Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
I hate how unsettled everything feels between us, all wrongly sticky, like putting on clothes before you can dry after a bath, but it’s still Dain. At least he’s finally being supportive.
“She’s going to miss Carr’s class today,” Xaden interrupts, appearing behind Sawyer, who hurries to clear a path.
“No I’m not.” I shake my head and ignore the quick jump of my pulse at the sight of him.
“She needs to go,” Dain argues, then grits his teeth. “I mean, unless the wing has more pressing matters for Cadet Sorrengail, her time is best spent developing her wielding skills.”
“I think we both know she’s not going to manifest a signet in that room. She would have already if that was the key.” I wouldn’t wish the look Xaden levels Dain with on my worst enemy. It’s not anger or even indignation. No, he looks…annoyed, as if Dain’s complaints are entirely beneath him, which, according to our chain of command, they are. “And yes, the wing has more pressing matters for her.”
“Sir, I’m just not comfortable with her going a day without at least practicing her wielding, and as her squad leader—”
He doesn’t know that Xaden’s been giving me extra wielding sessions while we spar.
“For Dunne’s sake.” Xaden sighs, invoking the goddess of war. He reaches into the pocket of his cloak and takes out a pocket watch, holding it in his outstretched palm. “Pick it up, Sorrengail.”
I glance at the two men and wish they’d just sort their shit out between themselves, but there’s about a zero percent chance of that happening. For the sake of expediency, I throw my mental feet into the floor of the Archives. White-hot power flows around me, raising goose bumps on my arms and lifting the hair at the back of my neck.
Raising my right hand, I envision that power twining between my fingers, and little shocks blossom along my skin as I give form to the energy, making it a hand of its own as I ask it to stretch the few feet that separate me from Xaden.
There’s an abrupt halt, as though my tendrils of raw magic hit a wall, but then it gives, and I push forward, keeping tight control of the blazing hand. There’s a crackle in my head, like the dying embers of a fire, as my power brushes Xaden’s hand, but I close my mental fist around the pocket watch and then pull.
It’s fucking heavy.
“You got this,” Rhiannon urges.
“Let her concentrate,” Sawyer chides.
The watch plummets for the ground, but I snap my hand back, yanking on my power as though it’s a rope, and the watch flies toward me. I catch it with my left hand before it can smack me in the face.
Rhiannon and Ridoc clap.
Xaden walks forward and plucks the watch from my fingers, dropping it into his cloak. “See? She’s practiced. Now, we have things to do.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me out of the crowd.
“Where are we going?” I loathe the way my body demands I lean back into his touch, but I miss it the second it’s gone.
“I’m assuming you’re not wearing flight leathers under that cloak.” He opens the door to the dormitory for me, and I walk inside. The motion is so easy that I know it’s not only practiced but second nature, which is at complete odds with, well…everything I’ve come to know about him.
I pause, looking at him like we’re meeting for the first time.
“What?” he asks, closing the door behind us and shutting out the blustering cold.
“You opened the door for me.”
“Old habits die hard.” He shrugs. “My father taught me that—” His voice dies abruptly, and his gaze falls away, every muscle in his body locking as though he’s preparing for an attack.
My heart aches at the look that crosses his face, recognizing it well. Grief.
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold for flying?” I ask, changing the subject in an attempt to help. The pain in his eyes is the kind that never dies, the kind that rises like an unpredictable tide and floods the shoreline without mercy.
He blinks, and it’s gone. “I’ll wait here.”
I nod and hurry to change into the fur-lined leathers we’re issued for winter flight. He has that unreadable mask on when I return, and I know there won’t be any more doors held on my account today.
We walk out across the emptying courtyard as cadets scurry off to classes. “You didn’t answer me.”
“About what?” He keeps his eyes on the gate to the flight field path and I have to damn near scurry to keep up with his strides.
“About it being cold for flight.”
“Third-years have flight field this afternoon. Kaori and the other professors are just taking it easy on you guys, since the Squad Battle is coming up and they know you need the practice in wielding.” He pushes open the gate, and I hurry after him.