Chapter 14
HAILEY
The sunrise in Ayrathys wasn't subtle. The light came in with a vengeance, pouring over the terrace doors of our room. That was another thing I was still getting used to. Being awake during the day and not frying in the sunlight. I chalked it up to being in another realm with suns that looked nothing like ours and the fact that Jax and I had been in dragon form more than human since we arrived. I wasn’t going to question it too much.
The only thing that could have improved the moment was coffee, but Ayrathys was aggressively uncooperative about caffeine. I’d learned to take what comfort I could from the simple act of not being deader than I already was, especially after that battle with Vaelog.
I snuggled into Jax and was just about to doze back off with a knock sounded on the door. I cracked one eye, then both, when I heard voices outside the room.
I nudged Jax. “Get up. I think our room is about to be invaded.”
Jax growled. “I hear them. I was hoping they would leave.”
A few seconds later, Jax and I were in our dragon forms, stepping out into the hallway. That was when I realized that it wasn’t our door that had been knocked on. It was Adalinda’s, across the hall from us.
A dragon I didn’t recognize, a svelte, pale-grey male with a jagged scar across his snout, stood in front of Adalinda’s door.
He turned to us and gave us a nod. When the door opened, the soldier’s gaze locked on Adalinda, and he dipped his head.
“Forgive the intrusion, my Queen. Tharneval has sent for you. The claw covers are complete.”
Adalinda fixed the soldier with a blank expression. “Was Solenne informed?” she sent, voice all iron and frost.
The soldier did another nod-slash-bow. “She is en route. General Corvus requests the Queen’s presence at the forge before the first council.”
Adalinda’s focus shifted to me. “You will come, Hailey. Jax as well.”
I blinked. “Field trip?”
Jax snorted, which in dragon form is mostly a dry, explosive exhale that could startle a charging bull.
Flint exited his room in dragon form and peered up at me, his wings quivering with excitement. “I want to come too.”
Adalinda turned, her gaze suddenly soft. “Not this time, little one.”
Flint’s wings drooped. His tail lashed once, hard, then settled into a low, miserable sweep. I felt for my little guy, but Adalinda was right. Besides, we could fly a lot faster without him. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.
I nuzzled the top of his snout with mine, a quick, secret apology, and he nipped at my cheek in return, just hard enough to make a point. “Go play with your friends.”
He left without replying.
We formed up on the terrace in the great hall. Adalinda at point, Jax on her right, me to her left, the soldier taking up the rear. Flint lingered back, sitting on his haunches, wings hunched, watching us with the wounded pride of a child being left behind.
The wind was sharp, loaded with the promise of more storms. We leaped as one, the four of us catching the updraft and riding it in tight formation, shadows spilling out long and predatory over the fractured ground below.
We gained altitude fast and flew in silence, the landscape below rolling out in impossible, shifting beauty.
We banked hard around a horseshoe bend in the ridgeline, and the air turned sulfurous, tinged with a scent halfway between new concrete and struck matches. Ahead, the black rock of Tharneval’s forge was already visible.
We landed on a wide ledge, claws scraping at the obsidian-like surface, and the soldier fell back with practiced subservience.
Solenne was already waiting, her orange and gold scales still radiant despite the soot and ash that dusted the ledge.
She gave a quick nod to Adalinda, then to Jax and me, her expression unreadable.
We ducked inside. The light in the forge wasn’t just bright. It was alive, a pulsing, radiant force that made my pupils slam shut. The walls glowed, not from fire but from the residue of heat and magic and whatever else dragons had managed to pack into the stone over generations.
At the center of the cavern stood Tharneval.
When we entered, he didn’t look up, but the force of his mind-voice hit like a cold shock. “Queen. Regent. And the children.” That was us, presumably.
He set aside the hammer, then turned, and even Solenne took a half step back. The scales on Tharneval’s face were so thick it looked more mask than skin. His eyes, ancient amber, flicked from Adalinda to the rest of us.
He made a noise that might have been amusement, then gestured with one massive claw for us to come closer.
On the anvil sat four curved objects, each one the color of bone polished to an impossible sheen.
