Jesinia will be pissed if I miss our appointment.
“Colonel Daxton’s Guide to Excelling in the Scribe Quadrant,” he reads from the spine.
“That one wasn’t as useful as I thought it would be the first time I read it,” I joke.
“I would say not.” He sets the book down and then tilts his head, reading the book I have open in front of me. “The Journey of the First Six, a Secondhand Account.”
“Yes.” My pulse leaps, and my stomach gets the same weightless feeling that usually comes when Tairn makes a steep dive. I should have hidden the damned books.
“Or maybe you want him to know,” Tairn interjects.
“Go…be busy.”
“A class assignment?” Xaden’s eyes narrow when I don’t answer.
“For research.” For some reason I can’t fathom, I draw the line at outright lying to him.
“I don’t remember anything about the First Six being…” A tick of his jaw later, his gaze jumps to mine. “You’re hiding something from me.”
Shit. He knows. Or he guesses. That was fast.
“Violet?” It’s practically a growl. He definitely knows. “Why are you researching the First Six?”
“For Aretia.” I shut the book. There’s nothing in it that’s going to help, anyway.
Xaden draws a deep breath, and shadows extend from under the chair, rolling over his feet like a dark fog.
“For you, really.” The admission is soft.
He stills so completely that I’m not sure he’s even breathing.
“Brennan told you we have a wardstone.” His words are clipped, controlled. The shadows begin moving like hands, gathering all the books around me but the one I’m holding and stacking them. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Why? Because he’s more forthcoming with me than you are?” I close the book. “Relax, it’s not like he gave me your journal or something.”
“I don’t keep one, but that would have been far preferable,” he snaps. “Digging around for information on Navarre’s most classified defense will get you killed.”
“Civilians are fleeing for our borders, no one in Navarre knows the truth, and Aretia needs to defend itself—to protect the people I’m guessing you’re prepared to take in when venin inevitably reach Tyrrendor.” I clutch the old tome to my chest. “You are going to take people in, aren’t you?”
“Of course we are.”
“Good.” At least my faith isn’t misplaced. I glance over my shoulder at the clock on my desk. Twenty minutes until I have to return the book.
“But it’s weapons that are going to defend Tyrrendor.”
“I beg to differ, and I’ll keep researching until I figure out how the First Six put these wards in place so we can duplicate the process in Aretia.” I tilt my chin at him.
“No one knows how it was originally done, only how to maintain them.” He rises from the chair, and his shadows follow as he paces, a barometer for his mood. “It’s a lost magic, and you can’t deny that it was probably lost on purpose.”
“Someone knows,” I counter, tracking his movements. “There’s no chance that someone didn’t leave a record somewhere in case they fail. We aren’t going to destroy the only thing that could save us. We would hide it, but we wouldn’t destroy it.”
“And how the hell do you propose finding that record without letting the scribes know what you’re up to?” he challenges, turning at the edge of my bed with his hands laced behind his neck and pinning me with a stare that might have sent me running last year.
The click of my teeth is audible as I snap my mouth shut.
He takes one deep breath, then another, closing his eyes. “The book you’re clutching like a newborn. It’s not one of yours, is it?”
“It’s currently in my possession.”
“Violet.” I can practically feel him counting to ten in his head for patience.
“Fine. I borrowed it from the Archives. Are you really going to yell at me for trying to help?”
“Who knows?” The question is so soft that I almost wish he would just yell. He’s always at his most lethal when he’s calm like this.
“A friend.”
His eyes snap open. “There’s a reason we don’t fuck around in the Archives. That’s the beating heart of the enemy.” His gaze bores into mine. “We don’t have any friends there.”
“Well, I do.” I stand slowly. “And I’m going to be late to return the book if I don’t head down there now. So why don’t you get some sleep while I—”
“I’m coming with you.”
“The hell you are.” I slip the book into the borrowed bag. “You’ll scare her witless. I haven’t told her anything about you, or Aretia, or what’s going on outside our borders, so relax.”
Go figure, he doesn’t. “She just knows you’re researching classified material. I’m not going to relax knowing that you’ve put yourself in danger.”
“You’re in danger every single day.” Anger flushes my skin.
Someone knocks on the door, and he sighs before jerking it open.
“Oh!” Rhiannon steps back, almost bumping into Ridoc. “I didn’t realize you were here today, Lieutenant Riorson.” She glances over at me. “Vi, we were going to ask if you wanted to come to Chantara with us—”
“She’s busy,” Xaden responds, clasping my hand.
“Don’t be an ass.” I yank my hand from his.
“Whoa.” Ridoc’s eyebrows rise as I turn toward Xaden.
“I’ve done exactly what you asked. I kept everything from my friends.” I glare into the depths of his soul. “So don’t be an asshole to them.”
“Exactly what I’ve asked?” He leans down, bringing his face within a breath of mine. “By keeping your research a secret?”
My jaw drops. “Are you really going to stand here and compare secrets with me?”
“It’s not the same.” He winces.
“It’s exactly the same!” I grip the strap of the bag to keep from jabbing him in the chest with my finger. How fucking dare he. “I’m researching the wards for you.”
“Why do you think I’m so angry?” The tension in his eyes, his posture, his tone equals mine.
“Because you don’t like being on the other side of secrets.”
“What the hell is going on?” Sawyer asks from the hallway.
“I…uh…” Ridoc scratches the top of his head. “I think they’re fighting.”
“That has… How long have you been hiding this from me?” Xaden questions.
“They’re not even…speaking,” Rhiannon mutters.
“I haven’t hidden shit from you. I’ve simply told you selective truths.”
He draws back like I’ve hit him.
“Sorry, guys.” I turn to my friends. “Trust me, there’s nothing I would rather do than go to Chantara with you, but unfortunately, I have to run an errand. Next weekend?”