Onyx Storm: Chapter 43

If possible, hunt the enemy during the day. Their markings are so easily hidden by the shadows of night that it would not surprise me to find they walk among us.

—Venin, A Compendium by Captain Drake Cordella, the Nightwing Drift Ridoc listens to the shortest possible version of the story before the others land, and I promise to tell him everything if he can just wait until we get some privacy as Mira dismounts. “We have to tell them about the irids first,” I finish in a hurried plea.

His mouth tenses and his brown eyes narrow on Xaden.

“Are the other four back yet?” Mira asks as she walks into camp with Aaric, her pack slung over one shoulder.

“Not yet,” Garrick answers from behind me. “But we still have a couple of hours until it’s fully dark.”

“Please,” I whisper to Ridoc as Mira drops her things near her bedroll.

“Everything all right?” Mira’s brow furrows when no one answers, and her gaze flickers between the four of us before settling on me with an intense once-over that ends with her studying my eyes. “Violet?”

My throat constricts. I don’t know what she’ll do if she learns the truth.

“The irids are a bunch of assholes who rejected Andarna,” Ridoc says. “So, it’s been a rather shit day.” He launches into the story, and my pulse slowly steadies.

“How’s Andarna?” Mira asks.

“Devastated.” I glance down the beach, but she and Tairn haven’t returned yet. “I know we came in hopes the irids would help, or at least fire the wardstone, but she really just wanted to know her family.”

Garrick’s jaw ticks, and Xaden folds his arms.

“The others should be back soon,” Ridoc says. “What do we do? Fly for Loysam tomorrow?”

“There’s no point.” I look to Xaden, but he keeps quiet. “Loysam has guards but no army. We can establish a diplomatic tie, but they won’t help us win a war.”

“So what do you want to do?” Xaden asks, the ocean breeze ruffling his hair as he looks over at me.

Gods, he really is beautiful, and not just on the outside. Everything about him—his loyalty, his intelligence, the softer edges no one else but me gets to see…even his casual ruthlessness holds me in thrall. And whatever parts are missing? Dead, according to the irids? We’ll live without them.

He’s still whole to me. As long as we can keep him from channeling from the earth, find a way for him to control that craving, we’ll be all right. We have to be.

“We should go home.” Saying the words brings a sense of finality, of failure that stabs hard and cuts deep. “Who knows what’s happened in our absence.” For all we know, the lines could have fallen and Theophanie herself could be waiting in my room.

“Court-martials for all,” Mira quips sarcastically.

Garrick nods and stares out over the water. “Technically, on the map, if you were to fly northeast for two days, you’d hit the Cliffs of Dralor.”

“The gryphons would absolutely love that.” Ridoc scoffs. “Can’t you see Kiralair snuggled up in Molvic’s claw?”

“Only the larger dragons can fly two straight days,” Xaden says. “Tairn. Sgaeyl. Molvic, maybe.”

“We go through the isles,” I decide. “It’s the safest route to get everyone home…as long as we camp on a deserted coast when it comes to Hedotis. Pretty sure I’m banned there.”

After the others arrive and our situation has been explained, Ridoc shoots me a look that says he’s done waiting to chat.

Xaden and Garrick are less than thrilled when I take off with Ridoc into the woods under the guise of hunting for dinner. Taking the agate sound-shield rune Ridoc carries, we hike about five minutes uphill into the jungle, staying close enough to find our way back but far enough to assure privacy thanks to Aotrom’s escort.

The Brown Swordtail isn’t just nosey; he’s pissed.

I’m nauseous telling Ridoc the full story about Xaden, remembering the entire time that Ridoc was the slowest to forgive when I kept my secrets at the beginning of the year. By the time I’m finished, the light has faded into dappled patches of color and he’s pacing in front of me, looking anywhere but in my direction.

“I thought we agreed to tell each other the truth.” His hands curl.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” I lean against a tree and watch Ridoc’s short treks back and forth in front of me. “I know that’s a shitty apology, but I’m not sorry for keeping Xaden safe.”

“That’s not an apology, Vi.” He pauses in front of me, a million emotions crossing over his face too quickly to name.

He’s right.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but if anyone finds out, they’ll lock him up like Barlowe, or worse—kill him.” I fold my arms.

He lifts his eyebrows and cranes his neck forward. “And there’s not a single, tiny speck of you that thinks maybe they should?”

“No. He’s not evil.” I lift my chin.

