coiled in your chest.
Garrick’s brow furrowed at Xaden’s words, and then he turned back to you, studying your expression. He frowned. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” He murmured, brushing his thumb under your eye.
You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he swept the tears away.
You lifted a hand to swat at his chest, but your fingers curled into his shirt instead, dragging him closer as you faced him. “You almost died. Of course they’re for you.”
He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into the touch without thinking, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm. “I’m okay,” he said softly, his gaze searching yours.
“But you almost weren’t.” Your voice broke on the words, your fingers curling into fists. “If - if Violet hadn’t figured out what the poison was-”
“She did-”
“But what if she hadn’t?!” Your voice cracked, staring into his eyes like it might be the last time you saw them.
The thought of losing him had been unbearable.
Because he wasn’t just your friend.
He was -
“Garrick, if you died-”
“I’ve almost died dozens of times before.” Garrick shook his head, clearly not understanding your distress. “What makes this time so different?”
“Because I didn’t know I was in love with you then!”
The words burst out of you without thought, without hesitation, and they left you with a strange mixture of relief and fear.
Relief that you’d said them. That you didn’t have to keep pushing the truth down anymore.
But fear that he didn’t feel the same.
That fear only deepened as Garrick stared at you, his eyes wide, lips parting slightly like the air had been knocked from his lungs.
“You . . . what?”
For a heartbeat, you considered taking it back. Pretending the words had never left your mouth. Pretending you hadn’t just handed him the power to break your heart.
But you couldn’t hide it. Not anymore.
You don’t want to.
“I’m in love with you.” You whispered, but Garrick was already shaking his head.
“You don’t have to say this just because I almost died -”
“I’m not!” You insisted. You had to make him understand. Now that you’d said the hardest thing, the rest came spilling out. “Gods, Garrick when I saw you lying there -” You took a shuddering breath. “It was like my soul had been - had been ripped out of my body. It felt like that before too, but I - I didn’t know why..”
He opened his mouth to argue again, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“And it’s not because of the bond. I can’t feel it right now, and you know that.” You pressed your hand over his chest, right on his pounding heart. “I felt it here. I was so fucking scared.” Your voice broke. “I don’t - I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not beside me. None of this would matter. None of this would be worth it if I couldn’t love you -”
For a moment, the world seemed to stop moving.
Because after what felt like an eternity, Garrick’s hand slid into your hair -
and he kissed you.
It was like a comet.
His lips consumed every part of you and left only longing in their wake. Longing for him to be closer, for his hands and lips to explore every part of you..
For him to never stop kissing you.
His grip tightened slightly in your hair while the other slid to the small of your back, pressing you against him until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Like he was afraid if he let go, you might disappear. Like he wanted the distance gone just as badly as you did.
But you didn’t think that was possible.
Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, like they’d been meant to do this all along. There was no awkward fumbling or clumsy missteps. Only instinct.
And something deeper.
A quiet sort of rightness in the way the two of you fit together.
This is what you had dreamed about. This was the kind of kiss that you thought only existed in dreams.
You hadn’t realized kissing could actually be like this.
When he pulled away, you chased his lips, not wanting the moment to end. He let them brush yours once more before resting his forehead against yours.
His eyes, darker than you’d ever seen them, searched your face as if he were looking for something.
“You love me?” He asked again, his fingers tightening against your back.
Your hands slid up his chest to cup his cheeks, and you nodded. “I really do.” There was no hesitation in your voice now. The words felt solid. Certain.
You loved Garrick Tavis.
His eyes closed, and one of his dimpled smiles appeared. “You have no idea -” His nose brushed gently against yours. “How badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
You couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers now slipping into his soft hair. “Probably as badly as I want to hear you say it.”
Garrick opened his eyes again, and you practically melted at the affection you saw there.
“I love you too.” His thumb brushed away another tear from your cheek. “Fuck, sweetheart. Every day I wake up grateful you saved my life back at threshing . . . if only because it brought you to me.”
“Me too,” you whispered, tears slipping down your face again, but this time for a completely different reason.
Because even here, on this awful island, after almost losing him -
You were happy.
Garrick loved you.
You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve him. Maybe you never would.
But Gods, you would spend the rest of your life trying to be worthy of him.
Because somewhere along the way, saving his life had turned into loving him.
The world around you faded, the crashing waves, the distant voices, the chaos of the island.
This time, you were the one who pulled him back down into another kiss.
A kiss that promised you weren’t ever going to let him go.
a/n: happy one year of wheat in wartime! i can't believe this has been going for a whole year already, and i'm so excited to see what the rest of this year will bring!!
masterlist | ao3
—
Don't let your guard down for a second. You don't just have to watch out for dragons; Threshing is one of the last times cadets get to prove themselves to a dragon, and that makes them desperate. Hold your own, and remember: living to try again next year is better than not living at all.
— Unsent Correspondence of Cadet Liam Mairi
—
"You don't need to come with me," I sign to Sloane as she tugs the pack full of Lizbeth's things higher up on her shoulders. The training she's done with Imogen has done wonders for her—not just her fighting and footwork, but the way she carries herself is more confident than when she first walked into my room almost three months ago.
"And you don't need to do this by yourself," she says back, her eyes unyielding. "C'mon, Aaric is waiting for us."
Dain tracked me down after dinner and told me the parents of my last three first years sent back missives about their kids: none of them want their things sent back home. As their Squad Leader, it's my responsibility to get their things packed and burned—but Aaric and Sloane aren't letting me do it alone.
He volunteered to pack up Everett's things, since, out of the three of us, he's the only one that actually knows where he slept. He's waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, and doesn't say anything as I lead both of them to the academic wing, up the stairs, and to the burn pit.
Sloane immediately winces as the heat of the fire hits us all full force when I open the door. "Fuck, that's hot."
I step up to the edge of the drum, pull Kit's pack off my shoulders, and toss the entire thing into the burn pit.
Malek be with you.
Sloane follows suit, tossing Lizbeth's pack in next, and murmurs a quiet, "Watch over her."
Aaric goes last, with no reverence whatsoever. He drops the pack in the drum and flips it, and the sky, off. "Rot in hell, prick."
The cool breeze cutting through the evening air doesn't bite as hard with the burn pit at the center of the turret, and with the sunset turning the sky radiant oranges and pinks, I'm not ready to go back inside. I walk around the burning drum until I'm at the edge of the turret, then I carefully sit down and let my feet dangle over the edge. Sloane and Aaric sit down on either side of me after a moment, and the three of us just sit in silence and watch the sunset.
Sloane breaks the quiet first. "What was your Threshing like?"
Finn Gladdon's sneer flashes in my mind for a second. "Brutal," I sign back. "I almost died."
"Really?"
I lean back and lift my uniform top to show them the scar from Finn Gladdon's dagger hiding in my relic. "I was actively bleeding out when Astar finally claimed me. We were the last bonded pair to land in the valley, and both of us were covered in blood at that point."
"Did you know?" Aaric asks, his hand rubbing at his sternum. "Did you have a feeling, after Presentation?"
"He wasn't at Presentation." I smile slightly at their wide eyes. "I don't think he wanted to give anyone else the idea that they could fight for his attention—he'd already chosen me." Then a real, true smile spreads across my face. "Plus, it made for a very dramatic entrance, which I think was his only goal." I look at both of them, at their furrowed brows and worked-over bottom lips, and my heart aches for them. They're scared. And they should be; Threshing is terrifying. But I can't let them go to sleep tonight with their worries so heavy on their shoulders.
They're my family.
