Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)

Perhaps the point of this is not to deny rebellion, but to only go to war with those you trust implicitly.

—Subjugated: The Second Uprising of the Krovlan People by Lieutenant Colonel Asher Sorrengail

Upon our return, I spend a few days reading every single book on Deverelli Jesinia can find to prepare for my progress briefing with the Senarium. Between those, classes, the tomes Queen Maraya sends at my request, modifying my saddle, and the hours I spend wielding on the snow-capped peaks above Basgiath, I fall into bed exhausted every single night.

By the time Friday arrives, I’ve devoured The Dark Side of Magic, Red Regalia, The Scourge of our Times, and the nightmare-inducing A Study in the Anatomy of the Enemy, none of which brings me the answers I need for Xaden.

Neither does Jack. He’s all too happy to tell me about asim progression, how channeling from the earth happens as easily as breathing beyond the wards, but he won’t give up the name of his Sage or give me anything other than trivial information about them. And he’s sure as Malek not telling me how Theophanie knew we’d go for the citrine or what answers I’m searching for.

But once I finally make my way through my dad’s manuscript for the third time and scour the research that behemoth requires, I have an inkling of a thought of where he might have been headed in his hypothesis. I keep it to myself, partially because I’m scared to be wrong but mostly because I’m terrified I’m right. When Varrish mentioned last year that he thought the research dealt with feathertails, I never imagined it would lead in this direction.

“I want to go,” Ridoc says as we walk down the plush red carpet of the administration building, headed for the great hall.

I search for the right words and try to quell the vat of nausea that is my stomach. Presenting to Halden is bad enough, but I skipped breakfast knowing the entire Senarium waits for me, most likely to assign a new commander.

And I’m not accepting one.

“It’s not going to happen,” Rhi says with a sigh from his other side. “She’s going to have a fight on her hands as it is, and they won’t let you miss class, anyway. They’re not even letting us in that room.”

“I can keep you safe,” he insists, turning to me, an unpeeled orange in his hands.

“Pretty sure Riorson will keep her safe,” Sawyer notes, walking on Rhi’s right with the help of his crutches and his latest metal prosthetic leg. He’s even rejoined classes this week, though he has yet to make it to the flight field.

“And Mira.” I’m taking Dad’s letter to heart.

A foursome of infantry cadets steps aside so we can pass, and the massive double doors to the great hall come into view. Cat stands near the threshold, smiling up at a tall flier I’ve never seen before.

He looks to be a couple of inches shorter than Xaden, with a lean build and a quick smile. His hair is as dark as Cat’s, reflecting the same blue mage light that catches on the hilt of the blade he carries at his side and the V of daggers sheathed at his chest.

My eyebrows rise. I figured when I asked her to join this meeting with someone she trusts, she’d choose Maren, but I’m all for her moving on if it means she’s going to stop staring at Xaden constantly. Though I kind of hoped Trager had a shot with her.

“Hey, will you just try?” Ridoc’s voice doesn’t only tense up, it rises, causing all dozen people in the hallway to glance our way.

“What’s this really about?” I reach for his upper arm, and the four of us pause ten feet shy of the door.

“I just…need to go.” He looks away and grips the orange in both hands. “One of us needs to go with you. Ever since…” Pain flashes through his dark-brown eyes as he brings his gaze back to mine. “Ever since Athebyne, one of us has been by your side.” He lifts his finger. “Except the time you snuck out on your little siblings-only trip to Cordyn. The school splits, and we go with you. Basgiath falls under attack, and we’re there. Heading into Poromiel for Maren’s brothers? It’s us. We get separated, and you either get dragged into an interrogation chamber and tortured for days or nearly roasted by Aura’s fire, and I know I can’t be the only one who thought, if Liam had been here, keeping watch over you, it never would have happened.” He swings that finger toward Rhiannon and Sawyer. “You both know it crossed your minds.”

A lump grows in my throat. “I appreciate it, I do. But I don’t need anyone keeping watch over me.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” He covers the orange with both hands. “I just think bad things happen when we aren’t together. Rhi can’t go—she has an entire squad to lead—and Sawyer is still recovering, which leaves me. And if Riorson had been a hundred percent sure of his ability to keep bad things from happening, he wouldn’t have assigned Liam to our squad in the first place. The guy is powerful, but he’s not infallible.”

If he only knew the truth. Gods know who they have waiting behind these doors to replace the ones we lost, but I’m already sure I can only trust two of them—Mira and Xaden.

“And you are?” Sawyer asks, leaning on his crutches.

