Chapter Text
- Violet -
If there’s one thing I know how to do well, it’s how to do the exact opposite of what Xaden Riorson tells me to do.
In fact, he’d probably say it’s the only thing I truly excel at. Compliments from my former-wingleader-turned-revolution-leader are rare these days — especially since we lost Liam last year.
And the opposite of what he ordered is exactly what I’m doing now as I circle Cordyn on Tairn’s back with a V-shaped formation of Gryphons around us. Even at this altitude, the warm air feels heavy with humidity compared to Aretia. The sprawling white palace below us reflects the sun so brightly that I can’t look directly at it long, but I marvel at the pools of water within it — a deeper shade than the turquoise coastline it sits up against.
I may even get extra credit for making disobeying Xaden a family affair this time. I somehow convinced Mira to come along as my muscle and Brennan to negotiate with the proper authority. And even though I intend to be back in Aretia before he returns from his search for more Navarrian defects, I can already picture the wrath of Dunne in Xaden’s eyes when he finds out.
It's his fault, really. He’s the one who insists on somehow both hovering over me and avoiding me at the same time. I’m only defying him because he refuses to do what needs to be done to get the luminary in the name of protecting me and — by default because of our mated dragons — himself.
“You will not be happy with the welcome we’re about to receive,” Tairn warns as we finally land behind a gryphon and his flier, who hops down to face us.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. You worry too much.”
“We’ll see about that.” My stiff joints ache as I slide down Tairn’s foreleg to land in the soft grass of the perfectly manicured palace lawn. I remove my pack, willing my joints to stop screaming in pain.
“Maybe we should have sent word ahead,” Mira, who is already waiting for me, murmurs quietly. “They look like they’d rather fight than negotiate.”
Shit. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to show off how good I am at ignoring Xaden’s commands after all.
“They’re expecting us,” Brennan notes quietly as he approaches us and we start forward.
“You think?” Mira asks, her gaze scanning our surroundings. I keep my focus on the fliers and their hands.
“There are at least three dozen people watching from the balconies above, and there’s another group behind the gryphons,” Brennan states. “They were waiting.”
“Plus, no one’s screaming at the sight of our dragons,” I add quietly.
Mira grins. “True.”
“Be careful what you say here,” Brennan cautions. “Tecarus will hold us to whatever deal we make. He doesn’t take kindly to broken words. And keep your shields up, though I’m not sure they’ll do much good. Fliers might not wield signets, but most of their lesser-magic gifts involve mindwork, and it’s the one area where they have the upper hand on us.”
“Noted.” I don’t need to check my shields. They’ve been locked into place since we left Aretia — a regular practice for me ever since not shielding against Dain got the man I loved killed.
I push thoughts of Liam aside, taking a deep breath as I scan the lawn. The gryphons stare down at us with dark, beady eyes, clicking their razor-sharp beaks as we approach. Two of the fliers wear the same brown leathers I’d seen before on Syrena and Cat when I met them last Fall, but the guy on the left with the patchy beard has a lighter-colored one and different symbols embroidered on his collar.
“Cadet ?” I ask Tairn.
“Yes.” He pauses. “ According to the feathered ones, a third of their ranks took shelter here after Cliffsbane Flight Academy in Zoyla was destroyed.”
Great. I send up a silent prayer that Cat isn’t among those cadets at the present moment. Back when I met her in Samara, she seemed convinced that I was a threat to whatever she had going on with Xaden. The last thing I need now are her icy stares and snide comments while trying to keep a level head for negotiation.
Brennan greets the three fliers in front of us in Krovlish as we approach them.
“We know who you are,” the tall flier in the center interrupts in the common tongue, studying the three of us as if he’s assessing which is the biggest threat. His attention lands on my wind-ravaged coronet braid and his posture changes slightly.
Guess he’s decided it’s me. Mira moves closer to my side and stares him down, her hand resting just above the hilt of her sword.
