Calling cadets into active service in times of war may only be authorized by the Commanding General of Basgiath.
—Article Eight, Section OneThe Dragon Rider’s Codex
Twenty-two hours later, the six of us report to Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi in Samara’s courtyard, bleary-eyed and swaying with bone-deep tiredness. We’re not the only ones exhausted. The lieutenant colonel has definitely seen easier days. His cheeks are gaunt, and dried blood cakes the side of his neck.
The fortress should feel familiar thanks to how many times I visited Xaden while he was stationed here in the fall, but the scene around us makes the place nearly unrecognizable. The western wall looks like a dragon crashed through it, demolishing nearly a quarter of the structure, and wounded in various states of distress line what’s left as healers in bloody smocks move between them.
“Not a dragon,” Andarna corrects me. “A wyvern.”
We flew over what remained of their burned bones a few fields away.
“Try to get some rest,” I tell her.
“I’m the only one who slept on the way here,” she argues. “And this thing itches.”
“Leave your harness on. There’s no telling how quickly we might be forced to leave.”
“I’m not wearing this when we find my family,” she grumbles.
“Then fly farther,” Tairn growls. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi finishes reading the orders Rhi carried, then looks up at us over the paper. “They really gave command of Basgiath to Aetos?”
“Yes, sir.” Rhi holds her shoulders straight, which is more than I can say for the rest of us.
Cat and Maren look like they’ve been through a hurricane, and Trager can’t quit yawning. Same goes for Ridoc. And after spending all night in the saddle, I’m all but leaning on him to keep upright. Every muscle in my body hurts, my hips are screaming, and my head pounds in time with my heartbeat.
“And he invoked Article Eight to send me cadets?” Degrensi glances down our line, his gaze lingering on the fliers.
“Yes, sir.” Rhi nods.
“Wonderful. Well, his intel is old.” Degrensi crumples the orders into a ball. “Fighting ended yesterday, and even if it hadn’t, I’m not apt to send cadets into battle.” He points to the gaping hole in the fortress. “The biggest wyvern crashed through as the wards came back up, but once our perimeter fell, venin didn’t need magic to get inside the post anyway. Nearly lost our power supply killing them off. We managed to repel them across the border, but the front is just over the hill.” His gaze drifts toward the fliers. “The casualties are far worse beyond the wards.”
“They always are,” Cat comments.
“Has Newhall been affected?” Maren’s face draws tight. “It’s a small village on the Stonewater River about half an—”
“I know where Newhall is,” Degrensi interrupts, clearly ready to be done with us. “As of this morning’s report, it remains standing.”
Maren’s shoulders sag, and Cat wraps her arm around her.
“What about Poromish civilians?” Trager asks. “Are you”—he flinches—“we offering them refuge?”
Degrensi slowly shakes his head. “We’re under strict orders not to allow anyone in unless something in negotiations changes, but we crossed the border and fought with your people up until the horde departed yesterday.”
“You have our gratitude,” Cat says. “Not everyone would do the same.”
He nods. “For transparency, don’t expect the others to be friendly, especially among the riders. This potential alliance isn’t overly popular.” Lieutenant Colonel Degrensi turns his attention to me. “We were all grieved to hear of the loss of your mother. She was an outstanding commander.”
“Thank you. She prided herself on it.” I adjust the straps of my pack on my shoulders to give my hands something to do.
He nods. “Do me a favor and ask that dragon of yours to stay out of sight. You are both formidable weapons, but you’re also a giant target. The enemy may see this as their opportunity to attack en masse and dispatch you both from our ranks, and we can’t afford to draw more daggers from the armory if we want to keep the wards in place. Not much we can do if he’s already been spotted, but let’s avoid additional opportunities.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond.
“I agree only as a matter of your safety,” Tairn mutters, adding something about the insolence of humans.
“Lieutenant Colonel!” a rider in dusty leathers shouts from the gate. “We need you!”
Degrensi bobs his head at the rider, then looks back at us. “Look, I don’t really care what you did to piss off Aetos; I’m too busy fighting a war to discipline cadets.” He gestures at the mess around us. “So, find whatever space you can and rack out. Get some rest. Then make yourselves useful wherever you see fit.” There’s a small but noticeable limp in his stride as he leaves us, heading for the gate.
We’re left facing more than a few questionable stares from passing soldiers and riders, some downright hostile.
“How are we supposed to sleep knowing most of these riders would happily put knives in our backs?” Maren asks.
