Aithne Melgren has been in the shadows too long. She has been forgotten, she has been ignored. But she goes for the Riders Quadrant in hopes to escape, to have freedom. To soar through the skies with her very own dragon.
But she has something speci...
There's a misconception that it's kill or get killed in the Rider's Quadrant. Riders as a whole aren't out to assassinate other cadets...unless there's a shortage of dragons that year or a cadet is a liability to their wing.
Then, things may get interesting.
–Major Afendra's Guide to the Rider's Quadrant (Unauthorized Edition)
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Violet makes it across the Parapet with only a tiny slip. Rhiannon is less than half of the way through. I stand in front of the rider tallying the names. "Name?"
"Aithne Melgren," I answer as thunder crackles over me. The sound almost bursts my eardrums. I've always hated stormy nights. It brought some feeling of gloominess, one which I could never handle–can not handle. With a quick glance, I see Dylan's and Rhiannon's names already blurring at the end where water has met ink.
"Melgren? As in General Melgren? First, it was a Sorrengail, now a Melgren, what a day!" The rider looks at me, and I roll my eyes at the mention of Violet. It's not that I hate her, no. She has always been my best friend and always will be. But it hurts to always be in someone's shadows all the time when you know that you are better than them.
"Yes, as in General Melgren." I realize that they will probably think that I'm just as much of a cruel person as my father is. But they're wrong. I'm worse. Way worse. At least in a better way.
I place my hands on either side of the turret.
Ahead of me, Rhiannon is making her way across, her arms out for balance. By now, she's crossed the halfway point.
"I thought that he only had a son?" My eyes fly open in surprise and I lift my chin up. Zarrin. I glare up at the rider. He shuts his mouth.
In through my nose, out through my mouth. I force my breathing to calm, and my heart rate to slow from its marathon. The mention of my missing brother shook me. I step up to the parapet and grip the wall. I steady myself as my body falls into muscle memory, reminding itself about the times I've done this exact thing.
"Name?" The prying rider asks the asshole of a man behind me. "Jack Barlowe. Remember that name. I'm going to be a wingleader one day." Even his voice reeks of arrogance.
"You'd better get going, Melgren." Xaden's deep voice orders.
Just in spite of that, I throw him a smile from over my shoulder and start walking extra slow. Xaden scowls, not afraid to show his hatred.
"Unless you need a little motivation?" Jack the asshole says, throwing his arms out. Well, shit. Now there's a target behind my back. Literally. "The only motivation I'll get is when you slip off this Parapet." I pine him with a glare.