“Give us one truth, and we’ll allow you to meet with the viscount,” he says to me, his reddish brows knitting together.
“You’re a truth-sayer?” I ask, venturing a guess. It’s an exceedingly rare power for a rider to possess, but I know I’m right when his pale eyes flare.
“Unlike riders, we do not label ourselves by our abilities, but yes, I have the gift of telling when someone is lying,” he corrects me.
“Noted,” I say for the second time in the last five minutes. My heart starts to race, a feeling of danger prickling along my scalp. I hate being disadvantaged by ignorance, but with the lack of information in the Archives about fliers or what they’ve gone through for the last six hundred years, I’m operating on very little information.
“Seeing as you’ve arrived without invitation,” the center flier continues, “we require you to prove that you have honest intentions before traveling farther.”
His hands flex near his daggers, and Mira palms the hilt of her sword. We’re one misstep away from drawing weapons, and we all know it. I need to tread carefully.
“I’m here to wield lightning in return for asking your viscount for help,” I say, mustering up my very best impression of someone who actually knows how to wield lightning effectively.
He cocks his head to the side, then nods, glancing toward Brennan. “I’m here to broker a deal for your luminary in return for weaponry,” Brennan declares. The flier nods again and looks at Mira expectantly.
“Fine,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “Make one wrong move toward my sister, and I’ll gut you like a fish. That goes for everyone in this city. How’s that for honesty?” My mouth falls open as I glance sideways at my sister. I should be used to this by now, but somehow I’m still shocked by her on the regular.
“Damn it, Mira,” Brennan growls. The flier’s mouth curves into a smile.
Thankfully, he seems amused and not interested in calling Mira’s bluff. I’m not sure how Mira’s brutish brand of diplomacy is actually working here, but the tension that had been hanging in the air suddenly diffuses.
“I can respect that,” he says. The trio of fliers part to let us through, revealing the figure waiting directly behind them. A figure dressed entirely in black.
His jaw flexes, his hands curl at his sides, and that perfectly chiseled face — well, let’s just say that Xaden hasn’t looked at me with that much anger since discovering my last name at Parapet nearly two years ago.
Shit. Guess I’m getting that extra credit sooner than I’d hoped.
I hold my breath, staring back at him defiantly as best I can. Much to my surprise, however, the anger on his face disappears quickly. I expect his usual mask of indifference to replace it, but instead a rare smile spreads on his lips as he fixes his gaze on mine. He takes a step forward.
“You aren’t where I left you, my love.”
Did he just say… ‘my love’? What the fuck?
***
Two Hours Earlier
- Xaden -
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I look down at my foot as it taps on the sparkling marble floor of Tecarus’ office in a steady beat, my well-worn black leather boots a stark contrast to the gleaming white surface. I never tap my feet any more. Haven’t since I was a teenager, when I realized showing any sign of nervousness was no longer an option.
But here I am, tapping my fucking foot on the floor of a room I never thought I’d be in again, waiting for a man I never wanted to see again — all because of Violet Fucking Sorrengail.
The door swings open behind me, and I hear the sound of padded footsteps.
“Riorson,” Tecarus booms as he sweeps in and walks straight to the other side of his enormous desk. “Welcome. I wasn’t expecting you to show your face around here unannounced like this after the way you left things last time.”
He looks the same as the last time I saw him nearly two years ago — when I ended our weaponry alliance and broke off my betrothal to his niece. Same jeweled rings on nearly every one of his fingers. Same pudge around the waistline. Same creepy white teeth. Every ounce of me wants to stay seated as a big ‘fuck you’ to this pompous ass, but I force myself to rise and give him a courteous nod.
“Forgive the unexpected visit,” I grind out. “But things are moving quickly in Aretia, as I’m assuming you’ve heard.”
“Yes, indeed I have.” He leans back in his chair. “It seems as though there’s been a lot of disruption in both of your homes.”
