WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 6
Imogen and I walk along the Iakobos River, our steps near silent as we snake our way through the reedy grass to the cluster of large oaks at the bank.
We stop at the roots of one of the larger trees and Imogen pulls off her hood to give me a long look.
She leans in towards me, voice quiet. âCan you please stop giving me the silent treatment?â
When I don't respond, she turns her head to look me in the eyes, âXaden, seriously. You werenât there, she was talking about my parents being murdered. Am I supposed to just let trash like her get away with that? Itâs disââ I lift my hand to silence her. âDonât finish that sentence, Imogen.â I ground out, my anger rising at the insult.
Hurt and confusion flash across her face and I feel a twinge of guilt. She doesnât know that with every look, every confrontation, every day that goes by where Violet is in my presence, my self control slips a little more.
âThe rest are close.â Sgaeyl says from her position in the sky.Â
My eyes lift, âWe can discuss this in front of everyone. Itâs a message for all of you.â
The two of us turn towards the line of trees as the rest of the group converge beneath the giant oak.
My shadows are comfortable here, they feel cool against my skin. As they unravel, my senses extend along every tendril. I can hear every small nocturne creature and subtle wind.
I can also hear the soft, quick breathing above me. What Violet Sorrengail is doing out here, is a question Iâd love to know the answer to. But it can wait. This moment feels like another opportunity to push her and see which way she falls.
There are small introductions between everyone, most of them are known, but some of the first-years are from smaller families who havenât been properly acquainted with everyone.
Thereâs a palpable anxiety coursing through the younger cadets. I get it, but itâs time to push it to the side, step up, and do their jobs. We protect each other. Panic isn't an option.Â
Garrick is angsty about the losses this week. We all are. Our numbers are small enough as is.Â
Garrick addresses the group, his eyes hard, âWeâve already lost Sutherland and Luperco, thatâs just how it is your first year, but we canât afford to lose a single one of us. Division amongst ourselves will be your greatest weakness.â
Thereâs soft rustling in the branches above as Violet moves from branch to branch.
Imogen turns to the first years, âLike it or not, weâre going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation.â
âAnd if they find out weâre meeting?â One of the younger girls, Gwyn, asks the group.
The fear is clear on all of their faces. Theyâve all been scared for too long. But thatâs what weâre here to change.
I need to inspire courage, but also remind them that weâre confident in the system weâve created.
And remind them who theyâll be answering to if things get out of hand.
I cross my arms and lean against the tree, keenly aware of Violet, now directly above me.
âWeâve done this for two years and theyâve never found out.â My eyes scan the group, âtheyâre not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell,â I say, raising a brow, âIâll know. Like Garrick said, weâve already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we donât want to lose any of you, but we will if you donât 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.â
Thereâs no use in feeding them bullshit if their lives are on the line.
âHow many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?â
Four first-years raise their hands.
Four.
âShit.â I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not good. After the bargain was made a few of us older kids made sure there were systems in place. Training regimens were created. Academic Curriculums, and tests that mimicked what theyâll face upon entering the quadrant. Tools to ensure every serpartistâs kid was well equipped before they put a single toe on the parapet.
The headache is back.
Garrick, always a step ahead, says, âIâll teach them.â
After the amount of training, and natural skill heâs had, Garrickâs fighting is instinctual. Good for winning fights, not great for trying to teach someone.
I look at Garrick and shake my head, âYouâre our best fighterââÂ
Iâm interrupted by Bodhi, â Youâre our best fighter.â
âDirtiest fighter, maybe,â Imogen corrects him with a laugh.
Thereâs some laughter, and even a couple smiles from the younger ones.
âFucking ruthless is more like it,â Garrick says, grinning at me.
I keep my mouth shut and let everyone get it out of their system before moving on.
âGarrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and sheâs a hell of a lot more patient,â If the two of them want to be mouthy then they can do it together. âSo the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three wonât draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?â
One of the first years, Kieran begins speaking before anyone else, his voice full of anguish,âI canât do this.â My stomach lurches.
