Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)
Onyx Storm: Chapter 46

When this is over, we should take as much leave as they’ll give us and spend it all in Aretia. We can figure out what life is supposed to look like without the daily threat of death. You can govern the province you love during the day, then slide into bed with me at night. Or I can always join you in the Assembly chamber. You do some of your best work on that throne.

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

Three weeks later, I can barely lift my arms as our squad walks back from Signet Sparring. Gods, I hate when Carr rotates in to teach. Countless muscles in my body ache, and there’s a permanent knot between my shoulder blades thanks to the work Felix has me doing. Every single second that I’m not in class, eating, or working out with Imogen, Felix has me on the mountaintop, wielding. But as my aim improves and my strikes increase, the rest of the world seems to go to shit.

Xaden and I talk most nights through the bond, but he still broodily refuses to spend physical time alone with me.

The western line falls back, and dark wielders surge toward Draithus at a daily pace that has me holding my breath during every death roll. At this rate, they’ll reach the city walls in a matter of weeks. Or they could change tactics and simply fly directly for the city.

The entire quadrant is well aware that we’re in trouble when Xaden is called to Tyrrendor, and that pit of worry only grows with every day he’s gone. Now that it’s been more than ten days, I have a stack of letters for him to read, and Tairn is impossible to be around.

And Andarna simply…isn’t around.

Exactly how long am I supposed to give her before I march into the Vale itself and demand she at least talk about what happened?

“You did well today,” Imogen says, breaking through my spiraling thoughts as Aaric and Lynx enter the main campus from the Infantry Quadrant just ahead of us. Aaric’s obnoxious guards stalk behind us as usual. “Though I wondered if Ridoc was going to take you down during that last match.”

“Finally, I rise to Imogen’s standard!” Ridoc says, falling behind so we can fit through the door.

Quinn laughs.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Imogen lectures over her shoulder.

“Oh, he will,” Rhi replies from my right with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It seems to be her permanent expression, since none of us—including Jesinia—have found anything to help Xaden. I hate that they’re burdened with the truth.

Between Xaden’s status, the western line retreating toward Draithus, and growing resentment between the Aretian riders and Navarrians over the debate of whether or not to open our borders, this whole place feels like a bow with its string pulled tight, just waiting for the order to be fired. And we’re the arrows.

“Too bad Carr had to teach today,” Sawyer says, walking behind us with Ridoc. He hasn’t used the cane in a couple of weeks now, but no one is pushing him to wield.

“You keeping Tavis locked up in your bedroom or something, Cardulo?” Ridoc teases.

Imogen tenses, and her eyes calculate the cost of murder.

“Not worth it.” I shake my head, then glance over my shoulder at Ridoc. “He’s still in Draithus.”

“Oh.” His tone completely shifts. “When do you and Quinn head back out?” Third-years filling midland posts is becoming so common, it’s practically a class.

Voices rise as we walk closer to the great hall.

“We’re with you through the Aretian rotation,” Quinn answers. “You’re stuck with us for weeks,” she teases.

Imogen’s gaze slides my way. “No slacking on your training. Gym tonight.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering when I’d get sore again,” I retort. “We still leaving for Aretia the day after tomorrow?” I ask Rhi.

“Movement is at five a.m.” She nods, then glances over to Sawyer. “Make a decision yet?”

“Working on it,” he replies and flexes his jaw.

“All right.” Rhi looks my way. “And I think Kaori, Felix, and Panchek are coming with as our leadership,” she adds gently.

“Those three?” Not Xaden? My brows jump. Felix is understandable, and Kaori’s one of my favorite professors, but I suspect he’s chosen to escort our group in hopes of seeing Andarna. And she’s not in the mood to be seen. Maybe Xaden will already be there? At least for Sgaeyl and Tairn’s sake.

“I’m sorry, I know you were hoping it would be—” Rhi starts.

“You will abide by the decision set forth!” a man shouts from the great hall.

Aaric tilts his head, then pauses just before the door, bringing the squad to an awkward stop.

