Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Remember that vow.” He banks right, and this time, I shift my weight and we move together seamlessly. “I will hold you to it.”
For the rest of my life.
632 AU
Glane—Orange Daggertail
(Female) Descended from the Fhaicorain Line
Estimated Age: 19
Recorded Riders: 0
—The Compendium of Dragonkind,
last updated by Colonel Valin Kaori
Imogen
Leaves crunch under my boots as I walk into the forest, having been dismissed after Bodhi’s less-than-rousing motivational speech that did nothing to improve my perpetually foul disposition. I sincerely hope some Navarrian asshole tries to exact revenge on me out here, because I’m in the mood to kill some people.
Fuck this day.
Fuck this kingdom.
Fuck everyone who put us in this godsforsaken torture chamber disguised as a war college.
I flinch. I can’t say that about Riorson. He made the only choice he could to save our lives after Navarre took those of our parents. He’s the only reason we’re still breathing, and I owe him my unflinching loyalty until one of us meets Malek.
Fuck General Sorrengail for making the deal.
Yeah. That’s better.
I stride between trees with zero trepidation, more than ready to meet my fate like my mother and sister did, or at least what I thought would be my fate until Kaori projected a certain Orange Daggertail in the middle of our classroom a few weeks ago.
An Orange Daggertail that should be dead.
“Where the hell are you?” I whisper, knowing damn well she can hear me. She’s hovered close enough to my mind since Presentation that I could even switch to a mental pathway for communication at this point if I didn’t feel like I deserve some answers first. Which I do.
Especially since I went to bed after Presentation with a shimmering new relic of an Orange Daggertail winding around my left hip, a fact I’m keeping to myself. It’s a claiming mark, the place where magic enters our body once channeled from our dragon, but surely there’s a way to reject it if she turns out to be the giant pain in the ass I think she might be. How did I not notice her in the line of dragons? How did she put it there so painlessly? The only other relic I’ve been given hurt like hell.
“Have you always been this disagreeable?” she asks, invading my head with a voice so sweet it borders on sugar. If sugar were poisonous.
Like you’re not? She might be the most ill-tempered, impetuous dragon on the Continent.
“I heard that.”
Stop listening unless you’re ready to show yourself.
She scoffs, the sound tickling my brain, but she’s nowhere to be seen under the canopy of brilliant fall colors.
“Katrina, please watch over Quinn,” I whisper into the ether at my deceased sister.
I need to hurry. Bodhi threw off the plan I made with Quinn to tackle this day together, and I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to the annoyingly perky blonde before I get to the meeting place we hurriedly designated.
“End your friendship with the Navarrian and perhaps I’ll let you fly out of this valley.”
She’s not like the others. And you don’t determine my friends. My stomach tenses.
“We’ll see about that.”
A high-pitched shriek sounds from somewhere to the east, and I wince.
By Dunne, if I have to die, I won’t squeal like a pig when Malek comes for me.
Something flutters down in front of me, and I whip my hand out to catch a deep-magenta leaf with five points. “Look at that. It’s your favorite color, Mom.” I hold it out so she can see it from wherever she’s watching.
My mom and sister may have been executed in Calldyr, but they never feel far from me.
Gods, I’ve missed falls like this. Trees in Tyrrendor are predominantly coniferous; at least they were where I was fostered near Lewellen. But at home, in Deaconshire Province, we have trees like some of these that drop their leaves when autumn calls. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed or how much I used to love Aretia, I always think of Hardincourt as home.
“Remind you of the trees at Hardincourt?”
My head snaps up as Garrick Tavis, two swords strapped to his back, steps out from behind a tree and plants his gigantic feet in the middle of the path. I narrow my eyes and remind my heart to settle the fuck down. He might look good enough to devour with one bite, but I’m not going there. Not now. Not ever.
There are plenty of other men to have a few flings with at Basgiath.
Everyone who gets close to me winds up dead. Dad. Mom. My sister, Katrina. Elyse—the only friend I made that first year being fostered at Ivyndelle. It doesn’t matter how mad I am at him, I’ll be damned if Garrick winds up on that list.
With his enormous build, agonizingly beautiful face, square chin, and unbeatable skills on the mat, it’s not like he’s having any trouble finding women to warm his bed. Unfortunately—but good for Garrick—I’m not the only one who gets incredibly turned on by performances of lethal prowess around here. There’s definitely something wrong with everyone who crosses the parapet.