I canât deal with this right now
âWhat do you mean?â I ask, my voice going cold.
âI canât do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it. A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!â
The boy's voice is growing more frantic, and every word out of his mouth is filling me with guilt.
âI want to go home!â Kieran continues, âCan you help me with that ?â
Everyone turns to look at me.
I did this to them.
Bile rises to the back of my throat.
No, this was the only way I could save every person in front of me right now.
I didnât have a choice.
And neither does he.
I swallow, frustration bubbling up to the surface.
We donât have time to comfort and coddle. Our goal is to survive. Everything else is an afterthought.
âNo,â I say, shrugging my shoulders, feigning indifference.âYouâre not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time.â
My words come out harsher than intended, but I mean them nonethelessÂ
The color drains from Kieranâs face, and his thin frame begins shaking as my words hit him.
Bodhi turns to look at me, incredulity written on his face. âThat was a little harsh, cousin.â
âWhat do you want me to say, Bodhi? I canât save everyone, especially not someone who isnât willing to work to save themselves.â I keep my voice calm, even as the guilt tries to press itself in on me.
âDamn, Xaden.â Garrick says, that same disbelief lacing his voice. âWay to give a pep talk.â
Did none of them hear me after the parapet? We are not special. We will face blood and horror, and the likely possibility of death. Giving me problems that I canât solve doesnât help anyone, it holds us all back. This is just a fact of our reality.Â
âIf they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know theyâre not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Letâs 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.â I turn to look at Kieran, âIn war, people die. Itâs not glorious like the bards sing about, either. Itâs snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. Thereâs nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur.âÂ
I point to the citadel off in the distance, âThis isnât some fable where everyone makes it out alive. Itâs hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it homeâŠto whateverâs left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.â I lean closer to him, and the other first-years in front of me. They need to drill this into their fucking skulls, âSo if you wonât get your shit together and fight to live, then no. Youâre not going to make it.â
I assess each of them, making sure theyâve heard me loud and clear.
Good. Time to move on.
âNow, someone give me a problem I can actually solve,â I say, this time addressing the whole group.
Aria, one of the first years, speaks up, âBattle Brief.âÂ
That, I can handle.
She continues, âItâs not that I canât keep up, but the informationâŠâ
Imogen steps in to soften the obvious conflict in Ariaâs voice. She leans in, voice gentle âThatâs a tough one.â
Some of my irritation with her softens. Imogenâs fearless, and has a nasty temper, but sheâs always been a buffer between me and everyone else.
And sheâs right, Itâs hard to know what we know, and still placate the professors.
Iâd speak a bit more freely if I didnât have a certain someone perched on the branch above me. I'm already sticking my neck out by letting her stay.Â
âYou learn what they teach you.â I say giving her a pointed look. âKeep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to.â There are several nods, and I feel satisfied that everyone understands whatâs at stake if they fuck up.
âAnyone else?â I say, looking up at the moon. Itâs shifted considerably since we got here, which means weâre cutting it close. âYouâd better ask now. We donât have all night.â
Thereâs a heartbeat of silence before someone in the back says, âWhen do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail?â
My whole body tenses, my heartrate climbing, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from snapping. In the span of a few seconds Iâve become completely possessed. Just a handful of days around her and Iâm already losing my mind at the thought of anyone touching her. Sheâs mine .Â
âYeah, Xaden, When do we get to finally have our revenge?â Imogen says, her voice turning mockingly sweet.Â
I am now acutely aware of every fast breath coming from Violet.Â
I throw a threatening look at Imogen, âI told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and Iâll handle her when the time is right.âÂ
I donât think I even know what that means right now. There are a lot of ways Iâd like to handleâÂ
No.
Thatâs not even a thought worth entertaining.
Bodhi decides to be Bodhi and stir the pot, âDidnât you already learn that lesson, Imogen? What I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat.â
âHer mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder.â Imogen argues, her cheeks flushing in anger.
