Chapter 23: Montserrat

I'm impressed by you, Thana. You are stronger than you think. Do whatever it takes to survive.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Darragh O'Rourke to Thana Valaren.

~

A weeklong tour of a forward outpost was exactly what Thana had hoped for.

Violet looked awful after the six-hour flight. Dain, in contrast, was only minimally affected—his posture slightly stiff as he and Professor Devera greeted a tall man in rider black, likely the outpost commander.

"Welcome, cadets," the commander said with a professional smile, folding his arms across the chest of his lightweight leathers. "I'm sure you'd like to change into something more suited to the climate. Then we'll show you around Montserrat."

Their barracks were sparse—two beds, two wardrobes, and a single desk beneath a wide window. "Take your pick," Quinn said cheerfully.

"I don't care." Thana dropped her bag on the floor and rummaged through it looking for a singlet.

Quinn practically bounced onto the bed on the left, tossing her bag beside her before stretching out with a satisfied sigh.

"This might be the most time we've ever spent together," she mused.

"Definitely." Thana shrugged off her flight jacket and pulled on her singlet, suddenly uncomfortable under Quinn's lingering stare.

"So..." Quinn began, a slow grin creeping across her face. "What do you know about Imogen?"

Thana barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Small talk with Quinn—her personal nightmare. "Nothing really," she said flatly.

Quinn went to say something else when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Thank the Gods. "Let's go, Second Squad."

They joined the others outside, where Major Quade led them on a tour of the outpost. The fortress was built for war—four massive walls enclosing barracks, chambers, and an arched entrance, its spoked portcullis looming overhead, ready to drop at a moment's notice.

Liam and Violet took it all in with open curiosity. Thana, for good reason, found herself hanging back with Dain.

"As you can see," Major Quade said, gesturing around the muddy courtyard, "we're built for siege. In the event of an attack, we can feed and house everyone for an adequate amount of time."

Thana wondered what would happen if the attack came from inside these walls. What if she slit Violet's throat in her sleep? Strangled her in the hallway? Dropped the portcullis just as she was passing through?

"As one of the eastern outposts, we have a full twelve riders stationed here. Three are out on patrol now, three stand by in case they're needed, and the other six are in various stages of rest," Quade continued.

A dragon's roar echoed off the stone walls.

"That should be one of our patrols returning now," Quade said, smiling like he wanted to mean it but couldn't quite muster the energy.

Liam glanced back at Thana. His expression was unreadable. She looked away, putting too much effort into seeming bored.

"We'll get you riders fed and put to bed, then sort out who you'll be shadowing while you're here," Quade added.

Three figures emerged through the entrance, dark silhouettes against the torchlight.

"Ah, here they are now. Let me introduce you to—"

"Violet?" a female voice cut in.

"Mira?" Violet's head snapped up, and then she was running toward her sister.

Thana went still. Another Sorrengail. Her hand twitched over the blade at her hip. She could end the Sorrengail family line right here and now. How does she get to have a family when Thana—and the marked ones—don't?

Maybe Mira was the key to avenging her father. Two dead. Countless hands bloody.

~

Thana followed Darragh through the winding stone corridors of Montserrat, their footfalls the only sound between them. He hadn't spoken much beyond a clipped, "Follow me," and she liked that about him already.

The morning air was sharp, crisp with the scent of damp stone and distant pine as they stepped into the courtyard. The outpost was waking—riders sparring in the training yard, moving with an easy efficiency that spoke of a long-held routine.

Darragh gestured toward the training grounds, where some of the riders on rest squared off in hand-to-hand combat.

"We train every morning. No exceptions," he said. His voice was rough, like someone who didn't waste words on softness. "Weapons, unarmed, endurance drills. If you can hold a blade, you train with it. If you can't, you run until you can."

Thana nodded. "Understood."

His sharp gaze flicked over her, assessing. "You any good?"

She met his stare without hesitation. "Good enough."

Darragh grunted, which she took as approval, then started walking again.

They passed the barracks and took the narrow path leading to the watchtower. The wind picked up at this height, tugging at her hair as she looked out over the valley below. The vantage point was impressive—miles of open terrain stretching toward the horizon, nothing but forest, mountains, and sky.

"The watchtower becomes your second home," Darragh said, nodding toward the structure. "Every rider does their time on watch. You keep your eyes open, and you listen for anything that shouldn't be there. The people here become your family, and if you fail them—" His voice faltered for half a breath before he let out a steady breath.