“What are you do—” Lynx starts.

Aaric throws his arm across Lynx’s chest and drags him back, bumping into Sawyer just before the door bursts open and the Duke of Calldyr flies through.

He lands on his ass in the middle of the carpet, tangled in his bejeweled overcoat.

Holy shit. My eyes widen.

“Say it again,” Lewellen demands, marching through the doorway.

What is he doing here?

Every infantry guard steps off the wall, but Calldyr waves them away and climbs to his feet, raking a hand over his face and blond beard. “The desire of one province may never outweigh the good of the kingdom!”

Ah, Lewellen must be serving as proxy for Xaden’s Senarium seat…but they usually meet in Calldyr. Are they here for a war council?

“I don’t want to serve a kingdom that leaves civilians to die!” Lewellen snarls.

“You let them in, and there will be no kingdom to serve.” Calldyr lifts his nose. “We have already weakened the outposts by stripping them of all but the necessary alloy, and look what that got us in Suniva. We have sent riders. Lost riders. What more would you have us do? Starve when we cannot feed double our current population?”

“You are a pretentious, spoiled child who has never known suffering a day in your—”

“Enough.” Xaden walks through the door, and my heart stops. His gaze jumps to mine like a compass pulled north.

He’s here. I drink in the sight of him, then swallow. Hard. The amber in his eyes seems brighter, but not lighter. A new, sharp ache spreads in my chest. Has he channeled from the earth again? Or are we on day sixty-six?

“The discussion is over,” Xaden says, ripping his eyes from mine before passing by Lewellen on his way toward Calldyr. “You were informed as a courtesy. Tell the Senarium, don’t tell them. I don’t particularly care.”

“You cannot.” Calldyr retreats until his back rattles a shield display on the wall.

“And yet, I’m going to.” Xaden stops a full two feet from Calldyr, but shadows curl at his feet and spread down the hall.

Calldyr notices, then glances at one of the shields like it might actually help him.

“Do we worry?” Rhi asks under her breath.

I catalog the anger in Xaden’s eyes and shake my head. He’s pissed, but he’s him. Still, just in case, I watch the shadows, spotting the darkest one.

“I forbid it.” Halden strides into the hallway, followed by two guards.

He’s here, too? Oh, this is bad.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Xaden pivots so he can see both men.

“And boom, it’s a show,” Ridoc whispers.

“My money’s on Riorson,” Sawyer chimes in.

Halden glances our way, his gaze jumping from me to Aaric, then stiffens when he sees the rest of the squad. “This discussion is better had in private.”

“This discussion is over,” Xaden counters.

“Ooh, he used the wingleader voice,” Ridoc says under his breath.

“You will not open your borders!” Halden’s face blotches.

Tyrrendor is going to take in civilians? My chest constricts and warms all in the same second. “I love you.”

“I will do as I damn well please with my province.” Xaden’s eyes narrow dangerously on Halden. “Even if I’m about to start another revolution?”

“Especially then.”

“Your province?” Halden squares his shoulders. “It’s my kingdom!”

“Yes, you’re first in line to rule a large amount of territory,” Xaden agrees. “But I rule mine now. Draithus has weeks before they attack, and Tyrrendor will open her borders. We will take any and all Poromish civilians willing to climb the Medaro Pass. Would you truly condemn thirty thousand people to die?”

Draithus has weeks? What new intel has come in?

Mira. I sway, and Rhiannon grabs hold of my elbow, steadying me.

“You’re choosing their people over ours?” Halden’s fists curl.

“They are not endangering our people,” Lewellen argues. “This is not a them or us situation. They are not risking our wards, nor are they raiding—”

“You don’t have to defend my decision,” Xaden interrupts, turning his full focus to Halden. “We’re opening our borders.”

“Will you be quite so sure of yourself when I bring my troops into Tyrrendor?” Halden threatens.

He wouldn’t fucking dare.

Every cadet around me straightens, even Aaric.

