*＊✿❀Tacenda❀✿＊* DISCONTINUED

17

Rhiannon slides a mug of warm apple cider across her sister's dining room table the next day, then takes the empty seat between Ridoc and Sloane. The house has the same scent as most of the barracks in Riorson House—newly cut wood and a faint hint of stain. The carpenters have been working around the clock to turn out serviceable furniture.

I refuse to believe that it could all go up in flames if those dark wielders decide to test their wyvern at altitude. Four hours. That's all it would take for them to reach us from Draithus.

"Thanks." I take the mug and lift it to my face, breathing in the comforting scent before drinking. Looking over my mug, into the connected living room of the townhouse, I smile at the sight of Sawyer sitting with Lana  on a blanket near the fire, an intense look of concentration on his face as he tries to make another move.

It's the second time this week Raegan has opened her home to our squad at Lana's request, and the first time Jesinia's joined us. I have to give it to Lana—her idea was genius. Getting our entire squad—eighteen of us—together outside the academic setting of Riorson House hasn't solved the tension between riders and fliers, but it's a step in the right direction.

Even Cat, who's sitting as far away from me as possible in the corner of the living room, isn't sneering as she and Neve talk to Quinn. She still hates being in Second Squad, but at least she's civil about it to everyone but me.

We've fallen into a routine over the last couple of weeks of November—now the first of December—adjusting our formation to include the fliers, attending classes together within our years, and even making it through our first sparring session where no one spilled blood yesterday. Lana laid down the law last week, and now we run together every morning and sit together at Battle Brief and meals. She even assigned us study partners hoping that proximity might lead to mutual understanding or at least tolerance. Thank gods Maren is my study partner, but I still feel shitty that Lana took on Cat to spare me.

"Any chance you speak Old Lucerish?" I ask Aaric at the end of the table. His tutoring would only be second to mine, considering Markham was my mentor. I'd feel better if someone else quadruple-checked the translation, someone other than rule-following Dain, but I'm pretty sure we have it. Otherwise, why would we be here?

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head and focuses on his new ink pen, his forehead lined with concentration. All of our first-years are channeling, and though they have yet to manifest a signet, they have a bet going about who will be able to master the lesser magic needed to work the writing implement first. Pretty sure Kai—the lone first-year flier without Luella—is going to beat them all.

He's currently on the couch between a couple of first-years, his spiky black hair bobbing, a dimple forming in his bronze cheek as he laughs at whatever story Bragen—the driftleader and our new XO—is currently telling. Other than Maren, Bragen is the easiest of the fliers to get along with. He also spends a lot of time shooting longing looks Cat's way.

"Why would Aaric speak Old Lucerish?" Visia asks from the opposite end of the table, looking up from her physics homework. "Aren't you from Calldyr?"

My face freezes. Fuck, I need to be more careful.

"Yep." Aaric looks up at me, his features a perfect, polished mask. "You have me confused with Lynx. He's from Luceras."

"Right. Of course." I nod, thankful for his quick cover.

"At some point, you're going to have to actually get to know the first-years. They're people now," Ridoc teases, his smile tight. He agrees with us about what we're about to do, but he's understandably worried about the fliers' reactions.