âHer mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents. Not her daughter.â Garrick looks Imogen in the eyes, âPunishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not Tyrrish.â
This is getting exhausting.
âSo we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a collegeââ
âIn case you didnât notice, sheâs in this same death sentence of a college. Seems like sheâs already suffering the same fate.â Garrick says, shutting down Imogenâs argument.
Apparently everyone here needs a reminder of who Violet is in all of this.
âDonât forget her brother was Brennan Sorrengail. She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.â I say to Imogen before turning to the first-year, âAnd Iâm not going to tell you again. Sheâs mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?â
No one speaks.
The moon has shifted even closer to the horizon. Time to get these walking headaches out of here and deal with the one above me.âGood. Then get back to bed. And go in threes.â Â
The group clears out and I walk towards the citadel, slowly cloaking myself in shadows until Iâm invisible in the dark. I canât help but smirk as I backtrack to the oak tree and slip behind where Violet is currently positioned.
Sheâs patient. It takes her a good ten minutes before she finally climbs down from her perch and drops to the ground.Â
Still cloaked in shadows, I lunge, pulling her tight against my chest. Every place where our bodies connect is buzzing like a live wire, and I resist the impulse to drop her.Â
Itâs overwhelming, intoxicating, and dammit if I donât love every second.
âScream and you die,â I whisper in her ear. I donât want to let go of her, but I force myself to remove my arm from around her neck.
Before she can even think about retaliating, Iâve replaced my arm with the edge of a dagger. âFucking Sorrengail.â I snap, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.
Fuck.Â
I canât help the way my cheeks heat as she leans her head back to look me in the eyes.
I push my chest against her, forcing her eyes forward before she gets a chance to read the undeniable need on my face.
âHow did you know?â She says, her lip curling. For someone whoâs convinced Iâm going to kill her, she has some bite. âLet me guess,â she continues, âYou could smell my perfume. Isnât that what always gives the heroine away in books?â
Perfume? Â
I bend my head toward hers, my lips brushing against her ear.
Sheâs irritating as hell. And yet here I am, excited that I have her all to myself.
âI command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.â I say sarcastically, my voice barely above a whisper.
A thrill goes up my spine as she gasps. âYour signet is a shadow wielder?â
My lips are still at her ear , âWhat, Aetos hasnât warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?â
My voice sounds rough, even to me, and I resist the urge to put my mouth on her, to bite her ear, kiss her neck. Iâm in a fog, consumed by being near her.
My grip loosens a fraction as my concentration slips, and she spins towards me, dagger raised, âIs this how you plan to handle me?â
âEavesdropping are we?â I ask, brow lifting.Â
Seeing her like this, like she was before the parapet, angry and wild, is doing something to me, and I canât get enough.
I sheath my dagger. âNow I might actually have to kill you.â The cold look in my eyes is in stark contrast to the way my mind is pleading with her.
Please, donât say anything.Â
Because for all my bravado, I donât know if I have it in me to kill her. Iâm worried about what it might do to me.Â
It would wreck me.
She backs away, reaching into her cloak to pull out another dagger.Â
Despite her uneven footing and awkward defensive stance, Violet with her daggers out, ready for a fight isâŠ
Fuck, Itâs hot.
âThat stance is really the best you can muster? No wonder Imogen nearly ripped your arm off.â I say, heaving a sigh. I donât have it in me to kill her but there are several people who do, and will succeed with her defensive position soâŠlacking.
âIâm more dangerous than I look,â she says, but her cheeks are flushed and her ears have turned pink at the tips, contradicting the anger in her voice.
Sheâs being cute, and I canât help but smirk. I like playing with her, âSo I see. Iâm quaking in my boots.â
Quicker than I wouldâve expected she flings both daggers towards me.
And completely misses.
I look at her dully, if not a little disappointed, âYou missed.â
âDid I?â She says, reaching for the two other daggers she has tucked into her cloak, âWhy donât you back up a couple steps and test that theory?â
What?
