Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“General Melgren,” the general called. “I will not abandon this school, or these cadets who rely on us to protect them.” 

Melgren stilled, his back still to her when she heard Codaugh’s rumbling growl. Aimsir echoed it, stepping up to the general’s back. “Do not fight Codaugh over whatever punishment this dereliction earns me,” the general hissed to him. “I know what I’m doing, and there is no reason for you to end up on the wrong side of the Empyrean.” 

Aimsir’s growl continued, although the general was sure that it was now directed to her. “Dragons do not take orders from humans, or from other dragons who have not earned it. Codaugh is not an elder of my den, and he is not a general among us. There is only one black dragon I will take orders from, and he is not here.”

It was ironic, the general knew, that despite her daughter having no apparent aspirations to leadership herself, she was bonded with a dragon well-known to be a general among their species. Not to mention, she was intimately tied to the de facto leader of a, so-far, extremely successful revolution, and her closest friends were those who were predicted to become the highest-ranking officers when their time came. 

The fact that she was more qualified than all of those she surrounded herself with didn’t escape her either. She had a better strategic mind than Brennan had-- did --and a moral compass that allowed her to break rules when needed. And all that fucking power certainly didn’t hurt. 

Melgren’s signet was war-changing. But it was utterly useless now that marked ones were dispersed at the outposts and were active in the war Navarre was facing. And even if they killed all of the marked ones like they’d once threatened when they realized the blindspot that he had created for himself--the ego, to demand that it be his dragon that burn all of the children had come back to bite him just as he deserved--his visions could do nothing to actually kill a venin. 

Violet’s power was war-changing, and its only limits were how much she could draw from Tairn. 

And the second signet she had to have manifested from Andarna--the one that she was concealing admirably--would likely be another war-changer. 

Violet shadow-leading from the sidelines was something that the general could respect, however. 

So she didn’t want to accept a high ranking officer’s role. That would be just fine. She was fully capable of using Riorson like a puppet, whether the both of them recognized it or not. 

Whatever she wanted, whatever she schemed, he would ensure it was done. Surely, he was a good strategist too—he wouldn’t have made it through the quadrant pulling the shit he did if he wasn’t—but his mind was worlds away from Violet’s. Everyone’s was. 

“What did you just say to me, General Sorrengail?”

The general kept her back straight, her chin raised. Her hands were loose at her sides, ready to fight if it came down to it. 

“There are a hundred and nineteen cadets here that are relying on us to protect them. They are only partially trained, and some of them have barely had a dragon for a month. The third-years, fine, they could fight if need be. But you’re taking most of the competent ones. If Poromiel knows we’re undefended here, if the Aretiam riot tells them that we plan to pull our troops to Samara—“

“Then let them take the fucking cadets hostage, or for dead. They’re cadets. We can train new ones. We cannot make a new army entirely.”

The general leaned back, stunned into silence for a moment. She shook her head slowly at him. 

“I have sweated and bled for this school for years now. I have watched it turn out riders like a factory, and I’ve read lists day after day after fucking day full of cadets who have died here, all in the name of having a strong enough fighting force to defend this country. The cadets in this quadrant give everything to Navarre. I will not abandon them entirely to try to fight a battle you’ve already seen is a loss.”

General Melgren turned on his heel, his face a mask of fury as he took two quick steps towards her. “You do not give yourself orders, General Sorrengail. I do.”

She stared him down for a long moment. “Then report me for dereliction of duty when this is all done if I’m wrong. But I’m telling you, Aretia knows we’re going to be undefended. I’ve told you I think my daughters will aid at Samara, but I do not trust Ulices. 

“He could take the opportunity that we’re undefended and split their riot. He could send half to Samara with my daughters and half here to seize our hatching grounds, our forge, and our wards.”

Melgren’s jaw twitched. The general continued to make eye contact. 

“I understand you can’t spare a significant number of riders, but you can spare me. Let me remain at least to sound the alarm and try to negotiate.”

“You think you alone will make enough of a difference that it matters whether you’re here or not?” 

General Sorrengail shrugged. “I’ll make more of a difference here than I will at Samara,” She said sternly. 

Melgren stood still like a statue for a long moment, his shrewd eyes scanning her. He shook his head slowly. 

“Fine, General. Do what you wish. You can keep a handful of aides with you. The rest are with me.” He shook his head again. “I hope this sliver of independence is worth it to you.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him when he turned his back. He was a pompous, arrogant fool. He was usually good about listening to different voices in the command--especially hers. But in the end, he was still a powerful man, and powerful men would never listen to those they deemed below them, not truly. 

She lifted her chin and turned on her heel, heading back towards the main campus to select her aides. 

“There is a riot approaching.” 

The general closed her eyes, hard. She fisted her hands, braced against her desk. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

“Who leads?” 

If it was Tairn, or even Teine, then Basgiath may have a chance. But if Violet hadn’t been able to sway that damned Tyrrish assembly yet, if Ulices had mounted an attack on their very undefended school…well, at least she would have proved Melgren right.

“Tairn and Sgaeyl lead the riot together. It is strong, but not the full force of those who have joined the Aretians.” 

She opened her eyes and smiled, nearly laughing aloud in the silence of her office. 

“They are not communicating with us. We do not know if they come in peace. They appear heavily armed. But Tairn carries Andarna. She likely would have remained behind if they were on the attack.” 

“Because she’s a pacifist?” The general asked sarcastically. Aimsir growled in response. 

The facts lined up in only one way that made sense to the general when it came to Violet’s second dragon. Violet had bonded a small golden feathertail. A dragon with no claws, no fire, and smaller than any that had been seen before. 

A small dragon that nearly every other was fiercely protective of. A dragon that Violet had done everything in her power to keep from examination, from scrutiny, or even just from anyone she didn’t trust laying eyes on her. She had been punished to the point of burnout to protect Andarna from being seen, as if Varrish getting just a glimpse of her would put her at risk.

And Tairn had nearly ripped Solas’ throat out to ensure that Andarna was kept from sight. He had been willing to slaughter his rider’s superior officer, a move that would have seen her executed or, at the very least, horribly punished. And, considering how protective Tairn was of Violet, it had to be something stronger than mere companionship or fondness that drove his need to protect--and that drove Violet’s need as well. 

She remembered the state dinner she had attended with Violet when she was sixteen. She remembered the risk she had taken in threatening the crown prince of Navarre. The risk she had taken for her daughter, and only her daughter. 

Whether Andarna was Tairn and Sgaeyl’s hatchling specifically, the general didn’t know. But she had no doubt that she was someone’s hatchling. 

“She is not a hatchling,” Aimsir growled. After a short pause and a huff, he continued. “She is an adolescent. She was a youngling when she bonded your daughter. Highly unorthodox and entirely inappropriate. She divided the Empyrean over her right to benefaction, but she wanted to bond with your daughter badly enough that they allowed it, especially as she formed an incredibly strong bond with Violet before threshing was even complete--she defended Andarna despite being injured and outnumbered. Tairn has ensured that nobody forgets.”

It was the first time Aimsir had weighed in on her thoughts either way, and she felt a little flash of pride at the confirmation. First, because she was right. Second, because her daughter had been judged by two dragons who had every reason to not bond with her, and had proven worthy of the risk.

“Violet is not attacking. I know her. She may be seeking to take over the grounds, but she will do it peacefully if it is at all possible. They may merely be seeking the safety of the wards.” 

“What is your strategy, General?” 

“Let them come.” 

She waited in a lower level of the watchtower nearest her office in the main campus, processing Aimsir’s updates as they came in. She was attracting notice, standing silently as she was, just waiting. It made others nervous to see a general waiting, especially when infantry were well aware that riders always knew something they didn’t. 

Nolon standing haggardly at her side didn’t help appearances. The general hadn’t said a word to him since he came up beside her. He hadn’t dared speak to her without her opening the conversation, not since he had admitted to keeping silent while mending all of the places that Varrish broke in her daughter’s body, over and over for days. 

No, the man was right not to speak to her, especially when she could hear wingbeats in the distance, when she was getting updates from Aimsir on how near her daughter was growing. 

“Three quarters of the riot diverted to the flight field. Sgaeyl and Tairn continue onwards.”

