fourth wing xadens pov

chapter 29

Chapter 29: Mistake

I stand in Panchek’s office two hours later with the other wingleaders, as we debrief on the outcome from War Games. Markham sits in the corner, one foot propped on his opposite knee.

Behind Panchek’s desk, there’s a mass of parchment pieces pinned to the wall. Each represents a rider, their name listed alongside their bonded dragon and signet. There is one bonded first-year rider left on the wall with no signet. Panchek tears it off the pin and drops it in the wastebasket at his feet. Markham sighs but doesn’t protest; they might not be dead yet, but hundreds of years of precedent means they will be by the end of the week.

Violet has already been moved into the overall quadrant formation, one of just a handful in the extreme offensive front lines. Her name looks stark and exposed, and the only way I can keep my pulse from racing is to slide my gaze a few along to my own. I’m right there with her too.

Panchek has his back to us as he studies the formation. “Markham,” he snaps. “When was the last lightning wielder?”

It’s not just me that can’t stop thinking about Violet. 

Markham leafs through the book open on his lap, scanning each page quickly with a finger. “They became non-operational ninety-two years ago.”

Panchek nods, his hands rising to rest on his hips. When he doesn’t ask the obvious follow-up question, I ask it for him. “And how long were they in active service, sir?”

Panchek pivots to look at me and Markham glances at him, waiting for an objection. He turns back a couple more pages. “Just over four years. Not uncommon for this sort of ability.”

My stomach clenches. Dragon riders never live long, but four years. It’s not enough. But I know more than anyone how a signet like this cuts you from every angle. The more power you control, the more you’re a target. The less you control, the more likely your power consumes you.

“Sorrengail’s seems particularly raw,” Panchek comments, and I don’t know if that means her odds are better or worse. “We’ve had water wielders out all morning trying to limit the damage from several impressive strikes during the night.”

Sgaeyl’s snort bursts through my mind so loudly that I almost jump.

“We’ll need a handle on her abilities quicker than most then,” says Markham.

“Carr is testing her now.”

My heart jumps into my throat at his name. Violet’s with him? Where?

“Sgaeyl, is Tairn –“

“Yes, Wingleader,” she replies, with enough boredom in her tone that I can almost feel her rolling her eyes.

I feel Violet then through our mental bond, the crackling fire and sparks that dance between the trees where I’m grounding seeming to intensify and burn brighter.

“Problems?” I ask her, ignoring the way my pulse leaps as I realise how far away she is from Basgiath. “And what are you doing so far away?” I try to make it sound casual, to belie the ashy taste of fear in my mouth at the idea of her all alone with Carr.

“Training with Carr,” she replies, and her voice feels like a caress. “And how do you know how far away I am?”

“Get stronger in wielding, and you’ll be able to do it, too. There’s nowhere in existence you could go that I wouldn’t find you, Violence.”