Cheer's Angst

“You’re thinking too much.” Ridoc drawls. I glance over. He’s standing with sweat coated skin and ruffled brown hair. He’s staring like I’ve gone batshit crazy. “I’m not. Something is wrong and I intend to figure out what.” Because Garrick hasn’t talked with me in days. I miss him. His touch. His voice. The teasing. The moments where it seems too much for both of us. The good and bad days. My eyes flick to the door as they open. Xaden walks in, eyes narrowing on Sorrengail. Garrick stands beside him, hands fisted at his side and jaw clenched. He looks annoyed. There’s deep bags beneath his eyes, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been clawing his fingers through it every few minutes. Concern flicks in my chest. I move. It doesn’t take long to stand in front of him, and it takes less time to grab his arm so he can’t pull away like he’s been doing. 

“Garrick, talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is.” I whisper, softly, coaxingly, trying to get him to simply talk. It’s like a switch. Air sweeps me back, slamming me into the damn wall. The breath is knocked out of me, momentarily, and my eyes blow wide. “You aren’t the biggest fucking problem right now.” He doesn’t yell, but somehow, this is worse than if he had. Because Garrick, despite years of training with each other, has never used his quirk or his fists out of anger. “I don’t need you asking every damn minute if something's wrong! If there was, I’d fucking tell you!” This time, his voice sharpens. And it’s not the voice he uses with me. Problem… He said I wasn’t the biggest problem. It’s clear that I pushed him over the edge. Tears gloss over my eyes, but I refuse to let them drop. Have I been too clingy? He’s acting like I’m nothing more than a burden. Some more weight on his shoulders. His hazel eyes switch from the dark stormy swirl of emotions to a softer, guilt ridden gaze. Perhaps I’ve been too much. Maybe he simply needs space. 

I nod slowly, embarrassment and shame heating my face. It makes the need to cry all the more visible but I swallow the pain. The wall of air moves away, and I slink to the back of the class, staring at the ground to avoid his eyes and everyone else's. He just needs time… Ridoc moves forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. He bends down, trying to look at my face. The first tear falls, and his jaw clenches. 

“You don’t have to be a fucking asshole.” He calls, dragging me toward his group to train. The rest of the day moved entirely too slow. His eyes were trained on mine the entire day. He needed space, and so I’m giving it. It’s the only thing I can do as I sit in my room, changing the damn runes so no one can come in and see me crying like a fucking child. So Garrick doesn’t come in and feel like there’s more weight on his shoulders. Each tear drops faster and faster. I sniffle, trying to wipe them away. The entire day, people have been whispering. The entire day, Ridoc has kept me firmly by his side. 

After the runes are set, I curl into the bed and let it all out. Silent sob after silent sob. Until finally exhaustion takes over, and sleep prevails. 

The next two days are hell. Not because anyone's been rude or anything, but because of the mental boundaries I’ve set in my own mind as to not push Garrick past his breaking point again. No talking first. No touching him. Give him space. Don’t even look his way unless he says something. It’s easy at first, because of the embarrassment and guilt of believing I’m just another weight on his shoulders. He’s talked to me. Hell, he sits beside me now, his eyes piercing my skin as I write down notes. He hasn’t been paying attention. At all. Not to the class, not to his friends, not to really anyone. Aside from Xaden but that’s because they have some freaky loyalty thing. 

“You’re quiet.” His statement almost sounds… hesitant. As though he’s testing something. I shrug, forcing a small smile. “I’m taking notes for a class both of us should be paying attention to.” It’s a soft reminder of what this school is, and a way to show that I’m not mad at him. Because I’m not. I’m hurt. Not upset, not angry, not frustrated. Just hurt. He waits, as though expecting something else. I don’t glance his way. I simply listen. 

Vito has been quiet. Not because he’s grumpy or upset but because he’s been waiting on his mate to wake up. We fly, both distracted by lovers in our life. Vito banks to the left a little too hard and quick. I haven’t been paying attention to his signals. We’re both mentally fucked right now. And I pay the price for a moment. The air rushes around me, and my stomach flies to my stomach. My dumbass fell off my dragon. 

Little Flame. Vito growls, annoyed before his claws wrap around my frame and he pulls us back up. My body jolts, pain radiating. My torso will be bruised, but it’s nothing bad. It could be worse. I could be dead, at the bottom of the valley. I glance down, a shiver rolling over me. 

Sorry, got distracted. I apologize softly. We move down to the ground, and he’s careful not to crush me. As soon as my feet touch the earth, a warm hand cups my face while a strong arm wraps around my waist. “What the fuck were you doing?” Garrick breathes, panic evident in his eyes as he tilts my head, searching for any wounds. I blink, thrown off by how worried he seems. I didn’t even know he was watching us. 

“Um… flying.” I whisper, trying not to let the hurt well back up. I haven’t touched him in three days. Today is the first day he’s touched me, and it’s obvious he cares. Still, I do not touch him. I keep my hands firmly at my side, and offer a small, comforting smile. “It was an accident, Garrick.” It’s barely a whisper, because it’s obvious he’s seen. He blows out a breath, his jaw clenching as he searches my eyes. Nodding, he steps away and resumes his role as the section leader. 

By the end of the night, I’m dead tired on my feet. Rhiannon and Violet asked for some tips of training, and after that Ridoc asked for help with dinner duty. So I helped. My room is just around the corner and I can’t fucking wait to crawl into bed. My feet come to a slow stop at the sight before me. Garrick’s fists pound into the door, his frame leaning over the door. He looks like he’s two seconds away from either crumbling or tearing the damn thing down. But he can’t. Because of the runes… The runes that I changed. He used to have full access to my room. He could enter whenever he wanted… I guess I forgot to change it back. 

“Please.” He pleads, pounding on the door. His chest is rising and falling way too fast. “Garrick.” I call, tilting my head. His head whips around, his hazel eyes panicked and red-rimmed. In seconds, he’s crosses the distance to cup my face in his warm, calloused hands. “Where- Why… I couldn’t get in.” He states, his calm demeanor long gone. He looks like he’s panicking. Hardcore panicking. I offer a comforting smile, but don’t touch him. 

“I had to change them the other night. I just forgot to put them back to normal.” It’s a whispered response. He searches my eyes, seemingly trying to calm himself without being able to. “I thought-” His voice is rough, low. He blinks, clenching his jaw. His eyes flick down to my hands that twitch. Because I want to comfort him. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I’d never leave him, especially in such a cruel way. But his words echo through my mind, and my shoulders drop. Not the biggest problem. If something is wrong, he’ll tell me. 

“Come on.” I whisper, stepping out of his arms to make it to the room. He comes in, and we settle into our usual. I sit on the bed, studying with what little energy I have left. He sits at the desk, running a hand through his hair. I don’t miss the way he glances at me. Several times. At some point, I slip into sleep. 

It’s been a week since Garrick has been allowed in my room again. And every night, he comes by, looking more worried and stressed each time. It’s always so late too. I pretend not to notice, trusting what he told me. Most nights, I’m asleep and the only reason I knew he was there in the morning was one of his daggers sitting at the desk. He keeps forgetting it. Usually, I’d bring it to him. Tell him where he left it. But I haven’t. 

The challenges have started back up. Imogen takes on a cadet to humble them. I watch, taking in the steps. The doors crash open. I turn, heart pounding. Whoever just walked in must have had a shit-... It’s Garrick. And he’s making his way to me. 

“Tell me how to fix it.” He orders, his jaw clenched hard while his eyes desperately search mine. I reel back, brows furrowing. “Wha-” 

“Tell me how to fix it. Do you want me to beg? Grovel? Do you want coffee every morning or for me to get my ass handed to me?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic. I go to speak, but he isn’t done. “You haven’t touched me in almost two weeks. I haven’t-” His voice strains, and his hand rises to rub his chest. “You haven’t looked at me unless I’ve said something. Haven’t talked to me unless I start the conversations.” His breathing only grows faster, like he’s panicking. Genuinely panicking. “I was locked out of your room. You- Fuck, you were in the infirmary yesterday and you didn’t even tell me. Tell me how to fix it. Please.” Gods, he’s having an attack. 

“I’m losing you- and I-” His voice breaks, his face twisting in grief and agony like it’s genuinely tearing him apart. “I can’t-” Everything is thrown aside. All the thoughts of being a burden, all the thoughts of being too clingy, the hurt, all of it. Because a new hurt and guilt is rising. He’s shattering in front of a room full of people who look up to and respect him. My arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing his head down. Almost immediately, his arms lock so tight around my frame that it hurts. I swallow, blinking back tears while soothingly running my fingers through his hair. 