She glanced at him. "You ever see anything interesting?"

His lips twitched like he might have smirked, but if he had, it was gone before she could be sure. "A couple of times."

Thana huffed a small laugh, but Darragh had already turned, heading back down the stairs.

As they walked the perimeter of the outpost, past riders preparing for patrol, Thana's foot caught on some loose rocks, and she stumbled. Before she could catch herself, Darragh's hand shot out, gripping her arm to steady her. His fingers were firm, unyielding as he quickly righted her.

The contact was brief, but for a moment, she felt something in the steadiness of his touch that caught her off-guard. It was so swift, so natural, that she almost didn't process it—until she did.

Her brows lifted slightly, but Darragh said nothing, his attention already back on the patrol formations ahead.

"You'll ride patrol every few days," he said, nodding toward the riders. "Standard routes along the border. You see something, you report it. You don't play hero."

They continued walking, looping back toward the main courtyard. Riders were gathered now, finishing their morning training, some heading toward the mess hall. The outpost had a rhythm, a quiet order to its chaos, and Thana felt herself slipping into it with an ease she hadn't expected.

Darragh stopped near the well, leaning a shoulder against the worn stone. "That's the basics. The rest, you figure out by doing."

She nodded, rolling her shoulders. "Seems simple enough."

For a moment, there was silence. Thana hesitated, then asked, "Do you ever get lonely out here?"

Darragh didn't move. Didn't blink.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"You avoid a lot of answers."

He exhaled, something between a sigh and a scoff. "You get used to it," he said finally. "Or you don't."

She studied him, the way he stood, solid and sure, like this place was part of him. Like he'd never known anything else. Something about that made her chest ache.

Before she could say anything else, he reached into his coat, pulled out a small, wrapped bundle, and tossed it to her. She caught it, blinking down at the slightly misshapen but warm pastry in her hands.

She glanced up, confused.

Darragh just shrugged. "You didn't eat this morning. You need fuel."

Thana wasn't sure what stunned her more—the fact that he'd noticed, or the fact that he'd cared enough to do something about it.

Before she could find words, he pushed off the well. "Come on," he said. "We're late for training."

Thana fell into step beside him.

~

Thana sat at the rough wooden table outside the fortress, absently rolling a dagger between her fingers. The air was cool, the night quiet except for the distant murmur of riders finishing their evening routines.

She heard him before she saw him—the familiar weight of his footfalls, the measured way he moved. Once, she would have turned toward that sound, met him with something softer. Now, she kept her eyes on the blade in her hands.

"Couldn't stay away from her, could you?" she drawled, not bothering to look up.

Xaden exhaled through his nose as he dropped onto the bench across from her. "You always this unbearable at the end of the day, or is this just for me?"

Thana smirked, flicking the dagger upright and catching it by the hilt with effortless precision. "Oh, this? This is just for you." She tilted her head, eyes sharp. "What do you want, Xaden?"

His jaw flexed, but he didn't take the bait. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened with Liam." His tone was careful—too careful.

Thana's grip tightened around the dagger, her expression betraying nothing. She didn't need checking up on. The idea almost made her laugh. There had been a time when she might have bough his bullshit. But that was before she realised how futile his loyalty really was.

"I'm fine." The words were empty, but that was the point.

Xaden sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. "I know I fucked up but, you don't have to do this with me, Thana."

Her eyes snapped to his, cold and unyielding. "Do what?"

"Pretend you don't care. I know-"

A laugh escaped her, sharp and cruel. "I don't care." The lie sat heavy in her chest, but she forced it down. She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something quieter, deadlier. "Not about Liam and not about you."

She saw it then—that flicker of something in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Or regret. It didn't matter.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before standing. "How do I fix this, Thana?" His voice was quiet, raw, and for a brief moment, it stirred something in her—a pang of old longing. But it was fleeting.

"I need to fix this," he continued, his eyes searching hers, vulnerable in a way she hadn't seen before. "I want to make it right. Just tell me what to do."

She stood, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. Once, she might have wanted that too. Now, all she could think of was the way his hands had touched someone else. Someone who wasn't her.

Her gaze met his, flat and emotionless. "Maybe stop fucking the general's daughter."

Xaden flinched like she'd struck him, but Thana didn't wait for his response. She turned and walked away, leaving him alone.