The shadows darken and emotion drains from Xaden’s eyes, leaving only cold, cruel calculation as he takes a single step toward Halden. “You are a prince, not the prince. Bring your troops into Tyrrendor, and Aaric will suddenly find himself first in line for the throne.”

Fuck.

Guards draw their swords.

“Get off the ice,” I shout down the bond, and scalding power surges within me.

“Not smart to threaten a prince. And Cam?” Halden’s gaze swings our way. “What does my little brother have to say about this?”

“Aaric,” Aaric corrects him. “And I’m on his side.” He gestures to Xaden. “Aretian, remember? And unless Riorson here is going to sign another provincial commitment, I believe I’m under his chain of command now, as are probably a third of your troops.”

Halden’s jaw flexes once. Twice. Then he glares at Xaden. “You’ve been warned.”

“And you’ve been informed,” Xaden replies in a tone that makes me fear for Halden’s existence.

Halden pivots on his heel and storms past us, his guards and Calldyr on his heels.

“Proud of you.” Lewellen thumps his fist against Xaden’s shoulder and heads toward the hall. “I’m going to tell the others.”

“We’re taking civilians?” I slip past Lynx to get to Xaden. “Come back to me.”

His cold eyes glance my way, chilling my blood, and then he does a double take.

“We are.” He nods, his voice softening. He blinks hard twice, like he’s at war with himself, and then the shadows dissipate and the ice in his gaze thaws. He’s back. “Not that it will do them much good. A wyvern made it halfway to Aretia yesterday before falling out of the sky. A dozen more tried—” He pauses. “Your rotation should be fine, but we don’t have long. A month at most.”

That’s horrifically sooner than Mira estimated.

“The riot can stay in Aretia—” I start.

“We’ll all stay,” Rhi agrees.

“No.” Xaden shakes his head. “It was one thing to take cadets to Aretia when we were a relatively safe distance from combat, but it’s another to keep them there if we become the front lines.”

“But—” I pause as whisps of shadow spread from behind me in an unfamiliar pattern.

Maren gasps.

“What the fuck?” Ridoc whispers.

Xaden glances behind me, and his eyes flare.

“That’s not possible,” Imogen says.

I turn around, reaching for a dagger, and freeze completely.

Lynx stands in the middle of the hallway, shaking from head to foot, staring at the darkness that envelops his hands.

“It’s all right.” Rhiannon rushes to Lynx’s side. “Breathe. You’re just…”

“Manifesting,” Xaden says, putting himself in front of Lynx. “Don’t be scared. They’re defending you. Fear. Anger. Whatever it is, level out your emotions, and they’ll recede.”

Manifesting? Shadows?

“I can’t—” Lynx shakes his head, and the shadows creep up his arms.

“You can,” Xaden assures him. “Close your eyes and think of the place you feel safest. Go ahead.”

Lynx slams his eyes shut.

“Good job. Now breathe deeply and picture yourself there. Calm. Happy. Safe.” Xaden watches as the shadows recede.

Lynx’s breaths even out, and his hands reappear.

“Get him to Carr now,” Xaden orders Rhiannon, and she nods.

The squad ushers Lynx down the hall, but I stay behind, shock gluing my feet to the carpet. “I don’t understand. You’re our generation’s shadow wielder.”

“Not anymore. Magic knows.” Xaden’s shoulders dip as he turns slowly to face me, his brow scrunching in apology before he schools his features. “He’s the balance.”

A chill runs down my spine.

“I should…go.” His voice comes out like it’s been scraped over hot coals. “Aetos asked me to resign my professorship due to my extended absence on provincial matters, and for once, I agree with him, especially after seeing that. I shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean to his room. He means leaving.

Panic seizes my heartbeat. “Stay.” I reach for him, but he shakes his head and retreats a step. “Please,” I whisper, more than aware of the guards stationed down the hallway. “Please stay with me. Fight for the future that’s beyond all this. Sixty-six days, right?”

He can’t leave, not now. Not like this. Not when the hope has drained from his eyes.