Ridoc’s eyes narrow. “I’m just as good of a fighter as any of you, and while you’ve been focused on rehab and Rhiannon is chasing first-years to keep them in line, I’ve been the one reading every fucking book Jesinia shoves at me and spending extra hours training—” The skin on the orange splits. “It really pisses me off when you guys act like my sense of humor somehow lessens my ability to show up for our squad.”

“Ridoc,” I whisper, staring at the orange. “What did you do?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you.” He hands me the fruit, and it immediately chills my hands. “You aren’t the only one who’s been spending hours honing their signet.”

Using my thumb, I peel back the rind. The fruit of the orange is frozen solid beneath it. “How did you do it?”

“I’ve always been able to draw water out of the air,” he says. “Plus, I get bored waiting for Sawyer to wake up when he rests—no offense—and if there’s one thing healers are good at, it’s leaving fruit lying around. I realized I could freeze the water in the fruit.”

My lips part as my mind spins through the implications.

“Sorrengail, are we going in or what?” Cat yells from down the hall.

I look up at Ridoc and whisper, “Are you trying to tell me that you can freeze the water in someone’s body?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I haven’t tried it out on anyone, or anything living, of course, but…yeah, I think so.”

Well, that’s unsettling. And glorious. And horrific. All of the above, really.

“Holy shit, man.” Sawyer moves in closer. “Can other ice wielders do that?”

“I don’t think so?” Ridoc shakes his head. “Turns out there’s only a few of us who can even pull the water from the air.”

“Sorrengail!” Cat snaps.

“Yeah, you’re coming with me.” I push the orange into Ridoc’s hand, then motion toward the door. “Though it has nothing to do with the ice—there’s no magic where we’re headed—and everything to do with the first point you made.”

“Bad things happen when we’re not together,” he says quietly.

Only go to war with those you trust implicitly.

I nod, and we head down the hallway.

“It’s about time.” Cat rolls her eyes, but her friend opens the door on the right, and I catch a quick glimpse of his name tag as we walk in. Cordella.

Her cousin?

Half the tables and benches in the hall have been pushed to the sides, leaving an open space in front of the long center table, where the members of the Senarium sit facing us, and they’re not alone. Aetos and Markham flank Halden, who sits in the center of the group, listening to whatever lies Markham whispers.

Xaden occupies the left end of the table, his chair turned toward me, his legs outstretched as if this meeting determines the flight schedule and not the future of the Continent, his eyes locked on me.

“You all right?” I ask, my gaze flickering toward Halden.

“He’s still breathing, so I’d consider that a win,” Xaden answers, looking rather bored, but the shadows around him have sharp edges that contrast the blurred ones down the table, the natural result of multiple light sources. “They’re set on their course, so you’d better determine ours.”

“Ah, Cadet Sorrengail.” Halden’s smile lights up his eyes, and he leans away from Markham. “Right on time.”

“Actually, we’re missing someone.” I glance around the room, noting that for once in her life, Mira’s late. It’s also impossible to miss Foley, Henson, and Pugh sitting farther down the table—all that’s left of our task force—and one addition: Captain Jarrett.

“As I see it, there are two extras in the room.” The Duchess of Morraine shoots a disdainful look over my shoulder.

“They’re here at my request.” I lift my chin. “As is Cadet Gamlyn.”

Ridoc stays silent at my side.

“You can’t be serious—” the duchess starts.

“I’ll allow it,” Halden says, lifting his hand. “Recent losses have been regrettable, but a month has passed and it’s time to act. You have the citrine, and a meeting has been set with King Courtlyn. Command is being transferred to Captain Henson.” Halden gestures to the rolled parchment in front of him.

“Is he fucking serious?” I glance at Xaden.

“Entirely.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “Have fun eating them alive.”

I cross the freshly mopped floor and take the scroll, then step back so I’m in line with Ridoc and give my orders a quick read. We will leave for Deverelli the day after tomorrow, meet with the king to try to negotiate an alliance, secure a foothold for expanding the search if we don’t find Andarna’s kind there, then report back, all under the command of Captain Henson and executive officer Lieutenant Pugh.

While Markham and Melgren search Aretia for any clues we have missed.

“Did you read this?” It takes all I have not to crush the orders. “They want to search Aretia.”

“They can get fucked.”

“No,” I say to Halden.

“I’m sorry?” Halden leans forward.

“I said no.” I rip the orders in half. “No to your commander. No to your selections. No to searching Aretia. No.”