“Tairn has spoken to the Empyrean. They are…displeased.”

“Tairn is landing. Down one level. Sgaeyl hovers nearby.” 

The general moved, startling the infantry who had been shooting her nervous looks. Their movement was buried in a flurry of rushing and screaming. 

She heard the rushing of wind, of wingbeats stilling and the jostling of metal and leather. 

“Tell me why the everloving fuck they decided to land here when they can only land one at a time.” 

Aimsir snorted. “The same reason you knew they would, and the same reason you stood in this watchtower like the hovering mother you are to wait for them.”

The order had already gone out among the infantry. Nobody was to lay a hand on the riders who approached until and unless they struck first. But when the general caught a glimpse of dark blue scales, then Xaden Riorson’s back as he backed up against the wall next to the doorway she was about to approach from, she wondered whether the infantry would manage to keep their heads level. 

She made her steps heavier, made sure to jostle her shortsword when she placed her palm over the hilt. She’d be damned if she was stabbed by the man because she startled him after he put his back to a damn doorway. 

But then Violet was blocking her view of him, and she understood. He hadn’t put his back to an empty doorway, he had put it to Violet, who he trusted to watch out for him. And she did, stepping between them with her back to him now, despite the fact that it meant she was making herself vulnerable to a courtyard full of infantry who were likely pissing themselves as Sgaeyl was quickly replaced by Teine, who snapped at a man who dared to reach for his sword. 

The general looked Violet up and down, trusting that Mira was familiar enough at Basgiath--and not yet as prominent of a rebel--to put the soldiers at ease at least a little. 

Her youngest daughter’s fingers were lighting with little sparks, like she was keeping her power ready to strike at any moment. She looked better than she had when the general had last seen her. She still had dark circles below her eyes, but they were brighter than they had been, narrowed with focus and purpose. 

“Mom,” she said in greeting. 

She, out of all of her children, was the only one who had never had ‘general’ at the tip of her tongue before ‘mom’. Brennan and Mira had taken to it easily, only abandoning formal rank when they were entirely in private, and when their conversation was completely unrelated to war or military matters. 

And considering the bag of heavy weapons clinking on her shoulder, she wasn’t here to bring her boyfriend to family dinner--not that she’d ever bothered to introduce her mother to anyone she had been involved with in the past.

The general eyed the shadows snapping threateningly below the bottom step, stopping her from standing on flat ground before her daughter. She admired his determination to protect Violet, and even admired the casual way Violet assessed them before dismissing them as unimportant. 

Gone was the girl who would throw fits over someone trying to help her, to watch her back. She didn’t need a man’s protection, but that didn’t mean she was foolish enough to demand it be removed.

All of that easy confidence vanished in a moment. The sparks became jagged lines across her knuckles as she curled her fingers tight, her hair lifting with static energy. Her eyes had gone hollow as she stared over the general’s shoulder. 

It took everything in her not to turn and run Nolon through. She had thought it was bad hearing him beg for forgiveness for what he had done. But seeing the haunted, betrayed look in Violet’s eyes was another matter altogether. 

Mira was coming up behind her quickly, her eyes flicking between the general and Nolon. 

“Really, Violet?” the general finally uttered, unable to maintain the careful distance she’d cultivated for all these years. Not when she knew that all the rank, all the structure, was crumbling before their very eyes. Not when Violet was looking at Nolon like he had red eyes and robes. 

“You couldn’t use the front door?” 

And there . There was a flash of familiarity, of amusement, when Violet met her eyes again. 

The general looked Mira over quickly, noting that, like her sister, she was now sporting dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks a little more sunken. Did Aretia not have beds for them? For fuck’s sake. Mira had her sword raised, her gaze narrowed threateningly on the infantry captain who had dared to edge around the landing dragons to reach them. 

She couldn’t help a quick glance, searching for orange scales as Teine vacated the impromptu landing spot. Instead, a familiar gleaming red swordtail took his place. 

“He’s not with us. In fact, he’s pretty pissed we came.” Mira said, baring her teeth in a threat of a smile at the captain who had stopped trying to edge in. 

The general tipped her head to the side in thought. 

“Marbh is indeed not with them. However, the dragons who are here have officially entered the Vale. Several others are circling above. There is nowhere on this campus that they cannot be in thirty seconds.”

“Seems we’ve been fully invaded,” the general said easily. She looked over Violet and Mira again, ignoring Dain Aetos as he disappeared somewhere to the side, in the same direction Riorson had gone. 

Violet shifted her weight, her posture noticeably stiff. 

“Did they fly straight here from Aretia?” 

Aimsir huffed. “How the fuck should I know? Tairn is circling tightly near you all, and I have no interest in trying to communicate with the dragons who are currently invading.” 

The general nearly rolled her eyes. Aimsir hated losing, and he had grumbled for hours about how this felt like a loss to him, to allow them to enter and take control. 

Violet seemed unable to stand still, constantly shifting her weight or adjusting her posture, the bag on her shoulder, or rolling her wrists. All tell-tale signs that she was in pain and attempting to alleviate it with movement. Since she was a child, she would busy herself when she hurt, regardless of how much worse it made it in the long-run.

“We’re not here to fight you,” Violet said, her voice firm. “We’re here to fight for you.” 

The general fought a smile. Violet was many things, but she was never a mystery to her. 

“I told you,” she threw at Aimsir. He just snarled back. 

“You might not believe me,” Violet continued, her gaze narrowing in challenge, “but your wards are in danger.” 

The general shook her head in disbelief. Violet and those fucking wards . She was like a dog with a bone, just like Loren had always been. It had made him an excellent scribe, and would likely have done the same for Violet. But her fixation on shields instead of weapons was becoming infuriating . 

“Our wards are perfectly fine, as I’m sure you can feel,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. When another dragon landed with a thud on the stone, she crossed her arms, losing her cool for a moment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Hollyn, open the damned gates before one of these dragons takes off the roof,” she shouted out into the courtyard. 

She looked pointedly at the shadows hovering at the toes of her boots and raised her eyes to Violet, who blinked only once before her eyes went vacant for a few moments. The shadows dissipated but reformed around Violet’s boots, moving more slowly now, the edges less sharp, more like a caress than a blade. 

The general took the final step to enter the courtyard with them, watching as several dragons landed in the larger space on the other side of the gates. 

“Trust me, Mom,” Violet said, her tone hard, determined. She sounded like the officer she refused to be. 

So the general listened, let her share the conclusions she’d reached. Let her tell her things that made her heart clench. She listened while the other riders filled the courtyard, posting themselves strategically to watch Violet, Xaden and Mira’s backs. 

Riorson and Mira flanked Violet on each side, and Mira was looking around almost like she was bored, her face impassive. Xaden, meanwhile, hadn’t seemed to look away from Nolon since he’d stepped up behind Violet, his eyes dark with undisguised fury, the threat in his face becoming more menacing as darkness started to fall, his shadows only getting darker, more solid as they twisted around Violet’s calves in a strange, twisting dance. 

“The biggest threat to the wards is you ,” the general finally said, intending to close the conversation. 

She had thought ahead, had planned for the next step. She would send all of the graduated riders to Samara and hope that they made it in time. The cadets would be put back in their dorms, would be coaxed back into the fold under the protection of the wards now that the venin were making their move. 

“Let us check,” Riorson said, interrupting her plans already--like fucking always. “You know your daughters would never strip Navarre of its protection.” 

She bristled at his words. Obviously she knew that. He was the one she didn’t trust. He wouldn’t hurt Violet, of that she had no doubt. Not when he looked at her the way he did, not when his shadows twisted around her like he was always thinking of her. Not when she could see the way Violet was leaning against them, trusting the way they braced the knee she’d been favoring since dismounting. 

But she had no doubt that he still kept a balance in his head of how much Navarre owed him for what they had done to his father, his people, and himself. 

He wouldn’t hurt Violet directly, but how far would he be willing to hurt her indirectly to get the revenge his father had sworn? She didn’t think he would go as far as killing as many people as would certainly die without the wards up. And yet, she still couldn’t find it in her to trust someone who had led a revolution against Navarre to have access to its most vulnerable secret. 

