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I walk back to the dorms, splitting from Dain as fast as I can. Everyone is probably getting ready to go to bed, and Second Squad sleeps in the same area. Even Maize, which was surprising. I figured she would want to go off by herself, but I suppose she is in our squad. Can't really be an asset if she's off by herself all the time—even if she is a bitch.

Rhiannon rushes over to me as soon as I walk into the first year dorms, and I see the rest of the first years in my squad sitting a little ways away. Worry fills Rhiannon's gaze as I walk over. "She's fine," I say to the squad. "She'll make a full recovery. Might take a little bit though."

Maize looks up from the book she's reading and glares at me with a scoff. "That's a shame. Let's hope the next person she spars against finishes the job and gets rid of her."

I narrow my eyes, stalking forward. Ridoc immediately steps out of my way, hands up as if to say, "I'm not getting in your way."

"That's your squad member you're talking about," I hiss. "I would watch your mouth."

Maize simply rolls her eyes. "Please," she responds, her gaze returning to her book. Bitch. "She's a liability, and we all know it. She's going to either die on the mats or die during Threshing. No dragon in its right mind would bond with someone so weak."

"Maybe she is a liability now," I reply, resisting the urge to knock her book out of her hand so she looks at me. "But that can change. That will change. Maybe if you paid a little bit of attention to your squad member, you might see that not all assets are brawn. It's a good thing Violet is in our squad, since you are clearly lacking in the brains department."

Maize snaps her book shut, standing up to face me. Her brown eyes are narrowed menacingly. "I should hope someone gets rid of you for me too," she sneers. "If you can't see that that frail excuse for a Sorrengail is nothing more than a weight slowing our Squad down, then you are too."

I scoff. "Please. If I'm a liability, what does that make you, hm?" I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. "No dragon in their right mind would bond with someone who can't see past their own nose."

Maize lets out a feral snarl and swings her fist. It comes into contact with my cheek, and I grit my teeth. Oh, you want to go, bitch? Come at me. I unsheath one of my daggers, gripping the hilt tightly. I step forward, prepared to swing, when I'm suddenly jerked back. A muscled arm wraps around my throat and I panic, slashing behind me aimlessly. Finally I realize that the arm isn't there there choke me, only to prevent me from murdering my squad member.

"You done, first year?" A rough voice says in my ear, and I grit my teeth. Riorson.

"Fuck you," I snarl to the man behind me, flinging his arm off me and stalking past Maize. Her smug look is almost enough to make me swing my knife in her direction, but I restrain myself. I find an empty corner in the dorm and sink to the ground. Fucking Xaden Riorson. I could've taken her. I don't know what business it is to him if I get into a fight.

Maybe because you're in his wing, hm? No killing your wing members. I lean my head back against the stone wall, twisting my dagger between my hands.

"Pouting over here, are we?" I look up with a glare to see the ridiculously good looking wingleader standing over me, arms crossed. "What was that about, Colland?"

"Oh, you know my name?" I snap. "Figured you wouldn't bother, considering you're a wingleader and I'm a lowly first year." He smirks, and I grit my teeth. Asshole.

"I suppose I'm not allowed to let cadets in the same wing kill each other," he says condescendingly with a mocking tsk.

"Maybe I'll just kill you then," I mutter. My hand slips and the tip of my dagger slices my finger. I let out a hiss of pain as blood wells up from the wound. "Fuck."

"You can try, cadet," he says. "I didn't come over here to argue with you, though. If I ever see you pulling a dagger on your own squad mate again, I will have to do something about it."

"It shouldn't be me you're worried about, then," I grumble. "She was talking about how someone should get rid of Sorrengail because she's a liability." I raise my ice blue eyes to Xaden's dark ones, and see his jaw tick slightly. "I don't know about you, Riorson, but I'm not a fan of people saying my friends should be murdered. And Maize Berring is most definitely not my friend."

.  .  .

I walk slowly through the high grass, running my hands along the top of the large green wave. The moon is bright above me as I walk between the large oak trees. I can hear the Iakobos River a little ways away, but otherwise the night is silent.

After the incident with Maize about a week ago, the other woman has completely ignored me, and I do the same to her. Violet has made a quick recovery, and she thinks she'll be able to continue sparring in a week. I hope so. She can't have more people other than Maize thinking she's a liability. Who knows what they'll do.

I wear a thin long sleeved black shirt and black leggings. I have two daggers strapped to my hips just in case and one tucked into my tall brown boots, but I doubt I'll need them. Hardly anyone is out after curfew for fear of the consequences.