“I warned you,” Xaden says down the table.

Halden stiffens, and the Duke of Calldyr shifts in his seat before narrowing his eyes on me. “Captain Jarrett is an excellent addition and the best swordsman we have among the riders.”

“That’s overly generous, considering I watched Lieutenant Riorson kick his ass without even trying a few months ago at Samara.” Power ripples through my veins, but I keep my anger at a simmer. “We tried it your way—”

“And clearly succeeded,” Halden counters. “Or are you not in possession of the artifact?”

“We lost two riders out there because you saddled me with a squad full of people who don’t know or trust one another. Yes, I have the artifact, and I’ll take it to Deverelli, but only with a squad of my choosing.” I hold my shoulders straight and catch Ridoc nodding out of the corner of my eye.

The door opens behind us, and the familiar rhythm of quick, efficient steps bolsters my courage toward pure audacity.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mira says, bypassing Cat and her cousin to stand at my right. “Hell of a headwind out of the north. What did I miss?”

“I think Violet is about to lose her shit,” Ridoc whispers.

“This”—I toss the halves of the scroll at Halden, and he catches them with the same reflexes that make him lethal on the battlefield—“is not the plan, and they”—I gesture toward the seated riders—“are not my squad.”

Xaden’s smirk deepens, and he settles into his seat like he’s ready for a show.

“Searching Aretia is the first logical course of action, considering it is the only area we have no information on—” Markham starts, his cheeks leaning toward ruddy.

“You don’t speak,” I snap, meeting his gaze for the first time in months. “Not to me. As far as I’m concerned, you have the credibility of a drunkard and the integrity of a rat. You dare complain about missing six years of information on Aretia when you’ve hidden centuries of our continent’s history from public knowledge?”

Halden’s brows rise, and Mira shifts her hand to the pommel of her sword.

“You cannot speak to a superior officer, let alone the commander of a quadrant, with such disrespect!” Markham roars, coming out of his chair.

“In case you missed it when I crossed the parapet, I am not in your chain of command,” I fire back.

“But you are in mine,” Aetos warns. “And I speak with the authority of Melgren.”

Fury gets the best of me. “And I speak with the authority of Tairn, Andarna, and the Empyrean. Or did you forget that two dragons also lost their riders?”

“If I wasn’t in love with you already, I would be now,” Xaden says, crossing his ankles.

“Sit, Markham,” Halden orders, a note of surprise in his tone. “You tried and failed.”

Markham sinks into his chair.

“We’ll give this one shot. Name your squad for the Deverelli mission, Cadet Sorrengail,” Halden says. “But know that if you fail, we’ll assign another commander, and refusing to continue will negate the terms of the Second Aretia Accord.”

The one that gave Xaden back his title.

I swallow the lump in my throat. No pressure or anything.

“Accepted.” I straighten my shoulders. “For the Deverelli mission, my squad will consist of Lieutenant Riorson, Lieutenant Sorrengail, Cadet Gamlyn, Cadet Cordella”—I glance back over my shoulder to get his rank—“Captain Cordella, Cadet Aetos, Prince Halden, and whatever favorite guard follows you in case you stub your toe,” I say to Halden. “When we succeed, I reserve the right to switch out members after the first expedition.”

“Absolutely not.” Aetos shakes his head. “You’ll take only commissioned officers, no fliers, and Riorson is out of the question.”

Halden lifts his hand, and Aetos quiets.

Xaden stills to the point I have to glance to see if he’s breathing.

“I’ll take whomever I wish,” I counter. “As third in line for the throne, Catriona’s capable of speaking for Poromiel—”

“And the captain?” the Duchess of Morraine asks, her face twisting like she’s scented something sour. “You need two fliers?”

“Cadet Cordella deserves to have someone she trusts, too.” I tilt my head at Halden. “Dragons don’t carry humans who haven’t crossed the parapet or climbed the Gauntlet, so you’re lucky gryphons are kinder in this regard, or you’d never keep up. Lieutenant Sorrengail is the only rider capable of creating her own wards. Cadet Aetos is the only rider I trust who speaks fluent Krovlish—which is the second most common language used in Deverelli. Cadet Gamlyn is dedicated to my personal safety, and even if Lieutenant Riorson weren’t the deadliest rider in the whole of our forces”—I glance at Aetos, then Halden—“which he is, you know Tairn and Sgaeyl cannot be separated, and there’s no telling how long we’ll be forced to travel. I’m tired of arguing this point.”

“He’s a professor at this war college,” Aetos sputters.