“You’re not losing me.” It’s a strong statement stated in a low, soft tone. “Do you hear me, Garrick Tavis? You are not losing me.” That’s the first order of business. His breathing is still shallow, rugged, barely helping him. He buries his head between my neck and shoulder, his breath shaking and too fast. His arms tighten. 

“Baby.” I breathe softer, trying to pull back to grab his face. He doesn't give me the option. “I’m not leaving.” I whisper, rubbing his back with my other hand. “I’ll let Xaden kick my ass-” He manages, voice too strained. “I’ll take on twenty riders, I-I’ll play with your hair and-” Sushing him softly, I move back. He makes a sound, half panic, half growl. Both of my hands find his face, placing a soft, tender kiss to his lips before he pulls me back again. A kiss can stop panic attacks. I know from experience. Is this is anxiety? Well, I don’t know if it’ll work then but if this is panic, and I think it is, it should work. He leans in, his hand moving to cup the back of my head and pull me closer. He only pulls back to draw in a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. 

“Hi. Welcome back to reality.” I whisper softly, teasingly, a concerned but loving smile forming. “I’m not leaving. You hear me? I was hurt by what you said. I thought I was being too much so I wanted to give you space. That’s all. Okay?” There’s guilt in his eyes, but the panick has slowly died down. Without another word, he throws me over his shoulder. I gasp. 

“Garrick!” I call, gently smacking his back. He doesn’t answer. “Where are you going!?” Rhiannon calls, throwing her arms out. I was supposed to help her and Violet. I brace myself on his back, pushing up to make eye contact. I shake my head, an I-don’t-know-but-I-don’t-care look across my face. Laughing softly, I poke his back. We’re in the hall now, making our way through. He tenses when I laugh, and in seconds he moves me so I’m pinned between the wall and him, my legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Do it again.” He breathes, his eyes falling down to my lips. My face scrunches in confusion, a slow smile forming. “Do what?” 

“Laugh. I haven’t heard that beautiful laugh in weeks.” He swallows, and I can tell he’s still hurting, still panicking, even if it isn’t full blown now. My smile softens, a blush rising. “Garrick, I can’t just laugh on command.” It’s a soft whisper. His eyes narrow, as though offended but he shakes his head. “Later then. When we’re alone, I’m drawing that gorgeous sound out again. Even if I have to hang myself by my toes to get it.” He growls, before moving the both of us away from the wall to continue walking. My brows lift and a small, quiet laugh escapes me. His eyes immediately dart down, narrowing playfully. 

“I love you.” I hum, and it’s like I shoved a full breeze of fresh air down his chest. He groans, dropping his head against mine. “Say it again.” He orders, still walking, with a quicker pace. My smile only grows. “I. Love. You.”

The moon casts a silver glow over the earth. The silence of the night settles eerily. The bunks are quiet. Most of the first-year women are sleeping or they’re out past curfew, probably bed hopping. I sit by one of the windows, history notes and books littered before me. My mind is elsewhere. The man with curly hair. Hazel eyes that flicker with bright specks of green. Pale skin that a rebellion relic shimmers neatly off of. His hulking frame, that ripples beneath his tight-fitted leathers… Gods, I’m a mess. I drop the quill, bringing my hands to my face. Exhaustion wears thick. Between nightmares, the constant threat of death, and him, I’ve gotten no sleep. 

He hasn’t even interacted with me all that much. The only thing he did was protect me from their club. A club that I’m not supposed to know about. At all. It could get them killed. It could get me killed. I was out past curfew that night, taking a walk through nature, along the rushing river. He walked up with the pink-haired women. I haven’t caught her name yet. They both stared at me like I did something wrong. Like I was actively trying to kill them. In truth, I’m sure the pink-haired woman would have killed me if he weren’t there. That night, he looked so annoyed and frustrated. Long story short, he told me to get back before I didn’t have the option. It was a threat. Clear. Direct. But when I turned, saw more cloaked figures, I understood. I left. 

Then there’s the time during formation in the morning. The death scroll was being read off. I don’t know anyone here. Haven’t made friends. It’s useless to make friends when they’ll only end up stabbing you later down the road. Maybe I’ll save it for next year if I survive. He was staring. Hardcore staring. Probably debating whether to make me disappear or not. I avoided his eyes. The last time… Gods, I’m an idiot. I was out past curfew again. I had burned a cadet's belongings. Her name was called earlier that morning during the death roll. But when I finished, when I looked down, he was walking back in. With Bohdi and Xaden. From outside the academy. He looked up and caught me watching. He confronted me later that night. Asked if I was watching him. Like a stalker or something. Dick. 

Blowing out a breath, I shake my head and try to focus back on the history. The gruelling damn thing that might just flunk me beneath the others. Of course, that’s assuming I make it past the Gauntlet and Presentation in two days. I look outside, running my tongue along my teeth. Fuck this. I’m going for a walk. It takes very little time to pack all my stuff and set it on my bunk. It takes less time to make my way through the door and out into the halls. A cloak hides my features, and my feet are silent against the stone floor. A featherfoot by nature. The halls pass, entirely too quiet, and a little creepy. The hair along the back of my neck has risen. Goosebumps crawl across my skin, as though warning of a predator I cannot see. I pause for only a moment when I make it to the courtyard to look around. It’s silent. Too silent. There’s no dragons in the distance. No crickets or birds. The wind doesn’t even breeze by. I palm my dagger, moving forward like prey who knows it’s been surrounded. Because I certainly have. Jack fucking Barlowe steps from the shadows. Sierfet walks from behind. Both holding daggers. Thank the gods Tynan isn’t here. Fighting off one of these men will be difficult, but three? No thanks. 

“Little cursed bitch. I remember what you did. Thought I’d forget?” Jack growls, moving forward like a jungle cat stalking its prey. My stomach clenches. Oh, I remember. I helped Sorrengail. He had intended to take her on during a match. Had intended to kill her. I told Aetos, knowing Violet and him were close. And Barlowe found out. Taking another step back, my gaze flicks to Sierfet who looks a little pale. There’s a war behind his eyes. As though he really doesn’t want to do this. Which means Barlowe will be the bigger threat. 

“I had hoped you would.” The truth. I had hoped he’d forget. Violet is important. Every damned person here knows it, and they either fear it or they respect her from a distance. Jack? He doesn’t fit in either category. He’s cruel. Twisted. Might even be soulless. He barks out a laugh, but it’s anything but kind. 

“Weak. That’s what you are. You think begging is going to save you?” He sneers. My brows furrow. I did not beg him. Something whizzes past my head, barely nicking my ear. I jerk to the side, eyes wide to find Sierfet with another dagger. He threw his damn dagger at me. My skin buzzes, and my hand fisting the dagger comes up just in time to clash with Barlowe’s. He catches a foot to the stomach, sending him stumbling back. I move back, trying to search for an exit. I won’t be able to fight both of them. Sierfet is blocking an entrance. Jack curses, moving forward again. Fast. He’s fucking fast. I curse, bringing my arm up just in time to block another strike. My gaze has left Sierfet. The sound of a dagger embedding in skin is drowned out by the agony rolling across my back. The wind picks back up. Shadows seem to slither, and jump. Barlowe gets sent flying back. Sierfet is dragged into the damn shadows. I watch, stunned, trembling with adrenaline. With terror. 

My eyes lift as someone steps forward. Hazel eyes meet mine. I let out a shocked, relieved laugh. Gods, Garrick is here and he just saved my ass. Darkness crawls at the corner of my vision. Well… he kind of saved my ass. I turn, reaching for the dagger in my back. But the strength from the adrenaline wears off. My legs give. The ground doesn’t meet me. No, the fucking air somehow keeps me up. The breeze brushes my cheek, so gentle that I’m beginning to wonder if I’m dreaming. 

“Trouble.” Garrick mutters, his arms replacing the air that once held me up. “Not my name.” I whisper, prodding the raw skin of my back. “No, it’s not. But you are trouble.” He sighs, annoyed and seemingly frustrated. My eyes lift to his. There’s a flash of concern, a softness I’ve never seen in his eyes. Still, I cannot deny his statement. Every time he has caught me, it’s been after curfew, and I would have been in deep shit if not for him. Offering a small smile, that probably looks like a grimace, I drop my head and focus on breathing. The darkness seeps further across my vision. Am I seriously going to die here? Because of Barlowe, no less? Well… I suppose it would be because of Sierfet. 

“Keep those gorgeous eyes open.” He whispers so quietly I fear I misheard him. There’s no way he called any part of me gorgeous. I fight the wave of exhaustion, the wave of pain, and nod. His arms shift, below my thighs, and he lifts. Pain lances up my back. A small sound crawls from my throat. He lifts me like I weigh nothing. My head moves forward, sitting on his shoulder to focus on not crying out with every step he takes. The warmth of my own blood bleeds down my back, and stains my night shirt. 