“He’s not him, either,” he counters. “That’s why you stepped between us in Hedotis. He’s not fully in control and you know it.”

“Are any of us ever in full control—” I start.

“Don’t do that.” He points his finger at me. “Not with me.”

“He’s not Barlowe. Not even remotely close. He’s never hurt me. He’s only ever channeled to save other people, first at Basgiath, then at a battle across the border, and then when Courtlyn tried to kill us in Deverelli.” I leave out the slight discoloration on my headboard. That’s a line I’m not crossing with Ridoc.

“Holy fuck, he’s channeled three times?” Ridoc’s eyebrows fly upward. “And managed to do it on an isle without magic?”

“I had a piece of alloy in my conduit.”

“Oh, well, good to know you can keep him fed like Barlowe if you need—” He scoffs. “That’s why you’ve been keeping Barlowe alive. Holy shit, Violet, do you have any respect for your own life? Or is it just Riorson we’re concerned with now?”

“He’s never hurt me,” I repeat. “And he’s still an initiate. He doesn’t need to be fed.” The word tastes like ash in my mouth. “As long as he doesn’t do it again, he’ll stay exactly how he is now.”

“A dark wielder, just like the silver-haired one stalking you.” Ridoc starts pacing again.

My head draws back. “He is nothing like her.”

“Bonded to one of the most vicious dragons on the Continent,” he continues, ignoring my defense. “That’s…awesome.”

“He doesn’t control Sgaeyl.” I watch as Ridoc pivots and starts the trek all over again. “In fact, she barely speaks to him right now.”

“I don’t blame her, either,” Ridoc says after a pause, agreeing with Aotrom. “And she’s kept this from the Empyrean—” He stops to my right, then slowly turns to face me. “Who else knows?”

“Other than Xaden and me? Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen.”

Ridoc blinks. “That’s it? Just the five of you?”

“And now you.”

“Well, at least the club is exclusive,” he says sarcastically, then shoves his hands into his hair. “And they’re all loyal to him.”

“Well…yes.” I shift my weight. “He’s the one we’re trying to save.”

He rolls his eyes at the canopy. “Fuck me. How did we get here with the secrets again?” His finger shoots up. “Never mind, I already know—Riorson. Again. I sense a theme.”

“Basgiath would have fallen if he hadn’t killed the dark wielders’ Sage,” I remind him. “What he did give us—give my mother—was time to imbue the wardstone. We’d all be dead if he hadn’t channeled for more power. The Continent would have fallen if not for him.”

“Only to become the very thing we’re fighting.” He shakes his head. “The irony of it exists on so many levels, especially when you consider that he’s the fucking Duke of Tyrrendor now.” His arms fall to his sides. “He could tear our kingdom—our province—apart from within. He could deliver us to the venin on a silver platter. Barlowe was nothing. We have a dark wielder sitting in the Senarium.”

Is that all he sees him as? Just another dark wielder?

“He’s on our side. Fighting our battles.” I push off the tree. “He killed more venin after the battle than any other rider, remember?”

“How can you be sure he’s not playing you?” His brow furrows.

“Because I know him!” My voice rises.

“All right.” Ridoc nods excessively. “I’ll play along. Let’s say he’s still eighty percent Xaden.”

“Ninety,” I counter.

“Ehh.” He shrugs. “There are four ranks to dark wielders, and your man’s already channeled three times. I think eighty percent is mathematically generous, but sure, we’ll live in your delusion for the purpose of the hypothetical. How long do we have until he’s an asim? Until he’s physically unable to deny the call of a Sage?”

“If he doesn’t channel—”

“They always channel!” Ice forms at his fingertips. “Just because I like to crack jokes doesn’t mean I’m not serious about reading the same shit you do. There are no accounts of initiates just walking away from the power.”

“That’s why I have to find a cure.” My voice breaks.

“They just told us there isn’t one.” His arm swings toward the beach.

“And I’ve had about five minutes to process that information.” Anger and fear war for control of my emotions, and both bring my power to the surface, sizzling my skin. “Everything I’ve done over the last few months, from securing the deal with Tecarus for books to searching for Andarna’s kind, has been in service to the Continent, but also to find a cure for him, and hearing from the most likely source that there isn’t one?” I shake my head as the heat rises within me, growing exponentially with my panic. “I don’t know what to do with that yet. I don’t have all the answers, Ridoc. I just know that I have to find them whether they’re in a forgotten book or some dark wielder’s head, because I’ve lost Liam and now Trager and my mother to this war, and I’m not giving up on the man I love!”

