Onyx Storm: Chapter 8

While many preach loyalty to Hedeon above all others, especially in Calldyr Province, I find that favoring Zihnal has universal appeal. Everyone wants wisdom but needs luck.

—Major Rorilee’s Guide to Appeasing the Gods, Second Edition Being arrested for treason doesn’t exactly come as a shock, but Colonel Aetos delivering the accusation is a blow I didn’t see coming.

“Dad?” Dain stands.

Aetos’s head swivels toward Dain, and his mouth twists into a sneer. “I have no son.”

I gasp, and hurt flashes across Dain’s face before he schools his features and straightens his shoulders. “As Cadet Sorrengail’s wingleader—”

“Request denied,” Colonel Aetos snaps.

“We can’t just sit here,” Ridoc argues quietly.

“You can and you will.” I make my way down the row and glance up at Dain. “I’m all right.”

“You’re far from all right!” Aetos growls.

The world rocks beneath my feet, and I curse my lack of sleep as I climb the steps to Aetos and the four lieutenants posted at his side. One of the women gestures toward the door, and I hold my head high as I walk by Aetos, somehow managing not to vomit when I see his rank has been raised to general.

Aetos keeps pace at my side in the hallway. “You’re as good as dead for what you’ve done.”

“I will only speak to the Senarium.”

“Good thing they’re gathered. It will make for a quick trial.” After a silent procession through the quadrant and into the main campus, Aetos escorts me past a barrage of guards and cadets from other quadrants and into the great hall, entering the room just ahead of me. “I have brought the traitor!”

He steps aside to reveal the long table set for negotiations to resume. The members of the Senarium sit to the left side again, all dazzling in their choice of clothing this morning, with the exception of the one in rider black.

Xaden turns in his seat at the end of the table and lifts his scarred brow as shadows brush across my mind. “What happened to not getting into trouble?”

“I never promised that.” I hold his gaze, noting the circles under his eyes. “You look tired.”

“Just what every man wants to hear from the person he loves.” He drums his fingers on the table, drawing my attention to a scrap of fabric in front of him—my lightning-wielder patch. “I’ve decided I’m done not knowing what you’re up to.”

“Good choice.”

“You really fucked with the wards?”

“Someone once told me the right way isn’t the only way.” I use his own words from my first year against him, and his mouth tightens.

“As you can see, we have the evidence we need to place you at the stone,” Aetos declares as he reaches the table. “I ask that the Senarium quickly pass judgment.” He glances at Xaden. “Unless your newest addition needs to recuse himself for his proximity to the traitor.”

“Remove yourself if you can’t be silent, Aetos.” The Duke of Calldyr leans back in his chair and runs a hand over his short blond beard. “You have no purview here.”

Aetos stiffens at my side, then retreats with the other riders, leaving me to face the Senarium.

“Do you have a plan, Violence?” Xaden asks, and though a muscle in his jaw flexes, the shadows in the room stay put. “I’m assuming so, since this patch’s seams look cleanly cut.”

“Has anyone reported if the capabilities of the wards were damaged beyond allowing the fliers to wield?” the Duke of Calldyr asks.

“Did you sign the accord for the riot to stay?” I ask Xaden just to be sure.

“They’re intact against dark wielders.” Xaden’s fingers still. “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I hadn’t.”

“Then I have a perfect plan.”

“How would you know?” The Duchess of Morraine turns in her seat.

“Because I would know,” Xaden replies to me alone. “We haven’t been swarmed, and Barlowe remains in our interrogation chamber. The wards are holding.” He tilts his head and gives me the same look of anticipation he does when we step on the mat to spar. “I’m eager for the show.”

“I’ll save everyone the fuss of organizing a trial and execution.” I point to the patch I cut off my uniform last night. “That’s mine. I was the one who orchestrated altering the wardstone. I’m the reason that the fliers can wield and that you now have a clear path to negotiate an alliance. You’re welcome.”

The confession is met with six pairs of raised eyebrows and one sexy-as-hell smirk. “Guess we’re not going for subtlety.”

“No time for subtlety, and no evidence to convict anyone else in case it went awry.”

“I…” The Duchess of Morraine looks to her peers, her giant ruby earrings smacking her golden-brown jawline as she swings her head back and forth. “What do we even do with that?”

“Nothing,” Xaden answers, watching me like I’m the only one in the room. “Cadet Sorrengail, and whomever she acted with, committed the crime last night, and as of this morning, every single one of you and our king signed their pardons.”

I nod.

“Brilliant, reckless woman.” His gaze heats, and I fight a smile.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” The Duchess of Elsum leans forward, her long brown tresses brushing the table. “She alters our defenses and then, what? Goes back to class?”

“It would seem so.” The Duke of Calldyr nods slowly.

“Seems the young woman pulled off quite the feat,” a new voice says.

I glance to my right, then do a double take at the woman standing in the north doorway of the hall. The silver of her intricate, armored breastplate flashes in the morning light as she walks forward, her smile crinkling the light-brown skin at the edges of her dark eyes. She wears a pair of scarlet breeches with a shortsword sheathed at her hip and a sparkling tiara atop her riotous curls, its delicacy a striking contrast to her weaponry. Queen Maraya.

“Your Majesty.” I bow my head like my father taught me.