They looked like the claw sheaths in the museum of a city that worshiped dragons, only these were perfectly sized for Adalinda, long, graceful, slightly hooked at the tip.
There was a runic script running along the inside edge, black against the pale, almost glowing surface.
“They are ready,” Tharneval said. He bowed his head, a gesture I knew cost him more than it looked. “My Queen, may I?”
Adalinda extended her left foreleg, palm-up.
Tharneval lifted the first sheath, his claws impossibly gentle, and fitted it over her own.
There was a moment of contact, a spark of something not quite visible, more taste than sight, then a click as the cover sealed itself to the natural claws.
He repeated the process three more times, each motion as careful as a priest handling sacred relics.
When all four were in place, Adalinda flexed her digits. The new claws sang as they moved, a faint harmony I felt in my teeth. She looked at Tharneval, then at the chunk of metal he’d been working. With a slow, measured swipe, she slashed it clean in two, the halves parting with a sound.
Tharneval’s face didn't move, but I caught the pulse of pride and something deeper, maybe hope, maybe dread.
“They will serve you well,” he projected. “The traitor can't match their cut. They are sharper than the day we fell.”
Adalinda’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. “You honor me, Smith of the Old.”
The claws were more than weapons, they were a statement, a promise, a challenge. I met Jax’s gaze, and the same mix of awe and worry there.
Tharneval turned his eyes to me. “The sword calls for its final whet. When the time comes, Hailey, you will bring it back here.”
I swallowed. “When the time comes,” I echoed.
Adalinda tested the claws again, her movements precise. The other dragons watched, silent, letting the moment sink in. I caught the tiniest twitch at the corner of Jax’s jaw, a reaction he would have hidden from anyone else, but not from me.
Solenne broke the tension, her voice cool but not cold. “The council will expect a demonstration at dawn. I recommend we prepare.”
Adalinda nodded. The claws gleamed, each one catching the forge’s light and amplifying it.
We launched from the forge, and Jax and I fell into formation, flanking Adalinda just behind the wing tips, with Solenne a steady, silent anchor to our rear. We gained altitude, the world below opening up again, and all our lines of retreat shrinking by the second.
I almost missed the shadow that rose from the haze of the lower thermals.
The scout came at us with wings half-unfurled, flanks streaked with sweat and, if I wasn't mistaken, a thread of blood drying at his shoulder joint.
As he dove into our slipstream, his mind-voice cut through the clamor with a desperate, crystalline focus.
“Queen Adalinda! General Corvus sends word, Vaelog has breached the perimeter! Last seen near the outer ridge, moving fast.”
There was a moment, a slice of time as thin and fragile as the membrane between wings, where every muscle in my body forgot to function.
The air stuttered under my wings. For the first time since coming to Ayrathys, I faltered, the memory of Flint on the terrace looming larger than any threat.
Panic rose in my throat, I tasted the acid of it.
Jax immediately closed in, his wing brushing mine.
The castle was still three miles out, a vertical ascent through unstable air, but we abandoned all pretense of caution and burned for it.
The air turned rough, battering at my flanks, but I barely noticed.
I banked as hard as I could, ignoring the warning shrieks from the younger dragons patrolling above, and fixed my eyes on the gold spike of the highest tower.
The castle swelled in my vision, every line and curve suddenly vulnerable, and I imagined a thousand ways Vaelog could reach Flint before I did.
The landing was chaos. Dragons everywhere, warriors on alert, mothers herding hatchlings into the lower vaults, messengers colliding midair in the rush to get clear of the main causeway.
Adalinda barely slowed before she slammed into the upper terrace, claws scoring a trench in the stone.
Solenne hit beside her, already issuing mental orders to the nearest guards.
Jax and I shifted at the same instant. We hit the ground running, sprinted through the archways, and took the stairs three at a time. The interior halls were loud with the wails of scared hatchlings and the frantic shouts of dragon parents trying to corral them.
We found Flint in the inner courtyard, wedged between two older hatchlings, his face lit up with an unselfconscious joy that can only exist in a life where nothing bad has ever happened.
He was showing off, flapping his wings in a way that would have looked silly on anyone else, but somehow made the other kids shriek with envy.
