A Court of Wings and Shadows (The Forth Guild #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Get back, Ashlyn. This betrayer will be purged.

The words slammed into my skull, not like the velvet purr I was used to from Siergen, but something colder, commanding, ancient.

Siergen. How did you…

I hadn’t even heard him arrive. How the hell had he gotten past both Solei and me? We were trained. Alert. Ready.

Solei lunged before I could react, her dagger a silver flash aimed for his throat.

A burst of fire erupted from his mouth as he snarled.

It slammed into her mid-strike, sending her flying backward. She hit the stone wall with a sickening thud and slumped to the ground. Smoke curled from her singed leathers.

The shock in her wide blue eyes was unmistakable.

She hadn’t missed a mark since she was fourteen.

Rage and disbelief warred inside me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Solei, the woman who trained me to fight, who taught me the hand signs of the Order, who told me never to say “I love you” unless I meant it with my last breath, lay dazed and burned on the ground.

Siergen stepped from the shadows like a nightmare with wings. He seemed bigger, and his scales glinted like shimmering blood under the moonlight. His scaled throat expanded again, a rumble building there. But it wasn’t the fire I feared now.

It was his voice inside my head.

Move away from the betrayer.

I staggered backward a step, bile rising in my throat.

Betrayer?

My heart rebelled, clawing against my ribcage. She helped raise me. She protected me. She had accepted me as a sister. How could she be—

I would never trust her, but I still loved her.

I screamed, the words bursting from my chest before I could think. “No. Don’t hurt her!”

His massive golden eyes turned toward me, slitted pupils narrowing.

I didn’t run. I didn’t bow. I didn’t flinch.

I stood in front of Solei’s crumpled body, with my hands outstretched in front of me.

And prayed he wouldn’t make me choose.

Solei groaned as she pushed herself up on one knee, wincing against the pain. Ash streaked her cheekbone and her braid had come partially undone, but her gaze was clear, sharp as ever.

“You spared my life.” Her voice was quiet. Almost shocked.

I swallowed hard, the heat of Siergen’s body beside me grounding me more than comforting. “I love you, Solei,” I said, meaning it more than I ever had, “but if you ever come back here without an invitation… the dragons will kill you.”

She stood fully now, spine straight despite the pain. “I owe you a life debt. I will never come for you again.”

“I know.” My throat tightened. “But Cyran will send someone else.”

Her gaze flicked to Siergen, who clicked his talons against the stone, sharp, deliberate. The sound echoed, like a warning.

It was clear he did not agree with my mercy.

“Yes,” she said. “He will. But I will warn him. The dragons will see our interference as a direct assault on them.”

Tell her the entire horde will eliminate the Order within Warriath if you die.

Siergen’s growl rumbled through my thoughts, a thunderclap of intention.

I turned toward her, my voice low. “The dragons are telepathic. They have the knowledge of every rider linked to them, and that now includes commoners. Me. If you include Remy’s memories, then you know the dragons are aware of almost every tunnel and stronghold in Warriath.”

Solei’s face shifted. Just a flicker, but enough. A single, measured step back. Fear. Real fear.

“The Order’s operation is too large to move,” I added. “And it’s not strong enough to withstand a full-scale dragon assault. You know it. And so do I.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t try to call my bluff.

Because the truth was… I didn’t know if they would do it.

But she didn’t know they wouldn’t.

“I will relay the dragons’ message,” she whispered.

And then she turned.

She slipped through the outer gate just as Gerane returned to his post, oblivious to what had just unfolded.

My hands trembled, but I didn’t let them fall.

Behind me, the wind shifted.

Zander’s voice rang out, sharp and clear. “Ashlyn!”

My shoulders tensed.

Of course he’d show up now.

Zander’s boots echoed against the stone as he walked toward us, his shadow long and sharp in the moonlight. His gaze locked first on Siergen, who hadn’t moved, his tail still flicking, talons flexing slowly as though daring anyone else to challenge me.

Zander’s jaw tightened. His eyes, usually so carefully guarded, flashed with something wild and dangerous. Not just irritation. Fury.

He turned to me, voice low but edged with steel. “Your sister tried to assassinate you?”

I nodded once. “She won’t do it again.” My voice was tired, cracked. “But my father may send another. Even with Siergen’s warning.”

His expression darkened. “Then he’s a fool.” He paced once, then turned, hands clenched at his sides. “Why, Ashe? Why would Cyran want you dead now, after everything?”

I looked away, the night wind tugging strands of white hair from my braid. “Because I know too much. Because I’ve outlived my usefulness.”

