Chapter Text
I know you’ll have been watching the death roll, but I still want to assure you that I am alive. I’ve made an unlikely friend, though I don’t think she’d admit to it even with a blade to her throat. How much of a mess has my disappearance made? I’ll confess that I am surprised every day that my father does not come barging into the quadrant to drag me to Elsum himself. If that is his goal, he should probably do it sooner rather than later. I am surrounded on all sides by people whom I cannot decide if they are allies or enemies…
-Letter from Rowan Tauri to Violet Sorrengail after her first week in the Rider’s Quadrant
“Interesting friends you’re making, Adaine,” a cadet with short pink hair shaved off on one side says as she drops into the seat next to Adaine at breakfast the following morning. She is wearing a sleeveless tunic and I can see the dark lines of a rebellion relic twisting up her arm and to her shoulder.
“We aren’t friends,” Adaine says. “She’s just imprinted on me like a baby duck.”
“Quack,” I say dryly. The corners of Adaine’s mouth pull up slightly.
“Well, I suppose at least she has a sense of humor,” the woman says. She slips a note to Adaine who quickly tucks it into her pocket. I want to ask her about it, but I know that I won’t get an answer. “Fuck with Adaine, and I’ll kill you myself, Princess.”
With that, she stood up and walked away. I watched her make her way back over to the rest of her squad. Dain’s squad. Shit, I’d be grumpy too if I were stuck with Aetos. How Violet could stand the man, let alone find him attractive, was a mystery.
“She’s charming,” I say to Adaine.
“Imogen? I don’t think charming is her goal,” Adaine says.
“Tall and intimidating does seem more her style,” I agree.
“Not easy to kill is probably more the aim.”
“It’s definitely working.”
“You could definitely take some pointers from her.”
“Are you saying I seem easy to kill?” I ask.
One of the other first year cadets on our squad who is sitting at the table with us chokes on their sausage trying to keep a laugh down. I glare at him. I think his name is Patrick, but I’m not sure. I will have to ask Adaine to write all their names down for me before I try to address anyone. I narrow my eyes at him and he puts his hands up in a show of innocence.
“Sorry, it’s just, you look like you’ve never seen a day of combat training in your life,” he says.
It’s probably because I haven’t seen a day of combat training in my life. I did know, however, the proper fork to use for a fish course. So, you know, useful skills. Up until yesterday I hadn’t been worried about it as I had every intention of dying here. Now I had been offered an alternative, live and marry Arles instead of the Duke. Did I want to take it?
“She’s on our squad,” another cadet, this one a woman with thick auburn curls that stopped at her chin and a collection rings on her hand, says. I think her name is Eadan or Eden. “We can’t just write her off as hopeless.”
My focus is pulled from watching my squad mates discuss what they thought of my chances. I can tell I am being watched. It’s like a prickly feeling across my skin, an awareness I can’t escape. I look up to see Xaden watching me from across the gathering hall. Apparently squad bonding is not a main concern of his. He’s at a table with a man I haven’t seen before. The stars and patches on his uniform tell me that he is another second year squad leader though. He has dark curly hair, pale skin, and a rebellion relic that twists up from his wrist and around his shoulder. I barely notice him next to Xaden’s intense gaze though. I want to look away. I can’t stand the sight of him after yesterday’s revelation, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from him.
“What are you looking at?” I see the man say and his eyes follow Xaden’s gaze over to me. I quickly duck my head and stare intently at my food.
A minute later Adaine kicks my shin under the table. I jerk my head upward to find Xaden glaring at us. His friend is watching amused from where he is sitting. The other members of my squad seemed to have gathered from their various tables to receive our orders for the day.
“First year cadets, your first class starts in forty five minutes. I suggest you finish eating and gather your belongings. You won’t see the second and third years again until sparring this afternoon,” he says. I can see the other first years nodding in my peripheral vision. Xaden turns to glare at Adaine. “That scarf is a liability in the sparring ring. Make sure she takes care of it.”
I bristle at his refusal to even address me directly, but beside me Adaine nods with an obedience I did not think her capable of. He turns on his heel and leaves the gathering hall. The other second and third years scramble after him.
“Damn. Command suits him,” the cadet who I think is Eadan says.
“He’s a Marked One. One of the traitors,” another cadet whose name I can’t remember says. He has a shaved head and a large scar that looks like a burn marking the left side of his face.
