Squad by squad, we left the church. Elio and I made the rear of squad Tudor, and we both grimaced as we stepped outside. After spending hours indoors, the brightness of the afternoon sun was blinding. 

I blinked a couple of times, my vision clearing to reveal massive crowds lining the streets. It wasn't just citizens from the capital. People from all over the kingdom had come to see the newest generation of dragon riders, shouting out the names of their favorites. 

The most shouted name of all was Edmund Balthasar, the rich and handsome heir to the strongest House. In the wake he left behind, several girls clutched their chests, reeling from their brief brush with perfection.

I too had excited my own section of screaming girls. They dressed in beige dresses buttoned to their chins and aggressively rung tiny tin bells as I walked past. 

"Shame! For shame, Raven Black!" Ring, ring. "The gods will condemn what the courts have not!" Ring, ring. "Shame, for shame!" More ringing.

Elio switched our positions to walk in between the group and I. "So, you said you'd help me?"

"Now?"

"I've waited over a decade for a new lead. I'd rather not wait a minute longer."

So as we reached the pier, where a line of rowboats awaited to carry us to Skydescent's shores, I started at the beginning – the first time I met Sammy. 

The story lasted until Skydescent's castle came into view – first its silver towers rising above the treetops, followed by the rest of its vast, sprawling property. 

 I went over my early days of being a raider as we moved back into our old chamber with Gordo and Bianca, then as we headed to the bidding ceremony, I covered our most lucrative heists.

"Is any of this helpful?" I asked. 

Moonlight poured through the windows, casting shadows across Skydescent's long, empty halls as we passed the free standing armour of various knights and riders who had graduated from the castle. We were alone now, the rest of our squad having already entered the mess hall.

"Anything that seems like a small detail now can be just what I need in the future."

I paused, remembering I hadn't just kept a small detail from him. I had Sammy's journal hidden in the bottom of my travel bag. While I couldn't crack his code, Elio excelled at that kind of thing, but a nagging feeling hung in the back of my throat that I'd have to be a fool to give Sammy's most valuable asset to the person who hates him the most.

"What?" Elio said. "Do you remember something?"

I looked away. There would be other ways to clear Sammy's name without also risking his safety. "No. We better walk faster, or we'll miss the first matches."

"Raven —"

"We're going to be late."

We rounded the hall to come across the double-door entrance to the mess hall, and the two knights guarding it. Their friendly conversations broke off, immediately tightening their grips on their weapons. With their free hand, they opened the doors, refusing to say a single word as I stepped though. 

Bless their hearts. As cities rise and empires fall, the one thing I can always count on in this crazy world is the Sword Brethren's bone-deep hatred of me.

Inside the mess hall, a long line of pledges waited for their weapons, half listening to the knights' instructions to do no serious harm, half plotting out the destruction and decimation of their opponent. All the tables had been pushed to the walls to make room for the coming fights except for the four reserved for the squads.

Elio and I were the last two to sit at the Tudor table. The other grads and rookies had already taken their seats, and Cassian was in the middle of a speech – surprise, surprise. 

"You think your pledge year was hard? Try being a rookie or a grad. While the pledges train for Blood Fest, the upperclassmen face a different trial, a trial more dangerous and consequential than anything you have ever or will experience in your lifetime."

"Until the next trial," a rookie muttered under her breath.

"That's right," Cassian said, pausing briefly to smack the back of her head. "Sincaide's Exam – a battle simulation among the squads that ends once every opposing base is conquered and one squad prevails over all. Winning will take cunning, daring, teamwork, and most importantly, non-stop concentration and training for the year to come."

"What are the safety regulations imposed on Sincaide's Exam?" Bianca interrupted.

Cassian blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Bianca flushed. "I mean, there must be some regulations, if Skydescent categorizes Sincaide's Exam as a battle simulation instead of a small-scale military war."

"Bianca raises a good question." Cassian turned to the group at large. "Grads, can you tell us what the difference is between Sincaide's Exam and a war?"

There were only eight grads left, and they stared back at us with hardened, grim faces. Even after Blood Fest, us rookies looked like children in comparison. If I ever thought working under Drax's command had shown me everything the world had to offer, the grads had new stories yet. 

"Alright, I'll shoot," a young man said finally, breaking the silence. He looked us rookies flat in the eyes and said, "There's really only one I can think of. When you die in a war, your family gets a pension."

There was a loud bang, as the butt of a staff slammed into the ground. We turned to the front of the mess hall, where a knight was announcing the first match. Both pledges hailed from prominent families and had enough divine to actually fight with it. In the end, the winner received three bids from Steward, Windsor, and Tudor, and to the shock of the entire mess hall, he chose Tudor. 