Power snaps within me and flares outward. Lightning slams into the tree behind Ridoc, and thunder booms instantly, shaking my bones.

“Fuck!” Ridoc shouts, covering his ears and whirling to face the tree.

My heart stutters as the trunk splits down the middle, and the halves waver…then fall. I lift my fingers, summoning lesser magic to soften the crash, but the heavy pieces are no match for my skills in this area. The halves smack into the ground in a line before us, then erupt into flame.

“Damn it.” Ridoc flings his hands outward, and a thin sheet of ice races along the halves in both directions. The flames sizzle and die. “Now Riorson is really going to kill me,” Ridoc mutters, but the joke falls flat. He turns my way.

“Thank you.” I gesture to the embers, then sigh. “And I’m sorry.”

“For which part?”

“All of it.” The admission is a little stronger than a whisper.

He nods.

“I will save him.” My throat tightens. “And not just because I can’t fathom living without him. I’m selfish when it comes to loving him, and maybe a little self-destructive lately—”

“You think?” He gestures to the tree.

“—but if I don’t save him…” My voice drops. “If I don’t cure him, and he…” I can’t say it. “I keep serum in case of emergency, but Ridoc, we have to keep him on our side, or this war is already lost. There isn’t a rider alive capable of stopping him at full power now, let alone what he could become if he truly turns. And don’t say that I can, because the truth is that I won’t. Even if I hone my signet to his level, which would take the years he’s had, I could no more hurt him than he could hurt me. He is…everything to me.”

Ridoc’s shoulders dip. “So where’s the line? At what point is he too far gone for you to defend him?”

My mouth opens then shuts. “There isn’t one. Not one he’d actually cross.”

“Really?” He lifts his brows. “What if he hurts someone you love? Will that change your mind?”

“He wouldn’t.” I shake my head. “He hasn’t in all these months. He won’t.”

He clasps my shoulders. “Not good enough. Give me a real, logical line he has to cross for you to walk away, and I’ll keep the secret. I’ll help you scour every fucking book you can find. I’m here for the I’m-going-to-save-my-man-at-all-costs mantra and will be on your side in this horrifically dangerous situation if you can just acknowledge there’s a breaking point. You can put all your faith in him as long as you leave a little logic for yourself.”

“I…I can’t imagine not loving him.” I bring my hands up to rest on his forearms.

“Never said you couldn’t love him.” He squeezes my shoulders gently. “You can still love someone after you let them go. But you have to tell me there’s a line where you will let him go. Because if there isn’t one, it’s not just him we’re going to lose, Vi.”

My chest tightens. “I would never—”

“Would you channel to save him? Or is that the line?”

I swallow hard, remembering that breath of a second in the wardstone chamber where my power hadn’t been enough to imbue the stone.

“If it makes it easier, then pick a line where I can turn him in,” Ridoc whispers. “Tell me now, when you think there’s no chance it will ever happen, so if he ever gets there, the decision isn’t on your shoulders.”

Every muscle in my body tenses.

“How about if he hurts Tairn or Andarna?” Ridoc suggests. “You have to help me here, Vi, or I’m walking straight to the only person I know will put your life above everyone else’s on that beach.”

Mira.

I try to look at the situation from Ridoc’s perspective, and it’s anything but pretty. “Fine. Hypothetically, he’d have to kill another rider without cause or hurt civilians. Hurt my friends, my dragons. Hurt…me,” I end in a whisper. “If he hurts me, then he’s not him anymore.”

Ridoc nods, then touches his forehead to mine. “All right. Then there it is.”

“There it is,” I repeat.

His hands fall away, and we start back toward camp. “Stop keeping shit to yourself,” he demands. “I don’t want to have this fight again. The four of us are stronger together than we are apart. Don’t fuck with that, even for Riorson. If you’re too afraid to tell Rhi, Sawyer, or me about something you’re doing because you know we’re going to lose our shit, then either you shouldn’t be doing it or you deserve to have shit lost on you.”

“Noted.” I sigh. “I miss them.”

“Me too.” He slings his arm around my shoulders. “Rhi gives better lectures.”

“You did pretty well.” A smile tugs at my mouth as we veer left around a giant tree the diameter of Tairn’s leg.

And find Xaden on the other side, standing with one ankle crossed over the other, his arms folded as he leans his shoulder against the trunk.