“Keep talking, Trouble. Tell me why I caught you out after curfew. Again.” His voice is stern, but his touch is gentle. I blink slowly. “You were out after curfew.” I mutter softly, a statement that I wasn’t the only one breaking rules. His arms tighten. 

“So you were following me.” His tone softens, taking on a teasing note. I snort softly, but my breath quivers. My eyes flutter, the strength seeping through my fingers like sand. The sudden, stark realization that there is no pain brings tears to my eyes. It’s just cold. A bone deep chill. I’m dying. Bleeding out. “You still awake?” There’s a rough note in his voice as he pulls back, searching my face. I nod weakly. “Nothing to say to that?” He asks, quirking a brow with a convincing smile. His dimple prods through. If it weren’t for the flare of panic in his eyes, the way his eyes drop to check over my form, I’d laugh and argue with him. Instead, I slowly shake my head. The action brings a drought of dizziness. He curses, leaning forward. One of his massive hands braces against my back, and it’s only then I realize I had swayed. Literally. 

“Just hold on a little longer. We’re almost there.” He breathes, and his pace quickens. My head returns to his shoulder. My eyes flutter, and this time, they’re too heavy to stop from closing. Slowly, so fucking slowly that I can feel every muscle uncoiling like a serpent, I lose control of my body. First it’s the fingers that were clenched in his shirt. It travels from there, taking every muscle, every tendon, until I know I’m nothing but dead weight in his arms. 

“Hey!” His voice is deep, rough as he snaps. The hand that once braced my back comes up, and I can feel the warmth through the thick layer of fog taking over all senses. “Dammit, Trouble, open your eyes!” He taps my cheeks. Shakes my shoulder. The transition from his arms to absolutely nothing takes very little time. I know he’s holding me. I can hear him still. But I cannot feel him. His warmth. His touch. There’s no pain. Nothing but the cold. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re too fucking good to die by their hands. Open your damn eyes.” 

“What happened!?” A new voice. A feminine voice. One I’m not familiar with. 

“Sierfet and Barlowe happened. Fix. Her.” The order is strong. It’s an order from him. He shouldn’t care. We’ve barely spoken. Barely know of one another. Yet, he does. Sound slowly fickles out, like too much cotton being shoved into ears that were told not to hear. 

The smell of antiseptic hits first. Then the slow murmurs. The feel of silk and a cot beneath me. My eyes roll, trying to open. As soon as they lift, immediate regret crashes in. I groan, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the all too bright mage lights overhead. It feels like I’ve been hit by a truck. The familiar blue curtain of the infirmary draws a surprised blink. It… I thought it was all a dream. I slowly sit up, wincing when something tugs on my back. Stitches. An all too familiar woman peaks around the curtain. Winifred. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to quit breaking curfew?” She scolds softly, shaking her head as she walks around the curtain and crosses her arms. “If it weren’t for that fine young man, you’d be dead. You know that?” So it wasn’t a dream. My face flushes, a mixture of embarrassment and a warmth settling in my chest. Garrick came to my rescue. Again. I glance sideways, searching for him. He… isn’t here. Of course he’s not, idiot. He’s a section leader. He’s above Dain Aetos, and we all see how busy he keeps himself. Thinning my lips, I try to hide the smile of pure shock and amusement that climbs forward. Winifred sighs, and wacks me with a ball of bandages. Laughter bubbles from me, and it softens the look in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Wini. I’d promise I’ll be more careful but we both know that probably won’t be the case here.” I answer softly. Another person peaks around the corner. Nolon. He offers a smile, shaking his head. “Glad to see you awake. We decided to leave you with stitches instead of mending it. Maybe you’ll learn rules that are there to keep you alive.” He winks, obviously not as concerned as Winifred was. I roll my eyes playfully but nod. “Thank you. Both of you.” I add softer, carefully moving to the edge of the bed. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Winifred asks, searching my eyes with a look of pure disbelief. “Battle Brief.” I answer with a pure note of hope. I can’t afford to miss classes. Wini’s eyes narrow but she sighs and nods. “We’ll mend your back tonight so you’ll be set to go for the Gauntlet.” Nolon’s smile falters. Winifred and Nolon both knew me before this damn college. They both care. 

Despite arriving late, Professor Devera doesn’t say a word. She simply nods to take a seat, so I do. The only seat left is towards the back. Upon taking it, I wince but drag my notes out. It’s only when I have everything sat out, that I finally turn and search for hazel eyes. I find him standing beside Xaden, both quietly muttering something. As though he feels someone watching, his gaze searches the room before landing on mine. “Thank you.” I mouth quietly with a soft smile. He didn’t have to help last night. In fact, he could have left me to die and ignored what was happening. He didn’t though. He stepped in. For that, I’ll be eternally in his debt. The rest of class runs smoothly. It’s only when the bells of Basgiath chime that Garrick moves forward. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his eyes dropping to where the dagger was in my back last night. I offer a grateful smile and shrug. “Sore. They won’t mend it until tonight as punishment. Can’t say I blame them.” I hum softly while packing my things. His jaw ticks, his eyes raising for the briefest moment. “So were you following me?” There’s that damned question again. My eyes narrow, an amused and annoyed smile forming. 

“No. Why do you always think I’m following you? If anything, I should be asking you the same.” I laugh, raising a brow at him. “Are you following me, Garrick Tavis?” His hazel eyes light with the question, the green specks shining all the brighter. 

“I ask because it would be bad if you are. So if you are, you need to stop.” It’s a warning. A threat again. I tilt my head, brows furrowing. What is he hiding? My eyes flick back to clash with onyx ones. Xaden. There were shadows last night. The wind was Garrick, no doubt. But the shadows? Only one person has that signet. 

“I don’t want to know what you two have got yourselves caught up in.” I mutter, returning my gaze back to Garrick. “I haven’t been following you. I promise.” My pinky moves out, and though most would find it childish and sneer, he smirks with suspicious eyes and wraps his pinky around mine. Little did I know that was just the start. 

Stay awake. Vito growls in warning, but he sounds so distant. So far away. Something crawls up my throat, and the world tilts. “No. You’re not allowed to die on my watch.” Ridoc grumbles, pulling my half collapsed body back. The arrow pierced a lung. Blood pools from my lips, dripping like the soft rain cooling my skin. Everything’s hazy. Blurred. The skies no longer look blue. They look green. Everything’s vibrant. 

“Not-” I try, but the words flee. Cough after choked cough escapes. Blood splatters against the earth, mixing with the puddles of rain. I can feel his ice. He freezes my wound, and tries to cool my skin. There was no one around. We were simply walking. We’re too far away to walk back to Tyrrendor. Which means Vito and Aotrom will more than likely be waiting. “-Trying to.” It’s a choked laugh, and partially a cry. Ridoc scoffs, but it doesn’t sound annoyed. It sounds playful, as though I’m not bleeding out and he isn’t trying to help me run from an enemy we can’t see. 

“Leave it to you to argue with me while we’re running for our lives.” He laughs quietly, but from the corner of my eye, I can see his eyes harden as he looks around. Good. He feels it too. Whoever attacked is watching. They’ve been following. There’s no logical reason for a flier or rider to attack. Not since we’re wearing our leathers and Tyrendor is practically made of riders. But if it were Venin, wouldn’t it have been drawn from the earth and killed that way? Nothing’s adding up. My ears pop, ringing louder. My eyes flutter, and legs try to give. Ridoc’s arms wrap quickly, and the world falls away. 

“Always knew you liked being carried.” He tries to joke. And it works. A pained, exhausted smile stretches. Being dropped or called too heavy has always been a fear of mine. And he knows it. So he always tried to carry me when he could. Usually, I’d decline or fight my way out of his grip. But there’s not enough energy or logical thought for that now. My body convulses. Iron and copper attack my taste buds, and blood coats my tongue. “Dammit, Pretty girl. I need you to keep those eyes open.” He whispers hurriedly, and his pace quickens. Vito wraps his soul around mine, as though trying to chain me to him. 

But Ridoc doesn’t make it far with us. Not with what’s been hunting us. A rageful, ear splitting roar echoes across the mountain. Another, more familiar one, joins in. Two dragons, preparing to fight for riders. The world darkens for a moment. It’s only for a moment. The sky is so beautiful from this angle. Vivid colors of green, blue, and pink swirl around one another. The clouds seem to fold together. The rain drops softly against heated skin. The poison. It’s working slowly, but surely. 

Check on the smartass. Vito growls, an order he knows I won’t deny. It’ll keep me awake. My head tilts to the side, mud coating my cheek and temple as I do. Ridoc lays clutching his stomach and thigh. Two arrows, broken feathered and wavering, protrude from him. Not good. Not good at all. I don’t hear his screams, but I can see his grimace. My eyes fall close. Only for a moment. But when they open again, Ridoc has crawled his way back to my side. He doesn’t lift me. He simply lays beside me, his hand wrapping in mine. 

