Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Theron’s voice rang through the echoing silence of the court, as smooth as polished steel. “Ashlyn and her squad are to assist with the cleanup in the village. Tell Zander to lead them.”
He looked to Remy. “Escort her back to the Ascension Grounds. Collect the rest of Thrall Squad. And then…” his eyes flicked to the king, who had wandered toward a nearby window, mumbling softly to himself, “you’ll return here for a… meeting.”
The pause was brief but deliberate.
Remy gave a short nod to both the king and Theron before guiding me from the throne room, his pace steady, expression unreadable.
As we turned down a long corridor of stained-glass and flickering lanterns, I broke the silence. “Who was the patron?”
He didn’t answer at first.
“Probably one of Theron’s spies,” he finally said, tone low. “The court keeps eyes in the village. Just as the Order has them here.”
I bit my tongue on the retort sitting at the edge of my tongue—Like you.
Instead, I stayed quiet as we exited through one of the side arches, the rain now just a mist that clung to the air like memory.
Zander was waiting in the courtyard, standing beside Hein. His jaw set the moment he saw Remy walking beside me.
His voice was as sharp as ever. “Word of your antics has spread through the kingdom. So much for that low profile.”
Remy shrugged, ever casual. “That was Katama’s idea.”
Zander stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Was it?”
“Are you pissed because he saved me, or because you know your dragon would’ve let you die?” Remy asked in a deadly tone.
Zander’s jaw ticked, and his lavender eyes flared dark. “My concern is for the innocents who got caught in the middle.”
Remy’s smile thinned. “No one in that tavern was innocent.”
Zander turned his gaze to me. “She was.”
Remy looked at me then, really looked, and I saw the flicker of emotion cross his face, regret, maybe. For the words. Or for us. I wasn’t sure.
“She was raised by the Order,” he said quietly. “Trust me, she’s not as innocent as you think.”
The words struck, deep and precise.
Because they were true.
And still… it hurt.
Zander’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t know her at all.”
For a moment, they stared each other down, Remy with that simmering calm and Zander with his fury just barely leashed. Between them, I stood in silence, feeling like a battlefield neither of them could walk away from.
Then Remy exhaled, the tension sliding from his shoulders.
“You’re ordered,” he said, glancing to Zander now, “to take Thrall Squad and help with cleanup in the village.”
He turned as if he would leave.
Zander’s jaw tightened.
“You create this garbage, and her squad pays for it,” he growled under his breath. “You haven’t changed a bit, Remand.”
Remy didn’t turn, but I saw his shoulders flinch, just barely, before he steeled himself and walked away like the words didn’t matter.
“I have a meeting with the king,” he said coldly. “Then I’ll help with the cleanup.”
Zander’s lips curled with something too bitter to be a smile as he called out, “Thrall Squad, with me!”
We fell into formation, boots striking the stone with practiced rhythm. The tension coiled tighter with every step as we passed beneath the arched gates and into the street beyond.
I walked beside Zander, close enough to see the way his eyes remained fixed ahead, his thoughts far away. “Your father seemed lucid when Remy and I were in the throne room,” I said carefully. “It was strange.”
Zander gave a short nod. “I’ve noticed the same thing. Sometimes he doesn’t know his own name, forgets where he is. Then, suddenly… he’s himself again. Focused. Commanding.”
“If it’s a spell,” I murmured, “maybe it wears off and has to be recast.”
“That’s possible,” he admitted. “But I’ve never seen magic like this affect a bonded rider so deeply. And not even Eldarn can reach him. It’s like… something’s been severed.”
We walked in silence for a moment, the city unfolding around us, shops half-burned from the fire, villagers sweeping soot from their doors, children watching us with wary eyes.
I reached out and touched his arm briefly. “There’s history between you and Remy,” I said. “I mean… before me.”
Zander didn’t answer immediately. He stepped past a pair of guards posted at the village gate, and the rest of Thrall Squad followed without hesitation.
“Yes,” he said finally. “He’s always been a... focal point of family rivalry. Ever since my father introduced him into the court.”
“I thought the major practically raised him.”
“He did. But at my father’s insistence.”
