Weather is the one great equalizer in battle, equally detrimental or favorable to both sides given the conditions. Without our wielders swaying that element to our advantage, we are at its mercy.
—Tactics, a Modern Guide to Aerial Combat by Major Constance Cara
Forty minutes later, the sun disappears as Tairn and I drop between the snow-tipped ridgelines, descending thousands of feet into the warmer valley that houses the Stonewater River. The sun always sets so early this time of year. Power hums in my veins, ebbing and flowing with every heartbeat. I’d almost forgotten how wild magic feels beyond the wards, how accessible. Tairn’s power seems endless, deeper than the oceans I’ve never crossed, wider than the vast sky above us.
“Maise saw us depart,” Tairn warns, tucking his wings. My stomach rises as he plummets, following the terrain at a nauseating speed. “She’s relaying an order to return immediately.”
“Can you ignore her?” We’re easily five minutes ahead of the other dragons and ten ahead of the gryphons, who travel with Andarna despite my pleas for her to stay behind.
“I do not answer to Maise.” He levels out over the river, a notable tailwind helping to maintain his speed. His wings beat so close to the rapids that I half expect to feel the splash of water as we curve around the bend. In a few months, this river will be the most treacherous on the Continent with spring runoff, adding to the region’s already unpredictable weather compliments of the abrupt change in altitude.
Smoke rises in thick plumes ahead of us, joining the storm clouds while simultaneously smothering the village beneath. My heart jolts with a rush of adrenaline and dread. “Ahead.”
“Yes, I, too, have eyes. We’re five minutes out.” He tips right to fit through a bottleneck in the water-carved canyon, and my weight shifts, the belt of my saddle keeping me in place.
Once we’re through, I rip off my gloves, shove them into my right front pocket, then scan both sides of the raging river for signs of life. “I need you to slow down. I can’t tell if those are people or trees.”
“You ask for speed and then complain when I provide it.” But he slows as the landscape shifts into the high plains.
“This is the only logical path they’d take to—” I spot a line of civilians hiking toward us on the southern bank of the river. “There!”
“I have relayed to Feirge. The gryphons and Andarna will stop there first as planned,” Tairn tells me, then picks up speed again. “One minute. Prepare yourself. The pressure is dropping. We fly toward a storm.”
Sure enough, my ears pop as I shove my wrist through the leather strap that will keep the conduit secure. Quickly, I unbutton my flight hood, letting the warmer wind rip it from my face for the sake of visibility as we fly toward the smoke-and-flame-engulfed village. Civilians flee from a gate in the western wall, and the acrid scent of smoke fills my lungs, growing more pungent with each beat of Tairn’s wings.
A shape breaks through the pillar of smoke—
“Wyvern!” I grasp the conduit in my left hand, then throw open the door to Tairn’s power, increasing the flow from a trickle to a rush. It envelops me, fire streaking through my veins, embers burning in my bones as the conduit glows, siphoning off the excess.
“Do not channel more than you wield!” Tairn warns as the wyvern flies straight for us, its gray, leathery wings riddled with holes.
“I’m fine.” If I miss the first time, those fetid teeth will be in reach of Tairn. I force myself upright against the wind, my core tightening to keep me steady as I lift my right hand, then take aim and release the power with a snap.
Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds above for less than a heartbeat before tearing through the sky and striking the wyvern in the chest. The beast screams as it falls, and Tairn passes so closely overhead that I catch the scent of charred flesh.
There’s no time for relief as two more burst through the smoke.
We’re outnumbered, and while Tairn is bigger, they are faster.
“High ground,” Tairn warns before banking right and climbing, putting the village behind us.
I turn as far as the belt on my saddle will allow and raise my hand, welcoming the burn as energy gathers within me, but— “They’re on us!”
Too close to strike without endangering Tairn.
The larger wyvern’s enormous jaw opens, revealing bloodstained teeth, and its tongue curls as it lunges with a burst of speed. “Tairn!”
Tairn dips his wings at an angle, catching the wind, and I hurtle forward in the seat at the sudden decrease in speed as he swings his massive tail. Bone cracks, blood spurts, and the wyvern spins off to the right, missing the lower half of its jaw.