“We can take watches,” Trager suggests, pulling a piece of feather fluff from his light-brown hair. “Once I get some sleep, I’ll offer to help the healers, too.”
“If they’ll accept it,” Cat notes, crossing her arms when a captain in rider black glares our way from across the bailey. “They’d probably put a knife in your back in gratitude.”
“Violet?” Rhi glances my way. “You know the outpost better than any of us.”
My gaze slides toward the southwestern turret, and a tired smile tugs at my lips. Even hundreds of miles away, he’s still taking care of me and doesn’t even know it. “I know where we’ll be safe.”
• • •
Ican’t find it. Panic seizes my heart as I throw items from the wooden chest at the foot of my four-poster bed, growing more and more desperate with each minute that passes.
It has to be here.
Heat scorches the side of my face as blue flames burst through the window of my chamber, and the blast knocks me backward. I crash into the full-length mirror, and glass rains down, nicking the top of my head. I throw myself onto my hands and knees and crawl toward the chest as fire catches my curtains and screams sound in the hallway behind me.
Panic threatens to seize my muscles. I’m out of time, but I can’t leave them. They’re all I have left.
Every inch is a fight, my body refusing to obey the simple command to move, and sweat beads on my forehead as the flames spread to the linens on my bed.
“What are you doing?” someone shouts behind me as I reach the trunk, but I can’t afford the time to turn, not until I’ve found it. Pillows, an extra blanket, the books my father sent with me—I discard them all, flinging them into the fire like sacrifices as I burrow deeper into the bottomless chest.
“We have to go!” Cat sinks down to her knees beside me. “They’ve already taken the hall. We need to fly!”
“I can’t find it!” I try to yell, but it comes out nearly silent. Why can’t I scream? Rail against the cruelty, the perpetual anxiety of impending doom? “Get yourself out! I’ll follow.”
“I can’t leave you!” She grabs me by the shoulders, soot covering half her face, and fear waters her dark-brown eyes. “Don’t make me try, because I can’t.”
“You have to live.” I rip away and dig back into the chest. “He’ll choose you. I know he will. You’re the future queen of Tyrrendor, and your people need you.” She hasn’t lost her crown. She’ll fight for what’s hers.
“I need you!” she yells, then gasps and throws herself over me as heat roars against our backs. Wood crackles and breaks, and then the heat changes, coming at us from every direction.
“Just another—” My fingers fumble, then finally grasp the miniature painting, and I register their soft smiles, the playful honey-brown eyes of my family before clasping the art to my chest. “Got it!”
Cat yanks me to my feet, dragging me toward the door, and we both startle as the beams of my bed come crashing down. Embers fly, singeing my hand, and the painting slips from my grip, catching fire on its way to the ground.
“No!” I scream as Cat tugs me backward, and as the flame engulfs the portrait, it’s no longer a painting…it’s them. My parents. My family. They’re burning.
“Stop!” My throat can’t force the word out as I’m pulled away to the sound of their screams, their tears, begging me to save them. “No! No!”
I come awake and jolt upright in bed, gasping for air and blinking off the remnants of the nightmare as sweat drips down the back of my neck.
Late-afternoon sun streams in through the window, lighting the bedchamber that had been Xaden’s, the one he warded so only he and I could get through. My heart races as I glance over the sleeping faces of my squadmates. Thank the gods that Xaden used the same warding technique on this room as he had on mine at Basgiath—I’d pulled my squad through one by one.
Trager’s sleeping up against the door, using his pack for a pillow, and Ridoc is out a few feet away with his dagger mere inches from his fingertips.
“Vi?” Rhi whispers, sitting up beside me and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “You all right?”
I nod, spotting Maren and Cat curled with their backs against each other in the center of the room on makeshift pallets. We’re all accounted for. There’s no fire. No immediate danger. As much as I miss Sawyer, I’m glad he’s not in harm’s way. Clearly we’re too close to the front for my peace of mind with dreams like that. “Just a nightmare.”
“Oh.” She lies back down in the spot I’d usually sleep, and I fall onto Xaden’s now sweat-soaked pillow. “Basgiath? I get them sometimes, too.”
“I think so.” It’s been months since he’s slept here, but I swear I catch a hint of mint as I turn my head toward Rhi, keeping my voice low. “But Cat was there, and I was trying to find this painting of my family, but it was weird, and then they were burning.” I sigh. “Which makes sense, considering my mother turned herself into an actual flame.”
Rhi grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
I scoff lightly, remembering the dream. “And I told Cat she had to live because she was the future queen of Tyrrendor.”