“Didn’t think we’d die from an arrow, did ya.” He jokes, but it’s strained. An amused breath shutters past my all too shallow breaths. There’s no pain anymore. Just exhaustion. Just darkness clawing at the corner of my vision. I don’t feel the stone and wooden thing piercing my chest. The blood isn’t warm, but it isn’t freezing either. 

“Come here…” He whispers, slowly, carefully, moving my body so my head rests on his shoulder. The world tints red, and my eyes begin to sting. His thumb brushes away the tear, or the blood, I don’t know. There’s no air. Just blood. Blood coating my throat, tongue… Copper filling my nose, and dripping from it. There’s no sound anymore. Just vision. Ridoc’s shoulder shakes beneath my head. His hand settles in my hair, the other over my wound. Neither one of us are making it out of here. It's a peaceful realization. We don’t have to fight anymore. There’s no one around. Just us. Just a man who hides behind humor, and a woman who’s been head over boots for him since the moment she met him. FIGHT IT! Vito booms down the bond, but it’s so quiet. Like a whisper on the wind. Ridoc’s warmth wraps around me. The rain calms my heated skin and helps wash the blood away. My eyes don’t close, but the darkness takes all sight anyway. I never thought I’d die in the arms of the man I love… But I wouldn’t have it any other way either.

I need to say goodbye, but he doesn’t give me a choice. He’s gone before I can do anything. I kneel in the street, heart shattering with very little energy to move. Vito circles above. I know he can feel my pain like it’s his own. You must move. Vito demands, but it’s soft. As though he doesn’t wish to hurt me further. I choke by the sob working its way up. As soon as Vito lands, I scale his moss and forest green frame. And I wrap my arms around him, hiding my face. I cry like I’ve never cried before. Because this might be the last time I see the Garrick I fell in love. Next time, his eyes might be completely red. Next time, there might be veins creeping beneath his eyes. Next time, his hands may feel cold, and his heart may not beat to the same tune. 

Xaden’s missing. Garrick’s missing. The bodies have been found. They’ve been counted and laid to rest. Sent to Malek. I haven’t risen. Everyone sings. The wards are back up. They’re joyful and blind to the agony very few of us feel. I didn’t know about Xaden. Not until Violet crawled in my bed, bawling. Looking for a cure. Looking to search my dreams. I know what her second signet is now. Sitting before the window, I watch the breeze carry their voices. It doesn’t feel like a victory. What happened wasn’t a victory. But they celebrate being alive while two of our own trades their soul to keep us safe. A victory wouldn’t have taken him away. I remember when he was here. He made the halls a little less lonely. He’s loyal to a fault. I always knew he’d follow Xaden anywhere. Just didn’t think it'd come down to this. Imogen knows what’s happened. Violet told me as much. But I haven’t been able to face anyone but Violet. Violet wishes to find a cure. None of us will admit what we’re all thinking. That there isn’t a cure and we’re all fucked. 

You must rise, Little Flame. Vito urges softly. Memories of Garrick and I flash behind my eyes. The night he spun me beneath the moon because neither one of us could stand being alone. All the training exercises and stolen moments between us. I remember our first snow fall together. I threw a snow ball at him, not thinking much of it. It’s become tradition every year to have a snow ball fight. He chased me for nearly twenty minutes. He was always fast. Always near. Now I understand how. His second signet. 

The stars are beautiful above. They shine, as though not affected by the loss of him. They shift and twinkle, as though trying to urge me forward. It’s almost been three days. Three days of doing nothing. Of not being able to meet anyone’s eyes. Of feeling the loss of someone who’s still alive, just changing. He won’t remember me when we meet. He’ll probably try to kill me. I don’t know how the process works. All I know is that I watched him draw from the earth, and I saw the darkness that overtook the entire village. Violet got to see them one last time. Even if she doesn’t remember it, she still got that chance. I didn’t. I’m not mad at her. I just wish the Gods would be a little kinder upon us. Who am I kidding though. They’re Gods for a reason. 

He should be here with me. He would have loved tonight’s night sky. He’d sit beside me, probably pulling me beneath his arm as he used to on the roofs. He’d watch the stars with something deeper than admiration. It looked like hope. The tears haven’t stopped falling. My eyes sting from them. I wish he’d just come home. I’d find a way to keep him safe. We’d work every possible lead to find a cure. But I need him home. 

“Garrick, please just come home.” I whisper out to the night. 

I gasp, a sob tearing free. My body shoots forward, working on autopilot. Garrick’s gone. He’s not here. My chest rises and falls too fast. He changed. He followed Xaden and he changed. A hand, large, calloused, and familiar, settles over my clenched fist. The other cups my neck, a warm thumb wiping the rapidly falling tears away. I flinch, shaking my head quickly. A cry escapes, broken and raw. He wasn’t here. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” His voice orders. My eyes snap to his. Those warm hazel eyes. No veins. No cold hands. No venin. His eyes are full of concern. He didn’t leave us. He didn’t leave me. My body moves before my mind. My arms wrap around his shoulders. I bury my head against his neck. My legs wrap around his waist, terrified that if I let him go, he’ll disappear. His hands come up, one wrapping soothingly in my hair. The other works circles against my back. The memories of the nightmare replay like a warning. Like a cruel and awful thing meant to bring my worst fears to life. 

“Breathe.” He orders softly, his voice raspy and deep with sleep. I must have woken him. But Gods, hearing his voice and feeling his arms around me after three days… It all felt so real. My arms only tighten, and my eyes squeeze shut. After a few minutes, the tears slowly come to a stop. He rocks the both of us, but sleep will not come so easily. Not after that mess of a nightmare. He tries to lean away, and my arms tighten. My body locks hard. Tense. Because if he leaves, he may never come back. It’s an irrational fear. Especially since we’re riders. Riders don’t live for long. But Malek above, you better take me before you claim him. 

“What happened?” He asks softly, brushing his lips across my temple. He tries to pull away one more time, but I shake my head and pull him closer. My body shakes, shock and fear… The grief and adrenaline are still rushing through my exhausted frame. He sighs, gently moving his hands so they slide beneath my thighs. He stands with me, bringing it to the window. I can feel the moon's rays against my skin. I can hear the window rattle with the wind on the other side. My breathing stutters, freezing for a moment. It was just a night terror. There’s nothing more to it than that. My face stays buried in his neck, hidden from the stars above. I don’t want to see them. Not after what happened in the nightmare. His heart beats softly against my chest. My heart tries to match his. 

“You left.” Even as I whisper it, it’s a broken and agonized statement. Because he left us. Me. My lip trembles, but I pull back, searching his hazel eyes. They soften, and his thumbs move to brush the tears away. “But I didn’t?” He asks quizzically, quietly, as though he doesn’t understand. Of course he doesn't. He didn’t have the dream. Despite the fear, a small smile and weak laugh filters through.  “You turned Venin. You followed Xaden. You saved me but in exchange, basically signed your own grave.” It’s a whispered admission. A short detail. My eyes fall close, mind pulsing from lack of sleep and exhaustion. Crying takes a lot out of a person. “It doesn’t matter. I love you.” I whisper, laying my head back against his shoulder. My hand moves to his pulse, feeling for it and my legs wrap tighter around him.

"I love you too. Go back to bed." He grumbles, because both of us know the truth. He will follow Xaden wherever he goes. Both of us are still here in this moment, and that's what we need to focus on. His hand doesn't stop drawing soothing circles against my back. His carries us back to bed, curling a protective arm over my stomach as he pulls me close. With his warmth wrapped around me, and his scent soothing all my senses, exhaustion crawls forward. And I let it take me back into the dream land feeling Garrick's fingers thread through my hair.

The memory burns to life, Ridoc’s all too amused smile and lively eyes staring into mine as my heart shatters. I simply nodded. There was nothing else to be done. I didn’t want him watching me break. But I couldn’t stop the tears. He left me in the corridors, crying. Gods, I feel like a fool for even trying with him. He’s the resident smart-ass and everyone warned me he doesn’t do relationships. Looking back, he never treated me any differently than he did his friends. Sure, we slept together. That’s really it. Swallowing the regret that balls in my throat, I take another swig of the bourbon. Why the hell am I wasting these tears on him when there’s been countless men trying to lay with me? Why am I so loyal to someone who was never loyal to me? I wish all of our memories together would just disappear. I don’t want to feel this hurt anymore. The loneliness or awkwardness from it. He didn’t give a damn about me. He never did. 