My hair is down, for the first time in months aside from when I go to sleep. I enjoy the way the pale blond locks fly around my face, how it feels to run my fingers through it. My mother hated the way I simply threw my hair in a bun or a high ponytail instead of doing some fancy updo. She hated everything I did, honestly. I was everything she didn't want me to be.

My mother would have had me shackled to someone I hated if it meant that she could go to a fancier place for a fucking tea party. Ever since the day I forced my father to hire Rylan, she has pretty much shunned me, barely glancing at me and interrupting whenever I tried to speak to my sisters. She thought that I would "corrupt" them too. As if I'm a stranger because I showed her that I actually have a mind of my own.

My father tried to mend the rift between us, but both of us ignored his efforts. I didn't want to be anywhere near her if I was only going to get cold glances and rude remarks.

I'm broken out of my thoughts when a pair of voices reaches my ears. I quickly fall behind a large shrub, peering through the branches to see who's there. I have to restrain a gasp when my gaze snags on familiar dark hair and the unique scar slashing his eyebrow. Xaden. The other person has partially shaved pink hair. Imogen. What are they doing out here?

My gaze leaves the pair as more riders join them. I can see rebellion relics on all of them. When what seems to be the final rider joins the group, there are nearly twenty four of them gathered, most of them first years. Fuck. I don't think I can sneak away through the tall grass without someone either seeing or hearing me. Besides, I want to know what they're up to.

"We've already lost Sutherland and Luperco," Xaden says, his voice clear. I recognize the names as rebellion marked ones who fell from the parapet.

"Like it or not, we're going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation." Imogen sweeps a hand through her pink hair, her gaze brushing over the riders gathered before her.

"And if they find out we're meeting?" One of the first-years asks.

"We've done this for two years and they've never found out," Xaden reassures her. "They're not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell, I'll know." I have to roll my eyes at the cryptic words. Always has to be so vague. "Like Garrick said, we've already lost two first years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don't want to lose any of you, but we will if you don't help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail." Such high regards for Navarrians, hm, Xaden?

"How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?" Xaden asks, and four hands raise into the air. I finally get a good look at some of the cadets in the crowd. I don't know any of their names—as it is with almost every cadet at this college—but my gaze snags on a tall first-year with wild blond hair. I've seen him around the college and know he's in the Second Squad, Tail Section of Fourth Wing. His hand is not raised.

"Shit," Xaden mutters, before a tall, broad man steps forward with a sigh.

"I'll teach them," he says. I remember Xaden calling him Garrick. Damn it, why are they all so good looking?

But Xaden shakes his head in protest. "You're our best fighter—"

"You're our best fighter," A second year with strikingly similar features to Xaden says with a grin.

"Dirtiest fighter, maybe," Imogen smirks. If he's dirtier than you I don't ever want to see him fight.

"Fucking ruthless is more like it," Garrick corrects with a smile.

Xaden quickly changes the subject and moves on with business. "Garrick is our best fight, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she's a hell of a lot more patient. So the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won't draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?"

"I can't do this." A first year says, running long fingers over his face.

"What do you mean?' Xaden asks, and I can hear the edge in his voice. That man better get himself together.

"I can't do this!" the first year exclaims. "The death. The fighting, any of it! A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day. I want to go home! Can you help me with that?"  I hold my breath and wait for Xaden's answer like I'm watching a play.

"No," the third year says simply. "You're not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time." Well. No beating around the bush with Xaden Riorson, I guess.

"That was a little harsh, cousin," the second year with the dark curly hair says. Ah, that must be why they look so similar.

"What do you want me to say, Bodhi? I can't save everyone, especially not someone who isn't willing to save themselves."

"Damn, Xaden," Garrick says with a sigh. "Way to give a pep talk."

"If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they're not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day," Xaden replies smoothly. I have to admire his realism, even though he's still a total dick. No matter how hot he is. "Let's get real. I can hold their hands and make a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable." He's got a point. "In war, people die. It's not glorious like the bards sing about. It's snapped necks and two-hundred foot falls. There's nothing romantic about scorched earth or the smell of sulfur. This isn't some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It's hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone is going to make it home. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant." He takes a pause. "So if you won't get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You're not going to make it."

Fun times with Coach Xaden, I guess.

After a few moments—never mind, make that fifteen minutes—I realize that I zoned out. I only tune back in when I realize that all of the marked ones are walking away, splitting off into groups of two or three.

I hurry to creep away towards Basgiath. I've almost made it to the safety of the corridor when my toe hooks on a protruding root and I go sprawling into the tall grass with a loud 'oof'. Shit.

I lay there, frozen for a moment, hoping that no one heard me. But I have no such luck. When I turn over onto my back, guess who's staring down at me? The tall, handsome blond boy. The one who inconveniently carries a rebellion relic.