Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3)

Never turn your back on a rider.

—Major Afendra’s Guide to the Riders Quadrant (Unauthorized Edition)

“You dare—” Aura turns to fully face me, yanking off her other glove.

“I dare.” I lift my open palms skyward, and heat streaks along my arms as I release a wave of power, forcing it upward and letting it go.

Lightning splits the sky, flashing bright above our heads and branching outward into the clouds. Thunder follows instantly, so loud it shakes the masonry.

The crowd quiets, and Aura’s mouth hangs for a moment before she lowers her hands.

“You see, Dain’s too honorable to wield in a challenge, but you’ll find that my sense of morality has learned to…waver.” I retrieve another dagger and shake it in her direction. “You lift your hand against him again, and the next one goes through it. He’s the reason you’re alive. The reason you’re all alive!” Power thrums through me, buzzing with readiness, and I slip my left hand into the pocket of my flight jacket and remove the conduit.

“Violet,” Rhiannon warns softly from my right.

“Shh, it’s more fun when she blows shit up,” Ridoc whispers.

I turn slightly and draw on lesser magic to allow my voice to carry to the Navarrian riders while keeping an eye on Aura. They’ve closed in, taking this situation from dangerous to lethal. “The only reason you survived the attack is because we gained access to the knowledge Navarre purposely hid from us. We stole it. We translated it. We saved your ass.” Warmth streaks down my arm, the conduit beginning to hum. “And yes, we expect you to recognize that we need this alliance to survive what’s coming for us!”

“You expect us to trust them?” Caroline calls out.

Aura retreats a step, eyeing my conduit.

“You have to,” I answer, pushing against the heat that flushes my skin as power gathers within me again. “But more importantly, you can. They’ve fought by our side for months, even after we’ve spent centuries condemning their people to death because we’re unwilling to share the one resource that could have saved them. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to trust each other, and we can’t keep doing this, can’t keep accepting needless casualties in the quadrant in the name of strengthening the wing, not when every single one of us is needed in this war.”

“It’s their war!” Aura challenges. “Do you really believe we should weaken our wards, endanger our own people just to arm theirs? You choose Poromiel over Navarre?”

“We can choose both.” I slip my dagger back into place and free my hand to wield.

Aaric lifts his sword as Ewan Faber comes a little too close.

“The riders who came before us failed to protect the innocent just because they were on the other side of our border,” I argue. “They lied and hid. They were the cowards! But we don’t have to be. We can choose to stand together and fight. Leadership is locked behind doors right now trying to forge a treaty.” My gaze skims over the riders who stayed when we fled for Aretia three months ago. “But they’re failing, just like every generation before us has failed, and if we do the same…” I shake my head, fumbling for words. “You’ve seen what’s out there. Either this alliance begins right here with us, with our generation, or we will be the last dragon riders and gryphon fliers on the Continent.” Sweat beads along the back of my neck, my temperature rising with every second I keep my power ready. “Well?” I ask.

Silence falls, thick and heavy, but no one moves.

“Is this what you do when we give you a break from classes?”

Everyone turns toward the rotunda at the sound of Devera’s voice. The professor stands with her feet braced apart, flanked by Professors Emetterio and Kaori. All three look in desperate need of a bath and a good night’s rest.

Thank you, Dunne. I force the Archives door to Tairn’s power shut and note the steam rising from my hand before the conduit dims.

“Sorrengail is right,” Devera shouts. “There is every chance we will all meet Malek in the coming months, but you must decide if you’d rather die fighting each other or facing our shared enemy.” She rocks back on her heels. “Go ahead and choose. We’ll wait.”

“Die now or die later, what’s the difference?” someone from Second Wing asks.

“Die now, and the scribes will call your name in the morning.” Emetterio shrugs. “Choose to fight your common enemy, and there’s a chance you’ll live to graduate. Personally”—he scratches his beard—“I like our odds. The last time a shadow and lightning wielder fought side by side, they managed to drive the venin back into the Barrens for a few hundred years. We’ll figure out how to do it again.”

I fumble the conduit and nearly drop it. Xaden and I are the first of our signets to live simultaneously since the Great War?

Heads turn my way, and one by one, every weapon lowers.

“You do your dragons—and gryphons—proud.” Devera nods. “Vacation is over. Your professors are returning in the next twenty-four hours, and if I were you, I’d concentrate on getting a good night’s sleep before Emetterio here decides you should run the Gauntlet just for fun. We are done waiting for the nobles. Battle Brief is at nine a.m. sharp, treaty or no treaty.” She looks pointedly at our group. “And that includes every cadet, no matter what color leathers you prefer. You’re released from whatever it was you thought you were doing here.”

