“Sgaeyl!” I reach out through the one pathway I avoid at almost every cost. “They’re going to cancel next week’s leave if he doesn’t relent.”
“How hurt are you?” Grady asks, concern on his face.
“Dislocated my shoulder last week,” I answer.
“I chose him for his inability to relent,” Sgaeyl reminds me.
“Not helpful at the moment. Do I need to remind you of what he’s carrying?”
“Fine. But only so this conversation ends.”
“Her wingleader is otherwise engaged,” Varrish says to Xaden. “And feel free to continue to argue with me. You’re right. You’re not under my chain of command, but as I had to remind her dragon, she is. Or did you not hear about her disciplinary session? I’d hate for her to have to repeat it simply for you to learn your lesson, Lieutenant. Then again, you could always join us.”
Xaden smiles, but it’s not the kind that warms my heart. It’s the one that chills every cell in my body to ice, the cruel, menacing curve I first saw on the dais when he was my wingleader. “One day, Major Varrish, you and I are going to have words.” He drops the shadow barrier and lifts a brow at me. “You went to Sgaeyl?”
“I make no apologies for saving your ass from your own stubbornness.” I put out my good hand, and Grady steps forward, binding it mercifully to the one protruding from the sling. At least he didn’t wrench my hurt shoulder behind my back, but damn, the rope is tight. “There’s a book on my desk that needs to be returned to the Archives.”
Anger burns in the depths of his gold-flecked onyx eyes. “I’ll see that it’s done.”
“See you next week,” I whisper. “Tell her page three hundred and four mentions a text I’d like to read next.”
“Next week,” he responds with a nod, his fists clenched as Varrish walks by with the others in my squad. “Violence, remember it’s only the body that’s fragile. You are unbreakable.”
“Unbreakable,” I repeat to myself as Professor Grady leads me away.
The things that happen behind closed doors in the Riders Quadrant in order to turn young cadets into full-fledged riders are enough to turn even the staunchest of stomachs. Those prone to queasiness should not pry.
—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT （UNAUTHORIZED EDITION）
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The key can be found in my desk drawer.
As far as secret phrases go, that one is laughably uncreative, but nevertheless, it’s the one I’m quietly given after we enter the training facility. The entrance is so well hidden in the cliffside under the foundation walls of the quadrant that I’ve never seen it in all the years I’ve lived here. It’s remarkably accessible for its intended purpose.
The antechamber of the windowless, guarded cave isn’t too bad as far as torture chambers come. It could even double as an office. A large wooden desk consumes the center of the space, with a high-backed chair on one side and two on the other. They disarm us as soon as we arrive, our weapons taking up a respectable amount of the desk’s surface.
But it’s the two chambers beyond that make me wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Both doors are braced with steel, and both have a barred window currently held closed by a steel latch.
“You’ve all been given your classified information to protect,” Professor Grady says, leading us into the chamber on the right. There’s a scarred wooden table in the center of the dome-shaped room with six chairs, and along the cobblestone walls are five wooden beds with no mattresses and a door that I’m desperately hoping leads to a bathroom or things are going to get awkward over the next couple of days. “Have a seat.” He gestures to the table.
We all do as we’re told. Rhiannon and I take the chairs across from Sawyer and Ridoc, the wood scraping the stone as we sit, all managing it without the use of our hands.
“For right now, we’re in what’s called a classroom setting. Remember what that means?” Professor Grady reaches behind Sawyer, and a second later, Sawyer’s hands are free.
“It means we’re not in the graded scenario,” Rhiannon answers. “We can ask questions.”
“Correct.” Professor Grady moves to Ridoc and does the same. “The purpose of this exercise really is to teach you how to survive capture,” he assures us. “These next couple of days are instructional only.” He reaches for my bonds next, untying the rope with surprising gentleness. “It’s an assessment.”
“So you know which buttons to push when it’s the real thing,” Ridoc says, rubbing his wrists.
“Exactly.” Professor Grady smiles. “Is it going to be fun? Absolutely not. Are we going to show you mercy? Also, no.” He moves on to Rhiannon once my hands are free. “And Vice Commandant Varrish seems to have taken an interest in your squad, no doubt because you have quite the legacy here in Cadet Sorrengail. So unfortunately, it looks like we’ll all be evaluated in how we handle this.”
Two riders walk in with trays of food and pewter mugs, setting them down on the table. There are more than enough biscuits for the four of us and a jar of what looks to be strawberry jam.
“Eat and drink,” Professor Grady says, gesturing to the trays. “You won’t have the opportunity once we enter the scenario. Also”—he flashes a grin— “there’s a patch up for grabs if you manage to escape. Though from what I hear, no squad has managed it in the last decade.”
“It’s as good as ours,” Ridoc responds.
“Confidence.” Professor Grady nods at Ridoc. “I like that in a second-year.” He moves toward the door, then turns. “I’ll let you know when we begin the scenario. Until then, you all need to share a secret. Something no one else outside the four of you could possibly know. And yes, we’re going to try and force it out of you, along with the secret phrases you’ve already been given. Remember the coping mechanisms you’ve been taught in class so far, and this will be over before you know it. Every rider who graduates has sat where you’re sitting and made it through what you’re about to experience. Have faith in yourself. We’re doing this for you, not to you.” He offers a final reassuring smile, then takes his leave, shutting the door behind him.
Rhiannon moves immediately to the door, examining the bars and sealed hatch. “It’s not sound-shielded that I can tell, but if we keep our voices down, we should have a modicum of privacy.” She tries the handle. “And we’re definitely locked in.”
Sawyer parcels out the food onto the four plates we’ve been given.
“It’s all so…civilized,” I note as he slides a plate in front of me.
Rhiannon checks the other door. “And that’s a bathroom, thank gods.”
“I wonder if they take it away during the actual test,” Ridoc muses, slathering jam onto his biscuit with the lone knife we’ve been provided.
“Fuck, I hope not,” Sawyer says, taking the knife from Ridoc. “Anyone else wondering if we’re expecting company?” He nods toward the bed on the end.
“Statistically, five second-years are alive in each squad at this point,” I say, reaching for one of the mugs on the tray. “We lost Nadine.”