In the best interest of preserving peace within Navarre, no more than three cadets carrying rebellion relics may be assigned to any squad of any quadrant.

—Addendum 5.2, Basgiath War College Code of Conduct

In addition to last year's changes, marked ones assembling in groups of three or more will now be considered an act of seditious conspiracy and is hereby a capital offense.

—Addendum 5.3, Basgiath War College Code of Conduct

"Damn it," I muttered as my toe caught a rock, and I stumbled in the waist-high grass that grew alongside the river beneath the citadel. A part of me was glad Violet wasn't here. It would have been so much harder if I had to worry about her too.

Normally, I would have dragged her out with me, especially since the only reason I was here was for her, but her arm was still healing and she was exhausted after training today.

The moon was nice and full, illuminating my way, but it meant I was sweating to death in this cloak to keep hidden, just in case anyone else was out here wandering after curfew. The Iakobos River rushed with summer runoff from the peaks above, and the currents were fast and deadly this time of year, especially coming out of the steep drop of the ravine.

No wonder that first year died when he fell in yesterday during our downtime. Since parapet, our squad was the only one in the quadrant not to lose anyone, but I knew that was unlikely to last much longer in this ruthless school.

Tightening my heavy satchel over my sling, I moved closer to the river, along the ancient line of oaks where I knew one vine of fonilee berries would be coming into season soon. Ripe, the purple berries were tart and barely edible but, picked prematurely and left to dry, would make an excellent weapon in the growing arsenal that nine nights of sneaking out had given me and Violet. This was exactly the reason I brought her Book of Poisons with me.

Challenges started next week, and she needed every possible advantage.

She wasn't weak. On a good day, she could almost hold her own in a fight against me, but her body was brittle and she shouldn't be punished for something an illness stole from her.

Spotting the boulder the two of us had used as a landmark for the past five years, I counted the trees on the riverbank.

"One, two, three," I whispered, spotting the exact oak I needed. Its branches spread wide and high, some even daring to reach out over the river.

Lucky for me, the lowest was easily climbable, even more so with the grass oddly trampled underneath. I began to climb by moonlight and memory.

The fonilee vine looked deceptively like ivy as it winded up the trunk, but I had scaled this particular tree enough times to know this was the one. I had just never had to climb the damn thing in a cloak before. It was a pain in my ass. The fabric caught on almost every branch as I moved upward, slowly and steadily, climbing past the wide branch where I used to spend hours painting while Violet read.

"Shit!" My foot slipped on the bark and my heart stuttered for a heartbeat while my feet found better holds. This would have been so much easier during the day, but I couldn't risk being caught.

Bark scraped my palms as I climbed higher. The tips of the vine leaves were white at this height, barely visible in the mottled moonlight through the canopy, but I grinned as I found exactly what I'd been searching for.

"There you are."

The purple berries were a gorgeous, unripe lavender. Perfect. Digging my fingernails into the branch above me, I managed to keep from wobbling long enough to retrieve an empty vial in my satchel and uncork it with my teeth. Then I plucked just enough berries off the vine to fill the glass and shove the stopper back in. Between these, the mushrooms I had already hunted tonight, and the other items we'd collected, Violet should be able to make it through the next month of challenges.

I was almost down the tree, only a handful of branches to go, when I spotted movement beneath me and paused. Hopefully, it was just a deer.

But it was not. For when have things ever gone my way?

Two figures in black cloaks walked under the protection of the tree.

The smaller one leaned back against the lowest limb, removing her hood to reveal a half-shaved head of pink hair I knew all too well. Imogen.

My stomach tightened, then knotted as the second rider slipped off his own hood. Xaden Riorson.

Oh shit.

There were maybe fifteen feet between us and nothing - and no one - out here to stop him from killing me.

Going during the day would have definitely been the better option.

Fear clenched my throat and held tight as I white-knuckled the branches around me, debating the merits of holding my breath so he couldn't hear me versus falling out of the tree if I fainted from lack of oxygen.

They began speaking, but I couldn't hear what they were saying, not with the river rushing by. Relief filled my lungs. If I couldn't hear them, they couldn't hear me, either, as long as I sat tight. But all it would take is for him to look up, and I would be toast, literally if he decided to feed me to that Blue Daggertail of his.

The moonlight I was thankful for a few minutes ago had now become my biggest liability. The irony was not lost on me.

Slowly, carefully, quietly, I moved out of the patchy moonlight to the next branch over, cloaking myself in shadow.

What was he doing out here with Imogen? And hours after curfew? Were they lovers?

