Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)
Onyx Storm: Chapter 45

I think I started falling for you that night in the tree when I watched you with the marked ones, but I began tumbling the day you gave me Tairn’s saddle. You’ll give some self-serving excuse, but the truth is you’re kinder than you want people to know. Maybe kinder than you know.

—Recovered Correspondence of Cadet Violet Sorrengail to His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor

I hang in the air, suspended by an invisible hand around my throat as lightning strikes in the distance. Fear pumps through my veins, but the harder I fight, the narrower my windpipe becomes, the harder it is to draw breath.

“Quit fighting it,” the Sage orders. “Quit fighting me.”

You’re dead. This isn’t real. I repeat the phrases mentally when my lips refuse to form the words. This is only a nightmare.

A very visceral, terrifying nightmare.

The fight drains out of me, and I fall to the ground before him, hitting my knees and gasping for charred air.

Andarna screams, bellowing with rage and pain, and my head snaps toward the ridgeline…toward the storm. Blue fire licks up the hillside, reaching for the city walls of Draithus, devouring the fleeing civilians in its path.

“Such emotion.” The Sage tsks, crouching down in front of me. “Don’t worry. It will fade in time.”

“Fuck you.” I lunge forward, only to be shoved back to my knees by an invisible force.

“I’ll allow you to help her this time,” the Sage promises, pushing his robes up the length of his tanned arms. “Just submit. Come to me. Accept where you belong, and you’ll find a freedom like no other.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask, playing into the dream.

“Then you’ll find I have ways to bring you to heel.” The Sage draws a sword from his robes, and the next flash of lightning reflects in the emeralds adorning the top of the hilt.

Whisps of silver hair blow in the breeze at the edge of my vision, and the sword of Tyrrendor rushes toward my chest.

WAKE! I scream, but my mouth won’t work—

My eyes flash open and my hands jolt upward, my sweaty limbs tangling in the blankets as lightning crashes outside my window.

Heart racing, I shove away the covers and run my fingers over my sternum. “Of course there’s no cut, you fool,” I mutter. It was just a damned dream. A very visceral one, but a dream nonetheless.

I swing my feet to the floor, then wrap my arms around my middle as I rise and walk toward the window. Rain assaults the glass in sheets that obscure the view over the ravine toward the main campus.

Tairn and Andarna are asleep, but there’s a stirring along the bond I share with Xaden. His shields are down, but the foggy barrier of sleep stands between us.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, counting to twenty as my heart slowly calms. The Sage is dead, but she isn’t.

Theophanie is very real, and if she can get to me here at Basgiath, she can get to my friends, too…the ones who are justifiably disappointed that I kept yet another secret from them. Thank gods they understand that Xaden’s not the enemy, that he’s still fighting on our side.

How long will it be until Theophanie goes after Xaden?

My throat tightens, but this time it’s my own fear clogging my windpipe. How the hell am I supposed to fight a dark wielder who’s had decades to perfect a signet I still need a conduit to control?

It’s the end of March. I’ve barely had my powers for a year.

The last day of March.

I glance down at the package Jesinia handed me the day before yesterday. It’s right where I left it on the sill, one end undone. At the opening of the paper, the edges of a delicate Deverelli silk nightgown and robe spill out with a handwritten note.

For the nights I can’t sleep next to you. — X

My chest clenches just like it did when I opened it. He’d somehow seen me eyeing the fabric in Deverelli, bought it, then placed the order to have it made before we left to search the other isles.

“I love you,” I whisper down the bond, then lean forward and rest my forehead against the cold glass, using the sensation to solidify my certainty that the nightmare has ended. “I need you. Quit brooding.”

Maybe it’s time I try one of his own techniques.

I reach for pen and paper.

• • •

“The purpose of this maneuver, as you remember, is to spend as little time on the ground as possible,” Kaori lectures that morning as he stands beside Xaden, amplifying his voice across the flight field as the riders of our entire section sit mounted like we’re in formation…mostly.

Sawyer stands between Sliseag’s claws two rows back, and Tairn waits next to Feirge, both their wings tucked for proximity’s sake, instead of standing behind her where we belong.

“I am precisely where I belong,” he counters.

“Kind of wish you were a gryphon so we could have sat this one out.”

“Kind of wish I’d sat out Threshing two years ago,” he counters.

The corner of my mouth rises. “You sure you don’t want to join us?” I ask Andarna.

“No point when I can’t carry you.” She shuts the bond.

Awesome. My heart sinks to a new low. I pushed too hard again. Or maybe too little.

Tairn sighs like he’s in his elder years.