“He is my choice.”

Halden sits back in his chair and looks at me like he’s never seen me before.

“He hasn’t,” Tairn reminds me. “He no longer knows you.”

I stare straight at Halden. “And the Tyrrish kept contact with Deverelli up until the last century. Who better to reopen those lines of communication than the Duke of Tyrrendor himself?”

Xaden’s surprise barrels down the bond, but he remains unnaturally still.

“You may read my father’s book whenever you want,” I tell him.

“Riorson holds a seat in the Senarium,” the Duchess of Morraine argues. “He can’t just leave. He doesn’t even have an heir should…tragedy befall, though I might be persuaded to agree to his absence should he consider my daughter’s proposal.”

“Proposal?” The blood runs from my face.

“One of about a dozen since they gave me the title back. Nothing to stress over.” A soft strand of shimmering onyx brushes against my mind.

My heart lurches. We have very different ideas of stress.

“At least say what you mean, Ilene.” Halden sends a sideways glance her way. “You don’t trust him and would like to see your bloodline in not only Morraine but Tyrrendor.”

“He led a rebellion!” She slams her hands on the tabletop.

“My father led a rebellion,” Xaden says without taking his eyes off me. “I took part in a revolution. There’s a difference in the words, from what I’m told.”

I catch my mouth curving.

“Besides, arguing makes no difference.” Xaden sits up. “I’m going. Lewellen will speak for me in my absence while taking counsel from my only living blood relative—Cadet Durran. Lieutenant Tavis has been co-leading my classes and will step into the role of professor to teach them fully while we’re gone until it’s time for the next professor to rotate in.”

“If I give my permission,” Halden retorts.

Wrong move, Halden.

“I ask permission of one person on the Continent, and it sure as Amari isn’t you.” Xaden slowly turns his head to look down the table at Halden, and breathing becomes irritatingly difficult.

“I speak in my father’s stead,” Halden bites out through gritted teeth.

“Right. Because he’s the one I defer to.” Xaden’s gaze swings to me. “When would you like to go?”

“We fly for Deverelli as soon as His Highness is ready.” I look Halden straight in the eye, counting on his absolute inability to read my face or sense the fear that he’ll retaliate against Xaden with the power of the crown.

Halden stands, as does everyone at the table except Xaden. “Let’s at least keep that part of the orders intact. We depart the day after tomorrow.” He leaves through the northern door, followed by everyone who stood.

“No snide remarks,” I say to Ridoc with a quick smile. “I’m proud of you.”

“I kept the inside thoughts inside,” he replies with a flash of a grin as Xaden approaches.

“You really had to prick his temper?” I ask as he reaches us.

“No.” Xaden’s gaze flickers to my mouth. “I did that just for fun.”

“Drake Cordella?” Mira shouts, and the three of us turn as she charges across the room toward Drake. “As in the nightwing drift?”

He gives my sister a charming yet cocky smile. “You’ve heard of me?”

“You were instrumental in bringing the wards down in the Montserrat offensive last year.” Her eyes narrow.

“I was.” His grin expands.

She knees him straight in the groin.

Oh gods.

“Ooh.” Ridoc winces. “He’s going—”

Drake hits his knees, and Cat gasps.

“—down,” Ridoc finishes.

“You must be Mira Sorrengail,” Drake manages to say, pain etched in every line of his face.

“Guess you’ve heard of me, too.” She crouches down to his level. “If you ever endanger my sister’s life again, my blade will replace my knee. Got it?”

To his credit, he lifts his head and sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Heard.”

“Excellent.” She pats him on the shoulder and stands, dismissing Cat with a glare before turning my way. “You get one chance to form your own squad, and you choose your ex, your current lover, the quadrant’s resident smart-ass, two people who have tried to kill you in the past year—one over said current lover—and whatever Dain is? These are your choices for the most important mission any rider could possibly undertake?”

“I’m glad someone said it,” Tairn chimes in.

“And…you.” It’s not my finest comeback.

“Don’t forget Halden’s guard,” Ridoc adds. “I’m sure they’ll be super useful.”

She flat-out rolls her eyes at him, then heads toward the door. “I’ll need to provision here, but it looks like I’ll have time to read the next volume in that series you love,” she says to me over her shoulder.

Mom’s journals. I nod and soak up the victory for one sweet second.

We could be only days away from having everything we need: Andarna’s family, a cure for Xaden, and whatever it is my father wants me to retrieve from that merchant in Deverelli.

The day after tomorrow can’t come fast enough.