“I know exactly who my daughters are,” she said pointedly, narrowing her eyes on him. “And the answer is no. You’re lucky to be alive crossing into enemy airspace. Consider retaining your lives a personal gift.” 

She saw Violet’s eyes narrow on her, and she nearly shifted under that sharp, assessing look. Fucking scribes. She never should have been raised around them. But it was Mira who called her bluff. 

“I think not. This courtyard should be full at this hour with soldiers returning from mess, and yet I only count five soldiers.” 

Well, she had missed two who stood outside the gates, but still a relatively fair assessment. 

“One captain and four cadets, and no, I’m not counting the healers in the corner. You’ve sent every available body to Samara, haven’t you?” 

And the general understood what Mira was threatening. While Violet would never dare take Basgiath by force, Mira certainly would. And while Violet may have powerful allies, she held no rank herself. 

And she was furious, not with her children for being perceptive and intelligent, but with Melgren for ignoring her when she’d tried to insist that they couldn’t leave Basgiath this vulnerable, not when they had enemies in every fucking direction . 

She nearly swore out loud when she realized that the chill in the air was coming from her, from the gap she had left in the window of her husband’s study. She said nothing as she watched Violet flick her eyes to Mira as though nervous when she continued. 

“The guards behind you have signets in mindwork, Mother.” 

Mindwork? What the fuck were they teaching them in Aretia? She’d never heard anyone but fliers use that word. 

“In fact,” she continued, a taunting grin splitting her face, “I’d bet money that the most powerful riders on campus are you and…who? Professor Carr?” 

Her sneer was reflected on Violet’s face as she stepped up to her side. The general, despite the circumstances, felt her heart lift a little at how similar they looked standing side by side like that, both of them grimacing at the thought of their former professor. 

“Our forces can render aid or conquer. It’s your choice.” 

Right. Because Mira was threatening her. Her daughter, who she had taught everything she knew--

“If you won’t take them to the wards, I will. My father showed me where they are last year.” 

The general shot a glare at Dain Aetos. What a fucking time for him to grow a spine. She had a scathing, childish retort on the tip of her tongue about seeing him in diapers when Violet finally spoke again, her chin lifted proudly. 

“Who do you want to be? The general who saves Basgiath, or the one who loses it to the very cadets who rejected your lies?” 

The general looked at her and bit her cheek until she tasted metal to contain the grin that threatened to overtake her face. 

She looked like a damn general. Six inches shorter than anyone within sight, dark circles under her eyes and visibly in pain, and yet she stood completely solid, no longer leaning against the shadows circling her, her hands hanging relaxed at her sides and her eyes confidently locked on the general’s. 

She wasn’t trying to get her to see their side, to go along with what they wanted. She already knew what the general was going to do, already knew what she would decide, and was cutting through the posturing to what mattered. 

“Black really does suit you, Violet.” Something flashed across Violet’s eyes. Shock, maybe, or confusion. 

Whatever it was, it was gone quickly, and her chin lifted just that much higher, her lips twitching up on one side. “Like Captain Sorrengail said, it’s your choice. We’re wasting time.”

The general looked to Mira quickly. I’ll be general in a week. 

Well, realistically, Captain was damn impressive, given there were far more gifted riders remaining in Aretia than they had thought. 

The general looked back to Violet, waving her hand in a vague gesture. “By all means, let’s inspect the wards.”

She turned without waiting for their response and started back up the stairs she’d just descended, pinning Nolon with a warning look as she passed, unconcerned when putting her back to them all. Riorson may hate her enough to kill her, but he would never risk it when Violet would see. 

When she heard Nolon say her daughter’s name, she nearly turned back around. The only thing that kept her climbing was the knowledge that Violet would be unable to avoid a confrontation with the man if she created a deadlock on the stairs. 

“Stay the fuck away from Violet and I’ll consider letting you live, if only to mend riders if there’s a battle coming.” 

The general smiled. It was the second time this week that someone had reminded the man that he was only still breathing because of his signet, and it gave her an immense sense of pleasure to know that the man would be incapable of forgetting what he had done to Violet, and that he was aware that nobody else was about to forget either. 

They exited the stairwell after only a flight, crossing down corridors and brushing by cadets who scurried out of their way. 

All of the riders were silent as the general led them across the raised pathways then back down. 

There was a sudden rustling sound behind her when they were halfway down the steps, and the general was momentarily concerned that someone had misstepped and was about to take them all out and down the steps. The idea of Nolon having to come to mend the injuries they’d receive from that was revolting. 

But the sound didn’t get any louder, and there was nothing said by any of the riders. When they reached the small room at the bottom of the steps, the general stepped back and gestured Dain forwards. She looked over the group as he searched for the pressure-plate, noting that Riorson had moved closer to Violet, his hand around hers at their sides. 

The general was almost impressed when she ordered her guards to stay back and Matthias immediately assigned two of their squad to stay back with them. The general says nothing, just taking the lead down the narrow tunnel. Riorson went immediately after her, and she grits her teeth at the proximity in the tight space, reminding herself that there’s no point being on edge when Violet was directly behind him, still holding his dominant sword hand. 

“What happened to being guarded?” he snapped. 

She wondered if he was just as aware that, although it was the prime opportunity for him to have a clean shot at killing her like he’d always wanted, he couldn’t take it without losing Violet. Judging by his heavier-than-usual footsteps, she was pretty sure he was aware. 

She turned to slide through a tight spot, taking the opportunity to send him an irritated look, which he responded to with an eye roll. 

“The wards are guarded. Wouldn’t you find it suspicious if guards were stationed at the bottom of an empty stairwell? Sometimes the best defense is simple camouflage.” 

There was no response from the man, and when she turned to look at him again, his head was turned, his attention fixed on Violet again. The general could only get quick flashes of her as she slid sideways through the narrowest portion, but she could see the whites of her eyes as she stared back at Xaden, eyes flashing in the dim lighting. 

She was afraid. But of what? 

She frowned, but focused on sliding through the opening to the tight tunnel. 

“See,” she said, irritated for a reason she couldn’t articulate, “it’s guar…”

The general took a moment to evaluate, staring at the two dead riders--freshly dead. Then she unsheathed her sword and took off. 

Violet couldn’t have been wrong? Just once in her life? The general heard footsteps rushing after her, but didn’t slow to allow them to catch up. She didn’t even know how the wards could be taken down, but she didn’t want today to be the day she found out either. 

Mira caught up to her, eyes flicking to her in wild fear for only a second before she hung back at her side. 

When the general reached the ward chamber, she darted to the side immediately, Mira following just as quickly. The general skidded to a stop, her tractioned boots scraping the stone as she spun to face the corridor they’d just exited, praying to Dunne that the riders behind her would be quick enough to stop before the tail that she and Mira had just managed to avoid collided with them. 

There was a flash of silver, just enough to make the general’s heart stutter in her chest, before it was swallowed up by shadows that spun, twisting to the side and slamming against the wall, clearing a moment later to reveal Riorson’s back. When he shifted, the general saw Violet pinned against the wall, looking up in shock at the dragon that had nearly killed her. 

Riorson stepped away and Violet took up a fighting stance, neither of them harmed. The general breathed again, her gaze fixing on the orange dragon and its rider. The general retreated quickly, tugging Mira with her as the orange turned its golden--No. Not golden. They were black , fully black, unlike any dragon she’d ever seen--eyes on them, circling around the stone, its wings tucked tight to accommodate for the small space. 

The general moved quickly. The second that dragon opened her mouth, it would be over for all of them. Flames in this tight space would kill them all. She swung her sword, but her speed was abysmal compared to a dragon’s. She had just enough time to see the dragon’s head swing towards her before she felt the impact. 

The force was bruising, but it had nothing on the cracking, blinding pain that coursed through her, stealing her sight, when she collided with the wall. 

For what felt like a long moment, she heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing. When the world returned to her, she was lying just outside of the wardstone chamber, and there were voices echoing within, urgent and angry voices, but no screaming or dragons. 

She stood cautiously, using one hand to brace against the archway, her fingertips turning white as she gripped the stone, and the other hand to press against the screaming ache on the side of her head. 

“...seeing as you’ve been doing it since May?” 

The general heard Riorson before she saw him, but located him in time to see the vicious look he shot Nolon. Nolon, who was scrambling towards a slumped body on the ground. 