"All you have to do tomorrow is live." I look at my brother with a soft smile, then meet Sloane's beautiful blue eyes. "Bond, don't bond, doesn't matter: just make it to sundown."
She swallows thickly. "Liam made it sound so easy in his letters—"
"You don't have to be your brother, Sloane. Being you is more than enough."
She subtly wipes away the tears starting to brim in her eyes, then she huffs and rests her head on my shoulder. "That was cheesy."
I just lean my head against hers and pat her leg with one hand, hold Aaric's with the other, and settle in the warm feeling of home.
—
I haven't taken my eyes off the growing line of freshly-bonded riders since I came back from my watch shift to the hillside Fourth Wing has claimed for the day. Sloane and Aaric haven't returned to the flight field yet, and my stomach turns more and more the lower the sun sinks in the sky.
Please be alive. I just need them to be alive.
"You look like you're going to throw up," Ridoc mutters as he walks up beside me. "Shouldn't you be celebrating your last day as Squad Leader?"
I huff out a breath. "Not a squad left to celebrate leaving."
He turns back to the field just as a Brown Daggertail lands, the rider—Visia—dismounting with a proud smile on her face. "At least you'll be back with us tomorrow, then, right?"
Not if Varrish has anything to do with it. But I don't tell him that. I just look at him with a small smile and sign, "Thank the gods for that."
Wingbeats of another dragon sound in the sky, but I don't bother looking until Astar is in my head saying, "Look up."
The sapphire scales of a familiar Blue Clubtail shine in the setting sun as he flies into the valley. "He bonded?"
Astar hums. "Keep watching."
Astar's twin descends and lands gracefully next to the Brown Daggertail, and I watch as my brother stands and dismounts from his back like he's done it a hundred times.
I choke on my breath. "Aaric?"
"A fitting bond, don't you think?"
I can't contain the smile spreading on my face. I meet Ridoc's eyes and he smiles back at me. "One less thing to worry about, right?"
"Your other charge lands."
I look back to the flight field and see a Red Daggertail the color of strawberries land beside my brother, and Sloane Mairi dismounts from the seat.
Red Daggertail. Just like Liam.
"Make that two," I sign, finally feeling like I can take a breath.
A whisper of our names pulls me and Ridoc over to Violet and Rhiannon where they stand close together. "It's from Jesinia," Violet whispers, gesturing to the paper in Rhi's hands.
My heart starts to thunder in my chest. Since Violet told the rest of our yearmates the truth about what happened during War Games, they've been helping us read through the books Jesinia sneaks out of the Archives while the scribe searches for the sublevel vault holding Warrick and Lyra's journals. Every note she sends us gets us one step closer to finding what we need—the answers are so close I can almost taste them.
Rhi opens the sealed missive, then sucks in a breath. "Jesinia requests we meet her by the Archives door in fifteen minutes. She has a tome we've requested." She reads our code phrase slowly, excitement growing in her eyes. "She's found the vault."
Violet frowns. "I have the next watch, and Threshing is almost over. You two have Squad Leader duties," she says to me and Rhiannon.
"I'll take your watch," Ridoc offers quietly.
She shakes her head. "And give Varrish a reason for me not to see Xaden this weekend? No way."
"Then I'll meet Jesinia." He takes the missive Rhi offers him. "Sawyer can cover us here." He squeezes my elbow with a smile, then takes off with Violet down the hill and toward the Citadel.
I nudge Rhiannon with my shoulder, both of us also starting down for the flight field. "Ready to be done?"
"With reading musty books? Or Threshing?"
"Both."
She breathes out a chuckle. "Hell yes. I'm so excited to sleep tonight, with no responsibilities over my head."
"No celebrating with Tara?" I sign with an arched brow.
"I didn't say that," she whispers back, winking at me as we part ways.
She keeps walking to Feirge, but I catch up to Sloane on her way back to her dragon from the rollkeeper, and smile brightly at her. "You bonded."
Her entire face lights up. "I bonded!" She pulls me into a hug, but it ends quickly when I involuntarily hiss at the pressure on my broken ribs. "Sorry. I bonded!" She gestures to the Red Daggertail. "Thoirt. She definitely didn't make it easy."
"Most of them don't." I squeeze her shoulder. "She picked well."
Sloane pulls me into another hug. "Thank you. For, just..."
I smile at her, heartache blooming beneath my ribs. "I'm here when you need me." Then I nod at her dragon. "Go celebrate."
She runs off with a smile, hugging Visia, and I keep going down the line until I see Aaric.
He meets me halfway and lifts me off the ground in a hug. "I love you, you know that?"
The question is obviously rhetorical, since he doesn't put me down for an answer, but I wrap my arms tighter around him all the same.
"You should move, or you'll be squished underfoot," Astar warns.
I don't know if he said it to both of us, or if Aaric's dragon says something similar, but regardless, he puts me down and pulls me closer to his dragon.
"Good choice," I sign to the Blue Clubtail.
"Not that I needed your approval, but thank you." I gasp at the voice that enters my head, my eyes wide.
I didn't know he could do that.
His voice isn't as deep as Astar's, but it's just as resonant. "You can call me Molvic."
The large dining table in my mental grounding of the castle kitchens lights up with a sapphire blue glow emanating from the wood. I speak directly to it. "Nice to officially meet you, Molvic."
The bells at the Citadel ring out for seven o'clock: only one hour left before the professors will collect all of the unbonded cadets from the valley. I look at Aaric and smile widely at him. "I have to go. I'm so proud of you."
He pulls me into another hug. "I love you, Joey." Then he lets me go and waves me away. "Go be responsible, or whatever."
"Love you too."
I report back to the leadership that all of my first years—not that I have any—are accounted for, then I walk up to Astar and let him block the October wind blowing through the flight field. "Does he know you're twins?"
"Molvic will tell him. I anticipate this being a long night for all of us, full of questions and explanations. But now everything is on the Prince's timeline."
My breath catches in my throat. Aaric has the same risk to his life that I did when I channeled from Astar the first time.
He might not survive this.
"He will. It will be easier for him," Astar says matter-of-factly. "You have already done it."
—
Violet pulls all of us into her room after Threshing. Rhiannon, Sawyer, and I came straight here as soon as it ended, all of our dragons passing on urgent messages from her and Ridoc. She doesn't bother with pleasantries, either, not when she's covered in blood.
"Eya's dead."
My eyes go wide and my stomach drops to the floor.
"Aetos sent four infantry after us at the top of the Academic Tower when I took over her watch." She swallows thickly. "Jack Barlowe saved my life."
"I know," she whispers. "I don't believe it either."
I meet Violet's eyes, and I know she's thinking the same thing. There's just six of us now—only six left from Resson.
Ridoc clears his throat, and we all look at him. "On the bright side, Jesinia found the journals." He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "Only problem is, they're not just in a sub-level vault—they're in the Royal vault. And only someone in King Tauri's bloodline can get through them."
My heart starts beating out of my chest and blood rushes past my ears. Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit—
Violet looks at me, but she doesn't say anything, to me or to anyone else.
My secret to tell, then.
There's no way I can't tell them. The Aretian wards are more important than my identity.
"Maybe Markham has access to the vault?"
But it's not just my identity on the line.
"Would we be able to somehow unweave the wards?"
I trust every person in this room with my life. With my brother's life. Them knowing who I am doesn't change the fact that I know they'd protect that secret with their lives, regardless if they didn't trust me anymore.
"What if we could change the wards?"
And that's all that matters, isn't it?
"We won't need to."
Violet sucks in a breath. All four of them turn to me.
"I can get inside."
Ridoc's brows scrunch together in confusion. "Concealment doesn't work on wards, though."
