Chapter no 25

Iron Flame (The Empyreanย Book 2)

We race out of the cave and into the morning air, the rising sun hitting us in the face. Throwing up our hands to shield our eyes, we run forward into the knee-high grass that spans the distance from the cliffs to the

trees.

โ€œWhere did you get those knives?โ€ Rhiannon asks when weโ€™re halfway to the line of oaks.

โ€œXaden.โ€ It doesnโ€™t even occur to me to lie. โ€œHe had them made for me

โ€”โ€

โ€œWell, this is an unexpected delight,โ€ Professor Grady says from behind

us.

We spin, and I draw two daggers. Iโ€™d rather visit Malek than go back into

that chamber. But I willโ€ฆfor the final exam.ย โ€œThink about that later,โ€ย Tairn commands.ย โ€œIโ€™m fine, thanks for asking.โ€

โ€œOf course you are. I chose well.โ€

Professor Grady grins and sets down his mug as he rises from the chair that sits a few feet away from the door against the rocky cliffside.

Rhiannon strides forward, lifting her sword in attack position with her right arm and extending her left hand. โ€œWeโ€™ll take that patch now.โ€

โ€ฆ

Dain doesnโ€™t look me in the eye at any point over the next few days, and I donโ€™t make the effort to talk to him. What could I even say?ย Thank you for doing the only decent thing and not violating my privacy?

โ€œIโ€™m just saying that spending every weekend flying for Samara or holed up in your room with Riorson isnโ€™t good for you,โ€ Ridoc says as we climb the staircase of the academic wing with the crowd headed for Battle Brief.

โ€œAs opposed toโ€ฆโ€ I glance over at him and wince. His cheek is still black and blue.

Thanks to Nolon, thereโ€™s not a mark on me. Itโ€™s anything but fair.

We lost a first-year, Trysten, to Gauntlet practice while we were in interrogation and missed the formation where they called his name on the death roll, too. That isnโ€™t fair, either.

โ€œBeing a normal second-year and spending some time blowing off a little steam every now and then,โ€ Sawyer answers for Ridoc from my other side. Ever since the interrogation, my squadmates have barely let me out of their sight.

โ€œIโ€™m fine,โ€ I tell them both. โ€œThis is just what happens when mated dragons bond to riders in different years.โ€ Twenty-four hours from now, Iโ€™ll be in the saddle on my way to Xaden.

โ€œItโ€™s why they usuallyย donโ€™tย do it,โ€ Ridoc mutters.

โ€œFirst Squad lost someone,โ€ Rhiannon says, coming up behind us as we reach the second floor. โ€œThey just came out of interrogation about an hour ago. Sorrelโ€™s name will be on the death roll tomorrow.โ€

My heart drops. The interrogation assessment has now taken two second-years.

โ€œThe girl with the kick-ass bow skills?โ€ Sawyer gapes at Rhiannon as she scoots between us.

โ€œYeah,โ€ she says quietly.

A scribe cadet walks by, but I canโ€™t see who it is with the hood up. Thatโ€™s odd. Usually theyโ€™re only in the quadrant for death roll or whenever Markham needs extra people.

โ€œDid she break?โ€ Ridoc asks. โ€œOr did they breakย her?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™tโ€”โ€ Rhiannonโ€™s words stop short, and so do we when two First Wing squads move off the wall and into our path. โ€œCan we help you?โ€

Theyโ€™re all second-years. I drop my hands to my sides, close to my daggers. โ€œYou guys escaped, right?โ€ Caroline Ashton asks, lowering her voice. โ€œThatโ€™s what people are saying about the new patch.โ€ She taps beside her own shoulder, where we now wear a circular, silver patch with a black key.

โ€œItโ€™s a classified patch,โ€ Sawyer says.

