He nods.
“It’s morning,” Rhi answers, worry lining her forehead. “I think.”
I reach for Xaden, but the pathway is opaque again. He’s gone.
“The vice commandant called me in to heal you.” Nolon’s voice drops, and he leans forward. “So he can shatter you again and again until you break. I’m on orders to remain in the antechamber for the rest of your interrogation, which he’s extended until tomorrow.”
Dread knots my empty stomach.
“Is that normal?” Sawyer asks, leaning toward me and bracing his forearms on his knees.
“No,” Nolon answers, holding my gaze. “He wants whatever it is you know, Violet.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes lightly. “Is it worth holding on to?”
I nod.
“Is it worth watching your squadmates tortured?”
I wince but nod again.
“I think I’ve had my head buried in other matters for too long.” He sighs, then stands. “Why don’t you walk me to the door?”
I swing my legs over the bunk, then do as he asks, following him to the chamber’s door. Rhiannon isn’t far behind. “You’d better find a way out,” he whispers to me before speaking through the open window. “I’m done for now.”
The door opens, and Nolon escapes. “I’ll close it,” he tells whoever is on the other side. His eyes meet mine through the window as he shuts the door, the lock audibly clicking into place…but not the window.
Rhiannon tugs me down, and we both drop into a crouch.
“I’ve been thinking about my other patient,” Nolon says casually.
“What about him?” Varrish replies.
“He spent the night in the infirmary again. Sorrengail will have to sleep off the mending for another hour or so. Why don’t you walk back with me and see if your particular skills could be of use? I might be overlooking something.”
Rhiannon and I exchange the same confused look.
“You think the sessions are failing?” Varrish asks.
“I think I’ve done all I can for him,” Nolon answers. “I’m not going to sit here all day and waste time while she’s sleeping—”
“Fine, we’ll go,” Varrish replies. “We have to be quick. The others are fetching breakfast.”
“Then by all means, let’s make it fast.”
A moment later, the antechamber door opens and closes.
Rhiannon and I stand slowly, then peer through the window.
“I think we’re alone,” she whispers.
“Agreed.”
“We have to get out of here,” Rhiannon says to the guys. “I really, honestly think Varrish might try to kill Violet.”
My stomach flips. Oh Dunne, she actually said it.
“Are you serious?” Sawyer asks, his eyes bulging, but Ridoc stays quiet, his gaze jumping between Rhiannon and me.
“He’s already pushed me to burnout once,” I admit quietly.
A look passes between the guys, and they stand.
“Fine, I’ll ask the obvious question,” Ridoc says as they cross the chamber. “What the hell do you know that we don’t?”
I glance between all three of them. “If I told you—and trust me, I’ve considered it—you would be the ones strapped to the chair. I’m not about to let that happen.”
“Maybe you should let us decide what risks we’re willing to take.” Sawyer cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders, already looking at the door.
“Lesser magic isn’t working on the lock,” Ridoc mutters, his hand extended toward the door.
“Valid point, Sawyer. But this…” I shake my head. “It’s not just about me.”
“Right now it is,” Rhiannon says. “It’s all about saving you. We can figure the rest out later. Sawyer, do your thing.”
“Already on it.”
We move out of his way, and he puts his hands up toward each of the hinges. His fingers tremble and the hinges smoke, then melt. Hot metal drips down the edges of the door as he works.
“Quick, before you accidentally weld us in here,” Ridoc lectures.
“I don’t see you melting anything,” Sawyer responds from where he’s crouched, sweat beading his brow as he melts the last hinge.
Relief nearly takes out my knees. We’re going to make it!
The door wobbles, and Rhiannon and I lunge toward the guys, both throwing up our hands over them. Wood smacks into my palms, sending a jolt of pain through my newly mended shoulder as we catch what feels like the heaviest door ever made.
“Move!” Rhiannon shouts.
The guys scurry out from under the door, then help us lower it to the floor.
“We should consider quitting the quadrant,” Ridoc jokes as we walk over the door and out of the chamber. “We’d be kickass thieves.”
“With dragons,” Sawyer agrees.
“Unstoppable,” Ridoc says with a grin.
We pause at the desk only long enough to retrieve our weapons. I feel a little less panicked, less vulnerable with every blade I sheathe.
“Ready?” Rhiannon asks, gripping her shortsword.
Guess I’m not the only one who disdains feeling helpless.
We all nod, then head for the main door. Hope lives for all of a millisecond.
“It’s the same kind of lock. Lesser magic isn’t working,” Sawyer seethes, already putting his hands out.
“I don’t—” Heat prickles along my ribs. It’s the same feeling I get when I walk through the wards on my door. I look down and stare. The dagger closest to the door handle is hot and…tingling. I pull it from the sheath, bumping against the door handle as I brush my thumb over the decorative pommel.
Metal clicks against metal, and we all turn to look at the lock.
“What the hell?” Sawyer’s eyebrows jump.
“I don’t know. That’s…impossible.” Knives don’t open locks. But the heat and the tingling sensation are gone.
“Someone stop staring and try the fucking door!” Rhi orders.
Reaching for the handle, I hold my breath as the latch depresses. I pull. The door opens. “Holy shit.” It’s coincidence. It has to be. Magic isn’t tied to objects like that.
“Holy shit later, escape now,” Rhi says. “Go!”
“Right.” I sheathe the blade and yank the door open.
If we ever choose to invade enemy territory—which we don’t—I would choose Zolya as my first target. Take out Cliffsbane Academy and you take out years of gryphon riders in one strike.
—TACTICS, A PERSONAL MEMOIR BY LIEUTENANT LYRON PANCHEK
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We race out of the cave and into the morning air, the rising sun hitting us in the face. Throwing up our hands to shield our eyes, we run forward into the knee-high grass that spans the distance from the cliffs to the trees.
“Where did you get those knives?” Rhiannon asks when we’re halfway to the line of oaks.
“Xaden.” It doesn’t even occur to me to lie. “He had them made for me—”
“Well, this is an unexpected delight,” Professor Grady says from behind us.
We spin, and I draw two daggers. I’d rather visit Malek than go back into that chamber. But I will…for the final exam.