Barlowe. Her free hand formed a tight fist as she paced away from the archway, towards the group of shell-shocked riders, the dead dragon, the two pieces of the wardstone. 

Oh Gods. 

“Violet called for Tairn before the rest of us knew what was happening. He is nearly there, but we all felt the wards fall. It’s too late.” 

The general looked from the stone to the riders. She looked quickly, spotting Violet and Mira. Violet was standing with Aetos, her hand holding his arm as they looked down at twin gray handprints on his forearms. 

Mira stood at the edge of the group, looking in horror at the stone. 

The general counted the others. They hadn’t lost anyone while she had been out. But they had lost the wardstone. 

“How many riders are here?” Dain asked, looking at Nolon as Violet dropped his arm. Her daughter swallowed hard as she looked over to an unconscious Barlowe. Nolon didn’t respond, just looked up at the riders around him hopelessly. “How many riders, Nolon?” Dain asked again, raising his voice and stepping towards the man. 

Not enough.

“A hundred and nineteen cadets,” I said, frowning at Nolon. “ Ten leadership. The rest have all been sent to midland posts and Samara.” 

She looked back at Violet, who stood with her hands at her sides, no longer fidgeting. No. Now, she was eerily still, as though all of her pain had taken a backseat to the horror washing over her eyes. “Plus the ones you brought,” the general added, meeting her gaze. 

“I saw his memories,” Dain said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not enough.” 

“Well, it has to be,” Mira snapped back, her hands going to her hips and her expression switching from abject horror to determination in a split second. 

“Gather everyone,” Dain said with a sigh. “They’re faster than dragons. We have ten hours, maybe less. Then we’re all dead.” 

The general narrowed her eyes at him. There was being realistic about your chances in a battle, then there was Dain Aetos. Gods help whatever troops he ever tries to lead into battle, with inspirational speeches like that. 

Riroson shot him an irritated look as he brushed past him to take up his post at Violet’s side again. She leaned into him immediately, laying the side of her head against his chest while he slid an arm around her back. 

The gesture made her wish, not for the first time, that Loren was still alive, still there to support her when she needed him most. When he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, she looked away.  

She caught Mira’s gaze, and she quirked her lips in a small smile as she stepped around the stone to stand at her side, looking over at Violet and Xaden as they spoke to each other quietly, locked in their own little world. 

“They’re so disgustingly cute that I don’t think even you can hate them together,” she said, casually, as if they had conversations like this all the time. 

The general raised a brow, watching as Nolon and Aetos worked to lift Barlowe’s still body. She didn’t envy them for having to maneuver him through the narrow tunnels, and allowed them to get a head start as she looked back to Mira. 

“I don’t hate them together,” she admitted. Mira’s head snapped to face her, her eyes wide. 

“I never thought you’d admit it,” she said, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “You should really let Nolon look at your head. You’ve got to be concussed.” 

The general scoffed. “He’s clearly very loyal to her and they care for each other deeply. Contrary to popular belief, I do want my children to be happy. I just want you to be safe first.”

Mira’s tight expression softened. “I think that’s the most motherly thing you’ve ever said to me, but I already knew that. Maybe try making sure Violet knows? She’s really fucking smart and all, but she’s young and about as traumatized as a twenty-one year old can get. Just because it’s obvious to us doesn’t mean it is to her.” 

The general smiled tightly. “She’ll understand someday.”

Mira huffed. “Or she could understand today . It’s really easy, just walk over and say--” 

“I apologize for interrupting, Captain, but I would like to treat the general’s wounds, if you don’t mind.” 

The general nodded to him, even though he was looking at Mira. 

Her older daughter rolled her eyes so hard that the general nearly rolled her own back. Instead, she braced her feet to prepare for the pain of mending, watching Mira pace over to Violet, pulling her away from Riorson and into a one-armed hug. 

The general hissed through her gritted teeth when Nolon’s hands twisted and she felt her skin and bone stitching itself back together, the familiar sharp burn as unpleasant as ever. 

When he was done, she directed him to Violet’s squadmate, the one who had gruesome burns along his hands and forearms. 

Several of her remaining aides had joined them by then, gawking at the fractured stone. “Gather all of the cadets and riders on campus. Call them to the briefing room. We’re already under attack.”

She’d gathered all of the highest ranking officers, but her options were slim. 

Devera, Carr, Kaori, Emetterio, and a handful of infantry and scribe officers were seated around the large table in the small briefing room down the hall from her office. 

Of all of them, the only ones who had experience in commanding during a battle was Devera. 

Luckily, the general had that part covered fairly well. It was Carr and Emetterio, really, who were doing most of the talking when it came to assigning the active riders into squads. The infantry and scribes had been so well excluded that they were having their own conversation on the opposite side of the table, debating something about terrain that seemed woefully unimportant.  

“Durran can counter signets,” Carr said, his voice a little hostile as he shoved the paper with Lieutenant Durran’s name forward. “As far as I know, it’s utterly useless against venin.” 

“Although entirely effective against you, yeah?” 

Carr shot Devera a nasty look, his teeth nearly bared. 

The general kept her fingers curled over her mouth, hiding the smile she risked. Carr attempting to stop the Aretian riot from leaving had been unexpected and unwanted, but she had been pleased with how spectacularly the man had failed. 

“It isn’t effective against venin,” Devera confirmed, her tone serious now. 

“He’s a serious threat in hand to hand,” Emetterio said. “Most of the marked ones are, but especially Durran, Tavis, and Riorson. Cardulo is up there with them in skill, but she’s already in a squad.” He shrugged, tapping a finger thoughtfully as he looked over the list of names. 

“Riorson isn’t going to stay in an assigned grid if Sorrengail isn’t in it,” Kaori said, shoving the name towards the second squad patch. “The second she’s in danger, either he or Sgaeyl will decide to return to her side.” 

The general grimaced, rubbing her jaw in thought. “If Violet is on board with it, she can convince him to stay in his grid.” 

“But they have no say over what Tairn and Sgaeyl do,” Devera said. Kaori hummed. 

“Tairn is a general himself. He will not abandon his grid unless it is life or death for his mate. And in that case, failure to leave the grid would result in them abandoning it anyway because they would die the second Sgaeyl and Xaden did.” 

“And what about Sgaeyl?” the general asked, returning to the issue at hand. “Will she abandon her grid to join Tairn?” 

Kaori narrowed his eyes in thought. “It’s hard to say with Sgaeyl. She’s unpredictable, ruthless, and incredibly loyal. She will do whatever she thinks is necessary. I would assume that includes staying where they are assigned unless, like I said, it is utterly necessary to leave.” 

“The question, then,” Devera said, looking to the general, “is whether you can convince Violet to convince Riorson.” 

“She’ll do what I order,” the general said, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. “I’m perfectly capable of wrangling my own daughter.” 

Devera gave her a look with her lips pressed together tightly, her brows raised mockingly. The general scowled, moving Riorson’s name back away from her daughter’s squad. 

“We should put Mira with Violet’s squad. The venin are going to see her as a threat as soon as she starts wielding lightning. She’s going to need an experienced rider to watch her back and keep them from targeting her and draining her before she can thin the herd.” 

“Will her shielding work without the wards active?” Carr asked. “She’s never managed it before unless there is extreme distress--” 

“Well, I’d say that watching her sister be attacked by venin would be plenty distressing if--” 

“Well, obviously, but that’s not exactly reliable now is it, Emetterio?” 

“You’re utterly insufferable.” 

“And you’re a--” 

“Enough,” the general snapped before they could devolve into arguments again. 

“Are there any objections to placing Mira with Violet’s squad?” 

Carr looked ready to object, but Devera just looked at the general knowingly while Emetterio shot Carr a dirty look. 

“Good,” she said, placing her own last name on the squad patch nearest the Vale. 

There was an uncomfortable pause, and she ignored it. It was probably the first time she was openly showing her bias towards protecting her children, and she wasn’t trying very hard to hide it anymore. 

Devera was finally the one to break the silence. 

“Well, Lieutenant Barne is an air wielder. If we pair him with a squad with a powerful fire wielder we can strengthen them both. Alternatively, we can pair him with a squad who may not have as much air superiority. Do we have any squads who have smaller dragons or less experienced battle dragons? The air wielding could slow the wyvern and give a weaker squad a better shot.”