โ€œWe just want to know how you did it,โ€ Caroline whispers as the crowd pushes by us on the side to get to the briefing room. โ€œRumor is, it took them an entire day to reset the interrogation room after you guys.โ€

The fact that she calls it a room and notย roomsย lets me know no one is really talking.

โ€œAll we can tell you is the same advice youโ€™ve already been given. Donโ€™t break,โ€ Rhiannon tells them.

โ€œStick together,โ€ I add, holding Carolineโ€™s gaze even when she narrows it on me.

โ€œShouldnโ€™t you all be in Battle Brief?โ€ Bodhi asks, his voice booming as he comes up behind us. One look sends the other squads scurrying for the door.

โ€œTairn told me he felt Sgaeyl getย veryย angry last night,โ€ I say over my shoulder to Bodhi as we continue walking. โ€œAnything I should know about?โ€

โ€œNot that Iโ€™m aware of.โ€ We separate as we walk through the wide double doors into the briefing room.

My squadmates and I start down the steps, but something is off. The usual hum of the briefing room is approaching a roar of murmurs and outright exclamations as cadets pick up what look to be leaflets lying on every seat.

โ€œWhatโ€™s happening?โ€ Ridoc asks.

โ€œNot sure,โ€ I answer as we bypass the first cadets in our row and find our way to our seats.

I pick up the half sheet of parchment on my chair and flip it over as my squadmates do the same.

My knees weaken as I read the headline.

ZOLYA FALLS TO DRAGON FIRE

THE THIRD LARGEST CITY IN THE BRAEVICK PROVINCE HAS FALLEN TO THE BLUE FIRE DRAGONS AND THEIR RIDERS. THOUGH THE CITY AND ITS DRIFTS FOUGHT VALIANTLY, THE TWO-DAY BATTLE ENDED IN POROMISH DEFEAT. ALL WHO DID NOT EVACUATE HAVE PERISHED. AN ESTIMATED TEN THOUSAND LIVES HAVE BEEN LOST, INCLUDING GENERAL FENELLA, THE COMMANDER OF BRAEVICKโ€™S GRYPHON FLEET. ALL TRADE ROUTES TO THE CITY HAVE BEEN BARRICADED TO PREVENT FURTHER LOSS OF LIFE.

Two days ago.

My hand trembles, and I twist around toward the back of the room, my gaze jumping from one third-year to the next until I find Bodhi and Imogen.

โ€œOh gods,โ€ Rhiannon whispers beside me.

Bodhi and Imogen exchange a panicked look, and then our gazes collide. What the hell are we supposed to do? Bodhiโ€™s tense shake of his head tells me he doesnโ€™t know, either.

Drawing the least amount of attention to myself seems prudent, so I turn back to face the map and slide into my seat.

โ€œIs this real?โ€ Sawyer asks, turning over the parchment to examine it.

โ€œLooksโ€ฆreal?โ€ Ridoc scratches the back of his neck as he sits. โ€œIs this some kind of test to see if we can discern official proclamation leaflets from propaganda?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t think so,โ€ Rhiannon says slowly, staring at me.

But my eyes are locked on the recessed floor and Professor Devera, who has just been handed a leaflet.

Please be who I think you are.

Her eyes widen, but I only see them for a second before she turns to face the map, her head tilted back. Iโ€™d bet my life that sheโ€™s staring right where I am now, at the little circle at the foot of the Esben Mountains along the Stonewater River that marks where Zolya standsโ€”stood. Itโ€™s maybe a four-hour flight from our border.

โ€œViolet?โ€ Rhiannonโ€™s voice rises, like itโ€™s not the first time sheโ€™s called my name.

โ€œWhat is all the commotion this morning?โ€ Markham shouts over the briefing room as he descends the steps. Someone hands him a leaflet.

โ€œWhat do you think?โ€ Rhiannon asks.

