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)
“No.” He turns to Quinn. “The guard looks about six feet tall, but he seems pretty athletic. The other stairwell is down the hallway to the left, which means you’ll have to get his attention and then book it.”
Quinn nods. “No problem.”
“Everyone else know what they’re doing?” I ask.
There are eight nods.
“Then let’s do this. Quinn, you’re up. Everyone else, circle back down so he can’t see us if he looks this way.” I can’t believe we’re actually about to do this. If she catches us, there won’t be any mercy. It’s not in her nature.
We retreat, and Quinn charges up the stairs. Her voice is muffled by the stone walls, but we hear the guard’s pounding footsteps clear as day as he charges past the stairway.
“Get back here! You can’t be here!”
“Now!” Imogen orders.
We launch, leaving Rhiannon and Emery in the stairwell as we fly into the hallway. Sawyer rushes toward the opposite staircase, throwing the door shut and twisting the metal joints with his powers as we bolt down the hall.
I’ve never run this fast in my life, and Nadine is already at the door, trying to unweave whatever wards my mother has used.
Liam steps into the spot where the guard stood and lifts his chin in the air, taking the same posture. “Are you all right?”
“Yep,” I answer, my chest heaving as Imogen steps in to help Nadine. Nadine’s signet is the ability to unweave wards, which I never thought would come in this handy. Riders are always out there building the wards, keeping the shields up around Navarre. Then again, not many riders try to break into the commanding general’s office. “And I’ll be fine in there,” I assure him, a smile tugging at my lips. “Which is funny, since I didn’t think the same way the last time I was standing here.”
“Got it!” Nadine whispers, nudging the door open.
“If you hear me whistle—” Liam starts, worry lining his forehead.
“We’ll go out the window or something,” I assure him as Ridoc and Sawyer rush past. “Relax.” Leaving Liam to stand watch, I join the others in Mom’s office.
“Don’t touch the mage lights or she’ll know,” I warn them. “You have to make your own.” I flick my wrist, twisting my power into a bright blue flame and letting it drift over me. It’s one of the things I’m actually good at.
“How nice is this?” Ridoc flops down onto the red couch.
“We don’t have time for you to be…you,” Sawyer lectures, heading for the bookcase. “Help me search for something useful.”
“We’ll take the table.” Imogen and Nadine start sorting through papers on the six-seater conference table.
“Which leaves me and the desk,” I mutter, walking around the intimidating piece of furniture and praying I don’t trigger any wards she’s set. There are three folded missives in the middle, and I pick up the first, revealing a sharp dagger with an alloy-infused hilt and what looks to be a Tyrrish rune in the handle that she must be using as a letter opener or something. I unfold the letter with as much care as I can.
General Sorrengail,
The raids around Athebyne have spread the wing too thin. Being posted beyond the safety of the wards comes with considerable hazards, and though I am loath to request reinforcements, I must. If we do not reinforce the post, we may be forced to abandon it. We are protecting Navarrian citizens with life, limb, and wing, but I cannot adequately relay how dire the situation is here. I know you receive the dailies from our scribe attachment, but I would be remiss in my duties as executive officer of the Southern Wing if I did not write to you personally. Please find us reinforcements.
Sincerely,
Major Kallista Neema
I breathe past the ache that erupts in my chest at the plea in her letter. We’ve discussed nearly daily attacks in Battle Brief, but nothing on that scale.
Maybe they don’t want to scare us.
But if it’s that terrifying out there, we have every right to know—we’ll likely be called into service before we graduate. Maybe even this year.
“These are all…numbers,” Imogen says, rifling through the conference table papers.
“It’s April,” I say, reaching for the next missive. “She’s working on next year’s budget.”
Everyone stops and turns to look at me, all wearing expressions of varying degrees of disbelief.
“What?” I shrug. “Did you think this place ran itself?”
“Keep looking,” Imogen orders.
I unfold the next missive.
General Sorrengail,
Protests regarding conscription laws are growing within the province of Tyrrendor. Knowing that due to Tyrrendor’s size, it provides the majority of our conscripts to replenish our front lines, we cannot afford to lose the support of the people again. Perhaps an influx of defensive spending on outposts here would not only bolster the province’s economy and remind the Tyrrish how needed they are to the defense of our kingdom, but also ease the unrest. Please consider this solution as an alternative to suppressing the unrest with force.