Xaden turned away from the river, as though he was looking for someone and sure enough, more riders arrived, gathering under the tree. They were all dressed in black cloaks and they shook hands.

And they all had rebellion relics.

My eyes widened as I counted. There were almost two dozen of them, a few third-years and a couple of seconds, but the rest were all firsts.

I knew the rules. Marked ones couldn't gather in groups larger than three. They were committing a capital offense simply by being together.

It was obviously a meeting of some sort, and I felt like a cat clinging to the leaf-tipped limbs of this tree while the wolves circled below.

Their gathering could be completely harmless, right?

Maybe they were homesick, like when the cadets from the Morraine province all spent a Saturday at the nearby lake just because it reminded them of the ocean they miss so much. Or maybe marked ones were plotting to burn Basgiath to the ground and finish what their parents started.

I could sit up here and ignore them, but my complacency - my fear - could get people killed if they're down there scheming.

I needed to report this. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nausea churned in my stomach. I had to get closer. Keeping myself on the opposite side of the trunk and sticking to the shadows that wrapped around me, I climbed down another branch with sloth-like speed, holding my breath as I tested each branch with a fraction of my weight before lowering myself.

Their voices were still muffled by the river, but I could hear the loudest of them, a tall, dark-haired man with pale skin, whose shoulders took up twice the space of any first year, standing opposite Xaden's position and wearing the rank of a third year.

"We've already lost Sutherland and Luperco," he said, but I couldn't make out the response.

It took two more rungs of branches before their words were clear. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my ribs. I was close enough for any one of them to see if they looked hard enough - well, everyone except Xaden, since his back was turned toward me.

"Like it or not, we're going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation," Imogen said.

"And if they find out we're meeting?" a first-year girl with an olive complexion asked, her eyes darting around the circle.

"We've done this for two years and they've never found out," Xaden responded, folding his arms and leaning back against the limb below my right. Two years? What the hell were they doing? "They're not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell, I'll know." The threat is obvious in his tone. "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."

There was a muttered assent, and my breath hitched at the intensity in his voice. Damn it, I didn't want to find a single thing about Xaden Riorson admirable, and yet here he was, being all annoyingly admirable.

Prick.

"How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?" Xaden asked.

Four hands shot into the air, none of which belonged to the blond-haired first-year standing with his arms crossed, a head taller than most others. Liam Mairi. He was in Second Squad, Tail Section of our wing, and already the top cadet in our year. Other than me of course. He practically ran across the parapet - something even I didn't dare do - and destroyed every opponent on assessment day.

Violet swore he was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. I could admit that he was attractive but I just didn't see it. I said as much and she whacked me over with my own pillow and told me to fix my eyes.

"Shit," Xaden swore, and I would have given anything to see his expression as he lifted a hand to his face.

The big one - Garrick - sighed. "I'll teach them."

I recognized him now. He was the Flame Section leader in Fourth Wing. My direct superior above Dain. How deep was this thing going?

Xaden shook his head. "You're our best fighter-"

"You're our best fighter," a second-year near Xaden countered with a quick grin. He's handsome, with tawny brown skin crowned by a cloud of black curls and a litany of patches on what I could see of his uniform under his cloak. He looked quite like Xaden, as though they were cousins. Fen Riorson had a sister, if I remembered correctly. It had been years since I read the records, but I think his name started with a J.

"Dirtiest fighter, maybe," Imogen snarked. Most everyone laughed, and even the first-years cracked a smile.

"Fucking ruthless is more like it," Garrick added.

There was a general consensus of nods, including one from Liam Mairi. Great. Xaden was an amazing fighter and he was definitely going to try and fight me.

"Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she's a hell of a lot more patient," Xaden noted. The last bit was most definitely a lie. Imogen didn't seem too patient when she broke Violet's arm or my nose. "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 gangly first-year said, rolling his shoulders inward and lifting his slim fingers to his face.

"What do you mean?" Xaden asks, his voice taking on a hard edge.

"I can't do this!" The smaller one shook his head. "The death. The fighting. Any of it!" The pitch of his voice rose with every statement. "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?" Every head swung toward Xaden.

"No." Xaden shrugged. "You're not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time."

The smaller guy looked stricken, and I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him.

"That was a little harsh, cousin," the second-year who looked a little like Xaden said, lifting his eyebrows.

"What do you want me to say, Bodhi?" Xaden cocked his head to the side, his voice calm and even. I guess his name didn't start with a J. "I can't save everyone, especially not someone who isn't willing to work to save themselves."