Ridoc’s hand flexes on my shoulder, but he doesn’t let go as we abruptly stop.

Xaden arches his scarred brow, taking note.

“Quite the conundrum,” Ridoc says. “You see, if I drop my hand, it looks like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. Which we haven’t. But if I leave it here, I’m not sure you won’t go all blank-face on me in a fit of rage and—” He drags his left hand across his neck.

“Not helping,” I tell him.

“I also don’t want you to think that just because you’re scary, I’m scared of you,” Ridoc adds. “Which I’m not.”

“You are. What did you decide?” Xaden asks, his face a perfect mask of boredom.

“You’re not going to threaten to kill me?” Ridoc counters.

“I don’t make empty threats.”

I reach out mentally, but Xaden’s shields are still locked tight.

Ridoc tilts his head. “Meaning you wouldn’t threaten before you killed me? Or you wouldn’t actually kill me?”

Xaden half shrugs. “You pick.”

“Stop it.” I look straight at Xaden and his gaze flickers to mine, warming slightly.

“She tells Rhiannon and Sawyer,” Ridoc demands, then pauses, considering. “And Jesinia.”

My heart practically stops. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Is that all?” Xaden asks, and I can’t tell if he’s being a sarcastic ass or a serious one.

“I’d prefer Mira and Brennan, too, but we can start with the first three,” Ridoc states, looking at Xaden. “Everyone you’ve told values your life over hers—”

“That’s not true,” I argue.

“Everyone who knows has told Violet to run as far and as fast as she can,” Xaden says. “Myself included.”

“Good to know.” Ridoc shrugs. “Rhi. Sawyer. Jesinia. That’s my only condition for keeping your secret.”

“That is not what we discussed,” I hiss up at him.

“We discussed our terms,” Ridoc says, then looks back at Xaden. “This is between us. Jesinia needs to know what she’s actually researching in case there’s a way to slow your progression. Sawyer, Rhi, and I are the only ones who can be with Violet during every class, and our dorm rooms are right next to hers. She’s more than capable of protecting herself, but extra eyes don’t hurt, considering what will come for her.”

Xaden tenses.

“Yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ridoc nods.

My forehead crinkles. “Well, I don’t.”

“If he progresses and turns fully—” Ridoc starts.

“When,” Xaden corrects him. “Denial and I don’t keep company.”

Ridoc’s eyebrows rise. “All right then. When he turns fully, or when someone with the wrong rank realizes what he’s become, they’ll have to kill him for the very reasons you’ve already mentioned, Vi.”

“What does that…” My stomach hollows as I follow his train of thought to its logical conclusion, then refills immediately with scalding anger. I drag my gaze to Xaden’s. “Killing me is the easiest way to kill you.” Just like my first year.

“I won’t let that happen.” Xaden’s jaw clenches.

“We won’t let that happen,” Ridoc corrects. “You’ll be off doing evil shit wherever evil shit gets done.”

My lips part.

“Rhi. Sawyer. Jesinia,” Ridoc repeats.

“Not Aetos?” Xaden questions. “Dain specifically.”

“Absolutely not,” I interject. “He’ll kill you.”

“He could try,” Xaden replies. “The attempt would certainly make things awkward.”

“I’m with Violet on this one,” Ridoc chimes in. “While I’m proud of how far Aetos has come in the rule-bending department, he’s not ready to graduate to this particular level. Rhi. Sawyer. Jesinia.”

“Done,” Xaden answers. “But let’s be clear. I don’t care who she tells when it comes to her safety.”

“Good.” Ridoc nods, then rocks back on his heels and takes a deep breath. “Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us…us, if you know what I’m saying.”

I fight to keep from rolling my eyes.

“Well aware,” Xaden replies. “First because I trust Violet, and second”—he glances at Ridoc in a dismissive once-over—“it wasn’t a big enough strike.”

Seriously? I scoff.

“Huh.” Ridoc tilts his head as if deciding something, then shakes it. “Nope. You and I are not back to dick jokes yet. Not that we were ever there. I’m still pissed.”

“You should be.” Xaden pushes off the tree and walks toward us. “And I’m making sure Violet’s capable of killing me when the time comes. If it’s between her and me, I choose her. Kill the other guy I become.”

My eyes narrow on the beautiful asshole I’ve foolishly given my heart to. “It’s not going to come to that.”