I can’t pivot fully, but I take aim at what I can see of the one still pursuing us, then unleash with a crack…and miss.
“Fuck.” I reach—
“If you remove that belt, I will unseat you over the river and let your meager gods sort you out,” Tairn warns, then banks left, giving me the perfect view.
I release another strike, guiding it with the motion of my hand, and it hits true, severing the wyvern’s head from its neck. “Got it!”
Fuck yes.
But unless those three wyvern are on a scouting patrol—unlikely, given the flaming village—there has to be a creator nearby. I face forward and lean into the turn, casting my focus downward. The demarcation line is clear this high above the village. Half is devoid of color, drained of all its magic, and in the center of the village stands a single figure in flowing dark robes, her light hair—silver?—whipping in the wind.
It’s her. The dark wielder from Jack’s cell. My grip tightens on the conduit.
She looks toward us, lifts her hand, and wiggles her fingers as if waving. A sick feeling squeezes my stomach. “I think…she was expecting us.”
This is a trap.
And we flew right into it. My heart drops at the realization, but it doesn’t change the fact that Maren’s family is in danger.
“Above!” Tairn bellows, and I look up as two wyvern emerge from the swirling storm system.
I lift my hand, but there’s no time. They’re already here.
Tairn punches his tail forward, underneath us, swinging his body in a way I’ve never experienced, and I fall backward, my stomach lodging in my throat as the ground takes the place of the sky and the strap pulls tight across my thighs, holding me upside down long enough for my heart to pound in my ears twice.
Snap. Bone fractures, and Tairn rolls right, dragging the broken-necked corpse of a wyvern with us, then releasing it once we level. I force my stomach back where it belongs and prepare to strike the other as it lunges for us.
It snaps its jaws, teeth clashing mere feet from Tairn’s shoulder as it misses, cutting at least two years off my life. I extend my arm—
“Do not!” Tairn orders, and a second later, brown scales consume my field of vision as Aotrom clasps the wyvern’s head between his teeth and bites as we pass.
The wind roars like a beast, blocking out any other sound, and Tairn banks hard, whipping himself back around. My face contorts into a grimace at the force my body absorbs with the maneuver, and I fight to remain conscious as we turn toward the battle.
Aotrom’s tail curves up, the poisonous barb jabbing into the belly of the wyvern— I blink. A scorpiontail?
It’s not Aotrom.
“Chradh,” Tairn explains as the wyvern falls from the dragon’s grip.
“What the fuck is Garrick—”
“Tornado!” Tairn warns a second before a wall of wind hits hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs and drags us into its swirling vortex.
We’re flung like a rag doll, and the roar of the storm vibrates every bone in my body. Tairn snaps his wings shut, and I hold fast to the pommels and duck my head as debris flies by, terror locking my muscles as we’re thrown round and round and round as though we weigh nothing.
Oh Malek, I am not ready to meet you.
“Violet!” Andarna shouts.
“No!” Tairn bellows as we’re spun to a near vertical position.
“Stay back!” I shriek, and fear burns through my bones like acid as we’re ripped outward by centrifugal motion. She can’t get caught in this. It has every chance of killing us and will damn sure take her life.
We’re flung out of the storm like a projectile, hurtling backward through the air toward what I think is a mountainside. Tairn opens his wings in a burst, slowing our speed from meteoric to lethal in a move so sudden, my head whips backward and my ears ring. His roar shakes my ribs as he snaps his wings shut and contorts his body in an attempt to twist.
His side hits first, the collision stunning me breathless and knocking boulders loose around us with a cracking sound. Something slams into my knee and Tairn’s wings snap over me a moment before I hear a second thud of impact.
The bond goes dark.
NO.
“Tairn!” I scream, terror locking every muscle, stealing every thought but one: he can’t be gone.
We fall down the ridge in a graceless, limp skid. Deprived of sight, I can only hear the grate of rock against scale, feel the jarring hits as we crash through obstacles and continue downward.
“Tairn!” I try again, mentally grasping for him, but there’s…nothing.
“Violet,” Andarna cries. “I can’t feel him!”