The cadets disperse, passing by our professors as the three walk our way, and then the winged ones take to the sky. I can’t help but note that the cadets are still separated between Navarrians and Aretians. At least no one’s trying to kill each other.

We keep our fliers’ backs toward the dais until the Navarrians are gone, and then our squad brings up the rear.

“I can see it sometimes,” Cat says, pulling up her hood as she walks ahead of me. “Why he chose you. Nice speech. Took you long enough to step in, though.”

“You’re welcome,” I mutter to her back, but the tiniest of smiles curls my lips.

“Never thought I’d yearn for a simple day of classes.” Ridoc throws his arm over my shoulder as we walk. “Maybe a good old session of Parapet.”

I spot Xaden off to the side of the rotunda steps with Lewellen, Brennan, and Mira, and my stomach flips. They must have news.

“Our classmates trying to kill each other isn’t exactly original,” Sloane says, passing by as I slow at the tense look on Brennan’s face.

Guess it’s not good news.

“Did you really just stand there and watch all that happen?” Rhi asks as our professors approach.

“Yes.” Devera wipes off her flight goggles, then stretches the leather band behind her head. “It was bound to happen at some point, and at least this was a controlled environment,” she finishes over her shoulder.

“I feel so protected.” Ridoc puts his hand over his heart. “Nurtured, even. Wouldn’t you agree, Violet?”

“You pretty much described how Violet was raised,” Dain says, coming from behind us with Aaric as the rest head inside with the remainder of the squad. He looks at me. “Thanks for stepping in. Thought she was going to torch me there for a second.”

“Thanks for coming without hesitation when I said we needed you.” Our eyes meet, and for a second, it hits me how different things might have been if he’d shown the same faith in me during my first year as he did today. Not different enough to change the way I feel about Xaden, though.

“Always will.” He offers me a hint of a smile before turning toward the dormitory.

When I look over to Xaden, I find him watching, his scarred eyebrow rising as his gaze jumps to Dain before finding mine again.

My eyes narrow. Is that… No, it can’t be jealousy, can it?

Rhi glances at Ridoc and Aaric, motioning with her head. “Violet, we’ll catch up with you later.”

“We need to speak with you as well, Aaric,” Brennan notes, looking like he’s aged five years in the last few hours. He’s not exactly standing close to Mira, either, causing my heart to sink.

Ridoc’s arm slides off my shoulders. “Oh, come on. Why does Aaric get to stay? He’s a first-year.”

“Do not make me drag you,” Rhi warns, holding up a single finger, and Ridoc acquiesces with a sigh, moving forward and leaving the six of us on the rotunda steps.

“Let’s take this inside.” Brennan surprises me by heading down the steps and cutting a diagonal path toward the academic wing.

Moving to Xaden’s side, I study the stern lines of his face as we follow Brennan, the others close behind us. “Everything all right?” I ask quietly, feeling his shields locked firmly in place. “Are you all right?”

“Good speech.” He takes my hand, lacing our fingers.

“She was going to kill Dain.” My voice drops to a whisper. “They really do hate us.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re here. Especially now that we’ve reached terms for the riot to stay.” Xaden catches the door before it can close behind Brennan, then holds it as I walk through, his fingers slipping from mine.

“That’s good, right?” I glance his way as we enter the deserted sparring gym. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Talk to your brother first.” He folds his arms when we reach the edge of the first row of mats, where Brennan waits. As the others join us, we form a loose circle.

That doesn’t bode well. Anxiety coils in my stomach like a snake poised to strike as I take in the older riders’ somber expressions across from us.

Aaric slides his hands into his pockets at my left. “Let me guess. Halden complicated negotiations?”

I fucking blanch.

“Your brother certainly didn’t help,” Lewellen notes, scratching the bristles along the underside of his jaw.

“Halden’s here?” I manage to ask.

“Rode in this morning with a company from the Western Guard.” Aaric shoots me a knowing look, which I return with a quick glare.

“Great.” His temper is the last thing we need at the negotiating table.

Mira studies Xaden and me intently, but she keeps quiet.

“Your secret is still safe, by the way,” Lewellen says to Aaric, “though you might consider putting your father out of his misery. He has half his personal guard searching for you.”

“Shows how effective they are, don’t you think?” Aaric grimaces sarcastically. “So do you carry news? Or were you just gathered to hear Violet’s speech?” His attention jumps from person to person, no doubt cataloging the tiniest details of every shift in expression as he’s been raised to do. He’s always been the most observant of his brothers. “She was quite moving.”