“In this new type of warfare,” Kaori continues, “it’s more important than ever that we spend less time on the ground, but there will be moments when you cannot accomplish your mission while mounted. You must be prepared to dismount in a running landing, wield to defeat your opponent, then be ready to take to the sky in what we’re calling a ‘battle-mount’ if you are unsuccessful…or outnumbered. Every second you remain on the ground endangers not only your life, but your dragon’s, should they remain on the field.” Kaori lifts a hand and conjures a projection of a robed figure at the far right end of the field. “Professor Riorson?”

Shit. I haven’t mastered a run-on landing like the rest of my year-mates, let alone whatever a “battle-mount” will entail.

“For the sake of the first exercise,” Xaden says, his voice booming across the field, “your opponent’s signet is unknown, and you are alone. Once you’ve shown you can complete the maneuver, we’ll work in teams. First-years, we just want you to get the tactic down so you can practice while on your upcoming Aretia rotation. Don’t worry about wielding; I know not all of you can.” Xaden surveys our line, and I can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. He might be sleeping at night, but it’s not well, and I hate that I can’t do anything about it. “This is your fighting pit today.” His gaze finds mine. “Try not to incinerate it.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“Never know with you,” he surprises me by replying.

Bodhi goes first, nailing the running landing like it’s part of his everyday workout, then uses the momentum to continue into the projection, twisting his left hand and swinging the sword with the other, decapitating the fake model.

Cuir banks hard to pivot back to Bodhi, but it’s too steep, and his green swordtail takes out a small section of boulders halfway up the hill as he pulls the turn.

Bodhi breaks into a run from the projection, and Cuir returns, extending his left foreleg as he slows his speed. The two are parallel just long enough for Bodhi to leap onto Cuir’s claw, and the dragon is already accelerating, gaining altitude as Bodhi climbs up to the seat.

Oh…we’re fucked.

“I can’t do that.” It’s not self-doubt talking. It’s just fact.

“You will,” Tairn decrees. “It just won’t look like that.”

Right. Because I’ll be dead, lying face down on the muddy flight field from the impact.

“Sometimes I forget just how nearly perfect Bodhi is at everything,” I say to Xaden. No one thought of him during Battle Brief yesterday, and he should have been the first name that came to mind. Countering signets might not be the best offensive tool, but damn if it isn’t a hell of a defense.

“He’s my cousin,” Xaden replies, locking eyes with me. “Of course he’s exceptional.”

“Hmmm. Just like you, but without the arrogance.” I cock my head to the side. “Maybe I fell for the wrong—”

“It would be a shame to kill my last living relative.” Xaden tilts his head to mirror mine, then straightens, and on today of all days, I choose not to remind him that he has two half brothers. “And that is how it’s done,” he calls out. “In this scenario, the smaller dragons have the advantage. Maneuverability is key, so do yourselves a favor and talk out your approach before the attempt. We only have one mender on campus.”

And I’d rather fly to Aretia than let Nolon touch me.

“Maybe we should wait a month and try when we’re on the Aretia rotation,” I suggest to Tairn.

“Or you could simply not break anything,” he suggests oh-so-helpfully.

First Squad begins. The initial two maneuvers are successful. The next cadet breaks her leg on impact.

“Ouch,” Rhi hisses through her teeth and glances my way. “You all right to do this?” she asks as the first-year stumbles off, cradling the appendage.

“I’m never all right to do this,” I reply. “I just do it anyway.”

“Sounds about right.” She nods, then her eyes narrow at something across the field.

I track her line of sight to Xaden and shake my head. “Don’t.” I can’t say more out in the open, but it’s not like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

“It’s hard not to,” she admits without apology. “But I’m trying.”

“I know. Thank you.” I adjust my new saddle strap and pray the stitches I finished this morning will hold. Instead of keeping my thighs at the seat like the original one I’ve left fastened in front of me, this one wraps around my waist like a belt and buckles in front with three different notches I can tighten or loosen depending on how much maneuverability I need.

A second-year nails the running landing but misses the leap for his Red Morningstartail’s claw and slams into the mud.

I wince. Movement catches my eye, and my gaze runs up the hill behind Xaden, finding Andarna perched on an outcropping fifty feet overhead, her scales the same color as Tairn’s. “Change your mind?” I ask with what I hope is the right amount of encouragement.

“No.” Her tail flicks a second before she launches, leaping from the outcropping with sure beats of her wings, climbing up and over the ridge of the box canyon.

Fuck. I blow out a frustrated sigh. I can’t say or do anything right to help her.

“She’s adjusting,” Tairn says.

I glance across the field and find Xaden watching me. “It’s going around.”

First Squad ends with five successful maneuvers, four failed attempts at landing, and two failed launches, resulting in a total of three broken bones and one bloody nose.

“This does not bode well for us in battle,” Rhi says.

