Chapter 10
Theron
There Tess stood—small, fragile, and yet somehow unafraid. She looked up at Yrden with that irritating mix of awe and certainty, as if she hadn’t yet grasped the weight of what it meant to stand here, in this arena, with a dragon like him.
She shouldn’t have been so calm. Yrden wasn’t a creature to be taken lightly. But there she was, smiling up at him like they were old friends.
"This one is bold, Theron," Yrden’s voice resonated through my mind, deep and gravelly, like the rumbling of an avalanche. Despite the gruffness of his tone, there was a hint of interest—a spark of curiosity that rarely surfaced except in battle. "She doesn't cower. I like that."
I clenched my fists, hating the slight jolt of heat that spread through my chest at Yrden's observation. Get it together. “Don’t get attached,” I thought back testily, keeping my mental tone sharp. Yrden didn’t need to indulge her foolishness. "She has no idea what she’s doing."
"Perhaps not," Yrden replied, his molten amber eyes glinting as steam curled from his nostrils. "But ignorance is not the same as weakness. Strength comes in many forms, Theron. Even you were once untested."
He wasn’t wrong, but I hated hearing it. Tess’s stubbornness was one thing—I could chalk it up to youthful determination. But Yrden’s approval? No. That was rare, and it unnerved me.
Yrden let out a low rumble, his massive head dipping slightly in acknowledgment.
I felt the tension in my jaw tighten. Yrden wasn’t usually this friendly. He was a dragon of few affections, a beast who had seen more battle than most in his long lifespan. He wasn’t supposed to be making exceptions.
Not for her.
And neither was I.
Yet here I was, betraying myself all over again with a sharp, visceral pull I couldn’t quite shove down.
Tess.
My traitorous gaze locked on her, tracing every seemingly effortless movement—the subtle curve of her shoulders as she stood firm, the braid loosely keeping back that maddening cascade of wavy brown hair with its rebellious streaks of purple. All it would take was the faintest brush of wind to scatter it again.
I closed my eyes for half a second, hoping the fleeting image might burn itself away. But it didn’t. Nothing about her ever did.
Yrden’s molten presence felt like an inferno beside her, yet she stood there—still and unwavering. I exhaled sharply as I folded my arms, careful to keep my irritation tightly bound within my chest. But my magic betrayed me—intangible and unpredictable, it stirred faintly, reacting to her like it had found some kind of match. It felt like a tether I couldn’t sever, no matter how much I tried.
I fought the rising frustration at the thought. She’s human—idiotically fragile in our world. My instincts for protection, my need to guide, were just that. Instinct. Obligation at best. It’s not her fire—her maddening resilience. It’s certainly not…
No. I wasn’t going there.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice emerging rougher than I intended. My arms tightened across my chest, as if crossing them might shield me from my own turmoil. “You seem to think you can handle this, so let’s see it.”
Tess turned to me, her golden-brown eyes locking onto mine with a flash of challenge that stole the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Defiance glinted behind them, a stubborn promise that she refused to let me intimidate her.
Damn it. That look.
I felt my jaw tighten instinctively at her audacity. I should have been angry—furious that she continued to push past boundaries she didn’t fully understand. I was furious. And yet, buried within the searing pulse of that fury lived something far more primal.
Something dangerous.
Her steps were hesitant now, her shoes dragging slightly in the sand. But like hell if that would stop her. Tess squared her shoulders, exhaling deeply as she approached Yrden with her hand raised, her palm open in quiet offering. The curve of her fingers trembled—subtle, but there. And yet, despite the flicker of vulnerability, she carried herself with the calm resolve of someone determined to tame a storm.
Without thinking, my fingers flexed until they curled into fists, a traitorous rush of heat rippling through me. Whether it was anger or something darker, I couldn’t tell anymore. Yrden’s enormous snout dipped until it hovered just inches from her palm, his molten gaze narrowing in earnest curiosity.
The heat pouring off him was immense, dancing along my skin like a faint burn. Yet there she stood—fragile as glass but unwavering as steel. Steady. Defiant.
And driving me out of my damned mind.
"She feels fear," Yrden’s mental voice was softer now, with the faintest trace of satisfaction. "But she does not let it rule her. That is rare."
"Or reckless," I shot back at him silently. "You don’t know her like I do."
"Then perhaps you should do more than watch from your walls, Rider," Yrden countered, his tone tinged with disapproval. "You fear what she inspires in you. Admit it."
Damned dragon. He knew me too well, and worse, he wasn’t wrong. I hated that I couldn’t put distance between myself and whatever Tess was kindling inside me.
