I roll my eyes at him, then make my way across the chaotic room to Xaden.
“Violet.” His gaze rakes over my face, lingering on my cheeks.
I love the way he says my name. Sure, it’s the alcohol overruling my logic, but I want to hear him say it again.
“Lieutenant Riorson.” There’s a silver line at his collar showing his new rank, but no other markings that could give away his identity in case he falls behind enemy lines. No unit designation. No signet patches. He could be any lieutenant in any wing if not for the relic that marks his neck.
“Hey, Sorrengail,” Garrick says, but I can’t peel my eyes from Xaden long enough to glance his way. “Good job today.”
“Thanks, Garrick,” I respond, moving closer to Xaden. He’ll change his mind and let me all the way in. He has to.
“Gods, you two.” Garrick shakes his head. “Do us all a favor and figure your shit out. I’ll meet you at the flight field.” He smacks Xaden’s shoulder and walks off.
“You look…” I sigh, because it’s not like I’ve ever been successful lying to him, and the fuzziness in my head isn’t helping. “Good in officer flight leathers.”
“They’re almost exactly like cadet ones.” A corner of his mouth lifts, but it’s not quite a smile.
“Didn’t say you didn’t look good in those, too.”
“You’re…” He tilts his head at me. “Drunk, aren’t you?”
“I’m pleasantly fuddled but not entirely sloshed.” That makes exactly no sense, but it’s accurate. “Yet. But the night is young, and I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but we have nothing to do for the next five days except prepare for the first-years and party.”
“I wish I could stay to see what you do with all that time.” He looks me over lazily, his gaze heating as though he’s remembering what I look like naked, and my pulse leaps. “Walk out with me?”
I nod, then follow him into commons, where he grabs his rucksack from beside the wall and slings it over his shoulders casually, as if there aren’t two swords hanging from the back of it.
A group of cadets hovers around the announcements board like the new leadership list is going to appear at any second and they might be erased from it if someone discovers they’re not watching.
Yep, there’s Dain in the center of them.
“You aren’t waiting for tomorrow morning to leave?” I ask Xaden, keeping my voice low as we cross the stone floor of the expansive space.
“They prefer wingleaders to vacate their rooms first, since the new guys like to move in quickly.” He glances at the crowd around the announcement board. “And since I’m guessing you’re not offering a place in your bed—”
“I’m not nearly drunk enough to make that lapse in judgment,” I assure him as he opens a door to the rotunda. “I told you, I don’t sleep with men I don’t trust, and if you’re not offering full disclosure…” I shake my head and immediately regret it, nearly losing my balance.
“I’ll earn your trust as soon as you realize you don’t need full disclosure. You only have to have the guts to start asking the questions you actually want answers to. Don’t worry about the bed. We’ll get back there. The anticipation is good for us.” He smiles—really fucking smiles—and it almost makes me rethink my decision.
“I tell you we’re not together because you won’t give me the one thing I need—honesty—and you counter with ‘it’s good for us’？” I scoff and walk down the stairs and past two of the marble pillars in the rotunda. “The arrogance.”
“Confidence is not arrogance. I don’t lose the fights I pick. And we’re both allowed to have boundaries. You’re not the only one who gets to set the rules in this relationship.”
I bristle at the implication that I’m the problem here. “And you’re picking a fight with me?” The world tips slightly when I look up at him.
“Picking a fight for you. There’s a difference.” His expression hardens as his gaze jerks left, toward the approach of Colonel Aetos and a rider wearing the rank of major.
“Riorson. Sorrengail.” The colonel’s mouth quirks into a sarcastic smile. “So lovely to see you both tonight. Leaving for the Southern Wing so soon? The front will be lucky to have such a capable rider.”
My chest tightens. Xaden isn’t going to a mid-guard wing like most lieutenants. He’s being sent to the front?
“I’d say I’ll be back before you can miss me,” Xaden replies, his hands loose at his sides, “but word has it you pissed off General Sorrengail enough to be reassigned to a coastal outpost.”
The colonel’s face blotches. “I might not be here, but you won’t be as often, either. Only once every fortnight, according to your new orders.”
What? My stomach pitches, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to reach out and steady myself.
The major slides his hand into the breast pocket of his perfectly pressed dress uniform and pulls out two folded missives. His black hair is perfectly combed, his boots perfectly shined, his smile perfectly cruel.
Power rises within me, responding to the threat.
“Where are my manners?” Colonel Aetos says. “Violet, this is your new vice commandant, Major Varrish. He’s here to tighten the ship, as they say. We seem to have gotten a little lax with what we allow around here. Naturally the quadrant’s current executive commandant will still see to operations, but Varrish’s new position only answers to Panchek.”
“Cadet Sorrengail,” I correct the Colonel. Vice commandant? Fucking great. “The general’s daughter,” Varrish responds, looking me over in clear appraisal, his attention snagging on every dagger I have within reach. “Fascinating. I’d heard you were too fragile to survive a year in the quadrant.”
“My presence would suggest otherwise.” What a dick.
Xaden takes both missives, careful not to touch Varrish’s hands, then gives me the one that has my name scrawled across the front. We crack Melgren’s personal wax seals at the same moment, then unfold the official orders.
Cadet Violet Sorrengail is hereby given two days of leave once every fourteen days to be used only to fly with Tairn directly to and from Sgaeyl ’s current duty station or location. Any other absence from classes will be considered a punishable offense.
I grit my teeth to keep from giving the colonel the reaction he so obviously wants and carefully fold the orders, slipping them into the pocket at my hip. My guess is Xaden’s say the same, and rotating our leaves puts us at every seven days. Tairn and Sgaeyl are never apart for more than three days. A week? They’ll be in a near-constant state of pain. It’s unfathomable.
“Tairn?” I reach out for him.
He roars so loudly it rattles my brain.
“Dragons give their own orders,” Xaden says calmly, pocketing his papers.
“Guess we’ll see.” Colonel Aetos nods, then turns his gaze to mine. “You know, I was worried about our earlier conversation until I remembered something.”