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It’s the wards,” Tairn says. “They didn’t feel like this at Montserrat,” I tell him. “They’re stronger here, and since your signet has manifested, you’re more sensitive to them now.” His tone is tight, and when I glance back over my shoulder, I note that all the soldiers give him a wide berth, taking a path off to the side of the field. “You don’t have to watch my back,” I say, reaching the top of the ramp. “This is an outpost. I’m safe here.” “There’s a drift on the other side of the mountains, a mile beyond the border. Sgaeyl just told me. You’re not safe until you’re behind the walls or with the wingleader.” I don’t bother reminding him that Xaden isn’t a wingleader anymore as my stomach jumps into my throat. “A friendly drift?” “Define friendly.
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