Being back in Aretia brought back painful memories of your childhood. The place had been rebuilt exactly as before, untouched by the flames. Your room was the same, except now the balcony overlooked dragons flying and cadets walking below.

It was your second year in Basgiath, and your squad had just saved Violet from Varrish, revealing the truth about the revolution. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known; Xaden had always been honest about the real reason your father sacrificed everything.

Venins and wyverns were an imminent threat, one that needed to be contained before nothing but darkness remained. Yet there you stood, holding an old handwritten letter from your father that your brother had kept for years.

“He said it had to be given to you at the right time and I think it’s now,” Xaden said before leaving through the door.

You remembered his last look, his touch, his kiss on your forehead. You could never hate your father. And how could you? Everyone who had seen Fen Riorson, upon meeting you, always said: "You look exactly like him."

You opened the letter hesitantly, your chest tightening as you read:

"My dearest girl, I fear I will not live to see you become the woman I know you will one day be. And by the gods, you have so much potential. You’ll understand my reasons, everything I did was for you and your brother. I love you with all my heart, and despite the cowardice on this continent, I know in both of you lies the greatest courage. The day will come when Xaden will be Tyrrendor’s duke and one of the best in the world. But you, my daughter, will be the greatest rider this world has ever seen and will represent everything I fought for. You are the best part of me. Don’t forget, while you are fighting, that I am proud of who you are. I love you, my little Riorson."

Tears streamed down her face, but you wiped them away as soon as you heard the door creak on the floor. You turned, finding the pair of hazel eyes searching for you through the curtains that swayed behind you.

He would have known about your sadness anyway because he could read your soul. Garrick could identify every look on your face without even trying. He entered the room, walked over to you, and recognized the paper in your hand, already knowing what it was about.

Perhaps your father was right, perhaps too right to have written all those words with complete certainty. You were a rider with one of the three most powerful signets on the entire continent, quickly becoming feared by others.

"What do I do now?" Your voice came out low, choked.

Garrick climbed the short steps to the balcony quickly, in an instant close enough for you to feel his scent invade your senses.

"What you do best." His response was intuitive, and the words that followed carried conviction. "Lead us."

This wasn't a squad, nor a wing. It was a rebellion. A revolution against all of Navarre.

"What about Brennan? Xaden? Violet?" Your confusion was evident in your furrowed brow, in the way you ran your fingers through your hair.

They all seemed much better at this than you. More capable and talented. He leaned closer, holding your hand as if keeping your nervous system in place. Then he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb in a unique way that loosened the tightness in your chest.

"You read what he said." Tavis stated as if Fen Riorson's words should not be questioned. "No one can do this better than you."

"How...?" That was the word that echoed in your mind.

"Xaden was born to be a duke. Violet? More like a general. Brennan has that tedious diplomat talk. But you're the one we'll answer to. The one who will guide us and tell us what to do when we don't know." Your breathing calmed at his statement, then you looked at their clasped hands as if that were enough to bring you peace.

"And what about you?" Your curious whisper was followed by his silence, forcing her to lift your head to make intense eye contact.

"I will be the one who keeps an eye on you. Who keeps our leader protected. " The touch grew stronger, reciprocity conveyed through physical warmth.