Rhi’s eyes widen, and she smothers a laugh with her hand. “Now that’s the real nightmare.”
“I know, right?” My smile slips. “What’s in your nightmares when you have them?”
She smooths the piece of black silk covering her hair. “Usually, it’s that you don’t save Sawyer, and I can’t get to him fast enough because I make the wrong call—”
“You two are not as quiet as you think,” Ridoc mutters. “What time is it?”
“Probably time for us to get up,” Rhi says.
The rest of the squad stirs, and we take turns in the bathing chamber before filing into the hallway, ready to make ourselves useful. A pair of riders—one wearing major rank and the other captain—approach as I shut Xaden’s door, their footsteps as weary as their eyes.
“Maise says they have less than an hour,” the major says, wrapping a bandage around her hand, then shoving her short blond hair out of her eyes. “Came out of nowhere.”
Maise. I know that name.
“Mated to Greim,” Tairn reminds me.
Right. They’ve been mated for decades and are able to communicate at a far longer range than Tairn and Sgaeyl.
“We’re stretched too thin.” A line of stitches puckers on the captain’s cheek, and he shakes his head. “If they’re smart, they’ve already evacuated Newhall.”
We all step back against the wall so they can pass.
Well, all except Maren, who blocks their way. “I’m sorry, did you say Newhall?”
“Yes,” the captain replies, looking at Maren like he’s tasted something sour.
“Why is it being evacuated?” Maren rushes, her brow furrowing.
The officers share a knowing look, and the rest of us come off the wall in front of the pair as Cat quickly crosses behind Trager to reach Maren. “The area is under attack. It’s odd for venin to target such a small village, but scouts reported smoke.”
Maren inhales sharply, and Cat hooks her arm through her elbow.
“You have people there?” The major’s tone softens, pity in her gaze.
Maren presses her lips between her teeth and nods.
“It’s where her family fled,” Cat answers. “It’s not more than half an hour from here. Are we flying?”
“We?” The captain looks at each of us—pausing at my braid—before addressing Cat. “We are running on little to no sleep and have already lost one rider this week. Half our riot is patrolling to the north and the other half is pushing burnout, so as harsh as it may sound”—he shoots the major a look I can’t quite decipher—“the village is too small to risk any more casualties to the unit.”
My breath abandons me.
“So we just leave them to die?” Trager’s voice rises. “Why? Because they’re Poromish?”
“Not because they’re Poromish. Because we can’t help.” The major’s words grow shorter. “Not all of us wield lightning.” She glances at me. “If we want to save the towns, the cities, the denser areas of population, then an unfortunate part of war is knowing we’ll lose some of the villages. If you don’t pick up strategic concepts in your third year, then you’ll certainly learn fast once you graduate.” The pair walks around Maren and Cat, their footsteps heavy as they depart.
“If any of us are still alive by the time they graduate…” The captain’s voice fades.
“My family’s there,” Maren whispers, her face crumpling. “Why didn’t my parents go south when Zolya fell? They would have been safe in Cordyn. Or they could have gone back to Draithus.”
“Shh.” Cat rubs Maren’s arm. “I’m sure they’ll get out.”
Maren shakes her head violently. “What if they’re already dead?”
My stomach churns as I look to Rhi. “Tairn and I can make that flight faster than half an hour if we break from the squad.”
“It’s not like we haven’t seen battle,” Cat adds. “We fought our way out of Cliffsbane.”
Rhi stiffens. “Aetos invoked Article Eight, so we’re legally clear, but there are so many unknowns,” she whispers to herself. “Number of venin? Wyvern? But the civilians…”
“Look, it’s only a fight if we make it one.” Ridoc glances at the fliers. “Narrow the scope of the mission. We extract Maren’s family. We save as many civilians as we can. We get out.”
“Without knowing what we’re up against, we can’t just—” Rhi starts.
“We defended Basgiath,” Cat snaps.
Rhi’s mouth snaps shut.
If it were Mira and Brennan in danger, I’d go, especially with that nightmare so fresh in my mind, but there’s a reason I’m not the squad leader and Rhi is. “Vote,” I suggest. “I get it—ordering us into a war zone could be catastrophic and we’re just cadets, so vote. That’s what we did at Resson.”
None of us mention that Liam and Soleil didn’t come home.
Rhi nods. “All in favor—” Every hand goes up, including hers. She sighs. “Well, Degrensi did tell us to make ourselves useful. Let’s go be of use.”