“Holy shit. Is that noble? Is that twisted? I can’t decide.” Ridoc pats me on the shoulder, then starts back toward camp. “I’ve never been happier to be single. You two have some serious issues.”

“Garrick handled the hunting that you were supposed to be doing,” Xaden calls out as we leave the trees.

Ridoc throws a thumbs-up as he walks down the hill.

Xaden studies my face, looking at me like he has to memorize every detail in this exact moment.

I step toward him and he retreats, shaking his head once.

My heart sinks. “You’re going to put some space between us over the abomination comment, aren’t you?”

He flinches, which is as good as confirmation for me.

“You’re not—” I start.

“The other two irids stayed like they hadn’t made up their minds yet,” he interrupts. “And I think you had them because you didn’t know how young Andarna was at Threshing.” His jaw pops and he slides right back into that bored, unbothered mask he loves so well. “Then they saw me. I’m pretty fucking sure that this entire mission we’ve risked everything for just failed because of what I am. Because I’m here with you.”

“That’s not fair,” I whisper.

“But it’s true.” Shadows scatter around the edges of his boots, and he looks down toward the beach. “I’ve barely made it a month without channeling beyond Sgaeyl.” He shakes his head. “Had it just been you and Ridoc, or you and Dain, or you and…anyone else besides me on that beach, there’s every chance you’d be on your way to whatever isle they’ve claimed, that Andarna would have a chance to know her kind, that they’d agree to come back and fire the Aretian wardstone and save my city, save my entire province.” He drags his gaze back to mine. “So yeah, I think the abomination comment—and what it represents—requires taking a moment of space for us both to consider the undeniable fact that I am the worst possible thing for this mission, for my province, and for you.”

My heart hurts for him, for how guilty he feels over something he can’t control.

“All right.” I fold my arms across my chest and debate whether to fight or comfort him, then decide to go a different route. “Facts are considered. I don’t need the moment. You would have been on this mission regardless of our status because of Tairn and Sgaeyl. It’s ridiculous that they passed judgment on you without even hearing you speak, but that’s a statement on their character, not yours. And if you need some space to sort that out in your mind, fine.” I tilt my head at him. “But it doesn’t change a single thing about the way I love you.”

His hands flex.

I turn away from him and start back toward camp. “Let me know when you’re done brooding and we’ll see how big my next strike is. Until then, we’re flying home tomorrow.”

• • •

The gryphons are exhausted, and it takes us ten days to reach Deverelli, where we spend an extra day fixing Andarna’s harness when a piece of metal snaps.

Xaden keeps his distance the whole damned time.

Andarna is barely speaking.

Cat is heartbreakingly silent to the point that I wish she’d take a verbal jab or two.

And I’m about to break under the weight of failure.

We use the day to chart our path over Poromiel, choosing a route that brings us ashore between Cordyn and Draithus in order to minimize our chances of encountering dark wielders. By the time we launch for the Continent, Mira’s asked me at least a dozen times if I’m all right, and though Dain has the annoying habit of continuously measuring how far Xaden and I sit apart with his eyes before meeting my gaze, he smartly keeps his mouth shut.

I scan our surroundings for venin constantly during the flight, too scared to sleep in the saddle. Every glint of sun off a lake makes my stomach lurch, and every distant thunderstorm has me gripping the pommels. Logically, I know there’s no chance Theophanie is aware we’re beyond the wards, available for her to pick off at will, but she shouldn’t have known I’d be in Anca, either. Either our flight plan pays off or Theophanie chooses not to attack, and though we fly over patches of drained land, we make it to the wards without so much as a patrol of wyvern intercepting us.

The ease of it only serves to make me more anxious.

We spend a night under the stars just within the wards to evade the arrest for court-martial we all know is coming, and fly into Basgiath three and a half weeks from the day we left.

There’s no sense of victory as I unload Tairn’s saddlebags on the flight field, not even with having secured an army to come to our aid. The overwhelming failure of losing the irids feels like mold growing on my tongue, souring everything I drink and eat, infecting my words and the very breath in my lungs. The disappointment festers and spreads until I feel wholly, completely rancid as I dismount onto the muddy field.

Andarna flew straight to the Vale. She didn’t even speak as she disappeared over the ridge. Her sorrow hurts most of all.

“Violet!”

