Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
“Violating?” I suggest.
“Exactly,” he agrees. “If they did it just then, that means they can do it whenever they want.”
“It’s a new development this year,” Tairn says, his eyes narrowing on Professor Grady. “One I do not care for. I could hear you, sense you, but you could not reply.”
“Tairn isn’t a fan, either.” Gods, I’m so tired. Why the hell would leadership be developing ways to weaken us? Because that’s what it felt like, being weakened, being cut off not only from my greatest sources of strength and support—Tairn and Andarna—but the very power I’ve come to depend on.
“See?” Rhiannon says. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you that things are weird this year. Guarded infirmary doors? Developing elixirs to muffle our bonds? You were nearly assassinated at assessment.”
“Panchek thinks that was someone looking for revenge on my mother, and I didn’t say I don’t believe you,” I counter with selective truths.
“You don’t say much, period.” She shoots a look at me.
Keeping secrets from her is going to shred our friendship. Already, I feel it pulling at the seams. She might be trying to be patient, but it’s her nature to solve problems and I’m a huge one.
Tairn dips his shoulder at my approach.
“Please tell me you got to see Sgaeyl?” I ask, summoning the energy to mount. Not sure how, but I manage to climb to his back and settle into the saddle.
“I did for a couple of hours. That’s all the time I was willing to be out of range from you, and only after Baide left.”
“And they’re already gone, right?” Why does it feel like my heart is breaking all over again? Missing Xaden is illogical and annoying and kind of pathetic, but I can’t make the feeling ebb.
“We will see them in a week.”
So why does every instinct I have scream we won’t?
My dad hoped I’d go into the infantry like he did. He thought riders were pompous pricks, and in his defense…we really are.
—RECOVERED CORRESPONDENCE OF LIEUTENANT XADEN RIORSON TO CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We’re back in enough time for me to visit the Archives, so I do just that. If I can’t see Xaden, I may as well spend my time researching. It’s late afternoon before I can get cleaned up and make my way down there, and it makes me smile to see Jesinia working at one of the tables with Aoife.
Aoife looks up at the sound of my bootsteps, prompting Jesinia to, as well. They both wave and I return the gesture.
I pause at the study table, setting down my book to return as the two have a quick discussion before Aoife rises and heads to the back of the Archives. Then Jesinia walks over, carrying what looks to be the notebook Aoife brought along during the land navigation exercise.
“What are you doing in here on a Sunday?” I sign as she reaches the study table.
She puts the notebook down on the scarred oak surface and lifts her hands to sign. “Helping Aoife transcribe her account into the official report to be filed. She’s taking a quick break. Want to see what she chronicled?” She picks up the notebook and offers it to me.
“Absolutely.” I nod, then take the notebook and skim Aoife’s neat handwriting. It’s amazingly accurate, with little details I’d missed, like the two infantry cadets who’d offered to be the healers’ aides because that’s their job for the squad. They have designated roles for each mission. I set it down on top of the book I’m returning to sign. “This is incredible.”
“Glad to hear it’s accurate.” She glances over her shoulder, as if checking to see if we’re alone, which we are. “The tricky thing is to capture the truth and not just an interpretation. Stories can change depending on who tells them.”
If she only knew. How does someone like Jesinia graduate to become whatever Markham has evolved into? “Can I ask… What book did Jacek request that got him hauled away and killed?” I sign before I think better of it.
Her eyes widen. “He was killed?”
I nod. “A few days after we saw Markham take him.”
Her face turns the same shade as her robes. “He was looking for an account of a border attack that doesn’t exist. I told him there’s no such record, but he came back three times, certain there was because he’d had family killed in the event. I recorded the request and sent it up my chain of command, thinking it would help him, but…” She shakes her head and drops her hands, blinking back tears.
“It’s not your fault,” I sign, but she doesn’t respond, and it hits me that I could have been hauled away by Markham last year, but I wasn’t. And there’s only one logical explanation. I glance around us quickly to make sure we’re still alone. “Last year, you didn’t record when I asked for a book that doesn’t exist in your records.”