Slowly moving to sit up, I turn my head at the sound of a knock. I’m done with all these tears. I’m done hurting for someone who never hurt me. Stumbling to my feet, I slowly but surely make my way to the door. The world spins, and my head pulses harder as though warning me. One hand holds the bourbon, while the other swings the door open. I’m sure I look like a wreck. Tangled hair. Tear streaked face and red rimmed eyes. Flushed cheeks from being drunk. The thought brings a slow bitter smile up. Imogen stands on the other side. She takes a single step back, her brows lifting in clear surprise. She does once over my body, her green eyes raising to meet mine once more. She reaches forward in one solid swipe and steals the bourbon with an all too cocky smile. “So this is what we’re doing?” She asks, seemingly excited. But there’s a sadness in her eyes. It seems I’m not the only one hurting. Opening my door for her, I make my way back to the bathing chamber. As soon as my body flops onto the cold ground, relief hits quick and fast. 

“What’d Garrick do?” I question, closing my eyes to hide the tears gathering. These tears are really starting to piss me off. “What makes you think he did anything?” Her voice sounds close. With a turn of the head, I find her laying down with me. “Because you love him.” My lip trembles and more tears rise, but my smile is genuine. For her. She takes a deep breath, grinding her teeth as she looks up to the ceiling. “Flirting with another girl. It’s not like I own him so…” She shrugs, raising the bourbon to her lips. She makes a face, shaking her head with a shocked laugh. “You naughty woman.” Her laughter only makes my smile grow. She offers the bottle and I take it. 

“What about you? Who’s got you like… this.” She emphasizes, raising hand to my face. I laugh trying to ignore the hurt, but the tears drop anyways. “Ridoc Gamlyn.” I answer, and her lips thin. She shakes her head while I take another mouthful. It burns as it goes down but it distracts me enough. “That was your first issue.” She mumbled, rolling to face me. “What happened?” This whole thing ended because I wouldn’t sneak into my father’s study for him. Shaking my head, a bitter smile forms. He was using me. For how long, I don’t know. But it isn’t hard to figure out. I’ll never forget it. “Used and discarded me when it was convenient.” I whisper, shrugging. 

Imogen sits up, studying me for sometime. There’s something in her eyes that I don’t want to name. I don’t want pity. I don’t want rage on my behalf. I just want to forget. I want to erase all the memories with him. All the stolen kisses, the way his voice sounds, the jokes he’d tell to cheer me up. I don’t want to remember his genuine concern, or what I thought was genuine, when I was stabbed during combat training. Or the way he made me feel on nights he’d slip into my bed. Letting out a shaky breath, I hand the bottle to her. She downs the rest of it. 

“We’re gonna need more of this.” She isn’t wrong. Both of us seem to have had a pretty shitty day. She doesn’t move though. She lays down, and we both stare at the ceiling in silence. A comfortable silence. The kind that isn’t forced and is needed. He doesn’t deserve these tears. So why won’t they stop falling? Breathing through it all, I sit up to look out the window. Something tells me I’ll sleep like a baby tonight. 

“Wanna smash the bottles?” What? Turning with furrowed brows, a slow smile crawls forward. What the hell did she just ask? Her eyes widen before she throws her head back with laughter. “Not like that!” She tries to backtrack, and my own laughter joins her. I understand what she was getting at. Swiftly swooping the empty whisky bottle up, I roll my shoulders.  “On three?” I ask, but the sound of a shattering bottle sounds. I turn, mouth open in shock. Well damn. Shattered glass scatters across the bathing chamber floor. She smirks, raising a brow at me. Shaking my head, I turn and throw the bottle with all the anger and frustration I’m harboring. And it feels nice. Hearing the glass crinkle, shatter, it replaces the shattering of my heart. Seeing the glass like little chandelier pieces under the moon’s rays reminds me there’s more to life than a boy. “Alright. I’m going to bed. I’ll clean this tomorrow.” I mutter, focusing on walking in a straight line to get back to bed. Imogen follows, jumping on my bed like she owns the damn thing. “I’m not leaving.” She states, so I shrug and crawl into the bed with her. “Suit yourself.”

“There’s only five of us left.” Imogen comments, stalking forward with a grim look. “I can’t get Glane out.” None of us seem to be able to get them out. My eyes flicker around at the carnage. There’s bodies. Blood. Screaming and grief. Our group held fifteen. Now there's only five. “The venin will be here soon.” I whisper, panic starting to set in. My hands shake, but I bounce on the balls of my feet to keep my mind distracted from the pain and carnage. They were all first years. Newbies. Three were griffin fliers. The rest had dragons. 

“I have one dagger. That’s it.” Imogen confirms. There’s only one metal alloy dagger in our group. I look down at my arm, shaking my head. Even if I had a dagger, I’d be useless with this arm. The air thrums with several pairs of wings. Not dragons, and not griffins. My jaw sets, my eyes rising to see three dark shadows swirling far above. Wyvern. “Got a plan?” Imogen asks, her pink hair filtering softly through the wind doubling over us. I don’t. There is no plan. I turn to the three first years left. Two haven’t gotten their signet yet. The one who has doesn’t know how to use it. How to conjure it forward. If we stay on the ground, it’s an easy kill for the Venin. 

“You three start working on a way to free the dragons.” I order, making sure they understand the urgency behind this. Imogen meets my eyes, a silent question behind them; Are we seriously going to die today? Nodding slowly, I thin my lips. I believe we will. Which means Garrick’s going to be pissed. We fought right before I left. He wanted us to wait, but Xaden ordered us to go. It’s not like we had a fucking say in the matter. 

I did not choose you to die. Vito growls, his form shuttering as he tries to stand. I can feel his anger. His pain. The helplessness and the fear. He tries to hide it all behind rage, but it trickles through like a poisonous spring. “I can’t shield us from the flames for long.” Imogen whispers, drawing my attention. What is she talking about? There’s nothing she can do about the flames. She meets my eyes, and there’s something locked behind them. A secret? Regret? I don’t know. We don’t have time. The wyvern is landing. One has landed behind us. One is landing in front of us. The last stays in the sky. “Just stay alive.” I mutter, because we cannot stand another loss in our already feeble group. 

Use your flames. Vito demands as though flames kill venin when it’s been proven that they don’t. Shaking my head, I glance at the wyvern. They’re not attacking yet. They’re just watching. Why? Imogen takes a deep breath. “I need time.” It’s not a question. It isn’t a demand. It’s what both of us have to do to keep everyone alive. Nodding slowly, I plant my feet and stare at the three giant creatures surrounding us. The dragons, those still breathing, roar and cry out. Helpless. Scared. Gods, Garrick and his group are right behind us. They’ll be here in a few minutes. Will we be corpses by then? Just another offering to Malek? 

You are the flame. You will stand, and you will protect the humans while they free us. Vito growls. Bossy. But my bonded all the same. My other half. Taking a deep breath, I straighten. I’ll try. The wyvern straightens, their giant jaws unhinging like a snake. To my left, there’s a blue glow. Blue flames. To my right, there’s an orange glow. I can’t see the one above. The blue flame will more than likely take a lot of my energy. Fuck, I’m gonna end up burning myself alive. Hopefully Garrick knows I’m sorry. Hopefully he won’t have to find my body. FOCUS! Vito booms just as the first flames flare. 

My hand shoots up, my skin heating to an uncomfortable temperature. Don’t push yourself over the limit. But hold the line. Give Imogen and the first year's time. Hold out until Garrick gets here so he knows I’m sorry. Fire explodes from my palms, and wraps around my feet. I force my crushed arm up. Everything flashes white as I do. But if I don’t, we’re dead. The venin is taking its time. Agony ripples through my right sight, the flames fly to crash against the wyvern’s flames. As soon as my blue flames greet theirs, my feet skid against the hard rocky ground. It’s hot. Too hot. The flames are too close. Hopefully the first years have freed the dragons near the wyvern. The wyvern ahead hasn’t attacked. It just circles, watching. The flames all hiss, whispering that time is running out. And it is. Holding off two wyverns breathing fire is way past my damn limit. Already my blood boils and my lungs burn. My legs shake, the adrenaline and agony crushing close to consciousness. Darkness creeps in the corner of my vision. And Garrick flashes behind my eyes. The tears well up. My legs give out beneath me. But my arms stay up. My fire pushes against the wyverns, even as it grows difficult to draw a single breath. We’re going to die here. There’s no question about it anymore. Still, I give my flames all I can. Because if there’s even a chance of one of us surviving, it’s better than nothing. 

“Just a little more time!” Imogen screams past the raging inferno’s around us. Just a few more minutes. My lip trembles, the pain threatening to steal all consciousness. Just a few more minutes of this before I can rest or meet Malek. The flames are beginning to turn. The wyvern fire pushes closer, no matter how much I send out. My own skin steams and glows, the fire barely being contained under my skin. It rubs, hisses, and burns inside. It’s only a few minutes until I combust into flames. Until my own fire joins the Wyverns and turns on me. Fucking hell. Malek, if I must meet you soon please don’t take anyone else. Let my fire be enough. 