I smooth my face into a mask of irritated boredom, but from the way sheâs looking at me, I know she saw the question in my eyes.
My shadows swirl around her ankles, pulling to touch her. I yank them back, hard, smothering my own desire.
My eyes donât leave Violetâs as I take three steps back until my back hits the tree.
Where the hilt of each dagger sits perfectly between both sides of my head.
Oh.
Good girl, Violet.
âTell me again that I missed.â She threatens, flipping the dagger in her hand to hold it by the tip.
I still canât take my eyes off of her.Â
I smile, âFascinating, you look all frail and breakable, but youâre really a violent little thing, arenât you?â
I will my shadows into something more concrete, forming them into hands, the slender fingers moving to pluck the daggers from the bark, and drop them into both of my palms.
Iâm still smiling at her like a fool. I think Iâm going into shock.
My body has completely abandoned my mind, and before I realize what Iâm doing, Iâm moving towards her, steps slow, âYou should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe.â
Violet blinks in surprise, âWhat?â
She clocks how close we are to each other and raises her dagger.
Iâve done my job a little too well if she thinks my only motivation is to kill her. âThe neck-snapping first year whoâs very publicly vowed to slaughter you.â I tease, lifting an eyebrow.Â
One more step and the tip of her blade is pressed against my middle. Iâm still smirking as I reach under her cloak and sheath one of the daggers.Â
I lift the other side of her cloak, and the smirk slips off of my face, every ounce of playful banter gone.
Underneath her cloak, her hair is twisted into a loose braid that falls over one shoulder and down past her breast. The silver strands, now exposed to the moonlight, glint as she shifts her head to look up at me.
I can barely breathe for wanting her so badly.
I want to wrap that braid around my wrist and yank her towards me.
For a single heartbeat Iâm dumbstruck before I pull myself together and sheath her other dagger. âHeâd probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head.â
Violetâs face looks half irritated, half confused, âBecause the honor of my murder belongs to you?â My words from earlier play through my head. Mine . âYou wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine youâve all but buried me in your mind by now.â
I look at the dagger pressed between us. She looks closer to burying me than the other way around.Â
A small shiver of fear courses through me. Iâve made a dangerous gamble in letting her hear all that was said tonight. âDo you plan on telling anyone about my little club ?âÂ
âNo,â She says bluntly.
I can feel my eyebrows knit together. The answer I was hoping for, but not necessarily the one I was expecting. âWhy not?â I ask. My head tilts to the side as I examine this girl in front of me, so different than I had assumed. âItâs illegal for the children of separatists officers to assemble inââ
âGroups larger than three,â Smart little thing.
She continues, âIâm well aware. Iâve lived at Basgiath longer than you.â Arrogant little thing too.
âAnd youâre not going to run off to Mommy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them weâve been assembling? â I canât help the contempt that drips off my tongue at the thought of Dain. Of his hands on her face, searching through her memories.
âYou were helping them. I donât see why that should be punished.âÂ
I give her an assessing glare.
She looks thoughtful, her mind turned inward for a beat before her eyes refocus on mine, âIâm not going to tell.â
I canât get my hopes up, but theyâre soaring anyways.
Her defenses are slipping away, rotating back to a familiar look of fear.
I donât want her to be scared of me.
She needs to be scared of me. She should want nothing to do with me.Â
If I can just manage enough self restraint to put some distance between the two of us.
âInteresting. Weâll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor.â I say, my thoughts of staying away are already completely abandoned.
I turn to go and she calls after me, âYouâre not going to handle me?â
âNot tonight!â I yell over my shoulder, a smirk on my face.
She makes an indignant sound, âWhat are you waiting for?â
Gods I canât help but play with her, âItâs no fun if you expect it. Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes youâre out after curfew.â
âWhat?â She almost shrieks, voice full of confusion.
 I start to pull my shadows around me, cloaking me from view, but not before I hear her shout, â Youâre my wingleader!â
Yes the hell I am.Â
In the shadows my smirk has bloomed into a fierce grin.
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