"Doesn't need to." I look at Rhiannon, then Sawyer, and settle on Ridoc. Gods, I hope they don't hate me for this. "I'm Josefyne Tauri."
The room is deadly quiet. I look between the three of them, and Violet does the same, but none of them say anything. Sawyer opens and closes his mouth, his expression turning more and more confused each time he does. Rhi's eyebrows are at the top of her forehead. And Ridoc's lips are pursed, his eyes narrowed.
Rhi speaks up first. "So Aaric—"
"Camlaen Tauri," I sign back.
"Aren't you supposed to be dying in Calldyr City right now?" Ridoc asks, though it's not much of a question, not with the venom he spits the words out with.
"I was never sick." I gesture to my neck, to the raised scars all along the front. "Just an elaborate lie to hide me away."
Sawyer settles on a frown. "Why did you two come to Basgiath? Why keep it a secret?"
I sit on the edge of Violet's armchair and sigh. "The King won't do anything about the venin, and neither of us think he's a stellar role model, so we decided to take matters into our own hands. As for the secret, if Aaric's discovered, the King will collect him and take him back to Calldyr. If I'm discovered, he'll have me killed for impersonating a Royal and do away with me for good."
Rhi tilts her head in question. "Why kill you? Why not just take you home?"
"And let all of Navarre know he's been hiding me away in the castle, in perfectly good health, my whole life?" I scoff. "His entire time in power has been built on one lie after another—revealing one would reveal the rest, and he can't afford that."
"Have any other secrets you'd like to share?" Ridoc's voice is dangerously quiet. "Because I'd hate to be the last to know. Again." He clears the room in two strides and slams the door behind him as he walks out.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, my elbows resting on my knees, trying to keep the tears burning at the edge of my vision at bay.
"He'll come around," Sawyer promises quietly.
I don't know if he will.
"He will," Astar says firmly. "The boy is loyal."
"Would you be loyal to someone who keeps breaking your trust?"
He grumbles, but he doesn't respond, and that's all the answer I need.
Fuck.
"I don't want to do anything without Xaden," Violet says to the room after several moments of silence. "He'll be pissed if we steal the journals without him."
"It'll take time," Rhiannon agrees. "And more than just the five of us."
"And Jesinia will have to be involved in the planning, at least some of it. She'll be our way in," Sawyer says.
"Meet us on the flight field," Astar instructs. He doesn't give a timeline, so I know I don't have to go immediately, but he's also giving me an out from this conversation, and I'm going to take it.
I press my hands tighter against my eyes, then stand from the armchair with a sigh. "I have to go, but I want to help with the planning."
Violet nods. "Okay. We'll meet up again, talk strategy."
I nod back, glancing between the three of them, then slip out of the room and head down the hall, Concealed the entire way.
Aaric and Molvic are already on the flight field, but not Astar. "Where are you?"
"Making a dramatic entrance." Az lands beside Molvic as soon as I stand beside my brother, making the ground shake beneath us.
"He does like a dramatic entrance," Aaric murmurs to me. He looks between the dragons, and I can see him realizing the similarities between the two: the horn shape and length, the scale pattern, claw size and shape. The only differences are their pigments and their tails. At the end of his assessment, he purses his lips. "Twin brothers. It's ironic."
"Yes, it is," I sign with a slight smile. "Especially because they make our lives more difficult."
"Rude," Astar growls lightly.
Aaric's eyes go wide, then he looks up at Astar. "Did you—?"
"Yes, Princeling."
He looks back at me, his jaw slack. "What the fuck?"
I smile at him. "Mindfuck, right?"
"You can talk to each other, as we do," Molvic says to us.
My eyes go wide. "Really?" I look at the Clubtail and frown. "How?"
"Follow the connection."
I refrain from rolling my eyes at him, and close my eyes. Unless Aaric's learned how to ground in the last two hours, I'll have better luck at finding the connection between us.
I find myself back in the castle kitchens. Astar is where he always is, in the range, his white glow of power behind the oven door. Molvic is the blue power radiating from the table behind me, but there's a third presence that hasn't broken through. I follow the connection around the room as it loops in and doubles back on itself, until it ends at the pantry door. A faint green light shines through the slit on the floor, and I press my hand to the wood.
"Cam?"
He gasps, and I open my eyes. "Was...was that you?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"I've..." Tears pool in his eyes. "I've never heard your voice before."
I press myself against the door while I wrap a hand around his wrist. "It's nice to finally get to talk to you."
He chokes out a laugh, tears freely falling down his face. "I don't know how to do it back."
"I can teach you."
We spend the next hour and a half going over grounding and finding all three connections in his mental space. It takes him just as long to start blocking Molvic out as it did me for Astar, and I take the time to block Molvic out as well. All it takes is a tablecloth thrown over the wood to dull the bright blue glow coming from it, and locking the pantry door leading to Aaric, turning the wood door into glass.
When his eyes open and he keeps his mental footing, he sighs with relief. "That was exhausting."
I smile at him. "Good thing you have such a good teacher, or else that would've taken forever."
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
Both of our dragons huff, pulling grins to our faces. They rise from their laid positions until they're up on all fours, then they snap at each other, knocking horns.
The conversation I had before coming here hits me in full force when I stand up. "You should know..." I sigh heavily. "I told Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Ridoc who I am. Who we are."
He stiffens. "Why?"
"Because we're breaking into the Royal Vault in the Archives to steal Warrick and Lyra's journals."
He sputters. "What?"
"The books Jesinia has gotten for us don't have the information we need to activate the wardstone in Aretia. These are the best chance we have of figuring out how to do that."
"It's a suicide mission."
"Maybe. But so is fighting this war."
He sighs, shaking his head. "So, when do we break in?"
"We?" My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. "This wasn't an invitation."
"If you think I'm going to let you risk your life to steal from Dad by yourself, you're out of your mind." He cups my jaw and wipes his thumb across my cheek. "Your ribs haven't even healed yet, I'm not letting you do anything life-threatening by yourself."
I throw myself into his arms, my own wrapping tightly around his shoulders as I tuck my face into the crook of his neck. "I love you."
His arms wrap around my waist gently. "I love you too. No doing stupid shit without me, okay?"
"I'll at least tell you about it beforehand."
He sighs against my neck. "I guess I'll take what I can get." He kisses my temple without letting me go. "I'm glad he chose me."
a/n: this didn’t exist four hours ago, but one of the commenters on ao3 got me thinking, so here we are :)
masterlist | ao3
—
I don't even look at Dain as I stand from my spot at the top of the vertical ramp, but that doesn't stop me from seeing the way his eyes widen as he tells the other Wingleader my time for the records. I try not to let myself feel any pride at impressing him; I don't need his approval, and I definitely don't need him.
Sloane grabs my forearm with a wide smile on her lips, pulling me back to the present. "We did it!"
"We did it," I say back, a little breathless from the exertion, but with a small grin. "We did it."
I clap Lynx on the shoulder as our squad walks to our spot in formation, offering a quiet, "Well done," that he returns.
"You have the fastest time right now," he whispers, as if anyone could hear us over the general din. "Baylor thinks you beat the Gauntlet record."
"Last year's record was the closest to beating it since Riorson," Baylor tells us as we get into line behind him. "I'm pretty sure you blew all of them out of the water, though."
Just a couple minutes later, when everyone has finished, Professor Emetterio is confirming Baylor's theories. "For the rider with the fastest Gauntlet time, not just of this year, but of this college's history: Aaric Graycastle!"
I can't help the smile that pulls at the corners of my lips as I accept the patch he gives me. I've worked hard to be the best—I think I deserve to revel in my victories every once in a while.
