26. CHAPTER 26 #3
“Zane!” I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the noise.
The crowd of cadets pushed me sideways, away from the courtyard’s center.
Someone fell in front of me, and I had to jump over them or get caught.
The heat from the burning banner pressed against my right side, so I ducked instinctively while smoke stung my throat.
A shadow from a dragon's wing flew over the cobblestones, and I looked up just in time to see the smaller dragon banking again—too close.
Its powerful downstroke jarred my teeth and forced the air from my lungs.
I clattered to the edge of the courtyard, where overturned tables and broken wood created a maze. A Healer cadet—wide-eyed and trembling—was trapped beneath a heavy bench. Instinctively, I knelt down and scrambled my fingers at the wood.
“Push on three!” I yelled. She nodded once, tears streaking through soot on her cheeks. One. Two. Three—
We shoved, and the bench rolled enough for her to crawl free. The dragon’s cry ripped across the courtyard again, closer this time, followed by the unmistakable snap of a tether breaking. My heart slammed against my ribs. This wasn’t normal—something was wrong.
“Auriella!” The voice was faint but cut through—Zane’s, somewhere on the other side of the courtyard.
I turned toward it, but the crowd heaved again.
The younger cadet clung to my arm like a lifeline, and in the scramble, I realized getting to Zane wouldn't be simple. The dragon’s shadow swept over us once more, and in that heartbeat, I understood—if we didn’t move, it wouldn’t matter if I found him.
The dragon’s cry split the air again, and the Healer cadet at my side flinched so hard she almost dragged us both down.
The press of bodies shoved us toward the edge of the courtyard, boots skidding over spilled cider and broken glass.
“Stay with me!” I yelled over the roar, tightening my grip on her arm.
A banner pole crashed to the stones ahead, splintering into jagged spears.
We veered left, ducking under the cover of an overturned table.
Smoke clawed at my throat as we crawled, the heat from the burning banner licking across my cheek.
Through the chaos, I spotted a familiar figure shoving his way toward us.
Alex.
He reached us in three long strides, pulling the cadet to her feet with one hand while steadying me with the other. “This way—clear path by the wall!”
We ran, ducking low as another wingbeat slammed into the courtyard. I caught glimpses of the dragon overhead—red scales shimmering, eyes wide and wild. The far wall came into view, lined with a row of supply carts.
Alex pushed us between them, using their bulk as cover. “Stay put,” he ordered the cadet. He shot me a look. “Go find Zane before he thinks you’ve been trampled.”
I didn’t argue. I darted out into the thinning crowd, scanning for him. My heart clenched when I saw him—shoulder to shoulder with two other cadets, helping an injured cadet limp toward the infirmary. His gaze locked on mine instantly.
He was at my side in seconds, eyes sweeping over me. “You alright?”
“I’m fine. Got someone out from under a bench.” My voice was steadier than I felt.
He nodded once, relief flashing across his face before he set his jaw. “Command wants everyone in their chambers and leadership to do counts.”
The square was mainly clear, but the red dragon still flew above, its wingbeats frantic. Lantern light caught in its eyes—bright, almost feverish—and I realized it wasn’t looking at the crowd in general. It was looking at me.
“Zane,” I murmured, “something is wrong.”
He followed my stare upward. “It’s young,” he said. “Too young to be out of the vale.”
The dragon descended again, a hot, gusty wind sweeping over us.
The red wasn’t fully mature—its talons were thinner than an adult’s, and its movements were quick but still unpolished.
It wasn’t attacking, but it was frantic, almost desperate motions indicated panic.
It landed abruptly on the courtyard ledge, claws sparking against the stone.
Its sides heaved with ragged breaths, and its wings flickered as if caught between flying and falling.
A deep, rolling, unsettling sound erupted—the beat of many wings filling the air.
My stomach sank. Shapes appeared on the shadowed horizon against the moonlight. One, five, ten, more.
A dragon drift closed fast. The ground trembled as the first of them roared, the sound shaking through my bones.
What the fuck?
They burst into view and scattered just as fast. The group swept across the courtyard in a single wave, fading into the horizon—except for a blue one that dropped onto the ledge beside the small red dragon.
A moment later both launched into the air, wings cutting the night before they vanished into darkness.
“Cadets, inside!” an instructor’s voice cracked like a whip over the courtyard. “Chambers, now! Leadership, get your counts!”