“Let’s hope we have time to get it right.” It’s the most supportive comment I can come up with. “You’re the squad leader, so you’d better go set the example. Good luck. Don’t die.” I flash a smile her way.

“Thanks.” She fights the smile she returns, then pretends to puff out her chest. “I will bring honor to the patch.”

“See that you do.” I watch as Feirge steps forward and launches once she’s clear of Tairn.

Xaden looks my way, and for a second, the mask falls, giving me a glimpse of longing that tightens my chest.

“You getting any sleep?” I ask.

“I sleep better when I’m next to you,” he admits.

“You know where to find my bed. Professor or not, I’m pretty sure you know how to sneak in.” I run my hand over my flight jacket pocket, making sure my little parcel is secured. “Unless you’re still brooding.”

“It’s a full-time occupation at the moment.”

“Does that schedule allow for giving me a moment after class?”

He nods.

Feirge approaches, and Rhiannon moves to her foreclaw as she descends, then executes a perfect running landing. She lifts her hand, and a blade appears. The projection wavers as she slices through it, then races back as Feirge returns.

I can’t help but grin. Rhi doesn’t miss the jump. Damn, she’s good.

Tairn waits for Imogen and Quinn to take their turns, then fires off a series of orders to me as Ridoc lands with a particularly showy somersault. Ice flies from his hands through the projection, and he turns to the squads with a bow befitting any stage performance before racing for Aotrom. There’s a heartbeat where I think he won’t make it, but he swings his body onto Aotrom’s claw and the two take off.

“You really think that’s going to work?” I ask Tairn, pulling down my flight goggles as he crouches.

“I think it’s the only way to accomplish the mission without breaking your neck.” He launches with powerful wingbeats, and the ground falls away. “Wait for the last second so you don’t embarrass us.”

“So encouraging,” I tease. Tairn climbs, then I adjust my weight as he banks hard left at the top of the canyon. My heart begins to pound when we dive toward the target, and I grip the conduit in one hand and reach for the buckle of my saddle with the other.

“Not yet!” he snaps.

“Just preparing.” I throw open the Archives door and let his power flood me, focusing on concentrating the energy at the center of my chest as the walls of the canyon rise quickly around us.

“Unbuckle,” Tairn orders as colors blur on either side of me, but I keep my gaze homed in on the target and undo the leather that keeps me in the seat. “Move.”

Holding the belt of the saddle in my right hand, I stand, nearly stumbling at the wind resistance as he descends directly at the target, not leveling out like the others.

“What are you doing?” Xaden growls.

“Busy right now, love.” I slam my shields down and my heart threatens to leap through my throat as the ground approaches at terrifying speed.

“Now!” Tairn shouts.

I release the belt and run for his shoulder, then leap.

For a dizzying heartbeat, I’m airborne, the sounds of the world completely drowned out by the rush of air, the drumbeat in my chest, and the snap of wings. I plummet toward the field, my stomach rising to the roof of my mouth as I fall. The power gathering within me is useless to slow my descent, but I throw out my arms to the side like they have a chance and lock every muscle in my body.

Talons clamp over my shoulders and tighten, locking me in place.

Wind gusts, and momentum shifts as Tairn stops my fall a few feet from the ground, then releases me. His wings beat once, and I barely have time to bend my knees before my feet hit the field. A ripple of painful protest shoots from my toes, up my spine, and bursts in my head like a rung bell as I land six feet in front of the target.

Holy shit, I’m not dead.

“Faster!” Tairn snaps with another beat of his wings.

I focus on the projection, lift my right hand, and release a crack of power, then draw my fingers downward, dragging the energy from the sky. Lightning strikes, so bright it robs me of vision, and thunder sounds immediately, echoing off the walls of the box canyon.

When the light recedes, a scorch mark flares outward from the base of the projection.

Yes!

I throw up my arms, and talons wrap around my midsection. Tairn secures me in his back right claw and continues to climb.

My stomach lurches as I get an up-close view of the hillside, and a few seconds later, we’re clear, nothing but air around us. He ascends another hundred feet to give us room, and I welcome the adrenaline flooding my system because we’re not done yet.

“Now.”

He swings his body to a vertical position and throws me.

It’s just like first year, except we mean to do it. I rise as he falls, and it’s all I can do to not look down. That way lies death. This is all about trust.

I rise over his shoulder, and he pumps his wings.

My feet meet scale, and I grab on to the base of his nearest spike, careful to steer clear of its sharp point as he surges forward.

“I trust you can find your seat,” he says with a note of pride, leveling out as we fly above the field.

“I’ve got it.” I navigate my way back to the saddle, then grab hold of both flapping ends of the belt and buckle myself in. We did it.

My heart is still galloping when we land, then take our spot in formation.