Back in formation, a familiar hand on my arm has me turning around to look at my sister. Her eyes are tight, even as she smiles at me, and I wish I could pull her away and ask her what's wrong. Instead, she just signs, "Congratulations," and pulls me into a tight hug.
"Love you, Jo," I murmur, so low I'm not even sure she hears me, but I need to say it.
Just in case it's the last thing I ever say to her.
The squads get rearranged by order of fastest times, and Third Squad is the fifth group in the lineup, five groups ahead of our squad. I count the somewhat familiar faces, and frown when I only get to two.
Oh.
That's why Jo looked like that—one of her first years didn't make it.
I try to pay attention to the conversations happening around me, but my focus is split between my friends and my sister standing at the edge of the first years with our Section Leader, Bodhi Durran. Avalynn is telling Visia how she almost fell off the buoy balls, when a loud roar makes nearly everyone jump. My eyes track the birds that fly out of the trees in the valley, and land on the person that stumbles out the entrance, coughing into their elbow.
Just one person.
Jo and Bodhi run up to them, and my stomach drops. That's two.
The three of them split off, Jo and her cadet walking off the field entirely, while Bodhi walks up to our squad. I try to catch his eye, to ask what happened, and he just shakes his head, momentarily stopping beside me and Sloane at the back of the formation. "The other cadet, Anlass, attacked Dosirla. He got burned by dragonfire when an Orange stepped out, so Joan is taking him…" His eyes unfocus as he trails off, then they snap up to mine. "I have to go." He takes off at a run, briefly saying something to Dain, then goes down the stairs—
Sloane elbows me in the ribs with a smirk. "Stop staring."
I look at Bodhi's back one more time before I turn to Sloane, who's looking between me and the Section Leader—
Wait. Not the Section Leader. Her gaze falls just a little to the left, where Dain is walking toward us.
I just smirk back at her. "I will when you will."
Her cheeks burn a bright red, then she's shaking her head and elbowing me in the ribs again, her mouth dropped into a scowl. "Fuck off, Graycastle."
Slowly but surely, all of the squads ahead of us get through the valley, until it's our turn. Bodhi still hasn't come back, so Dain takes his role. "Let's go, Second Squad, into formation." The few of us that stepped out of line quickly form back in it. "I know Matthias already told you this, so you know it's a straight walk down and back through the meadow. Stay at least seven feet apart—if you're clustered together, and one of the dragon's finds disfavor with one of you, they're likely to burn the whole group to weed one out," he warns, looking over each of us for a beat. "And don't approach them; it'll be the last thing you ever do."
Simple enough.
Dain walks us down a path before the canyon wall where the dragons are perched, and drops us off with Aura, the quadrant's Senior Wingleader. "Good luck," he says, his eyes lingering on me a second longer than they do anyone else.
I don't look at him.
Aura takes all of us in with a shrewd eye. "Line up single file."
Sloane and I are already in the back of our formation, but I make sure she ends up in front of me, while I take up the rear. "Is this some chivalrous bullshit you're trying to pull?" she accuses, a slight shake in her voice.
"I can see over your head; you can't see over mine," is all I say back. It's not the reason I make sure she's in front of me, but it's one she easily accepts.
"Chivalrous bullshit," she mutters lowly, but her eyes are grateful as she fully accepts her spot in the lineup.
Once we're in a single line, Aura nods her head. "Talk to each other while you're on the path—it'll help the dragons get a sense of who you are and how well you play with others. There's a correlation between bonded cadets and level of chatter."
Sloane looks back at me, and rolls her eyes. "Can't believe I'll have to talk to you the whole time," she teases.
My lips turn up in a smirk as I look back at her. "All of the dragons will know you have good taste, then."
"Feel free to look at the dragons, especially if they're showing off their tails, but if you value your life, don't make eye contact with them," Aura continues over her shoulder, taking us as far as she'll go. "If you come across any scorch marks, just make sure nothing is currently on fire before you continue on." She pauses long enough for that bit of advice to sink in, then adds, "See you after your stroll."
With a sweep of her hand, the Senior Wingleader steps to the side, revealing the dirt path that leads through the center of the valley, and up ahead, sitting so perfectly still they might be gargoyles, are the one hundred and seventeen dragons who have decided to bond this year.
I've only seen a couple of dragons this close before—the ones on Conscription Day, when our squad almost got burned to a crisp; and when Jo's dragon, Astar, brought her to Gauntlet training—but it still takes my breath away seeing the dragons like this.
I don't like the idea of having to prove my worth to a creature that doesn't even know me, but the longer we spend in the valley, the more comfortable I get with the idea of proving my worth to a dragon.
It's better than having to prove my worth to the King.
I let my eyes wander over the different colored creatures, unafraid to look, though it seems Sloane is. "You okay?" I ask her.
"Yeah," she calls back, but her voice shakes, and I realize all her posturing from earlier wasn't to get a rise out of me.
She's nervous.
"I like cinnamon in my hot chocolate."
She stops completely and turns around to give me an incredulous look. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
I just shrug. "We're supposed to make conversation, right? It's basically a first date, but with a hundred and seventeen potential matches." I nod at the dragons on either side of us. "They might as well get to know me."
She still looks at me like I've grown a second head, but she turns around and joins in, her eyes slowly rising from the ground to at least the claws of the dragons we pass. "I like chocolate in my hot chocolate, like a regular person."
"Don't let Jo hear you say that; she likes peppermint in hers."
"What is with you Graycastles and ruining the sanctity of a beverage?"
I roll my eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I told you my favorite food is a cinnamon roll?"
"Not enough." She glances at me over her shoulder with a soft, grateful smile. "But that's my favorite, too, so I guess you can have a pass."
"My favorite food is grilled salmon," Lynx calls out from his spot two people ahead of Sloane. "In case anyone was wondering."
"We weren't," Visia, at the front of the line, shouts back.
With her confidence back, Sloane looks back at me with a teasing grin, and whispers, "Are we going to talk about Bodhi, now?"
Something low in my gut tightens at even the mention of his name, but I keep my face impassive as I whisper back, "Only if we get to talk about Dain."
Her face and neck flush bright red even as her mouth drops to a frown. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Your blush would suggest otherwise."
She scowls at me. "He's the reason my brother is dead."
We're only halfway down the path, but I stop, letting the rest of our squad move on while we stay behind. "I know."
Her eyes flash as she looks me up and down. "You know?"
"I know."
It take a second for her to register the words, but when she does, her entire body sags with relief. "Thank the gods," she murmurs. Then she straightens. "I can't have a crush on the person that caused my brother's death."
"Riorson killed my brother," I whisper back to her, "and I can't stop looking at his cousin. Believe me, I get it."
That pulls a small smirk to her lips. "Of the cousins to pick, you chose the better one; Bodhi's great."
"That's the problem," I mumble. I gesture ahead of us. "Come on, we're lagging behind."
We catch up to the rest of our squad, but as we near the end of the path, everyone starts to slow down. "What's the hold up?" Lynx asks.
"That." Visia points at the end of the path, and we all follow her finger.
A huge Blue Dragon stands at the end, its head high as it looks down not just at us, but at the rest of the dragons in the valley.
Almost like he's holding court.
Something about the thought sits heavy in my chest. Maybe the sick-to-my-stomach feeling I get every time I think about the King, or maybe the knowledge that, one day, I could have to hold my own court.
That thought has my eyes burning as anger licks up my spine, making me lift my head and do the one thing I was told not to: look a dragon in the eyes.
It's already looking at me, its golden gaze piercing straight through my chest and anchoring me to the spot.