“Stay back!” I repeat as we fall down and down and down. Is there a cliff beneath us?
I should have heeded Tairn’s warning about the storm. Is he all right? Has he…
“Don’t think like that!” she wails.
My heart thunders a staccato beat as we plummet, and I throw my hands from the pommels and spread them over his scales. I can’t feel him breathing, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t. He has to be all right. I’d feel it if he wasn’t, right? Panic fights to close my throat. This isn’t how he ends, how we end.
Liam only had minutes after Deigh ceased breathing, but he knew.
“Choose to live,” I beg Andarna in a rush. “You’re the only one of your kind, you have to live. No matter what happens to us.”
Oh gods, Xaden.
“Stay with me,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “You both have to stay.”
We free-fall for the length of a heartbeat, my stomach rising, and I prepare for my final breath.
Earth claims us once more in a rough embrace, and this time, we grind to a stop.
Tairn’s wings fall open, and I’m left dangling at a ninety-degree angle to the ground, gasping dust-filled air. He’s fallen onto his side.
I can’t see his head from this angle, so I drop any semblance of a shield and fully reach for him. There’s a glimmer of thread where our bond should be, but it’s enough to flood my system with hope as something crashes behind me. A glimmer means he isn’t dead. My own heartbeat means he can’t be—
His chest shudders and his breaths begin a deep, steady pattern.
Thank you, gods.
“He’s breathing,” I tell Andarna.
“Sorrengail!” Footsteps race toward me.
“Here!” I reply, my abs straining to keep position while I fight with the belt of my saddle.
Garrick’s chest heaves as he appears ten feet beneath me, his hood blown back and blood dripping from the right corner of his hairline. “You’re alive.” He braces his hands on both knees and leans over, and I can’t tell if he’s catching his breath or going to be ill. “Thank you, Dunne. Tairn?” He looks up, giving me a quick appraisal and blanching.
“Knocked out… What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Your knee is a fucking mess.”
I glance down at my leg, and a scream works its way up my throat as the agony hits, like it waited until I could see exactly how fucked I am to make itself known. My flight leathers are torn at my right knee, and my mouth waters, bile rising quickly as I realize my kneecap isn’t where it’s supposed to be. Searing pain hurtles up my leg and spine, stealing logical thought as it consumes me, coming in waves that match my heartbeat.
“Is it broken?” Garrick asks.
Seconds tick by as I concentrate solely on pushing the pain back into a box I can manage, then force my toes to move one by one. “I think. Just. Dislocated. Can’t fix it.” Nausea rolls through me with every breath. “At this angle.”
He nods. “Drop, and I’ll catch you. We’ll get you sorted on the ground.”
“Chradh?” I ask, getting a firm grip on the belt. My weight is holding the damned buckle closed.
“He’s slowly coming to.” Garrick looks back over his shoulder. “Stubborn ass turned and took the impact on his stomach. Saved my life, but an outcropping halfway down knocked him out temporarily.”
That must be what happened to Tairn. That second impact I heard was his head.
Shit. The silver-haired venin is still out here, and both dragons are as good as defenseless without us, at least until the others arrive. “Drop me, and I’ll kick you in the face.” I grit my teeth through the pain. I’m not dying today, and neither is Tairn.
“Let’s be honest. You’re not kicking anyone with that knee.” He lifts his arms up, and I’m filled with the most illogical longing for Xaden to be standing in his place. “Come on, Violet. Trust me.”
I heave up, pushing against the pommels to shift my weight, then wrench the strap through the buckle and fall like a stone. The scream I’d held back rips free as he catches me, the world erupting in shades of red pain at the collision.
“Do you want me to put it back in?” he asks, holding me as carefully as he can.
I nod, and he quickly sets me on my feet and crouches in front of me, holding on to my waist to keep me upright. The scabbards of the swords he wears strapped to his back drag through palm-size hail stones to scrape the rocky ground.
“Extend it slowly,” he orders, keeping his hazel eyes on my knee. I turn my head, biting into the collar of my jacket to keep from screaming again as I straighten my leg. “This won’t be pleasant. I’m so sorry,” he says as he slides my kneecap back into place.