“Cadet Sorrengail,” she says, and I look up to find her mere feet away. “I’ve heard much about the Continent’s only lightning wielder, and I am pleased to see the compliments were not spoken in hyperbole.” She glances sideways at the Senarium. “I assume she’s free to return to her duties, as surely your king will arrive at any minute to continue our negotiations.”

“There’s not a thing we can do to her.” Xaden pockets my patch, and the others slowly agree, four of them with more than a little anger in their eyes.

“Excellent.” Queen Maraya offers the Senarium a smile, then pulls me aside and lowers her voice. “Viscount Tecarus spoke of the deal you made. You truly risked your king’s wrath, your kingdom’s defenses, all to keep my fliers here?”

“Yes.” My stomach clenches. “It was the right thing to do.”

“And in return, you only asked for unfettered access to his library?” She studies me closely, but I hold her gaze.

“It’s the best on the Continent and our best hope for any historical record of how we defeated the venin centuries ago.” And how we can cure them.

“Tell me you didn’t do this for me.” Xaden’s chair creaks against the stone floor.

“I thought we promised never to lie to each other.”

“You endangered yourself—” His tone tightens.

“And I have no regrets.” The sooner he gets it through his head that I’ll do anything in my power to cure him, the easier this will be on both of us.

“Fascinating.” The queen’s smile warms. “But his is not the best. Mine is. I have thousands upon thousands of volumes secured in my summer home, and you are now welcome to any and all of them. I’ll have my steward send you a full catalog, though I warn you, we have yet to come across any such historical record.”

“Thank you.” Hope fills my chest. If I don’t find it, Jesinia will.

She nods once, then heads toward the table, effectively dismissing me.

I quickly take my leave, escaping before King Tauri—or Halden—can appear.

“This discussion isn’t over,” Xaden warns as I rush into the hallway, nearly taking out Rhi and Ridoc in the process.

“But it is for now.” I catch my balance as the door slams behind me. “What are you doing here?” Every second-year in our squad seems to have pushed their way through the guards.

“We were kind of worried they’d haul you behind the school and turn you to ash.” Ridoc rubs his hand over the tattoo of a dragon on the side of his neck.

“I’m fine. Anything we did up until this morning has been pardoned. Did you skip the rest of Battle Brief?”

“There wasn’t much to brief us on, since information is coming in from the border at a trickle. One active combat zone that they know of—” Rhi pauses, her eyes flying wide. “Vi.”

“You will face consequences!” Aetos roars from the left and I pivot, putting myself between him and my friends as he charges down the thick red carpet at us. Anger rises, swift and strong, bringing power rushing to the surface of my skin.

“Not from you she won’t.” Brennan steps through the line of guards directly in front of me and shakes his head.

“You.” Aetos recoils. “This whole time…”

“Me.” Brennan nods, and I move to his side.

“You lost.” My fingers brush the hilt of a dagger at my thigh as I glare up at the man I’d once considered a role model. “You tried to kill us at Athebyne, sent assassins after me in the fall, and even sicced Varrish on me, and I’m still here. You lost. We’re pardoned. We’re here.”

“And yet I’m the one the king appointed to take over as commanding general of Basgiath”—he gestures to the busy hall around us—“so maybe it’s you who has actually lost, Cadet Sorrengail.”

My heart gallops, the edges of my vision turn dark, and I wobble. No. Anyone but him. Anyone. I shake my head as Brennan grasps a fistful of fabric at the back of my uniform, steadying me.

“You’re unfit to sit at her desk,” Brennan snaps.

“But here I am.” He stands a bit taller. “The Senarium may abide by the pardon, but I assure you that you will not get away with altering a stone none of us fully understand—with endangering our kingdom.”

“But here I am,” I reply softly, anger quickly replacing shock. “Your threats are just threats. I’m no longer the scared first-year, unsure if I’d survive Threshing or be capable of wielding.” I take a single step in his direction. “One of my dragons is among the most powerful on the Continent, and the other is the rarest. I didn’t realize it last year or even a few months ago, but I do now: you can’t afford to kill me.”

His face—so like Dain’s—twists into a scowl.

“You can’t afford to lose either of my dragons, let alone my signet, and you sure as Malek can’t afford to lose Lieutenant Riorson’s—or should I call him the Duke of Tyrrendor?” I hold out both arms at my sides, exposing my torso. “Do your worst, but we both know I’m now beyond your reach, General.” Slowly, I let my arms fall.

“Do my worst?” Heaving breaths raise and lower his shoulders as he looks to Brennan, then behind him. “I know exactly where to strike in order to bring you to heel, cadet. Your siblings may be out of my chain of command, but your friends are not.”

My stomach dips.

“You second-years seem pretty loyal to one another.” He drags his gaze back to mine. “They’ll pay each and every time you disobey an order or step out of line, starting now.” His head tilts as he stares past me. “You want to play with matters of war? Then you won’t mind serving on the front.” He glances at Rhi. “Squad leader, every second-year under your command is hereby ordered for two days of duty at the outpost of Samara, to begin tomorrow morning.” A cruel smile curves his mouth as he addresses me. “The fighting there is…rather intense, but surely your signet will keep your squadmates alive, and two days should get you back before your dragon feels the loss of his mate.”

“Tomorrow morning?” My lips part. “But it’s at least an eighteen-hour flight for a gryphon, and they’ll need breaks.” It’s more like twenty hours total, and they’ll be exhausted by the time we get there.

“Then I guess you’d better get going. I hope to see you all return…intact.”