The general frowned, thinking. Kaori was looking up to the ceiling, his hands clasped together as he thought. 

“First wing has a squad without many experienced dragons. Three of them are bonded for the first time and two others are on the smaller side. They could use someone to slow the wyvern down.”

Kaori pushed Barne’s name towards the squad and the general nodded, scribbling the assignment down. 

“We’re going to have a hard time placing Riorson,” Devera said, eyes narrowed at the map. “His signet would be invaluable anywhere, but it doesn’t necessarily complement any others, and none of the cadet squads will be used to working alongside it, since his squad has just about all graduated now and is being split up. Cadet Sorrengail’s squad is the only one who has any significant experience fighting with him.”

She hummed in thought. “Strategically, he’s our second strongest weapon. If we split him and Cadet Sorrengail up then we have instant communication across the entire battlefield without having to go through the dragons. And on top of that, it doubles our number of strongest grids.”

“Be honest, general,” Devera said, a twinkle in her eyes that the general didn’t like. “How pleased with yourself are you that you made Violet join the quadrant and now you get to say that she’s the strongest rider we have?”

The general didn’t hide her smile this time. “I have always been entirely aware of my daughter’s potential. The fact that she’s already surpassed Riorson in power and usefulness before she’s even graduated is just an added benefit.”

Devera grinned while Emetterio raised a single finger. “He still has her in hand-to-hand, but were she three inches taller it would be a far closer thing.”

“She beat Cat,” Devera said with a raised brow to him. “He trained her and she was using her mind work against Violet and she still won.”

“Almost killed her on the mat is what she did,” Emetterio laughed. “Stupid arrogant girl. Make a rider see red then think they won’t kill you the second they have you pinned.”

Devera nodded slowly. “They don’t understand, to be fair, how fine a line the cadets here walk between life and death. And, to her credit, it almost worked for her.” She turned her sharp eyes to the general again. “Your daughter is sloppy as hell when she’s angry. She controls her emotions well but the second they’re out of control—“

“Trust me, I know,” the general said with an eye roll. “Her temper tantrums when she was six were bad enough. Now she has lightning to throw around.”

Devera’s eyes lit up in something like delight. “I am going to get more personal stories about her and Mira both out of you once this is all over.”

The general scowled. “We are not friends, Devera. I am your general--” 

“Not technically, anymore,” Devera said easily, her lips twisting up in a smile. “We’re letting you command our army for this battle because you have the experience and skill. But you stopped being my general the second I flew behind your daughter when we left Basgiath. That means I can pry into your personal life as much as I want. And, considering Violet is likely to become a high ranking officer within a year, I want as many embarrassing stories from her mother as I can get. That way if I’m ever on her bad side I still have leverage.” 

The general shook her head. “She won’t even be graduated in a year,” she protested. “And I am not sharing embarrassing stories about her for you to use against her. Are we here for idle chit chat or can we continue to assign riders to the grids they’re going to be dying to protect in a few hours?” 

Devera opened her mouth again, eyes flaring, but Emetterio put a hand on her forearm where it was braced on the table. She looked to him, and he shook his head, smiling slightly. Devera sighed, but leaned back in her chair and gestured for the general to continue. 

“What about Heaton? Their signet is fairly…” 

“Unique,” Carr muttered sarcastically. “Useful only as far as saving their own life if they are dropped in the Ikabos.” 

The general raised a brow. 

“They can breathe underwater,” Devera sighed. “Rare, but…yes, difficult to strategize with.” 

The general huffed. “Do they have any other strengths?” 

“They were part of Violet’s squad,” Emetterio said, “so they received extra hand-to-hand training when Aetos forced the squad into extra sparring practice her first year. But they were already in their third year, so it’s unlikely that they took it especially seriously.” 

He shrugged. “I’ve trained every Aretian rider to fight venin, and there were two patrols they were a part of that encountered venin, but there’s no record of whether they fought them.” 

“They’re intelligent,” Devera added with a shrug. “They’re a good strategist. We should put them with a younger squad of Basgiath cadets. They won’t know as much strategy and they won’t have experience with venin. Heaton is patient as hell and can teach them even during the battle.” 

The general looked over her list of squads. “It looks like Third Wing has a squad that has…Malek, they have seven first-year cadets.” She rubbed a hand down her face. 

“We lost almost the entirety of Fourth Wing,” Carr snapped. “We did our best to restructure while you were off meeting with your children in the woods.” 

The general raised her brows, eyes narrowed, and watched Carr shift under her gaze. 

“You mean, while I was off restructuring our entire active duty military and trying to make allies out of those who fled our control and ensure that our entire continent isn’t drained of life within the next month?” 

Carr looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. She huffed. “By the way, Carr, I read your reports, and Varrish’s, about your training sessions with my daughter.” 

He looked at her with wide eyes, shrinking back into his chair. 

“You taught her nothing of value. Not once did you practice aiming . What the fuck did you think would happen in battle? The venin would just stand around being impressed by how many strikes she could pull in an hour?” She leaned down to reach for the journal Mira had brought from Aretia, the one Felix had been keeping to mark Violet’s progress. She threw it across the table. 

“ This is signet training. Focus, aim, and control are all tracked and improved upon in only a few weeks, rather than just focusing on how long she can wield useless, aimless strikes before her fucking muscles give out and her dragon has to dunk her in a river in the middle of winter.” 

Devera whistled lowly, eyeing the book curiously. 

“Those kinds of records are dangerous, General.” 

She flashed her teeth, a mimic of a smile that was anything but pleasant. “Exactly why Mira stole it from Felix as soon as he told her that it exists.” 

“And you’re showing it to me now because…?” 

Carr had a hand on the leather cover of the journal, but had stilled at the warning in her eyes. 

“Because if Aretia does not welcome my daughters back after this, she will need someone to train her effectively at Basgiath. You will learn what has worked from that book, will adopt the goals Felix outlined for her, and you will return the book back to me and I will burn it, or return it to my daughter to do with as she wishes, depending on whether Felix is willing to continue training her.” 

Carr scoffed. “So you want me as a backup trainer for the lightning wielder, if her other trainer decides not to work with her? And you want me to change what I’ve been doing--what’s been working for years--to pretend I’m him?” 

The general raised a single brow, clasping her hands together on the desktop. “Yes. Look at you, already learning quickly. Devera, Emetterio, and Kaori will keep you honest about the training. One of them will be present for all of your sessions to observe. ” 

Devera turned sharp eyes on her, her chin propped up on a loose fist, but she said nothing about the general giving her commands. It had been a bet, but a calculated one. The three instructors had been ‘concerns’ according to Varrish’s records. He hadn’t trusted them, and had been keeping a careful record of apparent transgressions to save for the day he decided to punish them. 

He had similar records of Violet’s transgressions, as well as all of her squadmates and every marked one. Everything from showing up thirty seconds late to formation to speaking back to orders--for which Cadet Durran had been written up several times, apparently, in defense of Violet--were written and dated. 

Even Carr had had a few notes beside his name, dated from the day that Varrish noted as Violet’s first punishment for dereliction of duty when Andarna refused to show for flight maneuvers. He’d apparently attempted to stop the punishment before it went too far. Not, it was noted, to protect Violet, but out of fear of losing her signet and receiving punishment from Melgren or Tauri. 

But Kaori, Devera, and Emetterio all had pages worth of marks, alongside Grady, who had a full page reporting on his objections to Varrish’s involvement in Violet’s RSC training. 

They were protective of Violet. They may not like being ordered, but they would protect Violet.

Carr muttered something, shaking his head, but pulled the book close to him. 

“We still need to assign Riorson,” Devera said, tapping a nail on the name. 

The general sighed. “Put him with cadets who won’t cower when he starts wielding, or when Sgaeyl starts snarling.” 

Devera nodded slowly, putting one finger on the name and sliding it slowly, deliberately, over to rest with Violet’s squad, nodding firmly before pulling her hand back. When the general turned a sharp look on her, she threw a hand up. 

“The only squad I’ve seen not balk at Riorson or Sgaeyl is Violet’s. What do you want from me?” 

