Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)
Onyx Storm: Chapter 55

As our largest province, Tyrrendor provides the most conscripts for our forces. However, the strength of Navarre isn’t only found in Tyrrish soldiers, but also in the province’s most valuable resource: Talladium. Losing it would doom Navarre.

—On Tyrrish History, A Complete Accounting, third edition by Captain Fitzgibbons

Two days pass without Mira telling anyone, and I start to believe that Xaden was right and she won’t, even if she isn’t speaking to me.

Navarre is one step away from declaring war on Tyrrendor for defying the Senarium. Halden has troops stationed along the Calldyr border, just waiting for his father to give his order, which prompted Xaden to cut off shipments of Talladium until King Tauri confirms their alliance stands without the Provincial Commitment and the Aretian riot is safe at Basgiath, all but stalling the war college’s forge. The only positive is that I find myself back with my squad during the day and in Xaden’s bed at night.

Turns out Panchek doesn’t actually care where anyone sleeps. Quinn spends every night with her girlfriend, too, since Jax happens to be stationed here.

The best part of Professor Trissa’s all-day runes class is being outdoors in the valley. The gaping hole in my chest feels a little smaller when I’m closer to Tairn. The shitty part? I’m worse than ever at runes. There are more than a dozen discarded practice disks on the ground in front of me as I sit cross-legged in the circle our squad has formed, and those are only my mistakes since lunch.

A few months ago, I’d barely gotten by using the more delicate threads of magic from Andarna’s power, but Tairn’s is unruly and hard to separate. No wonder my signet is pretty much all-or-nothing. Tairn doesn’t do anything in half measures, and neither does his power.

“Was that Teine I saw launching before the break?” Rhi asks, setting a messy yet no doubt effective unlocking rune in front of her as Professor Trissa walks the opposite side of the circle, inspecting Neve’s and Bragen’s work.

I nod and press my lopsided trapezoid with its four unequally spaced knots and overlying oval—which I’ve managed to make look like an egg—into the practice disk, tempering the rune. The wood hisses, and the shape appears, burned into the disk. “They only gave Mira seventy-two hours of leave, which, from the sound of it, is more than they could afford.” My forehead puckers as I study the rune. Every day, the line retreats closer to Draithus, and the atmosphere around here feels like the air before a thunderstorm, charged with inevitable violence.

“I’m sorry you two didn’t have more time.” Rhi offers me what I’m starting to call the careful smile. It’s half sympathy, half encouragement, and a hundred percent please-don’t-go-catatonic-again.

It’s become the trademark expression of our squad since I showed up for class the day before yesterday.

“At least you got to see your sister,” Cat says from the east end of our circle beside Maren, shaping a yet-to-be-seen rune in the air with both hands. “I haven’t been with Syrena in months.” She doesn’t bother with the careful smile, and I weirdly appreciate it.

“I’m sorry.” I genuinely mean it. Cordyn is all but blockaded. The only way in without crossing venin territory is by sea.

“I’d say it’s all right, but we both know it isn’t.” She sets a perfectly shaped unlocking rune down in front of her. “And neither is whatever you just attempted, because that isn’t going to unlock…anything.”

“Be nice.” Maren throws a sideways glance at Cat.

“Good thing I excel in other areas.” I flash a fuck-off smile.

Ridoc snorts to Rhi’s left, and before I can tell him I didn’t mean it that way, Sawyer jabs him in the ribs.

Professor Trissa moves down the line to the first-years, and I prepare myself for the inevitable sigh of disappointment she’ll give once she gets to me. She’s been in a foul mood since spending most of yesterday afternoon with Mira, going over which runes did and didn’t work on our failed quest. So far the only consensus is that certain materials can carry magic beyond the Continent and others can’t.

“It’s better than the last one.” Rhi nods at my rune and brightens the careful smile.

“It’s not.” My heart leaps as an outline of wings casts a shadow on the south side of the valley, then plummets when an Orange Clubtail lands to the west, near where Tairn lies sunning his scales. “At some point I’ll stop looking for her, right?”

“Perhaps,” Tairn answers.

So comforting.

“Here, let me help you.” Quinn scoots over at my right.

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want help,” Imogen remarks, finishing another perfect rune.

“Maybe she doesn’t want help from you,” Quinn says, her tone overly sweet.

True.

“Odd, considering I’m one of the best out here,” Imogen replies with just as much sugar. She, Cat, Quinn, and Sloane are our strongest, with Baylor and Maren coming in a close second. Bodhi’s right up there with Cat, but he’s missed afternoons the last two days, not that I’m one to judge. And I have to admit, it’s fun to see an area where Dain doesn’t head the class, either.

“Which might be the issue.” Quinn swings her gaze to mine. “It’s hard to take advice from someone who’s been doing them for so long that they come as second nature.”

“It is,” I agree. Marked ones have been studying for years. By the time they reach the quadrant, they already know the patterns; they just need the magic. “I’d love your thoughts.”

