“And what is that?” Xaden asks, clearly losing patience.
“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.”
What no one openly says is that while all four quadrants obey the Code of Conduct, a rider’s first responsibility is to the Codex, which often overrules the regulations other quadrants live by.
By definition: the riders make their own rules.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT （UNAUTHORIZED EDITION）
CHAPTER SIX
The churning in my stomach has nothing to do with the lemonade. I’m pretty sure Colonel Aetos just insinuated he’d kill us.
“Good thing we’re not keeping secrets,” Xaden retorts.
Aetos’s smile shifts to the softer one I’ve seen all my life, and the transformation is eerie. “Do be careful who you share your war stories with, Violet. I’d hate to see your mother lose either of her daughters.”
What the fuck? Energy crackles in my fingertips.
He stares at me for a moment, making sure I get his point, then turns and walks into commons without another word, Varrish following.
“He just threatened your life,” Xaden growls, shadows whipping out from behind the pillars.
“And Mira’s.” If I tell anyone what really happened, he’ll target her, too. Message delivered. Power burns through my veins, seeking an outlet. Anger only fuels the energy that swiftly surges to an overwhelming wave, threatening to rip me apart.
“Let’s get you outside before you bring the place down,” Xaden says, reaching for my hand.
I give it to him, focusing on keeping the lightning at bay as we walk into the courtyard, but the harder I fight to tame it, the hotter it becomes, and once we’re in the darkness of the courtyard, I rip my hand from Xaden’s as power tears from me, scalding every nerve on the way out.
Lightning illuminates the night sky, striking the courtyard about forty feet away. Gravel flies.
“Shit!”
Xaden throws up a shield of shadow, catching the rocks before they can hit any of the nearby cadets. “Guess alcohol doesn’t dampen your signet,” he says slowly. “Good news is it’s all stone out here.”
“Sorry!” I call out to the others as they scatter, grimacing at my utterly embarrassing lack of control. “Forget protecting me. The quadrant needs protection from me.” Taking a deep breath, I turn to face Xaden. “Southern Wing? Is that what you chose?” Wingleaders always get their choice of duty station.
“There was no other choice by the time they handwrote our orders. I’ll be at Samara. I spent today packing and shipping most of my things.”
It’s the easternmost outpost of the Southern Wing, where the borders of Krovla and Braevick provinces intersect, and a day’s flight away. “They’ll only have hours together every time they make the flight.”
“Yeah. She’s pretty pissed.”
“Tairn, too.” I reach out for Andarna in case she hasn’t drifted off yet.
“You’ve lost all touch with reality if you think I’m getting close to him right now,” she responds, her voice gritty from sleep. “He’s in a mood.”
“You should be sleeping.” She’s supposed to be settling in for the Dreamless Sleep. I still don’t know exactly what that means, nor is Tairn open to questions on the parenting secrets of dragons, but he insists that sleeping away the next two months is critical to her growth and development. Part of me can’t help wondering if it’s simply a clever way to avoid a majority of the teenage years of moody dragons.
As if on cue, Andarna replies with a yawn, “And miss all the drama?”
“We’ll only have hours to…” I whisper, looking away from Xaden’s intense gaze. “You know. To pass information.” The courtyard reminds me of a ballroom about two hours after everyone reasonable has left the party, full of drunkards and bad decisions. How the hell are Xaden and I going to fix whatever we are without time together?
“Pretty sure that’s precisely the idea. They’ll split us up for as long and as often as possible. We’ll have to make the most of what time we get.”
“I don’t hate you as much tonight,” I whisper.
“It’s the alcohol. Don’t worry, you’ll despise me again tomorrow.” He reaches out, and I don’t retreat when he cradles the nape of my neck.
Warmth spreads over every inch of my body. The affect he has on me is as infuriating as it is undeniable.
“Listen to me.” He lowers his voice and gently tugs me toward him, shooting a glance at a group of tipsy cadets watching nearby. “Play along.”
I nod.
“I’ll be back in seven days,” he says for the benefit of the people passing by. “Sgaeyl and Tairn won’t be able to talk over the distance. They’ll sense emotions, but that’s it. Remember that leadership will read any missive we send.” He leans down, making it look to everyone else like we’re locked in some kind of farewell embrace, which isn’t far from the truth.
“A lot can happen in seven days.” I understand what he’s telling me mentally. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Nothing that matters will change,” he assures me for the benefit of onlookers. “Don’t involve yourself in anything Bodhi and the others are doing.” He has that look—the steely one he gets when he’s sure he’s right.
“You really aren’t going to change, are you?” I whisper, my chest tightening.
“This isn’t about us. Every eye will be on you, and you don’t have a rebellion relic to hide your actions from Melgren if you’re caught alone. Involving yourself endangers everything we’re working for.” Another group of cadets wanders closer, heading toward the rotunda.
It’s hard to argue against that, especially when what I have planned requires being left to my own devices.
“I’m going to miss you.” His hand flexes on the back of my neck as a couple of riders from Third Wing get a little too close. “You can only fully trust those who were with us at Resson.”
“Think of all the spare time you’ll have without having to constantly train me on the mat.” I give in to the ceaseless urge to touch him, lifting my hands to his chest so I can feel the steady beat of his heart under my fingertips, and blame the alcohol for the utter lapse in judgment.
“I’d much rather have you under me on the mat than spare time.” His arm wraps around my waist, tugging me closer. “When it comes to the other marked ones, don’t risk trusting them. Not yet. They know they can’t kill you, but some of them would be happy to see you hurt given who your mother is.”
“Back to that, are we?” I try to smile, but my lower lip trembles. I’m not actually upset about him leaving. That’s the lemonade talking.
“Never left that,” he reminds me, keeping his voice low even though the others in the courtyard are now giving us more than enough privacy. “Keep yourself alive, and I’ll be back in seven days.” His hand slides to the side of my neck, and his thumb grazes my jawline as he lowers his mouth to only a breath above mine. “We managed to keep each other alive today. Trust me yet?”