“Why?”
Zander shook his head. “None of us know. My father said he was friends with Remy’s parents. Maybe it was the nature of their deaths… I’m not sure.”
“Remy told me he was an orphan.”
“That’s true. His parents were murdered.” Zander glanced at me. “By the Order.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“He never told you?” Zander asked, his voice gentle but lined with something harder.
“No,” I said softly. “But nothing he told me was the truth. Except…” I hesitated. “Solei once called Remy the Assaulter. That’s what the Order called him, and I didn’t understand it until I put it together later, after I learned his real name.”
“She knew, but didn’t tell you?”
“I guess so,” I said. “And I never asked her why. Since…”
“You were reeling from Remy’s reappearance… and Solei trying to kill you,” Zander finished, tone heavier.
“Yeah. That,” I breathed.
Zander was quiet for a few steps, then said, “You should ask her. Why she kept his confidence.”
“I will,” I said. “But honestly? I’m afraid of the answer.”
By then, we’d reached the edge of the charred village square. The Crooked Claw was a hollowed shell of what it had been just hours before, walls blackened, part of the roof gone, beams fallen like broken ribs.
Guards were already there, helping patrons gather what hadn’t been destroyed. Some were guiding shaken villagers back to their homes. Others dragged burnt debris into carts.
We stood together in the street, ash underfoot, and for the first time, it truly felt like we were in the middle of a war.
Ash clung to my boots and the scent of smoke still lingered in my hair as I hauled another blackened beam toward the waiting cart.
The Crooked Claw had been gutted, its roof half collapsed, walls scorched, and windows blown out from Katama’s rage.
My squad worked alongside the townsfolk, quietly clearing wreckage and pretending we weren’t still recovering from last night’s hellfire.
I was just throwing a charred support beam onto a growing pile when I caught movement beside me.
Solei.
Her hair was darker now, tied back beneath a soot-smeared kerchief. Her clothing was plain and dirtied like the rest of us, and with so many people from the town pitching in, her presence wasn’t suspicious, at least not to anyone else.
“Hello, Sister,” she said calmly.
“You gave up the right to call me that when you tried to kill me,” I snapped, not looking at her as I tossed the wood into the cart.
“You know our code,” she said, unfazed. “Father believed you were betraying us.”
“I’ve never betrayed my family,” I said, turning to glare at her. “And I never will. Thankfully, that no longer includes you or Cyran.”
Her jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, I saw a flicker of regret, but it passed quickly.
She nodded once. “Understood.”
We worked in silence for a few moments before she asked, “Why did Remy’s dragon try to burn down the tavern?”
I froze mid-step, then turned toward her. “How come you didn’t tell me you knew Remy’s real name, and that he was a royal?”
That caught her. She hesitated. “I screwed up by calling him Ass-saulter. I thought it was a funny inside joke. But I never expected you could become a rider.”
“But I am a rider,” I said, voice tight. “And I know the truth now.”
She bent to lift a splintered beam. “Will you answer my question… if I answer yours?”
I paused. Then I used the formal phrasing we’d been taught as Order interns, the words we only used when striking a serious deal. “I agree to an exchange.”
Her lip twitched. “Agreed.”
She looked me straight in the eye. “Remy told Cyran the truth when he joined us. His parents were murdered by an Order assassin, and he wanted the killer. Cyran told him the hit had been arranged anonymously. But… if Remy could kill his parents’ assassin in fair combat, he could have his job.”
I felt the wind go out of me. “And of course, Remy killed him.”
Solei nodded. “But he killed him hard. Even Cyran had to look away, from what I’m told.”
I huffed. “He’s ruthless. I know better than anyone.”
Solei flinched at that.
“I believed he loved you,” she admitted quietly. “I never saw him returning to the court.”
“Did you know he was a dragon rider?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Then he never had a choice.”
“A dragon could make him do that?” she asked, brows furrowing.
“Yes,” I said. “And to answer your question—Katama attacked the tavern because Remy got cut. He feared for his rider’s life. That’s all. The attack wasn’t political.”
