I was thrown into a battle with dark wielders, lost one of my closest friends, fought an actual venin on the back of my dragon, and then was mended by our very not-dead brother. “Nothing.”
She gives me the look. The one that always loosened my tongue when we were kids.
I waver. If there was only one person on the Continent I could tell, it would be Mira.
“I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t know anyone on the missions into Poromiel. You know everyone. And how do you know that what you saw was one of the riots tasked with reconnaissance?” I ask.
“Because there were over a dozen dragons in the distance to the south, over the border. What the hell else could it have been, Violet?” She gives me a skeptical look.
This is it. This is the opening to tell her the truth. The chance to bring her in so she fights on the right side of this conflict, so she can see our brother. Wyvern. She saw wyvern. But it’s not just my life I’d risk by telling her. My heart sinks, but I have to.
Xaden could never understand—he doesn’t have a sister.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “What if they’re wyvern?” There. I said it. Kind of.
She blinks and draws her head back. “Say again?”
“What if you saw wyvern? What if they’re destroying Poromish cities, since we both know it isn’t dragons?” My hand clenches around the hilt of my last dagger. “What if there’s an entire war out there we know nothing about?”
Her shoulders dip and sympathy fills her eyes. “You have to spend less time reading those fables, Vi. Have you been getting enough rest since the gryphon attack? Because you sound like maybe you’re not sleeping.” The concern in her tone breaks me down like nothing else could. “And it’s hard to see combat for the first time, let alone as a first-year, but if you don’t get enough sleep and present a stable, steady front… Riders have to be solid, Violet. You understand what I’m saying?”
Of course she doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either. But she’s the only person in the world who absolutely, unconditionally loves me. Brennan let me believe he was dead—would still let me believe it. Mom has never seen me as anything but a liability. Xaden? I can’t even go there.
“No.” I shake my head slowly. “No, I’m not sleeping very well.” It’s an excuse, and I take it. Heaviness settles in my chest.
She sighs, and the relief in her eyes eases a little of the weight in mine. “That explains it. I can recommend some really great teas that will help. Come on, let’s get these daggers out and get you to bed. You’ve had a long flight, and I have duty in a few hours, anyway.” She leads me to the targets, and we remove the daggers once again.
“You’re on duty with Xaden?” I ask to fill the silence as we pull blade after blade from the wood.
“No. He’s in the operations center, which is—”
“Above my clearance. I know.”
“I have a patrol flight.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry.
We’ll get to spend some time together when you’re here next. Every two weeks, right?”
“Right.”
…
The sky is black when Xaden slides into bed shirtless, the movement waking me from a fitful attempt at sleep. Enough moonlight comes through the window to see the harsh, beautiful lines of his face as he turns toward me, both of us lying on our sides. Enough moonlight to see a silver scar across his heart I somehow missed in the fighting pits. Was he wounded at Resson?
“You’re awake.” He leans onto his elbow, propping his head on his hand.
“I don’t sleep well anymore.” I tug the summer-weight blanket up over my shoulder as if he hasn’t seen me in less than the slip of a nightgown I’m wearing. “And I don’t have it in me to fight tonight.”
“Then we won’t fight.”
“Because it’s that simple.” Even my sarcasm is exhausted.
“It is if that’s what we decide.” His gaze wanders over my face, softening with every second.
“What time is it?”
“A little after midnight. I wanted to talk to you earlier, but there was an incident—”
“Mira.” I jolt upright, fear stabbing deep.
“She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Just some civilians trying to cross the border and the infantry…wasn’t pleased.”
“They weren’t pleased?”
“They killed them,” he admits softly. “Happens all the time out here, just doesn’t get briefed at Basgiath. Lie back down.” The suggestion is gentle. “Mira’s perfectly fine.”
We kill civilians? That information goes straight to the box.
“I almost told her today.” I whisper the confession as my head hits the pillow, even knowing no one can hear us in here. “For all my anger, you’re right not to trust me, because I almost told her. I even hinted, hoping she’d catch on.” A bitter laugh slips free. “I want her to know. I want her to see Brennan. I want her to be on our side. I just…” My throat threatens to close.
Xaden reaches out and cups my cheek. There’s no reproach in his gaze, or even judgment, though I’ve just given him reason to shut me out for the rest of our lives. His silence, the quiet acceptance in his eyes, keeps me talking.
“I just feel…heavy,” I admit. “I don’t have anyone who knows who I really am anymore. The guy I considered my best friend nearly got us killed. I’m keeping secrets from Rhiannon, from my sister, from…you. There’s not a single person in this world I’m entirely truthful with.”
“I haven’t exactly made it easy for you to trust me,” he says, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “I’m still not making it easy. But you and I are not easy people. What we build together has to be strong enough to withstand a storm. Or a war. Easy isn’t going to give that to us.”
What we build together. The words make my reckless heart clench.
“I should have told you I was reading into the wards.” I rest my hand on the warm skin of his arm. “I knew you’d tell me not to, and I’d probably do it anyway, but mostly I didn’t tell you because…” I can’t even say it.
“Because I don’t tell you everything, either.” His thumb strokes across my cheek again. “You put it between us on purpose. Gave yourself a secret because I wouldn’t share all of mine.”
I nod.
“You’re allowed to have secrets. That’s the point. I’d prefer they not risk everything I’ve worked toward for the last few years—or your life. And yes, I’m still not happy about the scribe, but we’re not fighting tonight. I just need to know the important things. I won’t withhold information that could change how you make decisions, and I ask the same of you.” His thumb continues the same soothing, lazy pattern.
I don’t want us to have secrets, but he’s already made it clear that’s not changing. So maybe it’s time to try another tactic. “How long will you hold on to the weapons for?”
A corner of his mouth tugs upward. “I won’t meet up with a drift for another couple of weeks.”