The Immortal / Fourth Wing

Chapter Eighteen

POV: Xandor Galadon

Finally we were given something interesting and a little exciting. Got time.

"You keep command," Rhiannon suggested, looking at Imogen. "You've gotten us this far." A murmur of agreement went around the room.

"Emery? Heaton?" Imogen asked. "As third-years, it's your right."

"No thanks." Heaton leaned back against the wall.

"Nope. There's a reason neither of us wanted to be in leadership," Emery added, sitting next to Nadine. "Any reason you wouldn't be alright following Imogen's command for a few hours, Nadine?" Everyone turned to her, and she visibly swallowed, her nervous gaze skittering over all of us.

"I'm fine with it."

"Good." Imogen folded her arms across her chest, the wrist with her rebellion relic peeking out from under her tunic. "We have little less than three hours. What are your ideas?"

Information.

"What about a piece of weaponry?" Ridoc suggested. "A cross-bolt would be deadly to any of our dragons in the hands of our enemies."

"Too big," Quinn said decisively. "There's only one in the museum, and honestly, it's not even the bolt that's deadly, it's the launching system."

"Next?" Imogen glanced at each of us.

"We could steel Panchek's underw-" Ridoc started before Rhiannon slammed her hand over his mouth.

"And that's why we don't let you lead." She arched a brow at him.

"Come on, guys! Think! What's the most useful think to our enemy?" Imogens brow puckered over her pale green eyes.

"Information," Liam answered.

That's my boy.

"Violet, what about stealing the news missives from the Archives? The ones that come in front?"

"That wouldn't work." Violet shook her head. "It's after seven. The Archives are locked, and it's the kind of vault that even wielding isn't going to touch. The whole room is sealed up airtight I case of fire."

"Damn." Imogen sighed. "That was a good one."

There was more than one place for information. My gods, it wasn't that difficult. The entire room, except me, broke into conversation, each voice louder than the next as suggestions were hurled into the open.

"What are you thinking about, Sorrengail?" Imogen asked and the room fell silent. "I can see the little gars turning in your mind."

"It's probably nothing," Violet answered.

"Get up here and work it out in your head," I,ogen ordered.

"Seriously, it's mad. Like undoable. We'd get thrown in the brig if we're caught," Violet argued.

Try me.

"Get. Up. Here. And. Work. It. Out," Imogen ordered.

"We can wield, right?" Violet stood, brushing her hands down her side.

"By all means necessary," Heaton repeated, nodding.