“I’m needed in Lewellen. Melgren’s demanded we double our Talladium output for alloy, which is straining the miners, and there’s unrest after that conscription announcement. There’s more to Tyrrendor than just Aretia.” He glances left, toward the nearest window. “I told you—control is just prolonging the inevitable. Maybe stability is a fool’s hope.”

Lewellen is beyond the wards, unless we’ve moved two cases of daggers there I don’t know about. If he leaves the wards in this state of mind…

“You have an entire assembly to help with that.” I move, putting myself in his line of sight. “You can’t give up. I don’t care if Lynx manifested shadows. You have to fight. If you won’t do it for yourself, then you do it for me.”

His gaze snaps to mine.

“What happens to me if you turn?” My hands curl at my sides. “What happens to Tairn and Sgaeyl if you give in?”

Xaden’s jaw flexes.

“Do venin get once-a-week visits?” I take a step closer and lift my chin. “Does their bond survive you turning? Does ours? You and I are tethered for life, Xaden Riorson. Am I expected to turn with you? Is that the only way to keep our dragons alive if you give up?”

A thousand emotions flit across his face…and then they’re gone.

He’s on the ice.

My stomach flips.

“Stay,” I demand. “Or meet me in Aretia. The man I love stays. He fights.”

“Riorson?” Lewellen asks from the doorway of the great hall. “Luceras wants a word regarding mining production.”

“You have to accept what I already have,” Xaden says to me. “The man you love no longer fully belongs to himself.” He walks past Lewellen into the great hall, taking my heart with him.

I just fought with every weapon in my arsenal, and it wasn’t enough.

My shoulders slump in defeat as I lean against the wall.

“I’m not entirely sure what that was about, but I’ve seen how hard it can be to love someone in power.” Lewellen grimaces sympathetically. “Wearing a title like his can sometimes feel like you’re a fraying rope, being continuously ripped apart between what you personally want and what your people need.”

“What about what he needs?” I ask.

Lewellen pauses, as though choosing his words carefully. “He needs you to keep him from fraying, which can sometimes mean putting what you want—or need—aside for the good of the province. It’s horribly unfair to ask that of anyone, let alone the first lightning wielder in a century.” Lewellen’s voice softens. “I have the utmost respect for you, Cadet Sorrengail, but this is a crucial time that will determine the path of the province for the next millennium. Your purpose is as great as his in a wholly separate arena, and if that purpose makes it impossible for you to be what Tyrrendor needs—”

“Tyrrendor, not Xaden?” I’m fighting for both, but he doesn’t know that. To his ears, he stumbled into an argument where I just asked Xaden to stay with me instead of tending to Tyrrish business.

A guard shifts, reminding us both that we’re not alone.

“They are now one and the same.” He says it with such kindness it’s hard to be angry. “You are both so young, with such formidable signets. And if you choose not to adapt to the changes his title brings—” He stops himself, then sighs. “I just hope you two will figure out the balance between it all.”

Like hell am I giving him up, even though nothing about what he laid out sounds equal or balanced.

“By balance, you mean Tyrrendor comes first, Xaden second, our relationship fights for third, and my personal needs are a matter of convenience.” Saying it aloud puts it all in harsh perspective.

“Something like that.” Sadness pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Xaden comes first for me.” It comes out so self-sacrificial that I half expect my mother to appear and smack me upside the back of my head. “Just so we’re clear. But I will never stop being the woman he fell in love with in order to morph into whatever doormat you think he requires. We’re already balanced because we’re both strong for ourselves and each other. He needs me to be me, and I’m telling you I promised to help keep Tyrrendor safe, but not at his expense.”

“He’ll say the same about you. It’s what makes your relationship so dangerous.” He sighs. “Like I said, it’s hard to love someone in power, and that goes both ways.” He slips back into the hall and shuts the door.

But Xaden isn’t in power. He is power.

And he’s slipping.

“Let me know if he leaves,” I tell Tairn, and then I head to class.

Xaden flies out two hours later.