Zander stepped closer, his brows furrowed. “He trained you. Shaped you. He sent you here.”

“To infiltrate,” I said bitterly. “Not to survive. And definitely not to bond with a dragon like her.” My gaze drifted to the sky. Kaelith wasn’t here, but her presence still hummed in the back of my mind like a coiled storm.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What do you mean? What exactly do you know?”

I opened my mouth.

Then shut it.

I wanted to trust him. Part of me already did. But I was exhausted, bone-deep and soul-worn.

“I just…” My voice caught. “I want to go back to my room. Lie down. Pretend for five minutes that I’m just another prospect who isn’t hunted by her own family.”

Zander didn’t move at first. Something flickered behind his eyes. Concern. Rage. Restraint.

Finally, he gave a short nod. “Go.”

I turned before he could change his mind, feet dragging as I made my way down across the Ascension Grounds, the stone chilled beneath my boots. The barracks door groaned open, and the familiar scent of worn leather, damp stone, and steel greeted me like a sigh.

I slipped inside, barely sparing the others a glance. My bunk waited like a cradle. I didn’t even bother changing; I just crawled beneath the blanket and curled on my side.

The silence stretched.

Then—

“Are you alright?” Cordelle’s voice drifted from the bunk beside mine, as soft as a breath.

I wanted to lie. To protect him. To protect me.

“I will be,” I whispered back.

But the words tasted like ash.

Because I didn’t believe the lie.

I woke to the sounds of my squad stirring—boots scuffing the floor, quiet murmurs of movement, the low creak of leather armor. Morning light filtered through the narrow window, soft and gray. Today wasn’t for training or trials.

Today, we lay Eilvin to rest.

I sat up slowly, my body aching more from grief than strain. Jax passed behind me, pausing just long enough to rest a warm, solid hand on my shoulder.

“You can go ahead of me, Ashe,” he said softly. “I only need a moment in the washroom when you’re done.”

I looked up at him and offered a tired smile. “Thanks.”

He just nodded and strolled away.

I moved quickly, washing the sleep and ash from my face and dressing in silence. My flight armor fit like a second skin now, dark leather reinforced with steel at the shoulders and chest. I fastened each buckle with practiced fingers, but my chest still felt tight. I wasn’t ready. None of us were.

When we stepped outside, the world was still, the sky pale with the hush of dawn.

Our dragons were already waiting, solemn and still. Kaelith stood closest to me, her usually bored expression tempered into quiet respect. Across the stone path, the other guilds were assembled in full formation, standing at attention, arms clasped behind their backs.

A silent salute.

Major Ledor stood beside Zander, his black-and-gold uniform pristine, his face unreadable.

“Thrall Squad,” he said, his voice carrying in the silence. “You are given leave to send Eilvin Spokel’s soul to Charrem.”

He turned to Zander.

“Escort Thrall Squad to the Riders’ Graveyard in Dragon Vale.”

Zander raised a gloved hand, jaw tight. “Mount up.”

We moved as one. No banter. No teasing. Just the quiet efficiency born of shared grief. I climbed onto Kaelith’s back, settling into the seat as her wings spread, rustling like sails catching the wind.

Zander and Hein took off first, their silhouettes sharp against the rising sun. One by one, the rest of us followed, a flight of grief carried on dragon wings.

The wind stung my eyes as we crossed the sea. But when we veered toward Dragon Isle, my chest twisted.

I hadn’t expected that.

Zander led us not to the hatchling fields or the bonding cliffs, but west, toward the jagged edge of the island where cliffs met sea.

And then I saw it.

A structure carved into the earth itself, an amphitheater, vast and solemn, its stone benches arranged in a perfect circle around a central platform. Weathered, ancient, and untouched by time.

We landed just outside the sacred ring.

Makor waited at the edge, his brown scales rippling in the morning light. Eilvin’s body was carefully strapped to his back, shrouded in deep-green silk, his hair braided, his sword laid across his chest.

We dismounted in silence, the only sound the soft thud of boots on stone.

No one spoke.

There were no words that could carry the burden of what we’d lost.

What is this place? I asked Kaelith silently.

The Riders’ Pyre. Where we honor our riders and allow them to rest until we join them once more.

Who built this place?

The first dragon rider of Warriath.

The king?

Yes. He loved his dragon very much and wanted to be close to him even in death.

King Thadal Rayne was reputed to be one of the most ruthless men ever born.

He needed to be feared to restore order for both man and dragon alike. But his dragon knew his true heart and what he gave up to secure our safety.