Yrden chose that moment to huff, releasing a cloud of steam from his nostrils, the sound a deep, rumbling chuckle. He was amused. Amused by this human who didn’t know any better.
I, however, wasn’t amused at all.
“Enough,” I barked, stepping forward. Tess flinched slightly at my tone but didn’t back down. “We’re not here for you to make friends with my dragon, Tess. You’re here to prove that you can handle this life. That you can survive.”
Her gaze snapped to me, narrowing ever so slightly. “I know why I’m here, Theron.”
“Do you?” I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes boring into hers. “Because so far, all I’ve seen is someone playing at being a Dragon Rider.”
Before Tess could respond, the air around us thickened, and I felt the unmistakable shift of power. Another shadow passed over the arena, and a rush of wind hit me square in the chest as the unmistakable shape of wings descended from the sky.
Thalon landed in a whirlwind of sand and heat, the force of his descent so great that Yrden’s earlier landing felt like a mere echo in comparison. His massive body shimmered with a surreal, liquid grace—his scales, obsidian shot through with veins of gold, rippled like molten metal. His amber eyes glowed as they locked onto Tess, and then, with infuriating ease, he lowered his head until he was level with her, his massive snout mere inches from her.
I clenched my fists. Of course he would do this—swoop in at exactly the right moment, as if he could sense the tension from miles away. And Tess... She didn’t even flinch. Instead, a faint smile tugged at her lips, her golden-brown eyes softening as she gazed at him.
She relaxed around him, the tension that had been building between us bleeding out of her like it was nothing.
The knot in my chest tightened.
Tess turned her head, her expression distant—that look a new rider got whenever they were communicating mentally with their dragon. Her lips moved ever so slightly, but her words were lost to me. She was talking to him, and I had no way of knowing what was being said. I knew that silence—that damnable silence where she went somewhere I could never follow. I felt it like a sharp pull inside my chest.
“Focus, Tess!” I snapped, my voice cutting through the air. Her eyes snapped back to me, startled, but there was something different in her gaze now—calmer, more assured. What the hell had Thalon told her?
Thalon let out a soft, low sound—a rumbling chuckle that made the sand beneath us tremble. He wasn’t just amused; he was mocking me. I knew it without needing to hear him speak. The damn dragon liked her too much, and worse, he clearly didn’t take me seriously.
Tess stood a little straighter, her back rigid, but her lips quirked up in a faint smile. She wasn’t just amused by my dragon anymore—she was taking strength from hers .
“This isn’t a game!” I snapped, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Tess blinked, pulling herself out of whatever conversation she’d been having with the beast, but the amusement in her eyes didn’t fully disappear. There was something maddeningly serene about her now, as if Thalon’s presence alone was enough to fill her with confidence.
Yrden shifted beside me, his molten eyes narrowing. He could feel my frustration—but he wasn’t the one grating on my nerves right now. It was her and that infuriating connection she had with Thalon.
She stepped closer to Thalon, her fingers brushing against the side of his massive snout, and without meaning to, I took a step forward.
What was I going to do? Pull her away? Demand she stop relying on him? What good would that do? She was bonded to him. I couldn’t change that, and deep down, I didn’t want to. Not really.
But I could push her. Test her limits. See whether she relied on that bond too much—or if she had the strength to stand on her own.
“Alright,” I said, my voice low but steady as I stepped forward. “If you think that bond’s going to make you stronger, then prove it. This isn’t just about dragons, Tess. This is about you . Show me you can handle it—physically and in combat. Destroy the targets. Show me you're not just playing at this.”
With a flick of my wrist, I summoned the training scenario. The earth trembled as jagged stone pillars erupted from the ground, forming an uneven battlefield. Above the pillars, enchanted disks shimmered into existence—each glowing faintly, whirring as they hovered in midair. Their movements were erratic, darting without warning, like predatory birds circling for the kill.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” I muttered, my gaze locked on Tess.
I stepped back, crossing my arms, while Yrden growled low behind me. But I paid him no mind. My focus was entirely on her —and the electricity that crackled in the air between her and Thalon. The dragon’s molten amber gaze simmered with pride as he watched her, his presence both grounding and empowering.
Tess shifted her stance, lowering into a crouch, muscles taut, ready to spring. Her eyes flicked to the disks, the intensity of her focus evident in the tight set of her jaw. Her fists clenched, knuckles pale against her tan skin.
Without warning, one of the disks launched forward with a sharp whoosh , speeding toward her like a streak of light.
She moved.
