“Because you don’t want yourself to know where your feet are,” he says softly.
My mouth snaps shut. How dare he.
Someone pounds on the door.
“Fuck off!” Xaden yells over his shoulder, then sighs as if remembering the sound shield.
“Let’s put your theory to the test. You want me to demand the truth? To ask you something real?” I hold his gaze and steel my heart.
“Please, do,” he challenges.
“What’s your second signet?”
His eyes widen, and the blood drains from his face as his hand falls away. For the first time, I think I’ve actually managed to shock Xaden Riorson.
“I know you have one,” I whisper as the pounding continues. “You told me that Sgaeyl was bonded to your grandfather, which makes you a direct descendant. If a dragon bonds a family member, it can strengthen a signet, but a direct descendant will either produce a second signet…or madness, and you seem pretty sane to me.”
He inhales sharply and forces his features into a mask.
I shake my head and scoff. “So much for asking. I just can’t figure out why Sgaeyl was allowed to choose you, how she got away with it. How you both did.”
The pounding only increases. “We have an emergency out here!”
Brennan?
Both of our heads turn toward the door, and Xaden quickly moves to open it. He listens to my brother’s hushed words, then looks over his shoulder at me. “A horde of wyvern has been spottled flying from Pavis toward the cliffs.”
Xaden says something else to Brennan, then turns to me again. “You ready to raise those wards? Or would you like to wait until they’re actually at the gates?”
Fuck.
It was never our continent. From the very beginning, it was theirs, and we were simply allowed to live here.
—THE JOURNAL OF WARRICK OF LUCERAS
—TRANSLATED BY CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“Dragons,” Brennan says as we skip the path that leads to the wardstone chamber and instead climb the one that leads to the top of the hill with the other members of the Assembly, Xaden and Rhiannon walking up behind us in the afternoon light.
The wind howls as storm clouds roll in above us. Even the weather holds a sense of urgency, and if I’m wrong? If I missed a symbol? A meaning? We’ll be fighting for our lives in the next few hours. But I can feel the distinct, powerful hum of the wardstone from here, so that must mean I have part of it right.
The time Dain, Xaden, and I have put in imbuing the wardstone has paid off. It’s not creating wards on its own, of course, but it’s at least holding power.
The chaos inside Riorson House bleeds onto the trail that leads to the valley as riders and fliers alike hike for the flight field, armed to the teeth with swords, battle-axes, daggers, and bows. My own daggers are sheathed—all but the two I left in the cave with Solas’s body—and my pack is strapped to my back. Most third-and second-years are headed to the outposts along the Navarrian border, and then there’s me.
I’ll be with Xaden, since Tairn and Sgaeyl can fly faster than the rest of the riot to confront the approaching horde. The last thing we want is to let them get to Aretia.
If we hurry and the translation is accurate, we might get the wards working just as the horde reaches the height of the cliffs. I try not to focus on what will happen if I’ve translated wrong again, my heart racing in my chest as we hurry up the path.
I glance over my shoulder at Xaden, his jaw clenched, eyes not quite meeting mine. Maybe he and I keep having the same fight because we never get to actually finish it. What in Malek’s name could his signet be if he went that pale?
“Dragons,” I repeat to Brennan, pulling my attention back to my brother and handing the journal over on the page I’d mistranslated originally. “That line?” I point with a gloved finger. “It’s more loosely interpreted as political power, not physical, which would be a lower placement on the symbol. Dain caught that one. The stone needs a representative of each den.” Which is exactly why Rhiannon is trekking up the path behind us with a stone-silent Xaden. We need Feirge. “And it took reading the entire beginning to know that once a dragon fires a wardstone, their fire can’t be used on any other, and reading the entire end to know they created two wardstones. But it doesn’t say why they never activated this one. It’s dragonfire that triggers the imbedded runes, and they obviously had enough dragons, so why wouldn’t they protect more of Navarre if they could?”
My entire body aches from today’s attack, especially my head and shoulders, and I fight to lock the pain away so we can get this done. It won’t matter if I’m hurting if we’re dead in the next few hours. Gently, I probe the swollen knot on the back of my head and wince.
“Let me mend it,” Brennan says, worry creasing his forehead as he looks up from the journal.
“We don’t have time right now. Later.” I shake my head and tug my hood up over my head to ward off the cold.
He shoots me a disapproving look but doesn’t try to talk me out of my choice. “Not only did you translate it, but you went back and did it again when most people would have quit. I’m really impressed, Violet.” His mouth curves into a smile.
“Thanks.” I can’t help but smile back with a little bit of pride. “Dad taught me well, and Markham picked up where he left off.”
“Bet you disappointed the hell out of him when you stayed in the Riders Quadrant.”
“I’m definitely his biggest failure.” Just a few more steps.
“But Dad’s biggest success.” He offers the journal back.
“I think he’d be proud of all of us. You should keep that.” I nod at the journal as we finally reach the top. “It needs to be preserved.”
“Any time you want it, it’s yours,” he promises, tucking it into his jacket for safekeeping before heading left toward where Marbh stands next to Cath, his tail flicking as Dain waits in front of him, shifting his weight impatiently.
Six dragons surround the top of the chamber, standing wing to wing, and I make my way to Tairn, who stands beside Sgaeyl, as I would expect.
“How is Andarna?” I ask him, taking my place between his forelegs and peeking over the stone-rimmed edge into the chamber where the wardstone sits a hundred feet below. “She’s not responding when I reach out.”
“She’s been questioned by the elders, and her actions were found justifiable,” he answers. “But to slay another dragon is a heavy mark upon the soul, even when in defense of yourself or your rider.”
“That’s why you only took his eye instead of killing him.” I stiffen as Xaden approaches, refusing to look his way as he moves into position with Sgaeyl.
“I should have ended him then. I will not hesitate when faced with a similar predicament in the future. She now suffers with a burden that should have been mine.”
“I’m proud of her.”
“As am I.”
Rhiannon stands with Feirge, and Suri does the same with her Brown Clubtail.
“Let’s get this done.” Suri shoots a glare my way, obviously still angry that I’ve hidden my discovery for the past week. I’m definitely not winning any points in the trust department.