“We heard.” Brennan offers me a flash of a proud smile. “And saw.”

“She’d be a great politician,” Aaric continues. “Or a general, maybe? Definitely nobility.”

“With that speech? At least a duchess.” Xaden shifts his weight, brushing his elbow against my shoulder.

I shake my head. “No thank you to…any of that. I have no love for politics, nor am I good at dealing with the Senarium.” I look around. “Okay, someone needs to start talking.”

“Lieutenant Riorson?” a rider with a messenger sash interrupts, calling out from the doorway.

“Be right back.” Xaden’s hand skims my lower back as he answers the summons.

“Your mission was discussed at the negotiating table today in hopes they would give us an extension,” Brennan says, “and given the participants at hand…”

That snake of anxiety strikes hard and true.

“Halden,” Aaric guesses, his emerald-green eyes narrowing slightly in speculation toward my brother. “Halden’s going with her, isn’t he?”

My jaw unhinges, then snaps shut at the apology filling Brennan’s eyes. “No fucking way.” I shake my head. “You cannot be serious.” I refuse to even think about it.

“They’re serious,” Aaric says without looking in my direction. “Poromiel would accept a Sorrengail without question, so if you need a royal capable of speaking for Navarre, they must think you’re headed to the isle kingdoms or northward.” He tilts his head, studying the older riders. “That about cover it?”

I’m going to be sick.

“Why are you ill?” Andarna asks.

“Halden?” Tairn muses slowly, and I swear I can feel his nonexistent eyebrows rise.

“So, we kill him if he makes her uncomfortable,” Andarna suggests. “Problem solved.”

“You cannot kill the heir to the throne.” Even though I’ve been tempted myself a time or two.

“You really are the wisest of them, aren’t you?” Lewellen huffs a sardonic laugh. “Our kingdom would have benefitted from you being the firstborn, Your Highness.”

“It’s Aaric,” he corrects, folding his arms. “Is that why you wanted me here? To see if I’d announce myself, since Halden wants to go gallivanting off on dangerous missions? Make everyone feel good and cozy that there’s still a spare?”

“Perhaps.” The duke smiles at Aaric.

“Admirable attempt, but I’m only here for my squad. I’ll dismantle the family business before I rejoin it,” Aaric quips.

“Your prince doesn’t want to play.” Mira arches a brow at Lewellen. “Now, tell Violet the rest, or I will.”

The comment reminds me: “Andarna’s demands?”

“Right,” Lewellen says as Xaden returns, still stern-faced but now holding a rolled parchment as he fills the space at my side. The duke pulls Andarna’s list from his pocket. “You already know point two is now in the hands of Captain Grady. But you won point three. The Senarium has agreed that all those who flew for Aretia will be welcomed back with a full pardon for their treason and sedition within the now-negotiated accord with Aretia”—he glances at Xaden—“which will be signed in the morning once the scribes finish drafting it. Personally, I think you scared the shit out of them by threatening to leave yesterday, Violet. Good job. Point four, Andarna will not submit for any examination—”

“Because that was never going to happen anyway,” she chimes in.

“And five, she will be granted access to hunt in the king’s forest whenever she pleases.”

“That one was just for fun.”

“You skipped the fliers.” I straighten my spine and look to my brother. “Keeping them safe and our squads intact is first on the list.” I narrow my eyes. We only have two days left. And we gave you the solution.

Brennan presses his lips into a flat line, and my stomach rolls.

“That particular matter didn’t make it to Poromiel’s table.” Lewellen folds Andarna’s list and puts it into the front pocket of his hunter green tunic. “Your sister argued valiantly and displayed astonishing capability, but the Senarium voted six to one, and the safety of Navarre’s borders is not to be tampered with.”

Mira crosses her arms.

Prickling heat rolls down Andarna’s bond, and my hands curl, my nails biting into my palms. “What about the alliance?” Without it, the deal with Tecarus falls apart.

“It’s failed,” Lewellen announces unemotionally, as if reading from the death roll.

“Because the fliers aren’t safe here.” I bite out every word at my brother.

“Because treaties like this take time, and we won’t figure this out before their queen’s deadline in two days.” Brennan rubs his thumb along his chin. “Flier cadets will be safe in Aretia while we still have wards, and hopefully Queen Maraya can force her nobles back to the table at a later date,” Brennan promises, his shoulders sagging. “Politics are complicated.”

Fuck that. How can our nobles let them walk away without an alliance, knowing we have the means to protect the fliers?

