Page 431

"Do you think they are?"

"I don't know."

I smile faintly. "Nyra would be proud."

"Disturbing." He returns to the harness.

I watch him. "What if Elarion can't handle it?"

"Then we send more."

"Who."

"Adults first. Professors. Soldiers. Riders."

"And then?" His jaw shifts. There. He knows. "Third-years?" I ask. Silence. "Fourth?"

Rhyven pulls the strap once. Hard. Checks it. "Possibly."

"Chiefs?"

"Possibly." I don't like that word anymore.

"Would you go?"

Rhyven looks at me. "If ordered."

I stare. "That's not what I asked."

"I know." Silence. He holds my gaze. No sarcasm. No deflection. But no answer either. Months ago, I would've pushed. Asked again. Annoyed him until he gave me something. Tonight, I don't. Because I think I understand. Would he go if ordered? Yes. Would he choose to? That depends on which responsibility he listens to. The kingdom asking for help. Or the one he would leave behind. Maybe he doesn't know either.

I walk toward the table. Run one finger along the edge of the saddle. "How long until the support team arrives?"

"Two hours."

"Then what."

"Reports."

"Again." I say

"Again." He repeats

"You must love reports."

"I dream about them."

I smile. "Sexy." Rhyven looks up slowly. Oops. Maybe not the word I intended. His eyebrow rises. I decide confidence is survival. "Nothing."

"You're bad at that."

"I know." He goes back to work. Good. Mostly.

I look toward the open equipment shelves. Everything organized. Harnesses. Medical straps. Emergency flight packs. Containment kits. More than there used to be. War preparation disguised as inventory. "Rhyven."

"What."

"Do you think Varethia is still the target?"