Wren never expected her life to change the moment she set foot in the Riders Quadrant at Basgiath War College. But everything shifted when she met Liam Mairi. Loving him was effortless, bright, and full of promise. Losing him was shattering.
His dea...
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There were several things I knew with absolute certainty about Wren Blackwell.
She carried at least six daggers on her at any given time, though I suspected the actual number depended on how irritated she was when she got dressed that morning. She hated stewed apples with a passion entirely disproportionate to the offense they had committed against her. She drew dragons in the margins of her notes when she was bored, trees when she was thinking, and apparently nothing at all when she was sad, though I hadn't quite figured out that last part yet. She fought like she'd spent her entire life learning exactly how people underestimated her and had decided somewhere along the way to make them regret it. And for all five foot nothing of her, she was quite possibly one of the most lethal people I'd ever met.
I also knew I was thinking about her entirely too fucking much.
"Finally."
Deigh's voice rolled through my mind with enough satisfaction that I stopped running the cloth along the edge of my dagger and looked toward where he rested beyond the flight field.
Finally what?
"You have recognized the problem."
I frowned and returned my attention to the blade. The late afternoon sun caught along its edge as I turned it in my hand, checking for imperfections that weren't there mostly because it gave me something to do. Flight training had ended nearly half an hour ago, but I hadn't felt any particular urgency to return inside. Deigh had settled comfortably in the grass after landing, which meant either he was enjoying the warmth or he'd decided whatever was happening inside my head was entertaining enough to warrant staying close.
Knowing my dragon, probably both.
There is no problem.
Deigh's amusement pressed against the bond.
I hated when he did that.
I was thinking.
"About Wren Blackwell."
I dragged the cloth along the blade again. Among other things.
"Name one."
My hand stopped.
Deigh waited.
I considered pointing out that I didn't owe him an accounting of my thoughts, but that would only prove his point, and we both knew it.
Combat.
"You were thinking about her during Combat."
Violet.
"You were wondering whether Blackwell would like the book Violet mentioned."
Fuck.
I shoved the dagger back into its sheath harder than necessary.