She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. This was going to be a long fucking meeting.

The general had never been an instructor at Basgiath, and found it strangely unnerving to stand with Devera in front of all of the cadets in the room, as well as the riders who had joined them. 

She gave orders and developed battle strategy all day, and yet standing in the room that she had once sat in for her own battle brief classes, but at the front now--it was a flip that she found uncomfortable. She was fairly certain too, that part of the strangeness of it all was looking at Mira and Violet in the crowd. 

Stranger still, the general was fairly certain it was the first time she was seeing Violet and Xaden in the same room without them being at each other’s sides since…well, since before Resson, for sure and probably even earlier than that. But Violet was sitting with her squad, talking with them, her face tight. 

The general saw Violet look back at where Xaden stood with his cousin and friends at the back of the room, and nearly rolled her eyes when she saw him fucking wink at her. But when she turned back to continue talking with her friends, the tension had eased in her face. 

“They never realize just how much we see of them when they’re sitting in here,” Devera said idly, leaning against the table casually. “It’s always fun to see how first-years interact. After threshing is always interesting too. Of course, your daughter tends to draw attention. She’s wickedly smart, but she’s started… incidents more than once.” 

The general raised a brow at her. “Incidents?” 

She hadn’t heard of any incidents from battle brief, besides the time she ran out in the middle of class and took unsanctioned leave to Samara--something she’d only learned about the same day she learned that Violet had been tortured for five days. But she’d reviewed all of the notes Aetos and Varrish had kept since then, all of the reports from various instructors, and she hadn’t seen any incidents. 

Devera grinned. “Nothing major,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Although it is pretty amusing to see the most level-headed, obsessively controlled rider of their generation lose his cool in the middle of class. They bicker in their heads, you know,” she said, waving a hand around her face to emphasize. “They can communicate through their dragons.” 

The general nodded slowly. She had been fairly certain it was the case. It wasn’t something common enough to be expected with riders of mated dragons, but it wasn’t unheard of either. And with the emotional connection between them, and the strength of their bonds with their dragons, it came as no surprise. Especially considering how often they seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking before it was said. 

“They fight in their heads too, and apparently they sometimes forget to speak in their heads and not out loud.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “The room was silent one day and he snapped her name out loud. He covered well enough, all things considered, but not enough that I couldn’t tell what was happening when she turned bright red and hid her face. And when she snapped something back about sending the third years out of the quadrant early.” 

The general felt her lips quirk up at the corner. “If nothing else, she has a vindictive streak.”

Devera nodded. “Emetterio says she has nerves of steel and a vicious sense of justice. She fought off an assassin who killed her squadmate then stood there with a head wound through the rest of assessment day, then attended her regular classes with a concussion and handprints on her throat. 

“I won’t pretend I’ve seen much in the way of parenting from you at all, but I will say that you’ve done something right with her at least.”

The general kept her eyes on Violet as she looked grimly at one of her squad mates, her lips twisted downwards. Then, quick as a flash, she was smiling again, shaking her head at one of the other cadets. 

“Her father deserves the credit for her,” the general said, her voice low as she watched Dain Aetos step away from his wing. 

“Her father didn’t raise her with a rider’s heart, regardless of how good of a scribe’s one he had.”

The general didn’t answer, the words clanging around in her too-hollow chest like shrapnel. 

She nodded sharply once when Aetos stepped up beside Devera. 

“Cadets—and riders! Let’s get started.”

The room quieted quickly, nervous tension filling the air as Devera stepped up, comfortable as always with directing the strategy briefing. She spoke like an expert, comfortable despite this being anything but a normal battle brief. 

When she finished with the intel they’d managed to scrap up, she turned to Dain. He stepped forward, clearing his throat. The nerves and fear were almost tangible in the air from the assembled riders, but he spoke with confidence. 

“How many of you have mastered a tracking rune?”

The general raised her eyes expectantly to her daughter again. Mira wouldn’t have had the time, running patrols after moving to Aretia. But Violet was wickedly smart and had continued her studies there. 

But she just looked around the room, her hands staying flat on the desktop and her expression grim. 

Fuck. 

“What in Dunne’s name were they all wasting their time in Aretia doing? Picking fucking daisies?”

Aimsir heaved a sigh. “They are still better trained to face venin than the riders here. They have been instructed at least for effective combat.”

She didn’t miss the edge of blame in his tone. He had always teetered on the line between disclosure and secrecy, sometimes blatantly switching his opinion from day to day on whether hiding the truth from Navarre was right. 

The general heard Aetos give a sigh that sounded like exasperation as much as disappointment. 

“Right. That complicates things. Dark wielders know exactly where we are because, according to Barlowe's memories, he planted lures all over the college and up the path to the Vale."

The general watched the news roll over the room, nervous mutters starting up before Aetos continued. “I saw where Barlowe put most of the lure boxes but not all of them.”

The general heard the infantry leadership approaching before she saw them, sighing. She hated letting them into the rider’s quadrant, even just for a briefing. They hadn’t earned their right to stand in this room, and no cadet or rider here would respect them for waltzing in here. But it was a necessary evil. They didn’t have time to brief every quadrant separately, and they would need everybody on campus. 

She did get a fair amount of amusement out of all of the heads snapping to the doors, the way the riders visibly recoiled at their lecture hall being invaded. When she looked at Mira, her lip was curled up in distaste. But Violet was just blinking mildly, giving a curt nod to one of the soldiers. 

“The infantry quadrant will spend the next few hours trying to hunt them down for us while also preparing themselves…” 

Oh for fuck’s sake. He was young, yes, but if he couldn’t stomach admitting that the infantry quadrant was going to be cannon fodder against venin, then he would never surpass his father’s position. 

Well, he may now , considering Aetos was little more than an infantry grunt himself now. 

Devera stepped up, putting a hand on Aetos’ shoulder and guiding him back. “You’ll be working within your squads tonight. Remember that wyvern are the distraction and the weapon. You take down one of the venin, and you kill the wyvern they created. No one takes on a dark wielder alone. That’s how you get killed. Work together, rely on each other and complement each other’s signets just like it’s the squad battle.”

The general took a deep breath when she saw the shifting and murmuring of the cadets. Some seemed encouraged by the comparison, but there were plenty of riders, especially the older ones, who seemed more than aware that this would be a far-cry from the practice they got in Basgiath. 

Devera continued with the briefing. The general watched the assembled riders--and infantry--closely. There was a clear line between the Aretian riot and the Basgiath one, and she was willing to bet anything that there would be more casualties from the cadets who hadn’t been living outside of the wards for weeks now. 

She fought the urge to look away, to avoid making eye contact. She had experience with hearing names read off a list that she had just looked in the eyes the day before. If nothing else, those she sent to their deaths deserved the respect of eye contact. 

When Devera shot her a subtle look, the general stepped forward, glancing quickly between her daughters. 

“The assignments given tonight have been decided with the best interest of Basgiath and the Vale in mind.” 

“Liar.” 

“I considered the best interest of both. Whether I then decided to make sure my daughters are safe first is a different matter.” 

Aimsir grumbled, but she could feel no reprimand from him. He supported her, like always, even when she was being selfish, when she was shielding her children and those she loved at the cost of all. 

“There are incredibly powerful signets among you.” She glanced at Emetterio, who met her eyes confidently, albeit grimly. “Gifted riders, and even combat masters. But I will not lie to you. We are outnumbered. We are underpowered.

“However, the odds may be against us but the gods are with us. Whether you left after threshing or stayed, we are all Navarrian riders, bonded for the purpose of defending dragonkind in the darkest hour. And this is it.” 

She let the words sink in, swallowing against the tension in her throat when she saw the fear around the room. 

“We’ve assigned active riders to fit into the cadets’ squads. We’ve done our best to align signets and experience well and split things up evenly. Lieutenant Tavis, you will join First Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing. Lieutenant Heaton, First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. Lieutenant Barne, Second Squad, Tail Section, First Wing.” 

She looked up at her daughter when she read her name next on the list they’d compiled. “Captain Sorrengail, you’ll be with Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.” 

It was the first assignment to create a commotion. The entire squad--Violet’s squad, the iron squad for two years in a row--turned to look at Mira. The general watched her daughters make eye contact, watched the processing happen like rapid fire. And in the back of the room, she saw Riorson stand up straight, his face tightening while shadows curled around Violet’s fingertips. 

