Silence falls for a second, then two.
“Well, we’re not losing anyone else. The four of us will make it to graduation,”
Rhiannon says, grabbing a mug for herself, too. She sniffs at it, then sets it down. “Smells like apple juice. All right. We don’t know how much time we have, so let’s go. Pick a secret—any secret—and share with the group.” The knife and jam go to her next. “I’ll start. Last year while we were at Montserrat, Violet and I snuck out so I could see my family.”
“You what?” Sawyer’s brows rise.
Ridoc swallows his bite. “Badass. Didn’t know you had it in you to break the rules, Violet.”
“Oh, Violet’s full of secrets, aren’t you?” Rhiannon shoots a look my way and hands me the knife.
“Really?” I dish out the jam a little too aggressively.
“Whoa.” Ridoc glances between us. “Am I picking up on some tension?”
“No,” Rhi and I simultaneously answer, then look at each other. Both our shoulders sag, and she sighs, looking away. I guess that’s where our line is drawn. This thing we’re going through is just between us. “We’re fine,” she says.
Somehow that makes me feel a little better, but not much.
I bite into the biscuit and chew thoroughly just in case whatever they put us through makes me puke it up later. I need a secret I can share that won’t get any of them killed.
“I didn’t tell my parents I had to repeat,” Sawyer says, his gaze locked on his plate. “They didn’t even question my first letter this year. They assumed that Riders Quadrant cadets couldn’t write for the first two years, and I let them believe it. I just didn’t want them to be embarrassed of me.”
“You’re not an embarrassment,” I say softly, reaching for my mug. “And I’m sure they’re just glad you’re alive. So many of us aren’t.”
“Agreed.” Ridoc nods, his hands wrapped around his mug. “I’m terrified of snakes.”
“That’s a shitty secret,” Sawyer counters, his mouth lifting into a smile.
“Surprise me with one, and you’ll see just how shitty. Besides, you didn’t know it, so I think it qualifies.” Ridoc shrugs. “We’re not supposed to have a weakness in the quadrant, right? That’s my weakness. I scream like a toddler every time I see one.”
Everyone looks my way. Here we go. “I’m in love with Xaden Riorson.” Mira. Them. I seem to be able to say the words to anyone who isn’t Xaden.
“Hate to break it to you, but that’s not a secret,” Ridoc says, shaking his head. “Yes, it is,” I argue, my grip tightening on the mug.
“No,” Sawyer chimes in. “It’s really not.”
“Hasn’t been for a while,” Rhi adds, giving me the first real smile I’ve seen from her in weeks. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
They’re supposed to be my center, my backbone, my safe place. That’s why squadmates are forbidden from killing each other. Venin. Wyvern. The daggers. The wards. Andarna. Brennan. Aretia. I have too many secrets to count, and none of them are safer for it—they’re just blissfully ignorant.
“Can’t my secret be the same as Rhiannon’s?” I ask.
“No,” they all answer.
One thing. There has to be one thing I can tell them that might help prepare them for what’s coming. “Our infantry is killing Poromish civilians at the border.”
“What?” Sawyer leans in, his freckles standing out as the blood drains from his face.
“There’s no way,” Ridoc argues.
Rhiannon stares silently at me.
“Happened while I was at Samara.” I look them each in the eye. “Whether or not we’re getting updated at Battle Brief, it’s happening. Good enough secret?”
They all nod, and I look away when I catch Rhiannon studying me.
“Good,” I say, lifting my mug. The others do the same. I breathe in, tilting the mug to drink— “Stop!” I hiss. “Don’t drink it.” I set it down like the poison it is.
“What the hell?” Ridoc asks, putting his mug on the table.
“It smells like the water they gave us before the land navigation course,” I whisper.
Rhi and Sawyer set theirs down, too.
“They’re trying to disconnect us from our dragons,” Sawyer notes.
“Or dull our signets,” Rhiannon adds. “Did anyone drink?”
We all shake our heads.
“Good. Don’t tell them. Fake the disconnect.” She rises quickly and we follow, each dumping the content of our mugs in the toilet. “We can survive for three days without water, and we should be out of here tomorrow. No matter how thirsty we get, we’ll live. We hold the line.”
Now I understand the biscuits. My mouth feels like I’ve been eating sand. “We hold the line,” Sawyer agrees as we return to the table and sit.
“Fuck tomorrow. I say we break out tonight,” Ridoc whispers. “There have to be keys that you can transport, right?” he says to Rhi.
“Not through walls.” She shakes her head. “I’m close but not there yet.”
“Or you can bend the metal hinges?” That one is directed to Sawyer. “Hell, I can pull moisture out of the air and force ice through the lock.” He turns to me.
“I’m of absolutely no use in this situation.” I lean back in my chair.
The door swings open and Professor Grady walks in.
“We can’t reach our dragons,” Rhi says, lifting her chin. “You tricked us.”
“Lesson number one.” He holds up a finger. “We’re always in scenario.”
Ten minutes later, we find out what the second chamber holds—not much— when they chain Ridoc, Rhiannon, and Sawyer to the rock wall they’ve been ordered to sit against. They’re close enough together that they can almost but not quite touch as their wrists are cuffed in hanging manacles. There are at least six other sets on either side of the trio, and the mage lights above us show every dried blood spatter on the stone.
“I’m guessing the seat is for me?” I ask Professor Grady, eyeing the stained wooden chair in the center of the cylindrical room and its shackles along each armrest and leg. My heart pounds like it has a chance of escaping my chest, escaping this room. There’s a drain under the chair, but I refuse to even think about what it’s for.
“It is.” He motions, and I sit, ignoring every instinct to flee. Panic threatens to choke me as he locks my right arm into the shackle, then does the same with both of my legs, leaving my dislocated shoulder in the sling. “Here is where I leave you.”
“You what?” Ridoc pulls against the shackles at his wrists, but they don’t give.
“I’ll read the reports and give you my advice before the exam,” he tells us. “But we learned a long time ago that it doesn’t exactly foster trust between cadets and professors if we’re the ones doing the questioning.” He looks at each of us in turn. “Remember what you’ve been taught. They’ll try to separate you, turn you against one another, or make you think that talking is an act of mercy. Use the strategies from your reading. Lean on one another. I’ll be just outside the entrance. You make it to me, you earn that patch. Good luck.” He smiles like he didn’t just serve us up to be beaten, then leaves.