He saw me first. His whole body went still, wings snapping shut, and he dropped the charred stick he’d been using as a scepter. “Mama?” his mind-voice said, the word small and tight.
I forced myself to walk, not run, so I didn’t scare him. I knelt, the stone cool even through the adrenaline, and reached for him. He shifted into boy form before I could grab him, and he all but launched into my arms. He was shaking but trying very hard not to let it show.
“Flint, honey, listen to me,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. “You need to go with the dragon mothers now. They’re going to take you and the other kids somewhere safe, okay?”
His eyes went wide, then wider. “But I want to stay with you!” he said, voice high and cracked. “I’ll be good, I promise. I can help!”
I cupped his face, thumbs on his warm cheeks, and forced myself to smile. “I know you can, baby. But right now, I need you to do this. For me. For Daddy.”
Flint looked over my shoulder at Jax, who stood just behind me, arms folded and jaw tight. Flint’s face crumpled. He shifted and wrapped himself around me, refusing to let go, and I let him hang there for a minute, both of us breathing hard and not saying what we wanted to say.
The dragon mothers swept in then, three of them, massive, wings half-furled, eyes old and knowing.
They herded the hatchlings with gentle insistence, but when they saw Flint clinging to me, one of them paused, lowered her head, and met my gaze with a challenge.
I didn’t understand the look at first, then she motioned to Flint and asked, “Are you sure?”
I nodded, understanding now that she was asking for permission to help get Flint to go with the others. “Flint, I need you to go with Shimmer’s mom and the others. I need to know you are safe so Papa and I can fight with the adults.”
Jax knelt beside us, his hand settling on Flint’s back.
He wasn't a natural with tenderness, but he had learned, and Flint always responded to the gravity in his voice. “Little Dragon,” Jax said, and Flint’s head snapped up, startled.
Jax smiled, just a little. “You’re the bravest little one I know.
But right now, I need you to be brave in a different way. Can you do that?”
Flint’s chin quivered, but he nodded. “Will you come back?”
“We’ll always come back for you,” I said, and meant it with every cell in my body. “Always.”
He buried his face in my shirt for a last, desperate second, then let go.
Jax scooped him up for a hug, and I thought for a second that neither of them would survive it if they had to let go first. The dragon mother lowered her head, neck arched so Flint could scramble up.
He did, but only after one last look back, his hand raised in a half-wave that just about broke me in half.
The mothers retreated, hatchlings clustered on their backs and between their wings, a living barricade of scale and maternal fury.
Flint’s hair caught the light, and for a second, he looked back at us with a look I’d never seen before.
A bit older, scared, but somehow proud. He didn’t cry out.
He just watched, imprinting the moment into his memory.
The instant they were gone, I let the facade slip. I pressed my forehead to the wall, eyes squeezed shut, refusing the luxury of a breakdown. Jax touched my shoulder, not saying anything, but his hand was steady and strong. I took two breaths, then three, and made myself turn away.
If I looked back, I wouldn’t be able to leave.
After stopping off at our room to grab the sword, we found Adalinda and Solenne on the command level, the two of them speaking in fast, clipped phrases, the air thick with anger.
Adalinda hadn't shifted. She stood in dragon form, claws flexing in a constant, silent rhythm.
Solenne looked smaller beside her, but the set of her jaw was pure steel.
“He’s probing the defenses,” Solenne said, her mind-voice taut. “He’s not alone. Adalinda’s answer was curt. We face him now. Later isn't an option.” Jax and I exchanged a look. I read the question in his eyes. Are you ready for this?
“Not even a little,” I said. “But let’s do it anyway.”
Jax shifted into his dragon, and I remained human because it would be easier to wield the sword.
I climbed onto Jax’s back, and we followed Adalinda and Solenne out onto the launch platform, every step echoing off the stone.
The wind had picked up, bending the banners until they streamed straight back from the towers.
Below, the main courtyard was empty, no civilians, no children, only a handful of elite guards holding position at the gates.
We launched as one, the four of us, riding the updrafts toward the ridge. Vaelog would not win today.