Quinn tucks her blond curls behind her ears, then reaches for my disk. “I don’t remember you struggling this badly before. What’s different?”

“I’ve always used Andarna’s power,” I admit softly. “Tairn’s is too strong to break pliable threads from.”

“Sounds right. It’s not like Melgren is running around tempering runes with Codagh’s power.” She sets the disk down. “Maybe you need to manhandle it. Really snap the angles instead of bending. Don’t coax it into the shape you want—try a more assertive approach. Aggressive, even. Get rough when you break the edges, pull hard when tying the knots.” She mimics the motions.

“Harder. Rougher. I can do that.” I nod, then reach into my Archives and yank a strand of Tairn’s power loose.

“I’m sure you can, considering who you’re sleeping with,” Ridoc teases.

I roll my eyes and do as Quinn suggested, forcing the power into shape and tying the knots with a pull that’s almost brutal. When I temper the rune into the disk, it’s not perfect, but it’s not the worst, either. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She grins, then slides back toward Imogen. “They’re going to be hopelessly lost when we leave them in July.”

“Going to be?” Imogen scoffs.

When Professor Trissa makes her way to our side of the circle, she gives Imogen a nod of approval, then Quinn, and then pauses over my disk. “It will do in a pinch.”

It’s the highest praise she’s given me this trip.

An hour later, Felix walks up from across the field, his flight jacket draped over his arm.

My stomach sinks. Using strands of Tairn’s power is one thing, but wielding feels like another.

“Let’s go,” he says to me, motioning down the field. “Trissa, I’ll have her for the rest of the afternoon.”

Oh joy. I rise to my feet and brush the grass off the backs of my legs.

“Felix, do you think now is the time to push her?” Trissa asks, addressing the very question everyone is thinking but no one has dared to ask.

“I think now is better than a battlefield,” he counters, already walking away. “Come on, Sorrengail,” he adds. “You may have lost your little irid, but you still have Tairn.”

“I’ll hold on to your disks,” Rhi assures me.

“Thank you.” I grab my flight jacket and pack, then catch up with Felix. “I didn’t lose her. She left.” Not sure why, but the wording makes a difference.

“All the more reason to practice.” He strides toward his Red Swordtail. “If the irids aren’t coming to save us, then you’d better be ready. All it takes is another Jack Barlowe and they won’t just be approaching Draithus—we’ll have venin at our front door.”

Right. The wards protect us, but they’re not infallible. And I have to stop looking for miracles. Leothan fired the wardstone. All I can control now is me.

“I’m not going to coddle you like others when war knocks at our doorstep. None of this training matters if you can’t follow orders,” he lectures. “Your inability to do so during the attack nearly cost civilians their lives when those wyvern bodies came crashing through the walls.” His brow furrows in disappointment. “Your squad leader has already been spoken to. You were correct to engage farther from the battlements but should have immediately returned to your post and intercepted those wyvern instead of gambling your lives at the temple.”

“There were civilians at risk.” My spine stiffens.

He pauses. “Did you ever consider that they wouldn’t have been were you not there?”

I blink as my throat constricts. “Because she’s hunting me.”

He nods, then continues toward our dragons, leaving me scurrying after him. “Your squad needs to learn some boundaries. You are not just any cadet, and they have to realize they cannot go chasing after you when you make mistakes, be that here or through the isles. Between you taking unnecessary risks and Riorson leaving his post for you, we would have lost, had the irid not fired the wardstone.”

Guilt twists in my stomach. “I understand.”

“Good. Anything new to report from your skirmish beyond the walls?” Felix asks.

“I split a bolt into two branches.” I lift my chin, and Tairn stands ahead of us. The wound on his thigh has scabbed and is healing at a rate I envy. “And not into a cloud. From the sky.”

His silver brows rise. “But did you hit your target?”

I nod. “Both of them.”

“Good.” A satisfied smile curves his mouth. “Now show me.”

By the time I make it back to Riorson House that evening, my arms feel like dead weight, I’ve sweat through every piece of my uniform, and my right hand is covered in blisters.

But I can wield.

And I do so the next day, and the day after that.

“You go straight from bedbound to burnout,” Brennan mutters after he finishes mending my arm muscles for the third time in three days. “Can’t you pick a nice middle ground?” His voice echoes in the empty Assembly chamber.

Almost every officer from Aretia has been stationed on the outposts, including the Assembly members. If Brennan wasn’t needed to run the place when Xaden isn’t here, he’d be gone, too.

“Apparently not.” I lift my hand from the end of the long trestle table and flex my fingers. “Thank you.”

“I should let the healers tend to you and see how quickly you run out to do it again.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and sits back in his chair.

“You could.” I tug the sleeve of my uniform down. “But I’d just be out there again tomorrow. I’ve already taken too much time off.” Theophanie isn’t going to give up just because the Aretian wards are in place.

“If I could stand to see you in pain, I’d give it some serious thought.” He drops his hand. “What are you going to do when you’re back at Basgiath? I can’t just fly eighteen hours every time you overdo it.”