“Don’t be,” I manage to gasp, the pain immediately sliding to a level where I can at least think somewhat properly. “Wrap is in my pack.” The rhythmic sound of Tairn’s breathing calms my heartbeat, but I can’t see anything beyond his dark scales to my left and hunks of granite to our right with us all but wedged up against the mountainside.
He retrieves the fabric, then holds me steady as I do my best to stabilize the joint. Pain flares as I test my weight on the limb, but it’s miniscule compared to what could happen to Tairn if we don’t start moving, so I tie off the fabric and call it good. It’ll do until I can get to a healer or Brennan—but we need to get out of here alive first.
“You’re good at that,” he says. Dipping down, he slings an arm around my upper back, and I throw mine over his shoulder.
“Lots of practice.” We make our way beside Tairn’s back, careful not to step on his wings, and finally clear his tail as the tornado winds its way eastward. “Your head is bleeding right above your scar from Resson.”
“Good. Hate to damage the other side of my perfect face,” he jokes. “Don’t worry about me. It’s nothing a couple of stitches won’t fix.”
“The others approach,” Andarna says. “They do not know Chradh is with you, and I have not told them.”
The Brown Scorpiontail blocked out his riot?
“Tell them to go for Maren’s family first. You stay right where you’re at until we know what’s going on.”
There’s a definite grumble in her response as I stagger forward with Garrick’s help, taking a central position between Tairn and Chradh, who looks like he might be missing a few scales along his jaw.
“The others are on their way,” I tell Garrick. “And I’m pretty sure that venin knew we were coming.”
“That’s…great.” He grimaces. “I’ve flown through some shit, but never been through a tornado before,” Garrick says, scanning the horizon. We’re at least a mile south of the village.
“Me, either.” The smoke rises in a steady column again above the town. I reach for Tairn’s power, but as expected, the scorching Archives I’ve come to depend on sputter with darkness. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“They made it.” Garrick tenses and pointedly looks toward the western end of the village as Feirge and Aotrom cross the moonlight. Kira, Daja, and Trager’s gryphon, Sila, follow soon after, all of them bearing their riders and fliers respectively. “Maren’s family, right? That’s what Major Safah relayed.”
“That’s why I’m here. You’re supposed to be with Xaden.” There’s no point confirming what he already knows. “Eight hours away.”
“Yeah, well, the second he heard you were charging off into danger, he became…unreasonable.” A muscle in Garrick’s jaw ticks, and I pull my arm from his shoulder so he can stand straight, shifting my weight to relieve the pressure from my right knee as much as possible. “I’ve never seen him like that.” Garrick shoots a worried look my way. “Ever. I don’t even want to think about what he would have done if he’d been out here beyond the wards, because I thought he was going to rip the stones from the wall. He’s always prided himself on control—he has to when he wields that much power—and I’m telling you, he lost it when he heard you were crossing the border, Violet. He’s…not himself.”
My chest tightens. He’d been annoyed, even angry when I flew for Cordyn with my siblings a few months ago, but hadn’t come close to losing it. “Because Aetos sent us to—” The words die on my tongue as I process what he said. “He knew I was crossing the border? Maise.” I end on a whisper, staring up at the side of Garrick’s face. “How did you get here?”
“It’s not important.” He draws a sword with his left hand.
“Maise saw us leave maybe forty minutes ago, and you’re already here. You’re a wind-wielder, and there’s no fucking way you pushed a hundreds-of-miles-an-hour tailwind at Chradh, so how did you get here?” My voice rises with my temper, and lightning strikes twenty feet in front of us, charring the ground as thunder booms simultaneously.
I startle, then wince as my knee cries at the sudden movement.
“Damn, Sorrengail, you didn’t have to—” he starts.
“I didn’t.” I shake my head.
“I did.”
Our heads whip right, and the silver-haired venin walks toward us, her purple robes billowing in the breeze. She doesn’t bother to look at Tairn as she passes mere yards in front of his hind claws, just keeps those eerie red eyes pinned on us. On me.
Wait. She did…what? Lightning?
Blood drains from my face and I throw up my shields, drawing on Andarna’s power.