“He’s your squad leader,” I snap at him. The other cadets turn and look at me, the surprise evident on their faces. “I trust you understand a chain of command?” I demand raising an eyebrow. The cadet looks thoroughly cowed. I have never been one for wielding the power that comes with my name, but this felt like the appropriate moment to start. It wasn’t even about Xaden. Adaine was right here, the rebellion relic that twisted up from her inner wrist and stopped halfway up her forearm in clear view.
“Now, speaking of someone command looks good on…” Patrick says suggestively breaking the tension. The other cadets besides the one with the shaved head chuckle.
Adaine grips my elbow. “Come on, duckling,” I see her say. “Let’s go do something with that hair of yours before Patrick here tries to flirt anymore.”
“You love it,” Patrick says back with a grin.
“In your dreams, Morgan,” she shoots back, but she is smiling at least. I think it must be his surname.
I let her guide me back to the barracks. Once we are there, we are afforded a privacy that I have realized is hard to come by in this quadrant. Most of the other first years are at breakfast or heading to class. A few are grabbing their belongings, but everyone is in such a hurry that no one even gives us a second glance.
I sit down on my bunk and pull the scarf from my head.
“Damn,” Adaine says, “I didn’t really pay munch attention to just how much hair you have yesterday.”
“Trying to escape Malek’s clutches does have a way of pulling one’s focus,” I quip. She’s right though. My head of hair has always been something more like a mane. Thick, wavy, and vibrantly red, it fell nearly to my waist.
“You really ought to cut it,” Adaine says. “It’s a liability here.”
“No!” I say a little too quickly. I don’t want to admit to even myself why I stopped cutting my hair years ago. I don’t want to remember the way Xaden had reverently run his hand through it that last time we had seen each other when I was just fifteen years old and told me that he had been imagining doing just that for over a year. It didn’t matter that it had been sparked by Xaden anyways. My hair was a comfort to me now. An act of defiance against those who said it marked me as a bastard. Let them talk. I was third in line for the crown of Navarre regardless of their rumors. In front of me Adaine sighed.
“You’ll have to secure it then. Braids should to the trick. Then we can pin them to your head,” she says. I nod but don’t move. “Preferably now, Rowan.”
“I don’t know how,” I sign. Somehow the idea of someone seeing me sign feels less horrifying than admitting that out loud where anyone could hear me. Adaine gapes at me before rubbing her face with her hands.
“Time to learn, then. No servants here to do it for you.”
It takes her twenty minutes to teach me to braid my hair – not made easier by the fact she can’t braid it while I am facing her and I keep having to turn back and forth to receive instruction – and then pin it up to the top of my head wrapped around like a crown. The side she braided looks much neater than the side I did, but I still feel stupidly proud of the small act.
“If you ever tell me you can’t dress yourself, I will throw you off the gauntlet,” Adaine says as we gather our things to head to class. I’d have to survive until the gauntlet first.
“As long as there isn’t a corset or gown involved, I think I have dressing under control.”
I see the shake of her shoulders as she snorts with laughter. “All I am hearing is that you do have someone to dress you.”
“Did,” I correct. “But in my defense, corsets and gowns all lace up the back. I think they are designed to render you helpless without a ladies maid.”
“Amari above, a ladies maid?! You make it really hard to like you, Tauri.”
“Please,” I counter, “you can’t help but like me.”
“I can’t escape you.”
“Quack.”
She laughs at that, and I am more convinced than ever we are friends whether she likes that fact or not. I rewrap the scarf around my head even though my hair is pinned back now. I’ll take it off before I enter the sparring ring, but the idea of being without it – especially after yesterday’s revelation – is daunting.
“Come on, let’s get to class,” I say.
The two of us grab our books and quills and head back down the stairs. The academic wing is past the dorms and then through the other side of the rotunda. I can’t help but marvel as we walk through the massive domed structure. The light of the early summer sunrise trickled through, glittering off the six marble dragons carved into the pillars that held the rotunda up, each in a different color to match the types of dragons. Red, Orange, Green, Blue, Brown, and Black. I look up at the glass dome as we pass through. In the top of it was the outline of a seventh dragon, made from silver that shone in the light, cutting through the glass. It was even more beautiful than the palace, though, that was potentially because I had always felt more like a prisoner at the palace than anything else.
“It must have taken ages to make,” I breathe out in awe. Adaine waits until I turn back to her to respond.