“We still have the means,” Andarna reminds me.

Right. Plan B: treason. Guess that path chooses itself.

“When you put it that way.” I force my shoulders to relax and my hands to fall peacefully at my sides. “I guess it’s back to Basgiath business as usual tomorrow, and I should prep for our mission—or is research as out of my control as the team members?”

Mira’s eyes narrow in my direction, like she’s the inntinnsic in the room and not Xaden.

“Every resource, including the royal library, will be made available to you,” Brennan promises.

“Oh good, because books will keep her safe.” Mira shoots Brennan an icy look.

The right books will.

“Well, as fun as this has been.” Aaric nods at me, then departs without another word.

“He’ll come around.” Lewellen sighs, then turns to Xaden with a smile so proud it borders on teary. “Enjoy your win, Xaden. Delaying the alliance is unfortunate, but we won. Your father would be proud.”

“I highly doubt that.” His tone is sharp.

What? I reach, but his shields are tighter than ever. Did he get his father’s sword back? Why wouldn’t he be happy about that?

“We’ll leave you to tell her the good news. I really am sorry we couldn’t make the alliance work.” Brennan gives me an awkward, apologetic smile, then heads out, taking Lewellen and Mira with him.

I wait until the door shuts behind her before I turn to Xaden. “What did you win?”

Every muscle in his body seems to tense even more, if that’s possible. “I didn’t win it. Didn’t even ask for it. I’m the last person…” He shakes his head and stuffs the rolled orders into his breast pocket. “Lewellen and Lindell told them it was the price of keeping the riot here, and the Senarium gave in. That’s how scared they are of losing our numbers. They actually agreed to give it back, and I wish they hadn’t. Not now. Not when I’m like…this.” He points to his eyes as if they were still red, but I only see him. “My father wouldn’t be proud. He’d be horrified.” Every word is short. Clipped.

“I don’t believe that.” It’s impossible not to be proud of him, not to love him.

“You didn’t know him. There was only one thing in this world he loved more than me.” He looks away, and I start to rethink my assumption about the sword.

“What did the king give you?” A blade wouldn’t worry him like this.

“I’ve been trying to think of a way out of it for the last hour. The king sanctioned both Lindell and Lewellen for their roles in hiding Aretia—just like they predicted this morning—so they’re not options. And I can’t reject the agreement, or everyone will know something is wrong.” His tortured gaze finds mine, and my heart clenches. “The only solution I can think of is you. You’ll be the first to sense when I lose the rest of what makes me…me.” Slowly, he tucks a windblown strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You won’t.” I have enough faith in him for the both of us.

“I will. This morning showed me it’s just a matter of time and reason.” He nods with a certainty that sours my stomach. “It’s not fair, and you might hate me for it later, but I need you to make me a promise.” His warm hand cups the back of my neck as his eyes search mine. “Swear you’ll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you’ll keep it safe, even if it’s from me.”

“What—” I start, but the gym door opens, and I look over my shoulder to see Garrick waving a rolled parchment.

“The Earl of Lewellen said you’d be in here. Orders aren’t optional, Riorson, even for nobility. We need to go.”

“Promise me,” Xaden says, stroking his thumb under my ear and completely ignoring his best friend.

“You’re leaving?” I swing my gaze back to Xaden’s, realizing that’s why the messenger had tracked him down. “Now?”

He leans in, blocking out the rest of the world. “Promise me, Violet. Please.”

He’ll never go too far, never lose his soul, so I nod. “I promise.”

Xaden’s eyes slide shut for a heartbeat, and blatant relief shines from their depths when he opens them. “Thank you.”

“I know you can hear me.” Garrick raises his voice. “Let’s go.”

“I love you.” Xaden kisses me hard and fast, and it’s over before I can even process it’s actually happened.

“I love you, too.” I grab his hand as he withdraws. “Tell me what the king gave you.”

He takes a deep breath. “He gave me back my title and the seat in the Senarium.”

Holy shit. My lips part.

“Not just Aretia, either…he gave me Tyrrendor,” Xaden says slowly, like he can’t believe it, either.

And he doesn’t want it. My chest clenches. “Xaden—”

“Don’t wait up.” He presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist, then strides toward Garrick. “I’ll be back by eight a.m. to sign that accord,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“Be careful.” He’s the Duke of Tyrrendor. This is so much bigger than how I feel about him now. There’s an entire province depending on him.

I need to find a cure, and that means saving the alliance tonight…

Even if it means I’ll be a traitor by morning.