I glance from my squadmateโ€™s furrowed brows to the leaflet and force the roaring in my ears to quiet as I make a quick study of the parchment. โ€œParchment looks like ours, but Iโ€™ve never personally seen any made outside the border. Typeset is standard to every printing press Iโ€™ve ever seen. Thereโ€™s no seal, Navarrian or Poromish.โ€ I run my thumb over the larger, scrolling block letters of the headline, smudging the ink. โ€œItโ€™s less than twenty-four hours old. The ink hasnโ€™t cured.โ€

โ€œBut is itย real?โ€ Sawyer repeats his earlier question.

โ€œThe chances of someone hauling in all these leaflets from the border are next to nothing,โ€ I tell him. โ€œSo if youโ€™re asking if it was printed in Poromielโ€”โ€

My head jerks up, and I see Markhamโ€™s face blotch red as he says something to Caroline Ashton on the aisle. She jumps from her seat and runs up the stairs, disappearing through the door.

โ€œIt was printed here,โ€ I whisper, fear twisting my stomach into knots.

Whoever did it is as good as dead if they left any trace.

โ€œSo itโ€™s not real.โ€ Sawyer lifts his eyebrows, the freckles on his forehead disappearing into the grooves of his skin.

โ€œJust because itโ€™s printed here for public dissemination doesnโ€™t mean whatโ€™s on it isnโ€™t real,โ€ I explain, โ€œbut it also doesnโ€™t mean that it is.โ€

โ€œWe wouldnโ€™t do this,โ€ Sawyer argues. โ€œThereโ€™s no way we send a riot to annihilate a city of civilians.โ€

โ€œAttention!โ€ Markham shouts, his footsteps thudding as he strides down the steps.

The noise doesnโ€™t dissipate.

โ€œIf someone was trying to get news out, theyโ€™d send one leaflet like this to the printing press to be approved by scribes,โ€ I tell my squadmates quickly, knowing our time is short. โ€œOnce approved, it would take hours to set the blocks to print unless multiple scribes worked on it. But this isnโ€™t official. Thereโ€™s no seal. So either itโ€™s fake and printed for just this classโ€” which isย a lotย of workโ€”or itโ€™s realโ€ฆand not approved.โ€ Itโ€™s exactly what I would say if I didnโ€™t know the truth, and to be honest, Iโ€™m not certain this leafletย isย the truth.

โ€œRiders!โ€ Devera yells, turning to face us. โ€œQuiet!โ€

The room falls silent.

Markhamโ€™s at the front of the classroom now, his features schooled in a mask of serenity as he stands beside Professor Devera. If I didnโ€™t know him better, Iโ€™d say he was almost enjoying the chaos, but I do, and heโ€™s rubbing his forefinger against his thumb.

No matter what he says next, this wasnโ€™t his plan.

โ€œApparentlyโ€โ€”he gestures to us, his palm facing upwardโ€”โ€œwe are not ready for todayโ€™s exercise. We were going to follow up on our discussion about propaganda, but I can see now that I overestimated your ability to judge a simple printing like this without hysteria.โ€ The insult is delivered in unemotional monotone.

Suddenly, I feel fifteen again, my self-worth determined by this manโ€™s opinion of my intellect and control.

โ€œDamn.โ€ Ridoc sags in his seat. โ€œThatโ€™sโ€ฆharsh.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s Markham,โ€ I say quietly. โ€œYou think only riders can be vicious?

Words are just as capable of eviscerating someone as a blade, and heโ€™s a master.โ€

โ€œOn the off chance that we actually did this and someone leaked the information?โ€ Rhiannon asks, glancing my way. โ€œYou know him better than

we do. Whatโ€™s his next move?โ€

โ€œFirst, I donโ€™t think weโ€™d target civilians across the border.โ€ Thatโ€™s the truth. We just wonโ€™t do anything to help them, either. โ€œBut if he didnโ€™t print the leaflets, heโ€™ll discredit, deflect, then distract.โ€

โ€œAs it is, we have two much more pressing matters to discuss,โ€ Markham lectures, his tone still cool. โ€œSo, you will now pass all pieces of propaganda to the left, where they will be collected to discuss on a day when youโ€™re capable of being rational.โ€

A ripple passes over the room as everyone hurries to do as he asks. Iโ€™m reluctant to let mine go, but itโ€™s not worth drawing attention.