“It was formed a few hundred years ago by a rider whose signet let them bend material to their will,” she says.
It was a fact I had never learned in my history and politics lessons.
“They must have been extremely powerful,” I say.
“They were,” Adaine says. “They were my ancestor, a great several times over grandmother.”
“You’re a legacy?”
She just nods. There is something in her expression that seems almost sad. I realize that probably none of the separatists children were considered legacies anymore. It didn’t matter what their families had done to help shape and protect Navarre, now they were just seen as traitors.
Adaine spins around suddenly with a glare. I turn to see Cian walking towards us. I wonder if he called out for me and that is what caught Adaine’s attention. I realize that I might never be able to walk alone through the halls of Basgaith without giving myself away. It’s so different here than at the palace – I refuse think of it as home despite having grown up there. Here, there are people and I can only assume noise everyone. In the palace only a few people would have dared directly address a member of the royal family. The intimidation from my family to the staff had only grown since I’d lost my hearing. None of them wanted it known that a member of the royal family, an heir in line for the throne, was defective in some way.
“Rowan, I was hoping to catch you before classes,” he says with an easy smile. His eyes flick over to Adaine and after a pause he says, “Neither I nor the Princess will be late for classes. Unlike you, I was raised to understand the importance of following commands.”
“Cian!” I hiss. He could be a real fucking asshole sometimes.
Cian rolls his eyes but says, “Apologies. Any friend of the Princess is a friend of mine. Though, I was hoping to have a chance to speak to you alone.”
I don’t need to see the look on Adaine’s face to know that’s unlikely. Still, ass or not, Cian might represent my only option other than death.
“I can catch up with you in class, Adaine,” I say.
“I would never leave my squad mate to walk alone,” she says, turning a cold smile on Cian. “We are just headed to history. You are welcome to walk with us.”
Cian looks over Adaine with obvious distaste, but nods. The three of us turn to walk through the doors to the academic wing between the orange and black pillars. There are more students milling about now, everyone heading to their first classes of the day.
“I hoped you might’ve had a chance to think about my offer, Rowan,” he says.
“I think I ought to worry about making it through Threshing before I start planning my life outside these walls,” I answer. The truth is I have thought about it. I’ve done almost nothing but think about it, but I can’t seem to choose. A part of me deep down thinks that it’s just signing myself up for the same fate, but with a different man. The other part tells me that the devil I know is better than the devil I don’t.
Cian doesn’t seem overly thrilled by my answer, but nods curtly anyway.
“I hope you’ll think about it. I’ve got dragon theory first,” Cian says breaking off toward a door on our right. “You should join me for lunch, Rowan.”
As much as I might need him, I’m still annoyed that his invitation very clearly excludes Adaine.
“I think I should eat with my squad,” I say. “Sorry.”
It’s clearly not the answer he wanted, but he nods with a forced smile and disappears through the door.
I turn to Adaine. “Sorry about him,” I say. “He’s kind of a dick.”
She snorts in laughter. “That’s putting in mildly,” she says. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Have lunch with your friends.”
I make a face. “Cian is not my friend. More like a… barely tolerable acquaintance. But unfortunately, I might need him as an ally.”
“Right, his father is commanding general of the King’s army. I’ve never been more relieved to not be involved in politics,” she says. It’s not exactly why I’m being polite to Cian, but I don’t correct her.
We make our way into the history classroom and take our seats near the rest of our squad in the back right corner of the room.
At the front of the room the first of our professors is standing. She is a petite woman, and very obviously not a rider, with long, straight black hair and discerning eyes.
“Welcome to your history class,” she says when the cadets have all taken their seats. There seems to be about two other squads worth of first years in the room with us. “My name is Professor Sasaki, and it’s my job to teach you about the history of Navarre. Although I am sure some of you know this information already,” her eyes flick over to me as she speaks, “and some of you will think that your more physical classes deserve more attention, I expect your full effort. Failing my class is not an option. Riders do not exist to be the brainless muscle of Navarre’s military. They exist to be the leaders of it – experts in diplomacy and strategy. Something which you will not achieve if you fail to know where Navarre has already been in order to help guide it forward.”