I turn and am immediately devoured by Rhiannon’s hug. Her arms close tight around me, and I drop the pack to return the squeeze. Maybe it’s the sound of Kaori yelling at cadets across the field, or the scent of Rhi’s hair, or the simple fact that we’re back, yet not home, but the enormity of what we’ve lost immediately pricks my eyes and clogs my throat. “I really missed you. How did you know we were here?”

“Feirge told me you were headed in, so we ran out of dinner. I’m so glad to see you.” Rhi pulls back with a watery smile. “Are you all right?”

I open and shut my mouth, unsure of how to answer the question.

“Rhi!” Ridoc slams into us from the side, wrapping us both in his arms, two weeks of beard growth scratching the side of my face. “Fuck, did we need you on that trip. Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

Rhi huffs a laugh as he sways us back and forth. “And what did you do?”

“Not much. Put out a couple of fires, punched a cook.” He lets me go, then yanks Sawyer into the embrace when he walks over, leaning slightly on a cane. “This is good. This is right.”

“Glad you’re home, guys,” Sawyer says, his face squished down next to mine thanks to Ridoc.

“Me too.” I relax into the hug.

“There they are! Get over here!” Ridoc shouts, still in the embrace.

Maren laughs and runs to my other side, working her way in, but Cat just sighs as she walks over.

“No exceptions,” Ridoc declares, then tugs Cat into the circle between him and Sawyer. “Sweet second-years, together again.” He lets us go, but we stay circled up.

Rhi’s gaze jumps from person to person like she’s counting, and her smile falters.

“We lost Trager,” I tell her softly.

“What?” Rhi recoils, her face stricken.

“How?” Sawyer’s shoulders fall.

“Zehyllna,” Cat answers, then clears her throat. “Arrow to the heart. But we got an army out of it, so—” Her voice breaks and she clears her throat again.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhi says, her gaze swinging from Maren to Cat.

“We are, too,” Maren whispers.

“And we failed.” I say it out loud for the first time, looking Sawyer, then Rhi straight in the eyes. “We found the irids, and they won’t come. We failed.”

“Shit.” Rhi’s face falls entirely.

“That’s disappointing to hear, given the current political climate.”

We break apart and turn toward General Aetos, who stands a respectable distance from Tairn, glowering at us. He doesn’t even glance at Dain as the others make their way over.

Xaden pauses between Garrick and Drake, and our gazes collide for a heartbeat before we both focus on General Aetos. Court-martial coming in three…two…

“We will discuss your punishment for disobeying direct orders later.” General Aetos glances at Drake. “It’s too bad you were born on the wrong side of the family.” His gaze snaps to Cat. “The good news is that you’re one step closer to your throne.”

Cat blanches. “Syrena?”

My stomach plummets, and I spot Mira white-knuckling the strap of her rucksack.

“Is that your sister?” Aetos asks, reaching into the pocket of his uniform and walking toward us.

“Yes,” Maren answers so Cat doesn’t have to.

“Ah. Right. The infamous flier.” Aetos retrieves a missive and hands it to me without really answering Cat or Maren. “This perplexing read came for you about an hour ago. Looking forward to discussing it during your debrief.”

I clasp the parchment, noting the broken seal. “Is Syrena Cordella alive?” He’s cruel to drag it out like this.

“Last I heard, she’s fine.” Aetos glances meaningfully at the paper.

Thank you, Amari.

Cat sways, taking in a deep breath, and I unfold the already opened missive. “What happened?” she asks.

My skin chills as the blood runs from my face at the sight of her handwriting.

Violet—

I do hope you had a marvelous time on your journey, though your riot looked a little haggard when you flew over Pavis. I do wonder why you went to so much effort when I have the one thing you seek above all else. Do enjoy the time you have with your friends until our next rendezvous. Don’t worry, I’m making all the arrangements.

—T I crumple the parchment on reflex, and my gaze jumps to Xaden.

“What is it?” He tilts his head.

“Theophanie.” It’s a struggle to draw a full breath. “She knew we were gone. She saw us fly over Pavis and somehow delivered this here before we arrived.”

His mouth tightens. “She can’t get to you here.”

“And yet she did.” I shove the paper into my pocket and notice General Aetos watching me like a hawk.

“Is my uncle all right?” Cat’s voice rises. “Just tell us already.”

Tecarus. Oh shit.

“While you were out doing gods know what on the isles for three weeks,” Aetos says, his eyes hardening, “Suniva fell to dark wielders.”

Maren gasps, and dread hangs on the momentary silence.

“Queen Maraya is dead.”