Visia says something to us all, but I don't hear it—I can't take my eyes off the Blue in front of me.
Mine.
It takes Sloane shouting my name—"Aaric!"—to get me to finally look away, and even then, I feel its eyes on me. I take up the rear again in our lineup, looking over my shoulder every other step to find the Blue until it's gone from my sight.
As soon as I step out of the valley, my chest aches with a deep need to turn around and go back. I rub at my sternum, trying to ease the pain, but it only grows the farther I walk away. I try to join in on the conversation, to distract myself, but I know it won't go away until Threshing; until I come back to claim what is mine.
—
a/n: aaric beat mira, who beat lilith, and that’s a truth I’ll hold dear. thought this was going to be a little blurb of aaric meeting molvic, but it turned out to be a bonding chapter for aaric and sloane, and i think that’s beautiful. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
Summary: In which your brother returns home with lots of company and you officially meet Violet Sorrengail for the first time.
Warnings: Swearing, Iron Flame spoilers, reader has selective mutism, social anxiety & a chronic headache.
Part of my Raspberry Riorson series, but should be readable without further context.
You’re curled up on your window seat, reading, when the unmistakable sound of dragonwings flapping outside makes you look up. Two dragons are in the process of landing, much closer to the fortress than is usual; a huge black one that can only be Tairn, and a Blue Daggertail you recognize as Sgaeyl. They touch down right in the courtyard.
Your heart beats faster, half excitement, half worry. Xaden is home — unannounced. Why? Some unexpected development must have given him cause to come, but is it a good or a bad one?
Marking your page, you set the book aside to watch the proceedings below. Three figures stand beside the dragons now: Xaden, Violet, and someone who went out to greet them. It’s hard to be sure in the fading daylight, but you think it might be Brennan.
Movement in the sky draws your attention away from the trio as they turn to come inside. The sight above takes your breath. Dragons, more of them than you’ve seen in one place since the Battle of Aretia — maybe even more than there had been then. They blot out out the sky like a giant dark cloud, except they’re approaching much faster than any cloud could, looking bigger with every second you watch.
Your pulse stutters with a surge of fear. Is it Navarre, coming to destroy your home again? Have they followed your brother here?
No, that doesn’t make any sense. Xaden would’ve noticed, would never have led them here. If he allowed them to come here, they must be allies, though you can’t fathom how or why such a big riot should’ve made the long flight from Basgiath. Is there to be a battle?
You watch transfixed as they make for the valley above the fortress, trying to figure out if you’ve seen any of these dragons before. Is Cuir among them? Chradh? It’s impossible to tell. To your wishful eyes, every Green looks like Cuir, every Brown like Chradh, and every one of the distant black-clad figures on their backs could be Bodhi or Garrick. You suppose you will have to wait to find out whether they’re here as well, though you can’t resist the urge to keep looking for them. With all those riders Xaden seems to have brought, it’s hard to imagine the two of them not among their ranks.
Sounds from next door finally distract you from your observations. Xaden. You’d expected him to remain downstairs for a while, to talk business with the Assembly, whose members are sure to be as shocked by the riot’s appearance as you are, and ensure they can sustain so many unannounced guests. Evidently, something else is more important.
It sounds like there are at least two people in his room with him, though you can’t make out who it is or what they’re saying.
You open your door, listening for any indication of what is going on without stepping outside. Would now be an okay time to interrupt, or should you wait until you can get your brother alone to welcome him home?
“Damn it, Xaden, I can’t work like this,” Brennan’s voice comes from Xaden’s room, muffled by the door but clearly intelligible. He sounds more annoyed than you’ve ever heard him. “Will you just go and say hi to your sister or help find room for the cadets or something? I’ll call you when I’m done here.”
For a moment — nothing. Xaden must be stubbornly remaining where he is.
Then a woman speaks; Violet, you assume. Her voice is too quiet for you to understand much, only “fine now” and “don’t need to watch”, from which you gather that she’s telling him it’s alright if he goes.
Listening closely, you can hear the door opening, and Xaden’s footsteps as he leaves the room: slow and reluctant. You step out into the hall yourself, right in time to see him look back with a worried frown before shutting the door behind him. When he turns and spots you, the frown disappears.
Just like the last time he was home, he looks tense and exhausted. The whole situation reminds you entirely too much of that day he and his squad showed up after their unexpected battle against the venin, what with Violet being mended in Xaden’s room — at least you’re 99% sure that’s what Brennan is doing in there. But although he’s obviously had a rough day, Xaden doesn’t seem lost and defeated like he did then, giving you hope that nobody has died this time, and Violet was able to walk inside on her own two feet, which is another good sign.
As Xaden’s gaze meets yours, he smiles and wordlessly spreads his arms — all the invitation you need to run the few steps between your rooms and let yourself crash into him with the full force of your momentum. Well aware that this is your preferred form of greeting, Xaden has braced himself accordingly and catches you with ease, merely rocking slightly back on his heels from the impact.
His arms close around you, and just like that, home finally feels like home again.
You close your eyes against the tears pricking behind your eyes, face pressed into the cold leather of the flight jacket he’s still wearing while you wrestle with the avalanche of your emotions. A minute, two; you’re not sure. Xaden leans his head against yours, neither of you breaking the silence. You never needed words to understand each other.
Finally, you feel steady enough to take half a step back, just far enough to look at his face without letting go of him entirely. Fidgeting with his fingers, you notice they’re still a little cold from the crisp autumn air, so you take his other hand too, and warm them between your own. You hope he didn’t catch a chill on the long flight — though seeing as he’s never been the type to easily get sick, and must have long become accustomed to flying in all kinds of worse weather, that worry is probably as laughable as it is unnecessary.
The thought of his journey here reminds you: “That was a lot of dragons that just landed outside.”
Xaden nods, and gives you a brief summary of the events that led to his homecoming: Violet’s idea to steal a couple of old books that may contain information useful for ensuring Aretia’s safety, how she was captured and held prisoner, his scheme to distract Basgiath’s leadership with dead wyvern so he could rescue her, and finally, her insistence that every cadet should be told the truth and given the choice whose side they’re on. About half the Quadrant came, he tells you, which is more than you would’ve expected.
The most important pieces of information you take from his explanation, however, are that yes, Bodhi and Garrick are here as well, and no, the riot does not have anywhere else to be — they definitely can’t return to Basgiath, after all that.
“So, you’ll be staying here, yes?” you ask to be absolutely sure you’re understanding this right. It seems almost too good to be true.
“Yeah. I’ll have to talk to the Assembly in the morning to figure out how exactly we’ll proceed, but I have no intention of leaving again, I can promise you that. Doesn’t mean I’ll always be home, of course,” he cautions when he sees the excited smile spreading over your face. “We’ve still got a war to fight, but at least we’ll be operating from here now.”
You just grin wider, practically bouncing in place with happy energy. The only thing that stops you from dancing circles around your brother is the knowledge that your chronic headache would make you pay for the exertion with a bad flare-up sooner than you could say oopsie. Your mini sprint into Xaden’s arms already increased the pain constantly pulsing behind your eyes. Totally worth it, but you’d rather not make it even worse.
You wrap your brother in another hug instead, squeezing him like you’re trying to crush his ribcage with your happiness.
These are the best news you’ve had in years! The situation has its downsides, of course — Navarre has got to be pissed that the truth about the venin is out now, and might be planning how to retaliate even now, though hopefully they don’t know about Aretia’s continued existence. The fortress is about to be filled with strangers, the mere thought of which makes you want to hide in your room and never come out. And, now that there is less need for secrecy, the revolution might well take more direct action against the venin, meaning your brothers will likely be risking their lives on the battlefield in the foreseeable future.