I see a few of the students who are sitting in front of me groan, but I sit up straighter. I doubt there are many classes I will succeed at here, but this will be one of them. I have had private tutors teaching me history since I was five years old. Beside me, Adaine pulls out a parchment and quill. I see her dip her quill and then scratch Teacher’s pet across the top of her paper. I catch her eye and shrug with a grin. She rolls her eyes at me.
After history we head to battle brief. It’s the only class of the day that every cadet and rider is in. The circular lecture hall it is taught in is massive. The professor, a rider with short, bright purple hair, stands at the front of it, a large map of Navarre behind her. The students all sit in tiered seats that extend out from the front of the room in an arch. As we file in I can see the older rider’s from our squad sitting near the back to the left side of the room. Xaden is with them, although he and our executive squad leader are both standing leaned up against the wall since there are not enough seats for all the students. Of course he’s here. He’s our squad leader. Still, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.
I’m not left with much of a choice though as Adaine and the other first years head that direction. I could sit on my own. I could go find Cian. I’m sure he would be thrilled for me to sit with him. I don’t want to be without my squad though. I barely know them, but they represent a form of safety here, no matter how shallow that safety is. I grab Adaine’s hand and pull her to be sure we are seated furthest from Xaden in our squad. She gives me an annoyed look, but sits anyway.
In the corner of my eye, I can feel Xaden watching me. The gaze from his dark eyes feels almost tangible on my skin and it makes me want to lash out at him – scream, punch him, something. Instead, I ignore him and take out my notes.
“Welcome to your first battle brief,” the professor says from the front of the room. “My name is Professor Devra. It is not often that riders are called – “
She is pacing as she speaks and as she turns to face the other way, I lose thread of what she is saying. Fuck. This might be the worst class for that to happen in.
“ – not just about knowing where every wing is stationed, either.” I catch the end of her speech as she paces back our direction. She turns and paces away again. I realize that in the future, squad or not, I am going to have to sit near the center of the room instead of off to one side if I want to catch the majority of what she is saying. Even then, if she always paces like this I will be at a disadvantage.
I can feel my panic start to rise. I know I am likely to die here. But if any of our classes can give me the information I need, this feels like the one. Beside me, Adaine pulls out her quill and parchment again. Out of the corner of my eye I see her start scribbling notes.
Only class we have every day. Professor Markham also teaches it.
I feel a wash of relief as I see a man in a scribe uniform move to the front of the class. I think Adaine might be the most wonderful person on the continent.
Sumerton was attacked last night by Krovlan gryphons and riders –
My eyes shoot up from her parchment to look at Adaine, but she is facing forward not looking at me as she continues scribbling on her parchment. That couldn’t be right though. Sumerton wasn’t even as close to the border as some other cities or villages. It was high in the mountains of the Elsum province, and generally considered one of the safest cities in Navarre given its altitude was far above comfortable flying range for a gryphon. Not to mention, since it was where the Duke’s castle was, it was guarded by riders and infantry alike.
The attack was stopped with no Navarrian rider casualties, but 7 infantry were killed in the attack. All the riders and gryphons were caught and executed by order of Duke Elsum.
There are questions and answers following Professor Devra’s brief that Adaine quickly writes as the class talks; what happened to the wards, what was the condition of the city, were there any civilian casualties. But no one asks what I most want to know – why would they attack Sumerton of all places?
I pull out my quill and lean over to write on Adaine’s paper. Why Sumerton?
She glares at me, but raises her hand regardless. “Do we know why they attacked Sumerton?” I see Adaine ask once Professor Devra has called on her.
“Why do you ask?” Professor Devra asks, but she has a small pleased smile.
“It’s just a bad move, strategically. There had to be a reason.”
“And why is it a bad move?”
“For countless reasons,” I cut in impatiently. Professor Devra’s eyes turn to me accessing. “The altitude would make it harder for gryphons to fly and for their riders to channel. It’s over an hour dragon flight from the border, probably twice that for a gryphon flying up that high. And there are always Navarrian dragon riders stationed there.”
“Excellent observations, Cadet Tauri,” she said and then looked over the rest of the room. “Does anyone have any ideas?”
Adaine turns to our left and I know before I even look myself that Xaden is speaking.
“-not a good place for a stronghold. Do we think they were looking for something?” He asks without so much as a glance my direction.
“Very astute of you, Squad Leader,” Professor Devra says. “Yes, we do think they were looking for something.”
I don’t see the person who asks the next question. I don’t have to. I know what it will be.
“We don’t know what,” Professor Devra answers.