But it was Mira who spoke first. “With all due respect, General Sorrengail, if we’re to use our signets to their best advantage, then I should be paired with you as a last line of defense, since I can now shield without the wards.” 

She could what? 

Again, what the fuck were they teaching the riders in Aretia? Carr was a cowardly fool, and it had always been obvious. But he’d still been the best. But he had, apparently, discounted Mira’s signet abilities, and had handicapped Violet’s progress. 

If he made it through the battle, she would throttle the man. And she would give her daughters both a stern lecture about sharing important information in front of an entire quadrant instead of in a timely and private manner. 

The general saw Violet watching the two of them with something approaching amusement, but it faded when Mira looked back at her before speaking again. “And Lieutenant Riorson should be placed in Second Squad, as his signet has previously proven in battle to complement Cadet Sorrengail’s. As much as I would love to be her shield, he gives us the highest probability of keeping our most effective weapon alive.” 

She gritted her teeth for a long moment, muscles aching in her jaw and neck. If Violet was grounded and unable to get in the air quick enough, Mira’s signet was the only thing that could save her. And Violet was the most reckless of her children by far. She would end up on the ground. 

She looked both of her daughters in the eye before looking to Riorson again. He met her gaze, dipping his head in the most respectful gesture he’d ever given her. It was a concession, a promise. He would keep her safe, at all costs. It was a promise he had made once already, and one she didn’t think he really needed to make--not when it didn’t need to be said, really. 

“So be it,” she said, resignation and cold terror fighting for space in her chest. 

The rest of the squad assignments went smoothly. Of course they did. Her daughters had no vested interest in them. They were the only two who seemed determined to make everything a battle, even before the enemy arrived. 

She gestured for Kaori to step up when all of the riders were assigned, and watched as he projected the squad map. 

“We’re dividing Basgiath, the Vale, and surrounding areas into a grid of sectors. Each squad will be responsible for a sector of airspace while infantry covers the ground. Memorize these grids, because you’re not going to have time to pull out a map when you’re up there. If it’s in your airspace, you kill it. If it crosses into another squad’s airspace, you let them kill it. Avoid leaving your airspace at all costs, or it will turn into a disorganized melee, and that leaves us with inevitable weak grids. We’ll reassign you as necessary as casualties are reported.” 

She paused, giving the riders time to look over their grids, to process the plan. She could only hope all of their dragons were paying attention too. There was some muttering from different squads, but one in particular drew the general’s attention. 

She found the urge to sigh when she saw Violet’s brow furrowed, the lines of her mouth tight as she spoke urgently to her squadmates. 

“It’s a mistake to abandon the wardstone,” she said after a moment, loud enough for the whole room to hear. The mutters around the room silenced, heads turning to gawk at her. 

For. Fuck’s. Sake. 

Her sudden anger and frustration was lashing out, frost touching the tips of her boots. Had she learned nothing from years of tutelage between her and her father? Had she learned nothing from her experiences in battle? You don’t question a general in front of soldiers. You sow those seeds and they grow wildly. 

“Why is it that only my daughters speak out of turn?” 

“You’re slipping. Focus on the battle. That is what will keep them safe.” 

He was right. The general had said it out of frustration, without truly intending to. It was a comment from a mother, not a general. 

“We get it from our mother,” Mira snaps, leaning back casually in her seat and raising a single challenging brow when the general turned a sharp look to her. 

Mira’s eyes narrowed in what the general knew to be a warning. 

“She wants to protect Violet now , but when I gave her the chance to do so in battle she turned her nose up. I would rather fight this war alone than deal with the two of them sharing a battlefield.” 

“Well, I would rather the one who can throw lightning that manages to actually stop a venin’s rotten little heart share a battlefield with me, so we’re all lucky that you rarely get what you wish for,” Aimsir sniped. 

“It’s a mistake,” Violet insisted, leaning forward and bracing her palms on the desk. “We don’t know what power remains in the stone, and it was placed in that exact location because it’s over the strongest natural flow of power, according to Warrick.” 

The general thought. She had been thinking about this particular issue plenty, however, and had made up her mind already. While Violet’s information was valuable, it had already been considered. Well, except the part about the natural flow of power. That was interesting, but irrelevant.

She eyed Violet carefully. “Hm. Your opinion is noted.” 

Violet’s eyebrows raised, her posture straightening. “So you’ll assign a squad?” 

The general swallowed hard, but didn’t allow herself to hesitate, even at that bright flare of something in her daughter’s eyes. She couldn’t, not when it came to a battle that, if she played their cards wrong, would get her and Mira both killed. 

“Absolutely not. Your opinion, as noted as it is, is wrong .” 

She tried to make herself look away before Violet could react, but her traitorous eyes lingered. 

Her face fell . Her shoulders dropped, she recoiled back like she’d been hit, her brows pinching together and her eyes suddenly void of that light that had been there a moment ago. 

It felt like it had when she informed her that she would not be entering the scribe quadrant. Like she had just yanked all of her happiness, her confidence, her hope, out from under her. 

She didn’t dare look to see Mira’s reaction, but she caught the dark, threatening look that Riorson narrowed on her, her expression promising a slow death if he could get away with it. 

Too bad for you , the general thought, you lost your opportunity to kill me when you decided to start sleeping with my daughter. 

The thought, childish and bitter though it was, made her feel just a little bit better as she scanned the rest of the room. 

“You have your orders for the morning.” She hoped her voice didn’t reflect the pain in her chest. It was like whatever blow she dealt to Violet or Mira was immediately reflected back on her. She cleared her throat as quietly as she could manage, but didn’t avoid Devera’s knowing glance. 

“Riders, find the nearest bed and sleep for as many hours as you can. Most of you who left Basgiath will find your rooms have not been commandeered, and most still contain your bedding. We need you rested to be effective. Every minute we hold out gives us a shot at reinforcements making it back. Every second counts. Make no mistake, we will hold out as long as possible.” 

Riders and cadets began to move, some leaving quickly while others lingered, staying near to their friends and squads. 

The general sighed heavily, leaning against the desk behind her. Devera approached, giving a quick nod to Emetterio as he gestured to the door of the briefing room. 

“Your children are more than prepared for this. Violet survived against venin in a battle when she didn’t even know they existed, and Mira has been leading troops against them already.” 

The general raised a brow at her. “I’m aware.” 

Devera snorted. “You know, most of these riders would kill for the opportunity to see their family before tomorrow. And yet, you insist on pretending that your daughters are just another pair of riders. Someday, you’ll regret not taking the time to be with them as their mother.” 

The general frowned at Devera. “I’m not here as their mother. I’m here as their general. Besides, how fair would it be for them to see their mother while, as you pointed out, the other riders will have no chance to?” 

Devera rolled her eyes, and the general raised her brows. “Major--” 

“Oh, come off it, Lilith. We’ve known each other too long for this shit. Just tell them you love them, would you?” 

She turned and followed Emetterio out of the room without another word. When the general looked up again, Violet’s squad had vacated their seats, nowhere to be found. Mira was equally absent. 

She knew what Devera was trying to say. But she would not say ‘I love you’ in place of ‘goodbye’ ever again. She would not entertain the idea that either of her daughters would die, and she would not put it in her own head or theirs that it was a possibility by saying things that everyone knew were said in case there was no time for goodbye. 

The general dropped her eyes to the series of grids before her, the scribbles of last minute changes. She felt that there was so much to be done still, so much that they had no time to prepare before the battle. But there was nothing practical. There was no more that she could plan, no more that she could order. 

“You could take your own advice and rest.” 

She snorted to herself as she scooped up the scattered papers, the room nearly empty now. 

“I don’t know why I bothered to try,” Aimsir hummed, a comforting warmth stretching across their bond. 

She looked up at the room, the vacant seats and abandoned pens and scraps of paper. Would it look the same tomorrow? Or would it be rubble? Sucked of all color and life? 

At least if it came to that, she would be far too dead to see it. Somehow, the thought comforted her. With one last lingering look, she strode for the doors. 

“You have more guests, general.” 

She heaved a sigh. “Allies or enemies?” 