“That was…unorthodox,” Kaori says.

Tairn rumbles low in his chest.

“And it worked,” I counter, shouting across the field.

“It did,” Xaden replies, a corner of his mouth rising. “I fucking love you.”

“How could you not?” I don’t bother fighting my smile.

He scoffs.

Kaori looks like he wants to protest, but then he motions the rest of the group forward.

Baylor skins his knee on landing.

Avalynn fractures her collarbone.

Sloane completes the entire exercise with a grace that reminds me of Liam but doesn’t even pretend to wield.

Lynx comes up with a face full of mud and a broken nose.

Aaric lands twenty feet from the projection without breaking a sweat, but instead of rushing the target, he whirls toward Xaden and Kaori and hurls a palm-size axe.

My heart trips as it flies end over end, but Xaden doesn’t even flinch as it lands a foot in front of Kaori, the blade embedded in the mud. The projection disappears.

“I think he won,” Rhi says.

Xaden nods once before Aaric backs away, then breaks into a run to mount Molvic.

“I’d definitely say so,” I agree.

After maneuvers are done for the day, the dragons launch, and I hang back to catch Xaden alone, even after a few reproachful looks from my year-mates.

Kaori walks up, looking like he wants to say something, but a Red Swordtail lands farther down the field, catching his attention. He simply tips his chin and walks toward the dragon, leaving me alone with Xaden on the far end of the field.

“That was fucking terrifying to watch.” Xaden’s gaze bores into mine. “And magnificent.”

“I feel that way about you every day.” I smile, then dig my hand into the pocket of my flight jacket and remove a parchment-wrapped parcel and a letter. “I got you something. Present is for now, letter is for later.”

“You didn’t have to.” His brow furrows, but he takes them both and pockets the letter.

“Open it.” My heart flutters. I hope I made the right choice, since it’s definitely too soon to bring out anything that resembles a cake.

He untucks the folded parchment, then stares at the black metal wrist cuff.

“It’s onyx,” I tell him as he studies the clasp and flat, rectangular stone mounted within the band. “And that’s a piece of the turret on top of Riorson House.”

His gaze jumps to mine, and his fist closes around the cuff.

“You mentioned it needed repairs, and I asked Brennan to have that made for you from one of the broken pieces. When things get…shitty, I hope you can look down at it and imagine us sitting there together when this is all over. That’s the vision I’m going to cling to: you and me, holding hands, looking over the city.” I close the distance between us, take the cuff from his hand, and secure it around his wrist, then flick the metal closure. “Thank gods it fits. I had to guess—”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s soft. Tender. Perfect. “Thank you,” he says.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper against his lips.

“I love you.” He lifts his head, and his hands slip from my cheeks like a caress. “But I’m only going to get worse. You really should run.”

Not done brooding. Message received.

“Come find me when you’re ready to accept the fact that I won’t.” I back away slowly. “That I never will.”

“Forty-seven days.” He searches my eyes and lets his breath go. “That’s how long it’s been since I channeled from the alloy in Deverelli.”

“That’s longer than the month you lamented about before we came home.”

“Not long enough.” His eyes spark with determination, and hope flares brightly within my chest.

“You have a number in mind before you feel…in control?”

His jaw flexes. “Control is probably just prolonging the inevitable, but I’ve got one that might indicate…stability.”

“Feel like sharing?”

He shakes his head.

“As much as I hate to break up whatever’s happening over here—” A voice booms across the area, and we both turn, finding Felix walking toward us with a full pack strapped to his back as Kaori leaves the field.

I blink three times to make sure I’m not seeing things. “I thought you said you wouldn’t leave Aretia?”

“I do hate Basgiath.” He scratches the silver cloud of his beard. “But not as much as I hate dying.” He pulls a tied bundle of missives from the pocket of his flight jacket and hands them to Xaden. “Those are yours, Your Grace.”

“News from Aretia?” Xaden takes them.

“Provincial affairs.” Felix nods. “And two wyvern came through the wards yesterday.”

My stomach pitches.

“How far did they get now?” Xaden asks, and my head swings in his direction.

This isn’t the first time.

“About an hour before they skidded into the side of a mountain.” Felix lifts his silver brows. “That’s about ten minutes farther—”

“Than last week,” Xaden finishes, and I start to understand the circles beneath his eyes.

“The wards are weakening.” I state the obvious.

“They’re failing,” Felix corrects, turning to me with a look that already makes my arms ache. “And since I’ve been informed that you won’t let Carr instruct you, I suppose we’d better get back to work.”

“I’ll be in Aretia in about a month for rotation. You didn’t have to come all the way up here.” Guilt gnaws at me.

“And if I was sure we’d have a month, I would have waited.” He narrows his eyes.

Oh.