Solei was quiet for a long beat. “We were led to believe dragons were like… well-trained dogs. Loyal to their bloodline and obedient to command.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Dragons don’t obey. They choose. And when they do, they protect what’s theirs, even if that means burning down a tavern.”
We stood together in the wreckage, two women shaped by the same blade, each carrying our own scars from the Order. But right now, we weren’t on opposite sides.
At least… not yet.
Kaelith’s voice slipped into my mind like a blade wrapped in silk, sharp, smooth, and impossible to ignore.
Did your sister refer to dragons as dogs?
I winced internally. She has no concept of the connection between a rider and their dragon. Obviously, Remy didn’t enlighten them.
Kaelith growled, a sound that rumbled not in my ears but in the bones of my soul.
He is a traitor, but not to his dragon. Tell your sister this—if she makes such a reference again, I will snatch her from this village, fly her to the nearest volcano, and drop her from a height so great she’ll believe the wind will save her.
But the heat will boil her blood before she reaches the lava.
Her skin will peel like wet parchment. Her eyes will explode from their sockets.
Kaelith—
And then the fire will consume whatever is left.
I choked, almost audibly, my breath catching on the soot-thickened air.
Solei glanced at me warily. “What?”
I swallowed and forced the words from my lips with a dry tongue. “Kaelith wanted me to pass along a warning. About comparing dragons to dogs.”
Solei raised a brow, trying to stay unfazed.
“She said… if you say it again, she’ll drop you into a volcano.”
There was a beat of silence.
Solei blinked. “Noted.”
Her voice was firm, but the slight blanching of her skin told me she felt the severity of Kaelith’s words.
Then Remy approached, his boots crunching over charred gravel, and gaze flicking between the two of us.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low.
I turned to him, forcing a casual expression even though my dragon had just described a volcanic execution in detail.
“Oh, you know,” I said, rubbing soot from my sleeve. “Just explaining dragon diplomacy.”
Solei’s gaze shifted to Remy, and the sneer that curled her lip was nothing short of venom. “I trusted you with her.”
Remy’s expression didn’t flinch, but his jaw ticked as he replied, voice like ice drawn from a sheath. “I never lied about what I am.”
“No,” she spat. “You just omitted every damn thing that mattered.”
They stood across from each other like old ghosts in new skin, both trained killers, both born in shadow, and both too stubborn to ever back down.
“You played your part well,” Solei said, folding her arms. “The charming orphan. The dutiful recruit. The fiancé.”
Remy didn’t blink. “And yet, she fell in love with me anyway.”
“That’s the worst part,” Solei snapped. “You played both sides. And you’re still doing it.”
Silence clung for a moment.
Remy’s lips quirked, just barely. He didn’t deny it.
Solei’s eyes narrowed, as sharp as daggers. “You’ve made powerful enemies, Remand. Ones who remember everything. The fire you lit in Warriath isn’t going to go out quietly. And when the time comes, neither side is going to protect you.”
Her words didn’t sound like a threat.
They sounded like a promise.
Remy looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze.
“I know,” he said softly.
And somehow, that admission held more weight than anything else in the smoking ruins of the Crooked Claw.
Solei turned her full attention to Remy, and in that moment, the mask she always wore, the cold detachment, the assassin’s calm, fractured. What rose in its place was pure, burning fury.
“If you touch her again,” she hissed, each word sharper than the last, “you are dead. And I don’t care what Cyran says.”
Remy’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning bone-white, but he didn’t speak.
“She isn’t part of this game,” he said finally, voice low and rough, his gaze flicking to me.
Solei’s laugh was humorless and bitter. “Then you shouldn’t have touched her. You brought her into this, not me.”
Remy opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a step forward.
“I know exactly what you did,” she said, voice trembling now, not with weakness, but with a rage that had been bottled up too long. “And you will pay for it.”
Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Not a breath. Not a twitch.
I stood between them, stunned, the air tight in my lungs.
I thought I understood Remy’s betrayal, his lies, his masks, the secrets he’d wrapped around us like silk. I thought I knew the depths of his darkness.
But the look in Solei’s eyes…
The truth in it…
I wasn’t so sure anymore.