Holy Dunne, she wielded lightning. But venin aren’t supposed to have signets…let alone mine.
Dread pins my heart to the ground, but my hands are fast as I unsheathe and fling two daggers at her chest.
She waves her hand left and right, and the knives fall mid-flight. “Is that any way to thank me?”
Fuck. I should have brought the mini crossbow Maren gave me.
“Thank you for what, exactly?” Garrick raises his sword and moves to my side as I reach for Tairn’s power again, finding a dim hum.
“Now wouldn’t be a bad time to manifest a second signet,” I tell Andarna as the dark wielder approaches. My heart thunders like a drum. All the venin has to do is palm the earth and the four of us will be desiccated in seconds.
“As if I control how you use my power?” Andarna counters.
Second signet. My gaze darts toward Garrick, but a glance is all I can afford with the dark wielder sauntering toward us.
“Not killing you, of course.” The dark wielder cocks her head to the side and runs her gaze over me in blatant appraisal, then pauses about ten feet away. The scarlet veins beside her eyes remind me of a masquerade mask topped by the faded tattoo on her forehead, and the red glow around her irises is ten shades brighter than Jack’s. A Sage, probably…maybe even a Maven, and were it not for the physical signs of her lost soul, she’d be stunningly beautiful, with high cheekbones and a full mouth, but her skin’s eerily pale. “Though I must say I’m disappointed you were so easily lured from your wards.” She tsks at me. “Shame the girl’s family raised weapons at me, or they might have lived.” She shoots a warning glance at Garrick, but he doesn’t lower his sword.
The girl’s family… My hands curl into fists.
“You killed Maren’s family?” Rock and ice crunch under my boots as I take two steps toward her. “To lure me?” Anger curdles my stomach.
“Only the parents.” She rolls her eyes. “I left the boys as a sign of goodwill, though you can’t say the same about my wyvern, can you?”
“Goodwill?” I shout. Maren’s going to be devastated.
“Violet,” Garrick warns, but he keeps with me step for step.
“Careful with your tone, lightning wielder.” The dark wielder flicks her wrist, and Garrick rises in the air in a nauseating reenactment of every one of my nightmares. His sword drops to the ground, and he scrambles for his throat. “You, I’m curious about. I’ll even admit to wanting, considering all that power, not to mention being an effective leash. But him?” She shakes her head, and Garrick begins to kick.
Leash. That’s exactly what Jack called me. She knows about Xaden.
“Let him go!” I draw another dagger and shove every hint of fear aside. Nothing’s happening to Garrick on my watch. “This might not kill you, but it will hurt like hell.”
“Let’s not compare weapons.” She reaches for a knife sheathed in the belt of her gauzy purple robe and reveals just enough of its green tip to seize my breath for a heartbeat. “Our paths are too intertwined to begin with such hostility. I know: you answer a single question and I’ll return the walker to the ground. That seems a civil start to our relationship, don’t you think, Violet?”
“Ask it.” I feel Andarna hovering along our bond, alert and hopefully nowhere near us. “Warn the others.”
“They’re coming.” Frustration sharpens her words.
“You value his friend’s life over answers. Fascinating.” She slides the knife back into its sheath with deliberate ease. “I’m Theophanie, by the way. Seems fair you know my name, considering I know everything about you, Violet Sorrengail.”
Fantastic. Just what I needed. “Because of Jack?” It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
She offers a shrug, casual and dismissive, like some royal court gesture. “Bonding with one dragon is impressive—power handed to you on a silver platter.” Her lips press into a thin line. “But two? That’s unheard of. Aren’t you just the luckiest girl in the Continent? Or maybe that’s me, conveniently nearby when your morningstartail was spotted.”
“Is that really your question?” My nails dig into my palms as Garrick’s kicks grow more frantic.
“Just an observation.” Her sharp eyes flick toward Garrick. “A gesture of good faith.” With a twist of her hand, Garrick collapses to the ground beside me, gasping as he struggles for air.
“Now tell me,” she continues, her tone light but cutting, “which dragon chose you first? The one who gifted you the power of the sky? Or the irid?”