Faster than I had anticipated. Her fist snapped out, connecting with the disk. It exploded into shards of magic-infused stone with a sharp crack, the fragments scattering through the air.
I expected her to call upon her bond with Thalon, to summon the magic that simmered just beneath her skin. Instead, she used raw, human strength—her actual fist. As much as I was impressed, a cold weight settled in my gut. She wouldn’t survive this training without harnessing her magic. No matter how fast or strong she thought she was, the Guild trials would break her, and I couldn’t allow that.
More targets engaged.
Two more disks shot out from opposite directions—one arcing high, the other slicing low in a crisscross pattern. They moved with lethal precision, their stone surfaces slick with shimmering runes, glowing brighter as they accelerated toward her.
She paused, just for a fraction of a second, her weight shifting unevenly. Hesitation. A fatal mistake in combat.
Come on, Tess. You’re better than this. My fists clenched, the words pounding in my mind, though I knew they wouldn’t reach her.
She twisted, managing to dodge the first disk with a graceful roll, her hair whipping across her face. But the second caught her off guard. It clipped her shoulder with a harsh impact, its force sending her crashing sideways into the dirt.
“Too slow!” I barked, stepping forward. “You can’t hesitate like that. If this were a real fight, you’d be dead.”
The words hit her like a slap. I could tell by the way her body stiffened, frozen in a mix of anger and wounded pride. Deep down, I felt the weight of what I’d just unleashed on her—and the quiet, ruthless part of me that hoped it would spur her into action. I wanted her defiance to spark, to flare brighter than her sense of failure. Prove me wrong, Tess, I thought. My pulse kicked up a notch when, to my twisted satisfaction, she lifted herself up with trembling arms, her shoulders taut as steel, and turned to glare at me.
Her eyes…Those goddamned golden-brown eyes blazed, searing through the shroud of authority I so carefully maintained. Frustration and fury radiated from her, but beneath it—I saw her heart, her stubborn, unyielding heart straining against the impossible expectations I’d placed on her. It made me want to crush that rebellion just as much as it made me want to stoke its flames.
“I’m human , Theron!” she shouted, her cheeks flushed with anger. “I don’t have decades of experience. Thalon tells me you're a mage. Well, I'm not! I don’t have innate magic like you, or the perfect reflexes of a dragon. I’m learning, and yeah, I’m gonna screw up. But I’m here because I want to get better. You act like I should already know how to do this—like I should just magically be perfect at it. Well, guess what? I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable.”
Her words hung in the air between us, thick with frustration, vulnerability, and—damn it—a truth I didn’t want to face. I knew she was right, at least in part. She was human, and expecting her to perform at the level of someone like me or the other Dragon Riders was unfair.
But that admission...letting it breathe between us...felt far too dangerous. It was the kind of truth that opened doors too wide and carved out vulnerabilities I couldn’t afford. Not now. Not with her. Especially not with her.
Her chest rose and fell as she stared me down, her body still trembling with exertion. Against my better judgment, my gaze lingered—the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin, the curve of her lips still parted and slightly swollen from her earlier fall, the flicker of resolve in her eyes that made my blood sing. My pulse thudded harder, louder, and that maddening inner struggle clawed at me.
Damn her.
A wave of heat flickered down my spine, anger and attraction colliding in a way that left me dangerously unsteady. Every instinct I’d honed over decades screamed at me to rein it in, to regain control. But that stubborn, defiant spark in her—that inner fire she didn’t even realize she wielded—set off a different kind of burn in me. The tension between us shifted, heavy with a charge I couldn’t deny.
I wanted her resilience, yes. But I also wanted her to yield—not out of weakness, but because she wanted to trust me enough to bare herself in that way. To let me guide her, to let me break her just enough to rebuild her into something stronger. And yet, at the same time, her refusal to give in—her sharp words and fiery defiance—lit something equally consuming in my chest.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Thalon’s head lowered again, his molten eyes gleaming as he looked at me—no, through me.
There was no warning, no subtle shift in his posture. Just the overwhelming, suffocating presence of the dragon's gaze. Thalon's eyes, molten and eternal, fixed on mine, and for a brief, disorienting moment, I felt small . As if every inch of me—the years I’d spent fighting, training, surviving—meant nothing under that stare.
It was unsettling as hell.
The dragon wasn’t just amused anymore. He was challenging me. His massive form exuded calm certainty, as if he knew something I didn’t.
“Tess is capable,” Thalon’s presence seemed to say. And the damn dragon believed it with every ounce of his being.
"Fine," I said, my voice low and controlled. "You want to prove yourself? Then let's see how you handle this."