His pause was troubling. 

“Allegedly, allies,” he finally grumbled. “Although I would hesitate to agree.” 

For fuck’s sake, Aimsir would be as direct as he wished when he wanted to intrude on her love life or her parenting, but he could be downright cryptic when there was something urgent happening. 

“When you are the dragon and I the rider, then you can complain about what information I choose and do not choose to share.” 

For a second, she debated snapping back, if only because of the stubborn twinge in her back when she stood, a symptom of her poor sleep the night before. Instead, she said, “I assume that Violet is at the center of this somehow?” 

Aimsir rumbled pleasantly, sounding almost amused. The general sighed as she approached the door, gesturing for her two aides to follow as she headed for the rider’s barracks. 

There were a handful of riders milling about in the early dawn, their faces drawn and bodies tense. The ones who were unable to shake off their nerves enough to fall back asleep. 

She made her way through the barracks silently, only her aides' footsteps echoing hers until she reached the second-year wing where, of course, there were voices echoing down the corridors. 

“I know you’re in there!” 

The general frowned at the woman’s sharp voice, at the solid banging that followed. Were they trying to get into someone’s room? Her daughter’s room? It was in this wing, without a doubt. Riorson hadn’t been assigned quarters, having elected to stay in Violet’s room when assignments were given out, according to the scribes who had been put in charge of the logistics. 

Her hand went to her side, her fingers looping cautiously around the hilt of her shortsword. 

“Stop ignoring me before this becomes the most awkward situation known to Navarre!” 

Well, that didn’t sound like near the threat the general had begun to expect. There was a brief pause, and then a voice that stiffened her spine and quickened her footstops. “Now.” 

The one word was familiar. The deep, commanding tone was exasperated but warm. The voices grew louder as she approached. “Disengage your body parts or whatever you’re doing--” 

The familiar voice cut off as a door swung open with enough force that the general could hear it rebounding against the wall. The general turned the corner, suddenly wary of what exactly she was about to find. If she was about to walk into another half-naked man leaving her daughter’s bed--

There was a throng of people around the doorway. She could just see the top of Xaden’s head over the crowd. The crowd of mixed black and brown leather. 

“Are those fliers? ” 

The general increased her pace, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter now. When the crowd shifted, she caught a glimpse of Violet held tight against someone’s chest. “Brennan?” 

She froze, nearly stumbling over her feet. For fuck’s sake, can someone just give me a warning just. One. Time. 

“I’m not here for you.” 

And, fuck, could he just stop with the cutting remarks for long enough for her to catch her breath? He turned his back on her without another word, pushing Violet’s shoulders slightly away so he could look at her. 

“Matthias is going to send the fliers to hunt the lures. They’re faster on the ground and better with runes anyway.”

A slim, dark-haired girl with delicate features lifted her lips in a sleek smile before speaking, looking around at the stone corridor casually all the while. “We are. And we don’t abandon our drifts. We’ll fight.” 

The general wasn’t totally shocked that their sketchy intel had been correct. The Aretian riders had somehow forged an allyship with the Poromish fliers. But were they really going by drifts now instead of wings? 

She still saw the fourth wing patch on Violet’s shoulder, and spotted one quickly on the shoulder of the woman who had spoken, her nose tilted up slightly. No, they were still going by wings. This woman was just particularly stubborn. 

No wonder Violet was looking at her with her lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. They had the same stubborn set to their shoulders and words. The general was still watching as violet’s assessing gaze turned to wide-eyed realization. Her hands flew up to grip Brennan by the arms, catching him enough by surprise that he leant down a little with the force. 

“Have you ever encountered something you couldn’t mend?” she asked, her words coming too quickly, racing each other off the tip of her tongue like they always had when she got an idea in her head. 

Her brother was looking down at her with furrowed brows, looking a little wary. Perhaps six years pretending his family didn’t exist was enough that he was no longer used to how quickly her mind worked. 

That bitterness that the general had been fighting to drown reared its head again, catching her off guard. He hadn’t been dead for six years, but had abandoned them to mourn him. He had left her and his father. But worse than that, he had chosen to abandon his two little sisters--the very ones who had always looked at him like he hung the sun in the sky. 

And that was one thing. But she had no doubt that he had been receiving news from Navarre still while he was ‘dead’. He had to have known that his father had passed, had to have known what that meant. 

He had known, and had chosen to continue with his ruse, knowing that, while he mourned his father alone, he was leaving all three of them to mourn two family members. And sure, they’d had each other. But had they? Mira had been in the rider’s quadrant, inaccessible and unable to be pulled from classes for longer than it took to burn Loren’s body. And Violet…well. The general was ashamed to admit that she didn’t know how Violet coped with her father’s death. 

Violet had been the child closest to her father, had been the youngest of them to suffer his loss. And the general had been the least able to look at her, to speak to her. She had never been able to communicate easily with Violet, and after Loren’s death, everything she said, read, or did reminded her of her dead husband. 

For over a year, the general had seen Violet hunched over the table, her fingers ink-stained, and seen a mirage of the love of her life. When Violet scrunched her nose when she disliked someone’s opinion, the general saw only Loren. When she recited something from a textbook she’d been raised with her nose in, she heard Loren’s voice reading that very book to her. 

She had nearly lashed out exactly once after Loren’s death. It had been a week since he passed, and Violet had been sniffling, her nose buried in that damned book of fables. The way she had sat, the way she raised her tear-swollen eyes just over the top of her book, the rest of her face still hidden, had reminded her so much of a pair of bright blue eyes, the dark rims of his glasses. 

She had taken two steps towards Violet, ready to rip the book out of her hands and throw it across the room, the sharp, blinding pain of the memory pushing her to rage before she could contain it. She wanted to lash out, to force Violet to stop causing her this kind of pain, to stop making her remember . 

She’d caught herself after those two steps, Violet’s too-pale-to-be-Loren’s eyes looking at her from under a furrowed brow. The general had stopped, Aimsir’s low growl echoing in her ears as he demanded that she meet him on the flight field, like he always did when she lost her cool. 

Violet had tried to speak to her when she returned hours later, far past dinner time. She had made some semblance of food, enough for the both of them. The general ignored the food, ignored her daughter, and went into her study and stayed there the rest of the night. 

She had waited until she heard her daughter’s slow steps approach the door, had listened to her hesitant knocks, feeling each one like a blow to her heart. She had sat silently, staring at the door handle. She had been torn between begging the Gods for her to give up and go to bed and begging them to make her push the door open even without an invitation. 

But the general had always been sure to demand that her children follow order, and that required that they never enter her study without express invitation. 

Violet stayed outside the doors for several long minutes. The general pressed a hand over her mouth with bruising force to try and trap any noise her tears provoked when her youngest child tried one more time to knock half-heartedly. 

She only waited a few seconds after her second try before the general heard her footsteps recede, every light step feeling like a tightening noose around her neck. 

And now, looking at Brennan, seeing Violet stare up at him with that same childlike hero-worship she always had, the general thought that she may hate her son, just a little bit. Not for the man he had been, but for the man he was now, for the six years he wasn’t there to tell her what a piece of shit she was, for the five years he wasn’t there for Violet and Mira when she had failed them. 

And she knew it was unfair. He hadn’t decided to have children. He wasn’t responsible for fixing her shitty parenting. But he was for damn sure responsible for the pain the general had seen in Violet and Mira’s faces for the past six years whenever his name was brought up, the solemn, mournful aura that was almost visible around them on every reunification day. 

And he was forgiven so quickly, so easily. Violet was looking at him like nothing had changed. 

But Violet would never look at the general like she used to, when she was ten years old and still thought that her mother was infallible, and was kind even if she was strict. And she would never look at her like she hadn’t abandoned her for six years. But somehow, she was looking at Brennan that way. 

“General Sorrengail.” The general heard her name, her title. But it wasn’t one of her children speaking, and everything else was unimportant. 

How was it possible to love someone so much that you would burn the world for them while still feeling like looking at them was akin to swallowing fire?

“Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing officially requests permission to guard the airspace above the wardstone chamber.” 

The general didn’t bother to look at the squad leader who had turned to her, her chin upraised. She didn’t bother to parse through the request she was making. 

“Granted.”