I clench my jaw. Basgiath isn’t home, especially not now, but I’m not going to argue that point with him. Gods, all this passive aggressive bullshit makes me want to take one of the obnoxious golden figurines off of his desk and throw it at his stupid fucking head.
“We’re ready to reopen negotiations for the luminary,” I say instead. “Cadet Sorrengail is on her way as you requested, along with her sister and Aisereigh.”
Never mind that twenty four hours ago, I explicitly told Violet that she wasn’t coming here under any circumstances. I don’t know why I even try to reason with her any more — clearly, she seems to be completely incapable of following orders.
“Excellent,” he beams. “We will wait to discuss all of the details until after I see the lightning show, but I’m confident that we can broker an alliance. I was just discussing the marriage clause with my nieces a few days ago—“
“Marriage is off the table,” I snap abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence. His face immediately drops into a frown, his eyes narrowing to angry slits as they focus on me.
Fuck. Here we go.
“Off the table. And why exactly is that?” He demands. “Surely you haven’t flown all this way just to insult my dearest niece—“
“Because I’m already spoken for,” I blurt out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. A fake engagement was one of a dozen options I’d conjured up to help smooth over this situation on my flight over here. But I had hoped they’d just drop the marriage piece of the agreement without me needing to resort to a lie.
His brows furrow. “Spoken for? By whom?”
“Violet Sorrengail,” I say, keeping my voice as normal and even as possible as I say it. As if there’s anything normal about the idea that I’d be engaged to her.
“This is reckless,” Sgaeyl chimes into my head.
“Well aware,” I snap back at her.
Under normal circumstances, I would have formulated a more tactful way to smooth over this whole betrothal issue. Or more likely, I’d let the Assembly come up with something. But I'd dropped everything mid flight when I learned what Violet was up to — and how much danger she was about to be in.
I can’t think straight when she’s in danger. All rational thought goes out the window.
“Sorrengail?” He sputters in disbelief. His eyes are wide with surprise. “Your assembly correspondence didn’t mention that. Marriage has very much been part of the discussion.”
“We got engaged last month and only just announced it,” I say. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate while she was a cadet and I was an officer, but —“ I shrug. “Well, things have changed since then.”
“I see.” He considers something for a moment, bringing his bejeweled hand to his chin. “I have to say, I would have expected you to marry someone more— aristocratic. But you’ve always been a strategic young man. I suppose you wanted to lock that weapon into your arsenal before I got to her.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at me again for a moment. “Interesting way to play this, Riorson.”
This asshole is about to get his ass beat. I swallow and clench my fists, trying my best to suppress the anger building inside me.
“She is not just a weapon, Viscount.” I spit his title out like it’s a curse word. “But we are willing to enter into negotiations and meet the requirement that you see her wield.”
Tecarus looks at me, leaning back in his chair for a moment. I lower my shields briefly. He’s feeling smug, like he has the upper hand. A chill races through me, and I lock my shields back up tightly.
“Very well,” he says, standing up from his chair. I stand from my chair as well. “Why don’t you see yourself to the front parlor while the staff prepare rooms for you and your companions? I’ll have them make arrangements for dinner — and a show.”
I grit my teeth as I follow him out of his office into the vaulted hallway. This is all a fucking game to him. But I won’t let him sink his gold plated claws into Violet — I’d do anything to keep her out of his grip.
He leaves me then and I make my way to the front parlor.
“How close are they?” I ask Sgaeyl as I walk down the corridor.
“They should be here within an hour.”
“Great,” I say. “One hour to flesh out this very poorly thought out plan and then somehow convince Violet to play along.”
“At least it won’t be hard for you to act like you’re in love with her,” Sgaeyl offers. “You’ve been rehearsing that role in your head for years.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter.
Like I need a reminder that I am hopelessly in love with the tiny, disruptive force of fucking nature that is Violet Sorrengail.
***