Old Flame︱Brennan Sorrengail

you're not sorry

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

WE DIDN'T DIE. And, as I thought that, I realised how low my expectations in life are. When did I become such a crummy, weepy, pessimistic downer? Gods, freaking Feyreth was more of an optimist than me. And that was so messed up—

"Garrick Tavis. Xaden Riorson." Captain Fitzgibbon's voice echoed around us as we walked into the courtyard.

"Well, this is awkward," Xaden called, and everyone's heads snapped our way. The real fear started flooding my system. If we were going to die, it would be now. Right now. They would kill us and they'd burn our things and we'd be nothing but a memory.

Breathe, dumbass. Just breathe.

"You're...not dead," Captain Fitzgibbons, the scribe assigned to the Riders Quadrant, called, his seasoned eyes widening beneath grey eyebrows. He paled, going the same shade as his uniform, and dropped the death roll. I would've laughed at his clumsiness if I weren't terrified I would throw my guts up.

"Apparently not," Xaden replied in a smooth voice. I tried to adopt some of his confidence, because I was so freaking close to passing out right here and now.

And, you know, maybe I would've even laughed at Commandant Panchek's face if I weren't worrying myself sick.

That worry only multiplied when General Sorrengail stood, Colonel Aetos with her.

And we started our descent forwards.

Violet's mom—the same woman who let her family, no, the entire continent, live a shitty lie—pulled the corners of her lips up and let her eyes linger on her daughter.

And I felt it. The relief in the air. The pride.

General Sorrengail loved her daughter. She just had a terrible way of showing it.

"I don't understand," Fitzgibbons said to the two scribes behind him, then faced Panchek. "They aren't dead. Why would they have been reported for the death roll?"

"Why were they reported for the death roll?" Violet's mom asked, and I studied her, the slight shake of her hands, the tension in her shoulders.

Oh, someone was pissed.

And that incoming storm only proved it.

"They've been missing for six days!" Aetos fumed. "Naturally we reported them dead, but obviously we should have reported them for desertion and dereliction of duty instead."

"You want to report us for desertion?" Xaden walked up the stairs of the dais, and Aetos backed away a step, fear flashing across his eyes.

It's nice to know I wasn't the only one close to puking up their guts.

"You sent us into combat, and you're going to report us for desertion?"

"What is he talking about?" my mother asked, staring between Xaden and Aetos.

Well, shit. Here we go.

"I have no idea," Aetos gritted out.

"I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing's War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons."

Good Gods, this man can lie. It almost makes me wonder how many times he's done it to me without me realising. That day in the cafeteria when someone stole the last orange...that bastard.

"It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware." Xaden twisted—just—and it stunned me how ballsy he was to turn away from the leadership. "They were dead before they ever had a chance."