Still, none of that can dampen the sheer joy of having them home. Things will never go back to the way they were before the Apostasy, you have no illusions about that, long for it as you might, but this is a big step in the right direction.
Xaden had kept still, seemingly content to be treated like an oversized stress ball, but now, he retaliates. With his hands on either side of your waist, he lifts you high into the air, ignoring your affronted squeak at how effortlessly he broke your hold on him.
You pout down at him, put off by the change of perspective. Being taller than Xaden is fucking weird.
Then he grins, and your elation returns in full force, giggles bursting from you even as you squirm in an unconvincing pretense of wanting him to set you down. Eventually, he does, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as you lean against his side.
“I’m glad you’re home.”
Saying so seems a little unnecessary, when your happiness is so big it must be blatantly obvious, but you’re supposed to express your feelings with words when you can, and this once, doing so is as easy as breathing.
Your brother smiles back. “Yeah, me too.”
When Xaden returns to his room, you decide to prepare Bodhi’s and Garrick’s for them. Xaden told you they’re probably downstairs, helping get all the cadets settled in, and while you’re eager to see them, you have no interest in getting into the middle of that. So, you instead get rid of the dust that has gathered on their furniture in the months they’ve been gone, and make their beds. They’ll surely be tired from the long flight.
When you’ve tidied up to the best of your abilities, you sit down on Bodhi’s bed to wait for him — and promptly fall asleep, the lights still on.
You wake back up to the door opening, followed by the soft thud of Bodhi setting his pack on the floor. He must think you asleep, clearly trying to be quiet as he toes off his boots still standing by the door, until you move to rub your eyes.
“Oh, hi Berry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You brush the apology off with an incoherent mumble, still half-asleep as you stumble to your feet and into his arms. He smells like sweat and dragon, but you couldn’t care less.
“Did you talk to Xaden yet?” he asks.
“Mhh. He said you’re staying this time?”
You feel him nod.
“Yeah, I guess we are. Can you let me go shower real quick?”
A little hesitantly, you release him. »Want me to get you something to eat in the meantime?«
“Nah. You can barely keep your eyes open, Berry. Go back to sleep, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Too sleepy to argue the matter, you climb obediently back into his bed.
You vaguely register him pressing a kiss to the top of your head when he lies down beside you a little later, but don’t wake fully until the next morning. Bodhi is already gone, sunlight filtering through a gap between the curtains. A sandwich and glass of milk sit on the bedside table, like Bodhi knew you’d be hesitant to leave the room when you don’t know who might be outside. The family wing should be a safe haven for you, but not all of the barracks are serviceable; if there weren’t enough rooms there for everyone, the boys might’ve allowed some of the other marked ones to be placed on this floor for the time being.
Also, you’re pretty sure Violet slept in your brother’s room with him. It’s not that you don’t want to properly meet her, but you can’t deny you’re nervous about it, and would rather not be in your pajamas when it happens.
You gratefully eat the breakfast Bodhi left for you, then open the door just a gap wide to peer into the hall and make sure it’s empty. It is, and so is Garrick’s room when you look into it on the way back to your own. The bed is rumpled, and a few belongings scattered around the room that weren’t there last night, so he must’ve been inside to sleep and risen early, just like Bodhi. They’ll be downstairs, with the other riders they brought. Xaden, too, you suppose. He did mention there would be a lot of organizing to do.
With a sigh, you return to your room. You would’ve liked to greet Garrick as well, spend some time with the three of them, but you’re not going to go looking for them with all those strangers in the house, especially when they’re likely to be busy, anyway. For now, just knowing they’re somewhere nearby is good enough for you.
You pass the day without seeing anyone — no great feat, when you don’t leave your room except for briefly dashing into the family wing’s private kitchen to grab lunch.
When you try to do the same for dinner, however, your luck runs out. The door to your brother’s room opens just as you’re about to pass it, and out steps not Xaden, but a woman you’ve only seen unconscious or from afar before. Black uniform, silver-tipped brown braid, calm faced and even shorter than you’d realized — Violet Sorrengail does not make a particularly threatening sight, despite all the daggers strapped to her body.
Your legs turn to jelly nonetheless, a hot flare of panic burning through your veins as you come to an abrupt halt.
Caught in the middle of the hall, you have nowhere to run or hide, and doing so would be unacceptable, anyway, since she has already seen you. If you make her feel unwelcome, make it look like you want nothing to do with her, Xaden will be rightfully angry with you when he finds out.
Xaden! You dart a glance through the open door behind Violet, but your hope evaporates as quickly as it came — your brother’s room is empty; no Xaden inside, ready to save you from awkwardness.
You silently curse your timing. Just a minute earlier or later, and you would’ve missed each other. Why, oh why, did you have to run into her now, when you’re wholly unprepared for social interaction and none of the boys are anywhere in sight?
Knowing how much Violet means to Xaden, you want to meet her, you really do, but… not without Xaden there! How are you supposed to do this without him to guide you through the conversation?
You almost hope you’ll pass out from how fast your heart is racing, but of course, you’re not that lucky.
Violet gives you a smile without closing the distance between you. A small mercy; even with plenty of empty space on all sides, you feel cornered.
“Hi. You must be Xaden’s sister,” she says.
You nod. »And you’re… Violet.«
Fuck, you’re already being awkward. You’d almost signed you’re his girlfriend, but since you have no idea if they’ve finally stopped fighting about Xaden’s oh-so-horrible act of keeping secrets, you’re not sure how welcome that term would be, and in any case, it’s rudely impersonal. You hope the moment of hesitation didn’t come across as unfriendliness, and quickly add, »Nice to meet you.«
“You too.”
You can’t tell if she means it, too caught up in the sinking realization that you should’ve started by giving her your name. But if Xaden told her about you, he surely mentioned it, right? But then, wouldn’t she have used it when she greeted you, instead of asking if you’re Xaden’s sister? And— oh, gods damn it. You didn’t even say hi back! You really are making a total mess of this. Worse yet, you have zero ideas on what to say next. Can you just wish her a nice evening and continue on to the kitchen, or would that be rude?
To your immeasurable relief, Xaden rounds the corner from the staircase just then, his mouth curving upward at the sight of you two.
“Oh, good, you’ve already made each other’s acquaintance.” With a teasing smile in your direction, he adds, “I was just trying to decide on the best way to make you come out of your room so I could introduce you.”
That would’ve certainly been preferable, though you don’t relish being called out on your tendency to hide from new people right in front of one of said people.
Trembling so hard you don’t trust yourself to sign, you only give a slight shrug.
Your brother’s gaze softens. He steps a little closer to you, his hand a reassuring weight between your shoulder blades.
“I guess you won’t want to come downstairs with us, since everything’s still a bit chaotic with so many new people around,” he remarks.
It’s less of a question and more an excuse offered so you can retreat without the ordeal of admitting you’re overwhelmed, and you gratefully take it by nodding in agreement.
“Alright, bubs. I’ll send Bodhi or Garrick to bring you dinner when I see them.”
Before you ran into Violet, you’d planned to content yourself with one of the simpler meals you can make yourself in the family kitchen; now, you’re so jittery you’re not sure you can get anything down at all. Nonetheless, you nod again. You wouldn’t dream of passing up the chance to see Bodhi or Garrick — maybe even both of them, if you’re lucky! — and by the time they show up, your stomach might well have stopped twisting itself into knots of anxiety.
You cling to the prospect of their company as you fumble your way through empty pleasantries and bidding each other a good evening, and flee into your room as soon as Xaden and Violet have finally turned their backs on you.