Professor Devera folds hers with quick, precise movements and pockets

it.

โ€œHonestly.โ€ Markham shakes his head. โ€œYou should have been able to

spot those leaflets as propaganda within seconds.โ€

Discredit. I have to admit, heโ€™s good. The stacks reach the ends of the rows, and then the cadets hand them forward, the pile growing and growing as it descends toward the floor.

โ€œWhen, in the history of Navarre, have we ever flown a riot comprised only of blue dragons?โ€ He looks us over like weโ€™re children. Like weโ€™ve been found wanting.

Clever.ย Heโ€™s so fucking clever. With the leaflets collected, every cadet in the room will question the exact wording. Every cadet except the riders who know the meaning of that entire paragraph came down to the placement of the wordย fire.

โ€œBut as I said.โ€ Markham claps his hands together and sighs. โ€œWeโ€™ll return to this lesson when weโ€™re ready. Right now, our first order of business is here, and celebration is in order.โ€

Deflection complete. Cue distraction.

โ€œI wasnโ€™t sure this day would come, which is why I hope that youโ€™ll forgive us for keeping the months of Colonel Nolonโ€™s hard work a secret. We didnโ€™t want to disappoint you if he could not pull off what will arguably be the greatest achievement of any mender in our history.โ€

Didnโ€™t want to disappoint us? I barely manage to keep from rolling my eyes.

Markham raises his hand toward the doorway and smiles. โ€œHe was crushed under the weight of a mountain a few months ago, but Nolon has mended bone after bone to return him to your quadrant.โ€

Crushed under the weight of a mountain? It canโ€™t be. My stomach hollows, and the noise of the room muffles under the sound of my own blood rushing through my ears to the cadence of a drum.

โ€œNo fucking way,โ€ Ridoc says, breaking through my panic.

โ€œTairn?โ€ย I canโ€™t bring myself to look.

โ€œChecking now.โ€ย The clipped, tense tone reminds me of Resson.

โ€œJoin me in welcoming back your fellow rider, Jack Barlowe!โ€ Markham claps. The entire briefing room joins in, the loudest cheers coming from First Wing as two figures walk down the stairs.

Breathe. In. Out.ย I force air through my lungs as Rhiannon grasps my hand and holds tight.

โ€œItโ€™s him,โ€ Rhiannon says. โ€œItโ€™s reallyย him.โ€

โ€œYou brought down an entire cliff on his unhinged ass.โ€ Sawyer claps slowly, but itโ€™s only for show. โ€œHow the fuck was there anything left to mend?โ€

Dragging my gaze left, I finally work up the courage to look.

Same bulky frame. Same blond hair. Same profile. Same hands that nearly killed me during a challenge last yearโ€ฆbefore I killed him during War Games the first time my signet flared.

He turns a few rows down, walking past other second-years as Caroline Ashton escorts him back to his squad. It all makes sense now. The secrecy. Her visiting the infirmary. Nolonโ€™s exhaustion.

Jack pivots as he reaches an empty seat, turning slowly and nodding as the applause carries on. The look on his face is almost humble, like a man whoโ€™s received a second chance he definitely doesnโ€™t deserve, and then he pivots, looking up the rows to find me.

Glacial blue eyes meet mine. Any doubt I had dies a swift death. Itโ€™s him. My pounding heart jumps into my throat.

โ€œMaybe he learned his lesson?โ€ Rhiannonโ€™s voice pitches high with empty hope.

โ€œNo,โ€ Ridoc says, letting his hands fall to his lap. โ€œHeโ€™s definitely going to try to kill you. Again.โ€

You'll Also Like