You will survive! Vito screams, pure panic and agony shredding his usually gruff voice. A bitter sound escapes me. It’s half a cry, and half a laugh. Smoke billows from me with every breath. My visions are beginning to tint. “Okay! Focus the flames above!” Imogen screams.

If I drop my walls, we’re all toast. But I trust Imogen enough to follow even with the doubt. I look up, a pure agonized scream tearing from me as the flames billow up like a giant mushroom cloud shielding us. The flames combust from my skin, just as I knew they would. It burns. The darkness crawls forward, and my lungs don’t bother rising. To my utter shock, more heat and flames than I’ve ever seen before joins my own. A single hazy glance around explains how. The dragons are free. Vito’s free. Thank the Gods. The dragons are breathing fire to reinforce my own. Drop it! Drop it NOW! Vito demands, but the wyvern only pushes closer. The Wyvern tries to fly through the flames. I expect them to break through. Instead, the Wyvern and its venin both disintegrate through the additional flames. The world collapses. My flames fall into little things that caress and wrap around me. Still burning. Still claiming. Still planning to send me to Malek. 

My vision grows distant, hazy, blurry, and darker. Breath, Little Flame. Vito pleads. His snout presses against my chest. It burns. It feels weights have been pressed against me. “Where is she!?” A loud but distant, demanding voice calls. The distant sound of heartbeats, or wings, beats across the land. The ground vibrates with it. Vito lets out an ear-splitting roar before collapsing down beside me. His head presses gently against my side. My lungs still refuse to work with me. A hand presses against my cheek, and it stings. My skin must still be hot. “Sweetheart.” Garrick. His voice cracks, his hand gently shaking my head. "Hey. Stay with me." My eyes, that had fallen close without conscious thought, slip open. He’s here. The tears rise, only to slip. He's really here. Time is fickle. The world tilts with Garrick's arms wrapping around me, drawing me closer, and Vito whines. “Don’t do this.” Garrick whispers, pleads, his voice distant as though he’s soaring high above. "Not after our argument. Not after what was said." His voice sounds choked and scorned, like steel against stone. I don’t want to leave, but Malek doesn’t wait for anyone. His hand wraps around mine, so I give him the last message I’m able to. Three squeezes; I love you. 

"I love you too." He presses his forehead to mine, and I feel his tears hit my all too heated skin. They hiss and dissolve. "I love you, sweetheart. So fucking much." His voice shakes, and my body jolts with every sob he tries to hold back.

The darkness seeps forward, claiming all sight. There’s screaming. I can feel my body being lifted. Garrick’s pleading, beautifully masculine voice is the last sound before everything falls silent. It seems Malek is done waiting. And I’m so tired of fighting.

(Do we want a part two???)

Sighing, I toss the book down. The knock comes again, impatient and demanding all at once. I lift a brow, tearing the door open to chew out whoever’s on the other side. But the earth freezes. All emotions pause. Those onyx eyes look down, lacking the amount of warmth they used to have. “You’ve been avoiding me.” He states it, his voice dark, soothing, and familiar. Scoffing, the rage flares to life. I turn, going to shut the door on him but one of his large hands stops it. “We need to talk.” Oh, he wants to talk now. After almost an entire month of silence, and months of avoidance from his end. I turn, biting my tongue to stop the inside thoughts from filtering out.

“Does she know you’re here?” I ask slowly, eyes narrowed at the flash of surprise in his eyes. As if he believed I didn’t know already. Did he seriously think he’d get away with all of this? He clenches his jaw, turning his eyes away as if ashamed. Guilty. Regretful. “No.” It’s barely audible as it leaves his lips. Nodding once, I can’t help the disgust climbing high. I don’t bother trying to hide it. He doesn’t flinch, but I watch the pain blossom in his eyes. Of course she doesn’t know. She probably doesn’t even know I existed. 

“Why’re you here?” It’s almost an accusation. Almost. He’s silent for a moment. There’s too much hurt, too much lack of acknowledgement, for any of this to disappear or return to normal. He doesn’t answer, but that’s all the answer I need. Slamming the door shut, I turn and walk back to my sketch book. The picture of the girl grieving seems so distant. It’s not grief anymore. It’s rage. It’s betrayal. 

The day passes relatively quickly despite the way it started. Vito’s been a little quieter than usual. A lot less grumpy, and more concerned. Not concerned. I’m observing. He informs, his voice dark with something I can’t quite put a name to. We’re in the field now. Imogen’s been barking orders at the younger marked ones. Her voice rattles my ears with every order. I’m not a marked one, but she still expects me to show. And I do. For her. Because of her. 

“We gonna talk about the dragon in the field?” She asks, her voice completely serious. I turn, peeking at an all too silent and still green dagger tail. Vito. His silver eyes flash as I observe him, but I shake my head. “Nope.” I answer, turning back to the younger cadets. “Okay. What about the fact Xaden’s been asking about you?” My eyes flit up, heart slamming with all the suppressed emotions trying to battle their way out. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about that too.” Quin calls softly, scooting closer to hear. Thinning my lips, I shrug. It’s the only answer I have at the moment. “He’s been asking if anyone’s seen you. If you’ve been talking to us.” Quin informs. Of course he has. According to Liam he’s been keeping tabs on me. It doesn’t surprise me. 

“Would you ever go back to him? Despite everything?” Imogen presses quietly, her eyes distant as she watches the group. These last few weeks flash violently behind my eyes. Vito growls low behind us. The nightmares have grown worse than they’ve ever been; All about him and being abandoned. Any appetite I had has dissolved, and it’s only now starting to come back. I’ve survived missions, combat training, falling and getting stabbed, both physically and emotionally, without him by my side. I’ve survived without him. He’s taught me how to live half alive. If I gave him a second chance, I may not survive at all. “No.” I turn to Vito, eager to disappear from this conversation. He stands, dipping his head to help me mount him. As soon as I’m seated, he takes off and the field grows smaller with distance. 

It’s been another week. Every morning, he waits in the hall. His hair seems more ruffled. Disheveled. There’s circles beneath his eyes. It looks like he wants to say things most mornings, but if I’m being honest, I don’t give him much of a chance. Because every time I look at him, I see her. It appears this morning is different though. His hands slam against the wall on either side of me, trapping. Containing. “Just hear me out.” It sounds like an order, but I know better. It’s a plea. I look up, but there’s nothing left in me for this man. Nothing to give him. No fond memories to go back to. All I can see is Violet Sorrengail. The daughter of General Sorrengail. No one needs reminding of the irony there. “I rather not.” I state, voice even and bored. I go to slide beneath his arm, but he blocks it with his knee. “Dammit, woman.” He growls, his head shifting to try and catch my eyes. I can’t look at him. Not without disgust and hatred for what he’s done to me. “I’m sorry.” An apology… The first apology I’ve received in years from him. It earns an exasperated breath, not quite a laugh but eerily similar. “Will you just look at me?” Again, it sounds like an order but the truth is in his eyes. Vito stirs. I can feel his rage and protectiveness flaring to life. It’s as if I can feel him watching through my eyes. 

“Do you know how long it took to feel okay again?” I question, voice dropping. My chest tightens at the memories. The lack of eating. Lack of energy from lack of sleep. The painful thoughts and emotions that tore my heart to shreds. Or even the questions that never got answered. Like what she had that I don’t? What does she do for him that I can’t? Does he love her? Did he even love me when we were together? His eyes widen a hair. It’s not enough for most to notice, but I notice it. I notice the way his breathing seems strained, the way he swallows his own words. “Did you know I just laughed for the first time in months? With Imogen no less? The woman that used to fucking hate me?” I hiss, not at all regretful for growing close with her. She’s a bitch, but she’s my bitch now.

“I fucked up. I know but-” He starts, his breathing growing heavier. He’s beginning to understand the gravity of our situation. “I don’t want to lose you.” It’s barely a whisper. An admission. I didn’t want to find him cheating but here we are. My brows lift, a slow, bitter smile forming. “But you can’t lose her, right? You don’t want to lose me, but you can’t lose her.” Because I know he can’t. A muscle in his cheek feathers from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. His eyes gloss over, but the answer, bright and devastatingly obvious, is in there. He knows I’m right. He leans in. It’s fast, desperate. I turn my head, and his lips meet my cheek. Tears rise. Hurt, anger, betrayal, fear. It all burns beneath my skin. I wish we had never kissed that night. The night that framed our entire relationship. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt this bad. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have had my trust chewed and spit out. He broke every one of his fucking promises. All of our future plans? They’re long gone. “Go back to her before you break her heart too.” I growl, kneeing him in the groins. He sucks in a pained breath, crumpling forward to support himself on the wall. I slip away. 