For a moment, the Tudors sat in shocked silence. Then the whole table went crazy, bursting into wild cheers. Squad Tudor had not been selected after the first match in decades, and especially not when a pledge had more than one bid offer to pick from. 

I glanced at Cassian, wondering what dark witchcraft he had performed to trick the rookie into joining our squad, but to my surprise, he looked just as thrilled and surprised as the rest of us.

"My gods," a rookie said in utter disbelief. "Do people respect us? Are we respected?"

"Surely not," another replied. But the trend continued throughout the night. The best pledges still tended for Balthasar or Steward, but we still ended up with a cohort better than any previous year.

"Everyone say thank you, Gordo and Raven," Gordo said smugly, folding his arms over his head as he leaned back in his seat. 

Some Tudors looked amused, and several more looked varying shades of annoyed, but no one disagreed. After Edmund's dragon lost an eye, Gordo's dragon became the most powerful in our year, and mine was the most powerful in several generations. At least, that is what they think. 

When they watch me try to fly the wyvern or hear how long I plan to keep it, their joy will turn to ashes in their mouth.

Across the table, I glanced at Cassian, raising my brows. He knows I am a flight risk, and that the pledges are joining his squad under false pretenses. As if sensing my intentions, his smile instantly disappeared, and he sent me a withering glare, his eyes rounding big as moons. 

'PAR-LAY,' he mouthed.

'Aren't we screwing them over?' I mouthed back.

'You. Owe. Me. Your. Life.'

Blowing out a breath, I shut my mouth and turned back to the fights. "So," Bianca said, after a beat. "How was your summer? Any cute guys?"

"Oh my gods, what's that?" I said, pointing over Bianca's shoulder. 

I had just done it to distract her, but by sheer luck, something of interest did happen. A Balthasar stuck their leg out, sending a pledge that happened to be passing by sprawling to the floor. Then the Balthasar stalked over the fallen pledge and snatched an envelope from his hand, ignoring his pleas to be left alone – looks like the poor guy needs some help.

"Hey, pledge." I craned my head over my shoulder, not yet committed to turning the full way around. "Which bid do you accept?"

"Windsor's."

"Ah." I turned back to my own table. 

So did Bianca. Usually she was the first – and sometimes only – opposing voice to the Balthasars, but today her eyes stayed fixed on her hands, as if her freckles were the most exciting thing happening in the chamber.

"What do you keep looking at her for?" the Balthasar snickered. "With the parlay hanging over her head, the raider can't lift a hand to defend anyone, not even herself. Last year, we called her every name imaginable, and she stood there and ate it."

You know what? Bullying is wrong. 

I swung my foot backward, kicking the Balthasar' shin. I swung around just in time to see him double over, clutching his crotch – guess I hit a higher target than I intended – then his legs buckled, and he crashed to his knees. While he moaned, I set a hand on his shoulder, using it for balance to bow down until my mouth hovered next to his ear.

"Any more names you want to get out of your system?" I whispered. 

While the wyvern would not guarantee me limitless immunity, I knew the king or one of the House heads would intercede if the Sword Brethren tried to throw me out with petty excuses. Pale-faced, he shook his head. I slid the envelope from his grip, and the Windsor thanked me profusely.

My hand went slack, holding the envelope like it was a dead fish. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. 

My time under Drax's command must have really screwed me up, because I found myself disliking the one getting kicked more than the one doing the kicking. If you can't fight, then Skydescent is the last place you should be, I thought. It would have been kinder to let you learn that lesson now, before the blood moon rises and the stakes turn deadly.

"It's not mine," he said, when I tried to return the envelope again. "It's yours. I'm just the messenger."

"Oh, bet?" Gordo snatched the envelope from my hand. 

He held it to the ceiling, and the instant the chandelier illuminated its seal – a lime green F5 inscribed into a crested circle – Gordo's arm jerked back, dropping the envelope as if it had scaled him. 

It landed in the middle of the table, and a chorus of gasps went around the nearby Tudors, which caused more Tudors to stop their conversations and push closer, forming a tightly packed circle around the envelope, like a pack of birds squabbling over the last bread crumb. I started stepping forward to retrieve my envelope, but Cassian beat me to it.

"Hey!" he elbowed his way to the middle of the circle, snatching the envelope off the table. "This letter was not given to the squad, let's not gawk as if it belongs to us–" 

Cassian saw the seal and broke off mid word. Then, he too gawked at the envelope as if it belonged to him. 

"Fuck me," he breathed. "Fowler... Fowler has come out of retirement." 

*** next part posted next next Friday ***