"Damn, Xaden." Garrick rubbed the bridge of his nose. "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. Let's get real. I can hold their hands and make them 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 turned his head, and I could only assume he was looking at the panicked first-year. "In war, people die. It's not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It's snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There's nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur. This-" he gestured back toward the citadel, "-isn't some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It's hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home... to whatever's left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant." He leaned forward slightly. "So if you won't get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You're not going to make it."

Only crickets dared to break the silence.

"Now, someone give me a problem I can actually solve," Xaden ordered.

"Battle Brief," a first-year I recognized says softly. Her bunk was only a row away from Rhiannon's and mine. I leaned forward, shifting my weight slightly. I could still use whatever advice he gives. "It's not that I can't keep up, but the information..." She shrugged and trailed off.

"That's a tough one," Imogen responded, turning to look at Xaden.

"You learn what they teach you," Xaden said to the first year, his voice taking a hard edge. "Keep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to."

My brow furrowed. What the hell did he mean by that? Battle Brief was one of the classes taught by scribes to keep the quadrant up-to-date on all nonclassified troop movements and battle lines. The only things we were asked to recite were recent events and general knowledge of what was going on near the front lines.

"Anyone else?" Xaden asked. "You'd better ask now. We don't have all night."

It hit me then - other than being gathered in a group of more than three - there was nothing wrong with what they were doing here. There was no plot, no coup, no danger. It was just a group of older riders counseling first-years from their province. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone, even Dain. If he knew he'd be honor-bound to report it.

"When do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail and Isla Melgren?" a guy toward the back asked.

My blood turned to ice.

The murmur of assent among the group sent a jolt of terror down my spine.

Maybe they weren't entirely innocent. If all of them tried to kill us, Violet and I wouldn't stand a chance. But if I caught a few on their way back to the dorms-

Nevermind. I'd be just as bad as them.

"Yeah, Xaden," Imogen said sweetly, lifting her pale green eyes to him. "When do we get to finally have our revenge?"

He turned just enough for me to see his profile and the scar that crossed his face as he narrowed his eyes at Imogen. "I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail and the Melgren are mine, and I'll handle them when the time is right."

"Didn't you already learn that lesson, Imogen?" the look-alike Xaden chided from halfway down the circle. "What I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat. Not to mention what Melgren did to your arm and leg."

Imogen's head snapped in his direction. "Her mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder. And don't even mention Melgren."

Imogen's mother and sister also caused the deaths of seventeen Riders and dragons. But at least I could differentiate between her family and her.

"Their parents are responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents," Garrick countered, before agreeing with my sentiment, folding his arms over his wide chest. "Not them. Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyrrish."

I couldn't exactly disagree with the last part of his statement.

"So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college-" Imogen started.

"In case you didn't notice, they're in the same death sentence of a college," Garrick retorted. "Seems like they're already suffering the same fate."

"Don't forget they knew Brennan Sorrengail," Xaden added. "They have just as much reason to hate us as we do them." He pointedly looked at Imogen and the first-year who raised the question. "And I'm not going to tell you again. They're mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?"

Silence reigned.

"Good. Then get back to bed and go in threes." He motioned with his head, and they slowly dispersed, walking away in groups of threes just like he ordered.

Xaden was the last to leave. I drew a slow breath. Holy shit, I just might live through this. But I had to be sure they were gone. I didn't move a muscle, even when my thighs cramped and my fingers locked as I counted to five hundred in my head, breathing as evenly as possible to soften the beats of my galloping heart.

Only when I was sure I was alone, when the squirrels scurried past on the ground, I finished climbing from the tree, jumping the last four feet to the grassy floor.

A shadow lunged behind me and I opened my mouth to scream, but my air supply was cut off by an elbow around my neck as I was yanked against a hard chest. "Scream and you die," he whispered, and my stomach plummeted as the elbow was replaced by the sharp bite of a dagger at my throat.

I froze. I'd recognize the rough pitch of Xaden's voice anywhere.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I couldn't swing my head back into his without nicking myself - or worse - on his blade. I yanked his arms away and jerked my shoulder up, pulling the dagger away from my neck and getting out from under his arms.

He was faster than me, and yanked back the hood of my cloak, stealing one of the daggers from my armor. He pinned me against a tree, his entire body pressed against mine so I couldn't move. The daggers crossed against my throat.

"Fucking Melgren."

"How did you know?" My tone was outright indignant, but whatever. If he was going to kill me, I refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for my life.

"I command shadows, I'm sure you can connect the dots." He lowered the knife and stepped away.

I gasped. "Your signet is a shadow wielder?"

No wonder he had risen so high in rank. Shadow wielders were incredibly rare and highly coveted in battle, able to disorient entire drifts of gryphons, if not take them down, depending upon the signet's strength.

