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)
“That’s enough to put us into first!” Rhiannon whispers, linking her arm with mine. “We could win the glory of going to the front!”
“What are the boundaries?” someone to the right asks.
“Anything within the walls of Basgiath,” Panchek answers. “And don’t you dare let me see you trying to haul a dragon back here. They’ll incinerate you out of sheer annoyance.”
The squad to our left mutters their disappointment.
“You have”—Panchek pulls out his pocket watch—“three hours, at which time we’ll expect you to present your stolen treasures in the Battle Brief room.”
We all stare at him in silence. Out of everything I imagined the third and final task to be…well, this wasn’t anywhere near that list.
“What are you waiting for?” Panchek shoos his hands at us. “Go!”
Pandemonium ensues.
This is what happens when you remove our leadership. We’re…a hot freaking mess.
“Second Squad!” Imogen yells, putting her hands up. “Follow me!”
Sawyer and Heaton make sure we’re all ducklings, following in Imogen’s wake as she leads us across the gym to the weight room.
“You did great,” I tell Liam as he walks at my side, still struggling to catch his breath.
“It was epic.” Ridoc hands Liam a waterskin, which Liam promptly drains.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Imogen says, ushering us through the open door. She does a quick head count and then closes the door, wielding to lock it.
I find a seat on one of the benches, flanked by Rhiannon and Liam.
“First thing. Who wants to be in command?” Imogen asks, looking at the ten of us.
Ridoc throws his hand in the air.
Rhiannon turns and forces it back down. “No.” She shakes her head. “You’ll turn this into some kind of prank.”
“Fair point.” He shrugs.
“Liam?” Quinn asks, lifting her eyebrows.
“No.” He shakes his head, but his gaze darts in my direction, giving his reasoning away.
“No one is going to try and off me while we’re out tonight,” I argue.
He turns back toward Imogen and shakes his head one more time.
Of course she nods. They’re both on Team Xaden.
“You keep command,” Rhiannon suggests, looking at Imogen. “You’ve gotten us this far.”
A murmur of agreement goes around the room.
“Emery? Heaton?” Imogen asks. “As third-years, it’s your right.”
“No thanks.” Heaton leans back against the wall.
“Nope. There’s a reason neither of us wanted to be in leadership,” Emery adds, sitting next to Nadine. “Any reason you wouldn’t be all right following Imogen’s command for a few hours, Nadine?”
Every one of us turns to face the first-year who hasn’t been remotely subtle about her hatred of marked ones. Knowing now that she’s from a northern village on the border of the provinces of Deaconshire and Tyrrendor, I can see her reasoning. I just don’t agree with it, hence why I’m not exactly friendly with her.
She visibly swallows, her nervous gaze skittering over all of us. “I’m fine with it.”
“Good.” Imogen folds her arms across her chest, the wrist with her rebellion relic peeking out from under her tunic. “We have a little less than three hours. What are your ideas?”
“What about a piece of weaponry?” Ridoc suggests. “A cross-bolt would be deadly to any of our dragons in the hands of our enemies.”
“Too big,” Quinn says decisively. “There’s only one in the museum, and honestly, it’s not even the bolt that’s deadly, it’s the launching system.”
“Next?” Imogen glances at each of us.
“We could steal Panchek’s underw—” Ridoc starts before Rhiannon slams her hand over his mouth.
“And that’s why we don’t let you lead.” She arches a brow at him.
“Come on, guys! Think! What’s the most useful thing to our enemy?” Imogen’s brow puckers over her pale green eyes.
“Information,” Liam answers. He swings his gaze toward me. “Violet, what about stealing the news missives from the Archives? The ones that come in from the front?”
I shake my head. “It’s after seven. The Archives are locked, and it’s the kind of vault that even wielding isn’t going to touch. The whole room is sealed up airtight in case of fire.”
“Damn.” Imogen sighs. “That was a good one.”
The entire room breaks into conversation, each voice louder than the next as suggestions are hurled into the open.
Information. My stomach twists as an idea takes form. It would be a showstopper, something no one else could compare to. But… I shake my head. It’s too risky.
“What are you thinking, Sorrengail?” Imogen asks and the room falls silent. “I can see the little gears turning in your mind.”
“It’s probably nothing.” I glance at the members of our squad. But is it nothing?
“Get up here and work it out in your head,” Imogen orders.
“Seriously, it’s mad. Like, undoable. We’d get thrown in the brig if we’re caught.” I snap my mouth shut before I say anything more.
But it’s too late—Imogen’s eyes are sparkling with interest.
“Get. Up. Here. And. Work. It. Out,” she orders, making sure I know it’s not a suggestion.