Who the fuck does he think he is? He can’t go around collecting all of our hearts and crushing them when he finds it fit. Angry tears swell, blurring all my sight. Because I still love him, but I can’t let him break me. Not again. And I hate myself for still loving him. 

“Y/N!” His voice breaks, it carves our history into the stone of this college. I almost pause. His heartbreak, his regret, it’s all in my name. But he chose her the moment he cheated, and I chose myself. Closing my eyes, I force my legs to keep carrying me forward. He’ll be fine. She’s his now, and he’s hers. She can deal with him. Heal him. It’s not my issue anymore. 

Like the parapet. During our first year, I found him out there. He was crying. I genuinely thought he was going to jump. It scared the daylights out of me. There was no way to know why he was out there, only that he was. I wiped his tears away, trying to get him to talk to me. He wouldn’t. A stubborn man through and through. At least I thought he was. During nights I found myself with him, he’d have night terrors. Probably of the day his parents were executed. I never asked. He wouldn’t tell me even if I did. I’d hold him close, whispering to him. For nearly three years, I’ve held his hand and walked beside him. Protected him. Fought with him. I loved him. 

The other marked ones whisper of another girl. I honestly just brushed all of it off at first. He wouldn’t do that. He has a light, a moral compass inside of him, that pulls everyone close to him. If you understand him, you’ll see everything one would wish for. Last night, when I tried to enter his room, it was locked. I was no longer allowed in. He shut me out. There were nightmares last night. He was with another girl. Her face was blurred, but he was with her. I sit here now, a place Xaden and I would go to get away from everyone else. The snow outside is beautiful. It flutters down in fluffy flakes, landing against my heated skin. My eyes sting. Crying for quite a while will do that. The others have noticed the change in me. It isn’t hard to see. He’s our Wingleader. I see him even when I don’t wish to. And he still hasn’t broken things off. 

I’m sorry, Little Flame. Vito whispers softly through the bond, probably feeling the conflicting emotions in me. I saw her today. The woman from the dream. She has the same silver tips as a first year named Violet. And worst of all? I couldn’t even be mad at her. It was just immediately heart wrenching. Because I don’t have proof. The only proof I have is Xaden avoiding me. His friends whispered about another woman. He’s been training her. Even if I haven’t seen it myself, her fighting has improved and looks eerily similar to mine and Xaden’s. Because Xaden taught me to fight too. A couple cadets pass through the courtyard, so I drop my head. The tears fall silently. And it only reminds me of him again. 

It reminds me of how he used to brush my tears away with his thumbs. Of how he’d always keep me close, protected. How he’d fight away my own night terrors. How he held my hand these past few years. It reminds me of how I had all of him. But now I have none of him. Despite all of this, he still has all of me. A bitter laugh chokes out, and the tears fall faster. Because I know we’re done. Even if he hasn’t said it himself. 

The couple that stumbled into the courtyard slowly drew my attention. The man has his partner pinned to the wall. It looks as though they might do something out here. Crinkling my nose, I swallow my cries and slowly rise. I just need to go back to my room. There’s nothing left for me out here. The memories are simply ghosts now. But before I can take a step, a familiar, deep voice rings out. A voice I’ve heard everyday for the past three years. My entire body freezes, and my eyes snap towards the source. The couple against the far side of the wall.

Leave now. Vito demands softly, trying to save me from seeing what’s about to happen. The person I thought was just another cadet stands tall. His dark hair curls. He towers over the woman, and without seeing her, I know who it is. He’s breathing hard, as though he’s confused. Or maybe angry. I don’t know. But the moment her lips crash into his, it all clicks. Everything stills. My heart stutters, bleeding and wanting to give. But there’s nothing left of me to give. There’s no urge to scream. No urge to call him out. Relief and betrayal war in my heart, my chest, and mind. He has been cheating. He’s doing it now. There was another girl. 

Leave. Vito orders, this time not leaving much of an option. Not that I’d argue with him anyways. 

Never again will I wipe a single one of his tears away. Never again will we lay together, twisted in the sheets. I’ll never feel his heartbeat again or breathe in that leather and mint scent. His hand will never intertwine with mine. My tears are no longer his to brush away. My heart does not belong in the hands that crushed it. Far off in the distance, a dragon roars. It’s Vito. His rage slams against the ice forming around my heart. The tears fall but I feel nothing. Somehow, I’ve made it to the field. And Vito stands waiting. I collapsed against his leg. He lowers his head, his nostrils flaring with heat. It warms my frozen skin. You were right. I should have never gotten with him. I whisper, voice cracked and frayed, to the one person who tried to warn me. His sigh, disappointed and sorrowful, echoes in my mind. Now's not the time for that, Little Flame. He breaths. The image of his hand wrapped in that woman’s silver hair stays behind my eyes. He’ll wipe her tears now. He’ll fight to protect her now. And I’ll be forgotten. Invisible. As I intend to be. He doesn’t deserve to see how badly this hurts. And he doesn’t deserve to make me hate him any less for it. It’s a funny thing, how love and hate can twist so violently one could hardly tell them apart. Because despite fury, betrayal, and heartbreak lunging like serpents around my throat, heart, and ribs, he still has all of me.

Part Two~

“Are you even listening?” Sloane asks, waving a hand in view. It snaps me from the distant fog of sleep, earning a blank eyed stare. She raises a brow, looking disgusted. “You really didn’t get a lick of sleep?” She questions as though I haven’t already told her as much. I simply shake my head, taking another sip of coffee. It burns in all the right places. It warms my hands and body. Probably due to my lovely signet setting off my body temperature. I’m always cold now.  

Fire is a blessing, Little Flame. Vito grumbles. Any signet is a blessing. It’s just trying to learn how to control the damn fire that likes to spike at random times. Thinning my lips, I turn back to the match taking place. All the while, his gaze slips over my skin like he can see inside my soul. Maybe he can. He’s known me long enough to know every little thing about me. Aaric Graycastle, going by some stupid code name to hide his identity, stares from across the room. Those green eyes flash with something. Cockiness? Recognition? He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He’s a sight for sore eyes. That’s for sure. Even if we don’t share a good history, it’s still a comfort in this place. 

It’s probably weird that we're staring at each other from across the room. Attraction, hatred, regret… It all swirls into a fiery pit in my stomach. The flames lick beneath my skin, asking for relief. Not here though. Not with so many watching. Not before I can learn to control it. Varrish would kill me. Something about the world not balancing with my new signet. Aaric’s green eyes sharpen, and his jaw sets. His fist clenches. He moves like he doesn’t have a second to spare. It’s only when teeth sink into my neck that I understand why. My eyes flash bright with pain, but my body moves before my brain fully catches up. Kicking my leg between the attackers, I hook it and grab his head. In seconds, his body twists with a sickening crunch. His teeth fall away, but not without taking a chunk of my flesh with him. 

“What the fuck.” Sloane mutters, stepping away from the ordeal. Did I spill my coffee? I swear to Malek above that if that bastard made me spill my coffee, I’ll kill him if he isn’t already dead. As I turn, searching for the sweet aroma, warmth bleeds from my neck. Why on earth would someone attack by biting someone else? That makes no sense. It stings. It’s cold. A warm hand clamps over the wound, applying pressure. My body tenses, a pained gasp escaping. I don’t know how bad it is. I don’t care. Where the fuck did my coffee go? 

“Love, I’ll get you another coffee.” Love. That damn name falling from his lips as though he didn’t crush us for no good reason. My eyes flash up, and I’m sure they’re glowing red. The fire crackles harshly, hissing beneath my skin that now steams. We haven’t talked since that day. Since I was forced into this damn college, and he chose to come. He said loving me would be a risk. That he couldn’t afford to see me get hurt. Ha! Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He’s offering coffee. A new cup. I’ll take it. But who the hell attacked? 

The man lays twists, his eyes wide open and bleeding. He isn’t familiar. I did not do that. Someone else did. Vito laughs, entertained by this whole situation. Something white and foamy drips from his lips, mixed with my blood. Fear rises so sharply, the room shifts with it. What was wrong with him, and will I become affected? Was he poisoned? Did he have rabies? Slowly, carefully, I touch the raw skin around Aaric’s hand. 

“Listen to me.” Aaric orders, his voice seeping back into reality. I turn, searching those moss green eyes. “You’ll be fine.” The way he says it, the way his voice softens and his head dips to stare into my soul, eases some of the fear. His hands cradle my neck, his thumbs rubbing softly against my jaw. How strange it must look to everyone else… Aaric and I have made it almost a full year without talking once. And now he’s clamping a wound and whispering sweet reliefs as though nothing happened between us. As though we are still us. Everyone else will see him as a stranger. Just another cadet ready to die. They’ll see me as someone who can’t be trusted. Maybe they’ll wonder how this relationship came to be. Hell, they’re probably disgusted. The professor calls out, but it’s difficult to pay much attention to anything when those green eyes flicker down to my lips. The moss green shifts into a forest green like Vito’s scales. Darker. Hungrier. 