"What, Aetos hasn't warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?" His voice was like rough velvet along my skin, and I shivered, then drew my own blade from the sheath at my thigh and raised it as I spun toward him, ready to defend myself to death. And if I was being honest, it probably would end up being to death.

"Is this how you plan to handle me?"

"Eavesdropping, were we?" He arched a black brow and sheathed his dagger, like I couldn't possibly pose a threat to him, which just pissed me off even more. "Now I might actually have to kill you." There's an undertone of truth in those mocking eyes.

"Then go ahead and get it over with." I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I unsheathed another dagger, this one from beneath my cloak where it was strapped in at my ribs, and backed up a couple of feet to give me distance to throw them.

"That stance is really the best defense you can muster? No wonder Imogen broke your nose."

"If I remember correctly, I was the one who walked away from that encounter with fewer injuries."

"So I see. I'm quaking in my boots." The corner of his mouth rose into a mocking smirk.

Fucking. Prick.

I flipped the daggers in my hand, pinching them at the tips, then flicked my wrists and fired them past his head, one on each side. They landed solidly in the trunk of the tree behind him.

"You missed." He didn't even flinch. I wanted to see what it takes to rifle his calm demeanor.

"Did I?" I reached for my last two blades. "Why don't you back up a couple of steps and test that theory?"

Curiosity flared in his eyes, but it was gone in the next second, masked by cold, mocking indifference. Every one of my senses was on high alert, but the shadows around me didn't slide in as he moved backward, his eyes locked with mine. His back hit the tree, and the hilts of my daggers brushed his ears.

"Tell me again that I missed," I threatened, taking the dagger in my right hand by the tip.

"Fascinating. You're really a little ball of fire, aren't you?" An appreciative smile curved his perfect lips as shadows danced up the trunk of the oak, taking the form of fingers. They plucked the daggers from the tree and brought them to Xaden's waiting hands.

My breath abandoned me with a sharp exhale. He had the kind of power that could end me without him having to so much as lift a finger.

Switching my grip to the hilts of my daggers, I prepared for the attack.

"You should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe," Xaden said, turning his palms upward and offering me my daggers.

"I'm sorry?" This was a trick. It had to be a trick. He moved closer, and I lifted my blade. My heart stumbled, as my eyes caught his.

"The neck-snapping first-year who's very publicly vowed to slaughter you," Xaden clarified as my blade pressed against his cloak at the level of his abdomen. My breath quickened as he reached under my own cloak and slid one blade into the sheath at my thigh, then pulled back the side of my cloak and paused.

His gaze locked onto my loose hair - I didn't even realize it had come out of its pins - and I could swear he stopped breathing for a heartbeat before he slid the remaining dagger into one of the sheaths at my ribs.

"He'd probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head."

Why the hell is he trying to help me? "Because the honor of my murder belongs to you?" I challenged. "You wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine you've all but buried me in your mind by now."

He glanced at the dagger poised at his stomach. "Do you plan on telling anyone about my little club?"

His eyes met mine, and there was nothing but cold, calculating death waiting there.

"No," I answered truthfully, suppressing a shiver.

"Why not?" He tilted his head to the side, examining my face like I was an oddity. "It's illegal for the children of separatist officers to assemble in groups larger than three."

"I'm well aware of the rules."

"And you're not going to run off to Daddy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them we've been assembling?" His gaze narrowed on mine.

"You were helping them." I shrugged. "I don't see why that should be punished."

It wouldn't be fair to him or the others. Was their little meeting illegal? Absolutely. Should they die for it? Absolutely not. And that was exactly what would happen if I told. Those first-years would be executed for nothing more than asking for tutoring, and the senior cadets would join them just because they helped.

"I'm not going to tell."

He looked at me like he was trying to see through me, and ice prickled my scalp.

My hand was steady, but my nerves trembled. He could kill me right here, toss my body into the river, and no one would know I was gone until they found me downstream. But I wouldn't let him end me without drawing his blood first, that was for damn sure.

"Interesting," he said softly. "We'll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor." Then he stepped away, turned, and walked off, heading back toward the staircase in the cliff that le up to the citadel.

Wait. What? "You're not going to handle me?" I called after him, shock raising my brows.

"Not tonight!" he tossed over his shoulder.

I scoffed. "What are you waiting for?"

"It's no fun if you expect it," he answered, striding into the darkness. "Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you're out after curfew."

"What?" I gawked after him. "You're my wingleader!"

But he already disappeared into the shadows, leaving me talking to myself like a fool.

Great.