“I have almost a week left to figure that out.” My forehead scrunches. “Do you think we’ll go if Tauri hasn’t confirmed he won’t burn the place down like he did six years ago?” There’s a growing part of me that wouldn’t mind staying.

I love sleeping next to Xaden at night and waking up to the feel of his mouth on my skin in the morning. I love how uncomplicated we are here, and really love that General Aetos isn’t lurking around every corner, looking for a reason to make us miserable. But mostly, I love that Xaden seems more like himself in the last few days. He’s still icy in moments, but he also carries an air of peace and purpose, and for the first time, I don’t just dream about our future here.

I can see it.

“Keeping a squad of Basgiath’s cadets would complicate—” Brennan starts to answer.

“You’re an asshole.” Bodhi strides into the room, tearing at the buttons of his flight jacket.

“That’s not new information,” Xaden retorts at his heels, ripping the flight goggles off his head and pinning his cousin with a stare I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. His hair is windblown, and his swords are strapped to his back, but I don’t see any blood—not that he’s turned fully in my direction at the opposite side of the room. “And the answer is no. Stop asking.”

Brennan lifts his brows at me, and I shrug. Fuck if I know what they’re arguing about.

“You need every rider you can get,” Bodhi argues. “I could be manning an outpost—”

“No.” Xaden’s jaw ticks.

“—or patrolling Draithus, which we both know is about to fall—” Bodhi’s hands curl into fists.

“Absolutely not.” Shadows gather around Xaden’s boots. “You can’t just take Cuir and leave school because you decide you’re fully educated. You have to graduate.”

Wait. Bodhi wants to drop out?

“Says who?” Bodhi challenges.

“Besides the Empyrean and every regulation recorded?” The shadows spread. “Me!”

Bodhi shakes his head. “If it’s that fucking important I finish, you wouldn’t be pulling me out of class every day.”

“Because I need you to know how to take over,” Xaden snaps.

“Because I’m now first in line?” There’s more than a little sarcasm in Bodhi’s response.

“Yes!” The shadows flee, racing for the walls.

“Xaden?” My stomach clenches.

He glances my way, then takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders. “The answer is no, Bodhi.”

“I’m not your backup plan.” Bodhi retreats two steps, then looks down the table at Brennan and me before glaring at Xaden. “You are the duke. I am the rider. That’s how it was always meant to be until our parents got themselves executed. I will stand by your side and be your right-fucking-hand for the rest of our lives, but if you want a member of our family to hold that seat”—he points to the throne—“you’d better hold your own shit together.” He walks out of the room without another word.

But he’d meant for me to hear every single one he said.

An ache unfolds behind my ribs. That’s why Xaden is so peaceful, so driven here. He’s putting the pieces in place, training his replacement. He’s accepted a different future than the one I envision as I walk these halls and continue following every possible path to a cure.

Xaden strides the length of the table, and Brennan pushes back, his chair squeaking against the floor of the dais.

“There’s a stack of things requiring your signature on the desk in the study,” Brennan says, intercepting Xaden. “And these came for you.” He retrieves two missives from his front pocket and hands them over. “Oh, and I’d love to know why the King of Deverelli referred to my sister as your consort in his last offer.”

“I’d say it’s a long story, but it’s really not.” A corner of Xaden’s mouth rises, and he takes the missives.

Gods, I love that arrogant, wicked, sexy little smirk. How in this world does he think I’m supposed to live without seeing it every day?

“Right.” Brennan shakes his head and leaves the hall.

“How was your day, love?” Xaden asks, breaking the wax seals on both parchments.

“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask, leaning forward on the table. “Preparing for your own demise?”

“Mine was interesting.” He ignores my question and reads over the first letter, then frowns at the second. “Flew out to the cliffs to check on the evacuation, which is going slower than we estimated.” His eyes meet mine as he shoves the letters into his pocket and walks up the steps. “And now, Melgren warns me not to fly into battle or we’ll lose—just a few days late with that warning, but the high priestess of Dunne’s temple has written to say that Dunne holds you and Rhiannon in her regard, and that she is in my debt and owes me whatever favor I see fit.” He pushes Brennan’s chair aside, then leans on the edge of the table, facing me. “So how was your day?”

He wants to exchange pleasantries? Fine.

“I read a book on the emergence of venin. Almost managed to split a bolt in three, but my accuracy was questionable. Two seems pretty solid. And I managed runes that both harden surfaces”—I arch a brow—“and soften them. Are you preparing for your own demise?”

“Yes.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “But I’m not embracing the fall, if that’s what you’re thinking. I won’t give up a single day I have with you. Not without a fight.”

Days. Not weeks or months or even years. I’m hit with the sudden urge to never sleep again, to use every minute I have with him. “Do you want to go sit on the roof?”

“I had something else in mind.” He glances toward the throne.

“Yes, please.” I flick my wrist and shut the door using lesser magic, then lock it.

His smile instantly becomes a core memory.