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)
“Both.” Very few scribes are authorized to enter the Riders Quadrant, but none are given permission to witness Threshing. “I thought you were on assignment somewhere classified.” He’s been gone since May, which isn’t uncommon given that he’s one of the scribe academics more dedicated to historical analysis than recording current events. He’s known to disappear for months at a time, first to research, then to write, but he always brings the best gifts back with him.
“I returned in August.” His brow knits. “I’m sorry I missed Conscription Day, but there was no way I was letting you walk into Threshing without seeing you.”
My gaze darts to the forest around us, and I breathe a little easier when I can’t spot any other riders. “I’m relieved you’re here, but the rules are pretty merciless if you get caught—”
“If I obeyed the rules, my rank would be higher. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take my chances with the new commander of the Riders Quadrant.” His grin deepens. “That newly pinned colonel has a soft spot for me.”
I snort. “‘Soft’ isn’t a word I’d ever apply to Mom. At least not to her face.” My expression falls, a freedom I haven’t given myself since crossing the parapet in July, but I don’t have to be on guard with my father. “She only blunts her edges for two people on the Continent, and if I fail today, that number falls to one.”
“You’re her favorite, but she’s her own kind of soft when it comes to your sisters, whether or not the three of you realize it.” Dad clasps my shoulder, his hazel eyes softening. “And you won’t fail.”
“I don’t want to let her down,” I admit in a whisper. “Either of you.” There hasn’t been a moment in my life where I haven’t been acutely aware of my father’s accomplishments or the respect my mother commands from every rider I’ve ever encountered. I don’t mind the weight of their legacies, but I don’t want to be defined by them, either, which is really fucking hard given that I chose to wear rider black. “Are you angry I didn’t enter the Healer Quadrant after you spent so much time teaching me about herbs?”
Mom focused on teaching me tactics, as though she always knew I’d cross the parapet.
“Never. Listen to me.” Dad leans in. “You could never disappoint me, Brennan.” He shakes his head, his eyes searching mine. “Your integrity, compassion, and wit make you a man of exceptional character, the kind any parent would be proud of. Your mother will be thrilled to see you land on the flight field no matter what dragon is wise enough to claim you. Her only expectation is that you live, and I think you’ll find that has far more to do with being your mother than being your commander. Our hearts couldn’t take it if anything happened to you.”
I nod, swallowing the knot of emotion trying its hardest to block my throat. “How are Mira and Violet?”
Mom doesn’t give me any special treatment in the quadrant, which means I’ve been cut off from letters and news from the rest of my family just like the other first-years. Never thought I’d see a day where I’d miss my little sisters annoying the shit out of me every minute, but I do. Constantly. I miss Mira’s footsteps trailing behind me and the way Violet smiles when she learns something new.
“Headstrong and precariously curious. In that order.” Another grin flashes across his face as he drops his hand. “Mira nearly thrashed Dain Aetos last week when Violet fell out of a tree the two of them had been climbing.”
“She’s a little overprotective.” A smile curves my mouth, then quickly falters. “Was Violet hurt?” She’s always been frailer than Mira or me, prone to joint dislocations and broken bones, but the strength of her mind is unparalleled.
A scream sounds from the south, and my head snaps toward the forest, but Dad barely glances. My heart rate skyrockets, and smoke rises above the trees a moment later, scenting the air with a warning of imminent danger. People are dying out there, and I’m about to chance the same fate.
“Violet’s fine. Nothing that couldn’t be mended,” Dad assures me, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Good.” Thank the gods for menders. The gift is rare, but the riders with the signet for putting broken things back together, like Nolon, are a blessing to my sister. We need more of them.
A tree ignites in the distance, and my mouth goes dry.
“So what color are you hoping for?” Dad asks casually.
“I would have loved a black dragon, but none are willing to bond this year. I’m leaning toward green, given their more reliable, reasonable nature. It’s probably easier to strategize with a dragon you can depend on. Brown would be great, too.” I rub my thumb along my chin. “Anything but an orange.”