The door safely shut behind you, you slide down it to the floor. Taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself, you close your eyes and focus on the feeling of cool wood against the back of your head.
You’re okay. You survived it.
Your body hasn’t gotten the message yet, still on the verge of fight or flight mode. Your mind is being far from helpful, already beginning its loop of replaying the conversation over and over to pick it apart for all the things you should’ve said and done differently. There’s a lot of those. The amount of awkwardness you managed to squeeze into a timeframe of less than five minutes would be impressive, if you weren’t so upset about it.
You try to convince yourself it wasn’t so bad, that you made an okay first impression. If Violet expected you to be as suave and eloquent as Xaden is, well, then that’s hardly your fault, is it? Did he prewarn her, or is he just now explaining what a mess you are? Why do you even care? It’s no big deal, it shouldn’t matter.
Decisively pushing to your feet, you duck into the space beneath your loft bed and start folding blankets and fluffing pillows so you’ll have room to eat there.
You won’t think on the encounter any more. You tried your best. And if that wasn’t good enough it’s too fucking bad, because you don’t care (…except you do, you always do).
Hopefully, Bodhi or Garrick will show up soon. You could certainly use the distraction.
Ten spears go to battle, and nine shatter. The war did not forge the one that remained—it simply identified the spear that would not break.
— Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson
—
My jaw hurts from clenching it for hours while Markus and I packed up Lillian's things. I was released from RSC interrogation just in time for her parents to send back word about her body being sent home with all of her belongings. Now we're standing in the middle of the road in Chantara, outside Skinsmiths, trying to build up the courage to go inside.
I hate delivering bad news.
"Come on," I sign to Markus, and he follows me inside the body art parlor.
All of the artists look up at the bell ringing above the door, but once the other three recognize us, they all turn to the fourth in the room. Skye stands up from her work table, and given her splotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, she already knows what we're here to tell her.
Doesn't make this any easier.
She meets us on the other side of the counter, but she walks back out the door we just came through, forcing us to follow.
Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself when she finally stops in the alley next to the shop and turns to face us. "I know," she croaks out. "They post the death roll in the courtyard." Then she chokes back a sob. "At least I don't have to keep checking it and worrying."
I pull her into a hug, because there isn't really anything else to do. Markus joins us a second later, managing to wrap both of us up in his arms, and it's nice, getting to stand in our grief with people who understand.
She wipes her eyes when she eventually pulls away. "Thank you both, for coming to tell me in person."
"Of course." Markus squeezes her shoulder. He pulls a piece of parchment out of his pocket and hands it to her. "This is her parent's address, if you wanted to reach out."
She looks at him with wide eyes as a small smile creeps onto her face. "Thank you." She tucks the paper into her own pocket, then looks between the two of us. "Do you want to come in? Get something done?"
"Only if Joan has an idea on how to memorialize Lillian for us," Markus teases.
I roll my eyes and jab him in the ribs with my elbow, which only makes him laugh. "I haven't thought about it yet." Doesn't mean I didn't bring my small bag of money from my room, though.
"I've got that covered," Skye says gently. "Come on back."
She pulls out a drawing of a sunrise—"It's not a sunset. Don't give me that look, Markus, I don't know how they're different, I just know that they are"—cresting over the horizon, with long sunbeams coming off of it. "Lily wanted it for after graduation." She gives us both a stern look. "So wear it proudly when you cross that stage, or whatever the fuck it is you riders do when you finally make it out of there alive."
"I can do that," I sign back. There's no guarantee I'll make it to graduation, but I'll wear the art proudly as long as I live.
"Which will be a very long time," Astar reminds me.
"Any changes you want to make?"
I shake my head, eyes tracing over the lines slowly, reverently. "Will you do it in gold?" For my first friend in the quadrant, too, that Lillian reminded me so much of.
Aurelie—golden.
We decide to get it on our right biceps, just above the crook of our elbow; easy enough to keep covered while it's healing, and not easily agitated.
"You know, for my first tattoo, it's a good one," Markus says as we exit Skinsmiths, our hearts and pockets lighter.
"It's a good contrast with your relic."
"Exactly." He flexes both arms, which makes me roll my eyes, but his face goes slack for a second before he clenches his jaw. "Third years are being called to fill the midland posts. I have to go."
I furrow my brows. "Is everything okay?"
"Hopefully." He shakes his head, then gives me a wide smile. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone."
There's a bad taste in my mouth as I sign, "Be safe."
"Always am." Then he's taking off at a run for the college, and all I'm left with is a sore arm and a pit in my stomach.
—
The knock on my door before the sun has completely risen is never a good sign—and given the defeated look Imogen is giving me on the other side of the wards, it's about to get worse.
I pull her into my room with no resistance on her part. "You're back."
She nods. "Third years got back last night." Then she clenches her jaw. "Markus didn't make it."
The pit in my stomach rises until it's a lump in my throat. Fuck. I knew this was going to happen, and I didn't say anything, I didn't warn him—
"How the fuck did Varrish get to him all the way out there?" I sign, mostly to myself, but Imogen still sees.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
I arch a brow at her. "All of my squadmates have been dying, Mo."
"Yeah, I know that, Jo, it's hard not to. What does Varrish have to do with any of this?"
Oh. That—that's a much bigger conversation. "Do you have any other plans this morning?"
She shrugs. "Violet's in land nav, your ribs are broken, and I'm not running by myself."
I tell her everything that's been going on—how Desmond had been dead before he hit the ground during flight training; how Varrish sent Trevor Mendenhall after Geoffrey before he tried to kill me; how Mikayla and Lillian both died with their throats slashed exactly like mine; how Varrish had me in RSC interrogation training twice as long as anyone else; and now, how Markus is dead after the third years got called to the midlands posts, even though that's supposed to be a relatively safe assignment.
Imogen rubs at the back of her neck, a frown on her face. "I would say you're reading too much into this, except he actually admitted to you that this is all his doing." She runs her hand down her face next, then straightens her shoulders with resolve. "So let's put a stop to it."
I give her a long look. "And how do you propose we do that? Report him to the General and tell her we gave her a bold-faced lie at Graduation? So she can, what, have all the rebellion kids killed for treason? Fuck no."
She just rolls her eyes back at me. "So what's your big plan, then, Jo? Isolate yourself from everyone to keep them out of harm's way? Because that's been working so well."
"I don't know, okay?" My chest heaves as I finally take a breath, the anger I didn't realize was building under my skin slowly dissipating into a steady thrum of guilt. "I knew this would happen, so I have to live with it, and I don't know how to fix it."
She pinches her eyebrows together as she leans toward me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Whatever it is, you don't have to do it alone, okay?"
I meet her eyes and swallow thickly around the lump in my throat, ignoring the way the tattoo on my bicep aches. "Okay."
—
Third Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing is the smallest squad at formation. After Gauntlet and Presentation today, we'll still be the smallest, but then it's only two more days before all Third Squads will be disbanded to bolster the numbers of the other squads.
Thank the gods.
Captain Fitzgibbons finishes the death roll, and then it's time for the final Gauntlet run. All of the dread I've been feeling for today increases tenfold now that we're actually moving toward it. First Wing starts through the western gate first, followed by Second, then Third.
"Fourth Wing!" Dain calls out from near the gate. "Move out!"
We file off; Flame Section, then Claw, then Tail. Second Squad goes before us, so I'm right behind the last two in the squad: Aaric and Sloane. I hate that I'll have to watch the last of my first years, my brother, and my dead boyfriend's sister all climb the death trap that claimed Aurelie's life a year ago, but it's in my job description. At least Rhi will be there with me.