Another shout from the opposite side. “Move! Lock it down!”
Zane’s hand closed around my arm, firm but not rough. “You heard them.”
I moved into the Rider’s wing while Zane headed to his.
Such situations had protocols. As a Flight Guide, my task was to ensure each cadet stayed in their room and then inform Persephone Emmen, our Squad Leader.
She would escalate the report to Lili, who would then pass it to Corson, our Wing Commander.
Squad Leaders and Platoon Leaders stayed outside their chambers until they received reports from those below them.
Sadie, Akira, Micah, Lorenzo, and Jackson were all accounted for, and no one was injured.
After notifying Emmen, I went to my chamber on the second floor.
During a lockdown, we had to stay in our chambers unless there was an emergency, you were in leadership, or on tower duty, until the bell tolled 12 times consecutively.
There were no bells to indicate the time during a lockdown.
I sat in my chair, gazing out the window, wondering what had upset that little dragon from the vale—it looked so frantic. Knowing dragons, they didn’t usually want to cause harm to any of us, all of us mutually protecting each other.
Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.
Finally, not that it mattered, by that point, we were supposed to be in our chambers anyway. I could rest easy now, though, knowing we weren’t on lockdown.
“Coming in.” He projected down our mental connection and was in my room within seconds, standing before me.
“It’s past curfew.”
“And?”
“And you don’t need to get in trouble.”
“I can rove,” he said, stepping closer, “and they’ll never know.” I swallowed but didn’t move back when he reached me. The lamplight caught in his eyes, deep and dark, as he braced one hand on the back of my chair, caging me in.
“Zane—”
“I don’t want to talk about dragons,” he murmured, his voice low and rough at the edges. “I want to see you.”
“You’re impossible,” I whispered.
“You like impossible.”
Before I could argue, his mouth found mine—slow at first, a question and a challenge rolled into one.
I responded to both, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until his knees bumped mine.
He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of my neck, the other skimming down my side, leaving a trail of heat behind.
The rest of the world—the dragons, the lockdown, the noise—faded away.
Zane’s mouth moved against mine with a kind of urgency that was all too familiar, but that night there was an edge to it—like we’d both been holding our breath since the chaos outside and only now were letting it go.
He kissed me like he needed the taste to keep breathing, his hands gripping my hips and pulling me to my feet.
My chair scraped back, forgotten, as my chest pressed to his.
The room was quiet except for us—uneven breathing, the faint rustle of fabric, the soft thud of his boots as he walked me backward toward the bed.
“Zane—” I started, but the way he looked at me stole the rest of the words.
“You think I’m here because I can’t follow rules,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’m here because I can’t stay away from you.”
My heart pounded hard against my ribs, but before I could answer, his mouth pressed against mine again, deeper and hungrier.
We’d been there before, too many times to count, but it never got easier—only more dangerous.
Zane’s mouth claimed mine again, but this time there was no hesitation.
Each movement carried the weight of nights gone by—the ones that left me trembling, breathless, and craving more—and yet, that night felt sharper, hungrier.
He pulled me close as if he’d been waiting all day to touch me, his hands sliding over the familiar curves and planes of my body with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where I’d melt.
I could feel his pulse against mine. The steady rhythm pressed to my chest as he guided me backward until my knees hit the bed.
The room was dim, shadows cast by the low lamplight dancing across his face, softening the lines I’d only seen in quiet moments.
His fingertips traced the edge of my jaw, then down the column of my throat, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You know I can’t stay away from you,” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath warmed my ear. “Not when you look at me like that.”
Every gesture of his hands, every shift of his weight, was deliberate—teasing and certain all at once.
His lips found mine again, deeper this time, the kiss building in a way that made my toes curl and my fingers twist into his shirt.
When we fell back onto the bed, it wasn’t clumsy—it felt like falling into a rhythm we’d never lost.
The heat between us flared, and I could feel every beat of it in the spaces where we touched and where we didn’t, where the ache of almost was its own kind of fire.
His forehead rested against mine for a breath, eyes locked on me as if he might finally say the words we’d both been dancing around.
But instead, he kissed me again—slowly at first, then deeper, until thoughts were impossible and the rest of the world didn’t exist. And in that moment, with his heartbeat thundering against mine, I didn’t need to hear the words to know.