You’re exes for a reason. Vito chides, protective and frustrated with the display. Sighing, I bite my lip and slowly step out of his arms. My heart cannot take another break. It’s still healing from the last time. His squared jaw clenches, and his hands, now bloodied, fall away. “I’m gonna head to the infirmary.” I call no one in particular, keeping my eyes and head down. Imogen will question me later. I know she will. And I’ll lie to keep his secret safe despite all that’s happened. Because my heart still belongs to him, as it always has. 

The clouds bustle low. Thunder cracks softly, not yet enraged but gathering strength. Lightning flashes like little rodded angels beckoning us forward. This was never supposed to be anything more than a supply run. And not the supply runs for the marked ones, as I’ve learned recently. No. This was personal. Only I knew about these ones. Being a rider doesn’t get you wealth until after you survive Basgiath. But being a rider in itself gives respect where none was due before. Other villages have started an underground market to share food, clothes, materials, and more. It’s for the betterment of Navarre, even if the King would shut it down the second he found out. Which is why very few riders know of this. My brother somehow got into this market, and he brought me with him. They don’t trust me. Not yet. I haven’t given them a reason to. But with time, maybe they’ll see. 

Tonight’s run consists of lumber and animals. Those feisty little things are terrified of the storm we’re flying through. I can hardly see a thing. My fingers curl tighter around one of Vito’s scales. The sheep won’t shut their traps. The pigs have been chewing on the damn basket holding them up. Hell, even the chickens have been trying to make suicide jumps. It doesn’t help that the wind and rain are all but whipping all of us. 

Someone’s following us. Vito growls, his head swivelling to the side so those storm born, silvery eyes can try and place who it may be. I can barely see through my riding goggles and darkness. Lightning illuminates the storm every few seconds, but it’s difficult to see more than a foot in front of us. Just because I don’t see anything doesn’t mean his statement isn’t true. I learned long ago not to underestimate his abilities. He slowly glides beneath the long stretch of endless clouds. The rain doesn’t feel as sharp here, but the wind cuts savagely across us. My thighs tighten around Vito’s side. For the briefest moment, his forest green scales light. But that’s the last thing I’m capable of seeing for quite a few blinding moments. All sound grows muffled; a loud ringing fills my ears. My stomach jumps to my throat, and it feels like fire scorches my side. That can’t be so. Vito would never do something like that. 

Breathe! Vito booms down the bond, his voice webbed with panic and fear. It’s only then I realize that I’m not. And worse of all? I’m falling. The ground rushes to greet me, and the air whips my hair around, so it whips and blinds. There are a few seconds of peace. Of knowing what will come and hoping I don’t feel it. My vision clears briefly, only to find a dark shadow barreling towards me. Vito. He won’t make it in time. But damn it all if he doesn't try. What the hell happened? How’d I get knocked off? Lightning flashes eerily close. The bolt only missing by a couple inches. Again, I'm blinded. The sound of rushing wind catches my ears. Thunder screams overhead as though screaming for me since I cannot. 

Little Flame, BREATH! Vito’s voice slams so violently against my skull, a small gasp fills my singed lungs. I didn’t burn out. I wasn’t using my signet. What the fuck- 

Pain blossoms violently in every sense and direction. Stars greet my vision, and the little air I managed to draw in gets knocked from my already screaming lungs. “You have some explaining to do.” A familiar voice draws, soft but panicked. The wind cools my blistered skin. I don’t know how I know it’s blistered… I just know. Warmth radiates from whatever caught me. It wasn’t the earth. No. It seems Malek doesn’t want me just yet. Liam Mairi, a second year like myself, holds tightly as though I may fall again. Maybe I will. 

“This isn’t how I planned this to go.” He sighs, but his voice sounds high. Like he’s soaring miles above me. It’s muffled. Cracking. Reality, the storm, and darkness all seem to merge into one. Rest, Little Flame. Deigh and the human will take you home. Vito whispers softly through the bond. Rest attacks like a wounded animal cornered. 

Reality focuses in, but I wish it hadn’t. I’m not in the infirmary. No. Liam’s entire group sits around us, throwing out ideas. Pain still lances up my side, making it difficult to focus. My eyes crack open, pairing voices with faces and faces with names. Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi, Violet, Rhainnon, Ridoc, and more. 

“If you take her to the infirmary, Nolan won’t ask any questions. Just avoid any other person.” Ridoc states, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. I could have died and they’d all be arguing over what is safe or not safe. Somehow, that knowledge doesn’t upset me. A small, pain filled smile forms. It's amusing.

Do you ever get offended? Vito grumbles, annoyed and relieved all at once. My smile only grows. Up until I realize I never completed the supply run. Up until I realized that a man I’ve hardly ever talked to was following me. I could have blown the whole organization. My smile falters, and fear takes root. Dal would have been so pissed. Shooting up is and was a bad idea. Agony immediately ripples through my side, earning a small cry and a hand to it. My leathers seem to be in perfect shape. But the skin beneath feels anything but. 

Stop that! Vito growls, alarm wrapping like a noose around my ribs. The supply run has been completed. Well, that only solves one issue. “You followed me.” I whisper, turning with tearful eyes to the man with spikey blonde hair and sharp features. “Why were you following me?” His sky-blue eyes flash with shock, then maybe panic. His hands come up, his brows lifting. 

“The better question is why you were flying in the middle of a storm.” Liam answers briefly, but his reply is calm. Calculated. As though he’s thought this over already. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to spook you. Vito murmurs. The leather rubs against my side, arm, and neck. It burns. Shrugging out of the jacket, I begin to shred my shirt. Someone whistles, someone else starts sputtering. A very familiar, deep voice orders everyone to leave. And they do. Everyone walks out of this room, Liam’s room I’m assuming, since the room smells of leather, crisp air, and lavender. 

“Do you want help?” Liam offers warmth soft in his words. My hands remain busy despite the agony it brings. My lungs scream for a moment of rest, and dots cross my vision. But I need to know, to understand, what is happening to me. If Liam was following me, he might have seen what happened. All thoughts and action stop upon the jagged bolts of lightning scorched into my flesh. Blistered skin indeed. Red. Raw. But the scars are already forming. They’re white. 

“I was following you because I had orders to. You were struck by lightning. Deigh and I were waiting below you. Your dragon sent a message to mine, and we rushed forward as quickly as we could.” Liam explains slowly, his eyes growing dark at the sight of my side. A small branch of scars run along my arm. But it all starts from my neck. 

“I’m surprised I didn’t die.” I mutter quietly, shaking my head. Dizziness washes all thoughts away like an ocean tide on sand. There’s barely any noise for a few seconds. The world tilts. Strong, warm arms wrap carefully around me, stopping me from falling. 

“You need rest. And a healer. I’ll work the details out. Come up with something. But you? Sit.” Liam tries to order, but there’s a warmth and softness that doesn’t quite carry the demand. A small smile forms despite the pain. He sets me down slowly, carefully, onto his bed. A hiss escapes as he does so. Everything burns. 

Maybe next time we don’t fly in storms for people who don’t see your worth. Vito snaps, making my eyes widen. He very rarily ever snaps. Something must have happened. A thin layer of sweat forms like a second skin. My hair clings to my face, and the dizziness only grows sharper. Liam’s concerned eyes draw my gaze and holds it. Because he looks like he'd do anything to prevent this from happening. To take my pain away. His hand rises, smoothing hair from my face. 

“I don’t know what you were doing out there. You don’t have to tell me. But I need to know that if I take you to Nolan, it won’t get you in killed.” His sky-blue eyes search mine. His hand keeps running soothingly over my hair. Exhaustion slams so suddenly and entirely that the pain almost dulls. 

“I won’t.” Because they’ll never find out. Plus, I can just blame it on Violet and Xaden if I really need to. The thought has Vito chuckling. “So you want me to take you to him?” Liam whispers, his eyes tracing the burnt, raw, blistered skin and lightning traces. Nodding slowly, tears fill my eyes. Because it really does hurt. It stings to breathe, to move, and I’m so tired. 

“Please.” As soon as the word leaves my lips, he leans forward and scoops my disheveled body into his arms. He mutters something but the pain and warmth darken all sight. Exhaustion and darkness creep forward, whispering sweet relief. There’s a soft, warm pressure to my forehead. A kiss. Liam’s kiss. Possibly a promise from him? I don’t know. His arms feel safe, and his warmth is coaxing. Exhaustion wins the war and all but his warmth fades.