It takes over an hour for the other wings to get through their first-years, and then First Squad is up. There's not much I can tell my first years that they don't already know, but I still sign a couple words of encouragement. "You've all done this ten times already. You can make it eleven."
Lizbeth looks a little green—almost the same color as her hair—but she nods. "Will you be watching?"
"From right here."
"Oh good," Everett says with a roll of his eyes. "That brings so much confidence."
Kit slaps him upside the head. "Fuck off, Dosirla."
He scowls at them, but keeps any more comments to himself.
Second Squad starts up the Gauntlet, and Rhiannon and I are both holding our breath. She murmurs the name of each of her first years to me, since I don't know any of them, but the only ones I remember are Visia—because she was a first year with us—and Lynx.
Sloane is second to last. She slips on the buoy balls and the chimney, but she makes it to the top without touching any of the ropes.
Then it's Aaric.
I never got to watch any of his practices, but he always assured me he handled the Gauntlet just fine. He never told me he practically sprinted up the whole thing with hardly a sweat. He runs at the vertical ramp, then throws himself over the edge and lands on his feet beside Dain without even a glance in his direction.
"I think he broke Liam's record," Rhi whispers to me, and I think she's right. "Maybe even the Gauntlet record."
"Don't let him hear you say that, his ego is big enough," I sign back with a slight smile.
Professor Emetterio calls up Third Squad, and lines them up accordingly: Kit first, Everett second, Lizbeth last. Kit goes through without issue—I wouldn't say they fly up the course, because they're very meticulous about their actions, but they never falter. Everett slips considerably on the chimney, but he makes it to the top and up the vertical ramp eventually. Lizbeth does well—she's worked on her footwork every week during our gym time, and it's obvious. She hardly looks down for the log staircase, her feet are sure and fast, and she even laughs as she starts up the chimney.
She slips at the same spot Everett did, but unlike Everett, she doesn't find a new grip. She slips again, and before she can adjust her hands, her foot falls off the wall entirely and she falls to the bottom of the cliff, her scream wrenching through the air.
Her body is unmoving once the dust settles.
"I'm so sorry," Rhi whispers beside me, but I barely hear it.
Only three of us left.
At least there are designated attendants to transport the bodies to the morgue.
I follow Rhiannon up the stairs on the side of the ridgeline to the flight field and stop to hug Sloane and Aaric—congratulating him on the new Gauntlet record and his freshly earned 'fastest Gauntlet run' patch—before I continue on to my squad.
All two of them.
"Stay at least seven feet apart," I sign to Kit and Everett. I know Bodhi and Aura will go over all of this with them again, but I can't just send them into Presentation with nothing. "Straight walk through. Don't be stupid and you'll be fine."
Famous last words.
—
Third Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing is one of the first squads to walk through the meadow—one of the few times having a small squad is beneficial. I stand beside Bodhi as Everett and Kit start through the meadow to the one hundred and seventeen dragons waiting for them.
A roar sounds past the trees, making me jump and Bodhi swear under his breath. "That's the third one today, and we're only on the fifth group."
"They're testy."
"You can say that again," he mutters, then juts his chin out toward where Second Squad is lined up. "I bet you're excited for Aaric to bond."
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "You have no idea. I can bother him in his room, instead of him bothering me in mine."
He throws his head back and laughs, and I'm inclined to join in, but the smile dies on my lips as soon as I see Everett run out of the meadow.
Just Everett.
That's two.
I meet him halfway, Bodhi right on my heels, and catch him by the shoulders as he trips. "What happened?" he asks him.
"Kit attacked me." His voice is hoarse, and he coughs deeply into his elbow. "We were almost out when they got me in a chokehold. I—I managed to get out of it and step away, then this Orange stepped out of line and torched them." He holds up his arm and I hiss at the burned-away sleeve and the blistering skin now exposed. "I barely got out of the way in time."
"Glad you did," I sign, then look at Bodhi. "I'll take him to the healers."
He nods at the pair of us. "Let Cuir know if you need me."
"I will." He walks off to escort Second Squad, and I stick to Everett's side. "Need help?"
He shakes his head, his brown hair singed at the tips. "I can walk."
I worry at my lip the entire walk back, mulling the story over in my head. Everett easily had four inches of height on Kit, and at least twenty pounds. Maybe if Kit was walking behind him, but even still, Everett never had any trouble breaking out of chokeholds in our mat time. So why the hell was there a struggle?
Why the hell would Kit attack him in the first place?
We get across the field and all the way down the stairs when Everett speaks up again. "I can't believe there's only two of us left."
I frown. "I know."
Then he nods. "Don't worry—it'll only be one of us shortly."
What?
He swings at me, and the only reason the dagger he's holding doesn't end up in my chest is because I twist out of the way enough it gets buried in my arm instead.
What the fuck is he doing?
"Secrets die with the people who keep them," he mutters, then he rips the dagger out of my arm and swings again. "I'm glad that dragon stepped out of line when I attacked Kit—it made the clean up so much easier."
I see red. Aetos got to one of my squadmates. How long has Everett been planning this? Since the beginning? Is it only recently?
Instinct more than anything throws me backward, away from his dagger. The force with which he's swinging concerns me, but it seems he didn't learn enough from Lillian before she died.
All power, no precision.
I grab his wrist and twist, forcing him to drop the blade, then I grab it for myself and stab it into his neck before I can think twice about it.
Oh gods.
I killed him. I killed my squadmate. He was my responsibility, and I just put a knife through his neck.
That's three.
"He attacked you, Little One. You defended yourself against a murderer. You are blameless."
Everett's body falls to the ground, and I scramble back, staring at the blood on my hands. "Cuir..."
"Help is coming." Astar pulses warmth down our bond as he retreats from my mind.
I look up at the stairs, and Bodhi is making his way to me, deep lines set between his eyebrows as he runs. "Jo..."
"He attacked me," I sign. "I swear, Bodhi, it was self defense."
He squeezes my elbow, his eyes unmoving from mine. "I believe you." Then his eyes move down. "Fuck, Joan. How's your arm?" He brushes his fingers against my left arm, murmuring an apology at the hiss it pulls from my lips. "It'll need stitches."
I nod, pulling myself away from his grasp. "The body?"
"I'll take care of it." His lips turn down in a frown, but his eyes are still soft. "I'm...I'm really sorry, Jo."
"Me, too." I nod again, then Conceal myself and continue on to the healers for a completely different reason.
Sempel, one of the healers from my land nav team, greets me at the door and leads me to one of the few empty beds. "You okay with me doing your stitches, or do you want someone higher up?"
"You stitched Ashton up just fine," I sign back, my left arm moving as little as possible. "I'll let you handle this."
"High praise," he murmurs. "Get comfortable, I'll grab what I need."
I prop a pillow up behind me and sit against the wall, uncaring of any dirt I get on the sheets from my boots. He gives me a long look at the mess I've made, but when I just stare back at him, he takes a seat beside me without further comment. "I need to clean it first. Here." He hands me a vial of pain tonic, and doesn't balk when I only drink half of it. "This is going to sting."
All things considered, Sempel works quickly and quietly. He doesn't bother with idle small talk, he just sits, does the work, and lets me leave with instructions to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed, or sooner if it starts to get irritated. "Keep it clean, keep it wrapped, and you'll be just fine."
I start back up to the Riders Quadrant with only one thought on my mind:
Everett was right—there's only one of us left.
—
a/n: am i entirely pleased with this chapter? no. am i so excited for the next one? abso-fucking-lutely. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
