35. CHAPTER 35 #2
“Cadet Blackcreek.” His voice carried perfectly, though he didn’t raise it. “Congratulations on your bond.”
My throat felt dry, but I forced myself to nod. “General.”
The weight of his gaze pressed down harder than any battle test. For a heartbeat, I thought—hoped—he might let the mask slip, let something human show through. But it didn’t.
“You’ve done well,” he said. Glaring at me, it sounded like a compliment, but I didn’t feel it. “Make sure you don’t waste what you’ve been given.”
Heat prickled behind my eyes, but I didn’t let him see it. “I won’t.”
He offered only a slight nod, more of a dismissive gesture than acknowledgment, then turned sharply to approach the officers waiting nearby.
The tension in my chest eased only when I saw his back vanish into the crowd.
I exhaled softly, realizing I had been holding my breath, and finally relaxed my shoulders.
Esme’s voice brushed faintly against my mind, low and curious. “He makes you ache.”
My laugh was soft, bitter. “Yes. Yes, he does.”
I remained standing there long after he disappeared into the crowd, the impact of his words still echoing vividly in my chest.
Make sure you don’t waste what you’ve been given.
He hadn’t always sounded like that.
Once, his voice had been warm. I could still hear it if I tried hard enough—the low rumble of his laugh when he swung me onto his shoulders, the way he used to hum, off-key and distracted, while fixing my wooden practice sword when I split it down the middle.
Back then, his armor was just something that hung on a rack, smelling of leather and oil, not this constant barrier between us.
I remember running into his arms when he returned from patrols, how he would lift me effortlessly and say he missed me every day. On nights when Mother was away healing cadets and it was just us, he’d teach me how to braid a rope, whistle through my teeth, and cheat at dice when no one looked.
He had been my whole world.
But at some point between my mom's death and now, he transformed into something different. A wall of steel and authority, with each word carefully chosen and every glance sharp. He still resembled my father, but every time his eyes met mine, it felt as though he’d forgotten how to truly see me.
My chest tightened as I pressed a hand over the brand beneath my tunic, the warmth of Esme’s bond a steadying presence. She stirred at the edges of my thoughts.
“He was yours once. Now he belongs to the weight he carries.”
I swallowed, blinking against the blur at the corners of my vision. “Yeah. I… I wish he hadn’t given all of himself away.”
For the first time since the ceremony ended, I let myself sit down on the edge of the field, elbows braced on my knees.
Around me, cadets celebrated, laughed, mourned—but I stayed still, caught between the memory of a father who used to love me openly and the general who now stood like a stranger in his place.
The edges of the field blurred as memories pulled me backward, but I felt the shift before I actually heard him. Zane’s presence always carried heat—steady, grounding, like the earth itself refused to let me spiral too far.
“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, crouching down beside me. His golden hair caught what little light remained, his eyes searching my face. “The one where you look like you’re here, but your mind’s miles away.”
I huffed a shaky breath. “I was just… remembering. Before everything changed.”
He didn’t press. He never did. Instead, he eased down to sit beside me, one knee bent, his shoulder brushing mine. For a while, we stayed like that, silent in the afterglow of the ceremony, the stadium’s noise muted around us .
Finally, I spoke. “He wasn’t always like this, you know.
Cold. Untouchable.” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out.
“He used to laugh with me. Teach me stupid things like rope knots and dice tricks. I’d wait at the door every time he came back from patrols because…
he always picked me up like I was the only thing that mattered. ”
Zane’s jaw worked, but he kept his voice low, careful. “Sounds like he traded that part of himself for the general’s title.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my thumb over the edge of the brand still sore beneath my tunic. “Or it has something to do with my mother’s death. I am still struggling to believe that he would hurt my mother.”
He finally turned, catching my gaze and holding it steady. “One day, you will get answers, but right now, you’ve got me. You’ve got Esme now. You’ve got your squad. That’s more than enough to keep moving forward.”
The words settled deep, chasing back some of the cold.
I leaned into him without thinking, my temple brushing his shoulder.
He didn’t move, didn’t breathe too hard, like he knew this was fragile and rare.
I stayed there, letting his breathing bring me into sync, calming my stirring soul.
I was still leaning into Zane when a sharp, familiar voice cut through the hum of cadets in the stadium.
“Auri!”
I pulled back just in time to see Lili darting toward me, practically glowing herself, her braid bouncing behind her. Her grin was so wide it made my chest ache in the best way.
“You did it!” She crushed me into a hug before I could brace. Her arms locked tight enough to make my stitched side flare, but I held on and didn’t care.
When she pulled back, still grasping my arms, my eyes fixed on a small detail I hadn’t previously seen.
Near the base of her throat, a soft shimmer reflected the light, trickling lightly toward her collarbone.
It was subtle, resembling moonlight on dark water, only noticeable when I looked directly at it.
The shimmer was navy blue, wispy, reminiscent of the shadows cast by her dragon’s wings .
“You’re shimmering,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Her grin widened, and she tugged at her tunic so I could see more clearly. “So are you. It’s—Gods, Auri, it’s real. You’re bonded. It’s so amazing.”
My hand moved up toward my chest, fingers lightly touching the spot where Esme’s brand still tingled faintly beneath my skin. I hadn’t truly seen it reflected back at me yet—not until now, under Lili’s glow.
“It’s incredible,” Lili continued, eyes sparkling. “When they branded us, I swear I felt her settle inside me. Like we are finally… complete. I hadn't realized it would feel that way either.”
Behind her, I thought I felt Esme stir faintly through the bond, a pleased rumble in the back of my mind.
Lili’s eyes softened as she studied the faint shimmer over my chest and arms. “It feels strange at first, doesn’t it? Like you’re walking around with a beacon painted on you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, fingers brushing unconsciously along my arms. The iridescence shifted when I moved, like silver scales rippling under my skin. “It feels like… everyone can see it.”
“They can’t. Not unless they’re bonded too,” Lili reassured me.
“Like everyone else, you’ll learn to control it over time.
Mask it, dim it. Some Riders hide theirs completely—you’d never know they are bonded at all.
Others... well.” She smirked knowingly. "They let it shine brighter than it should, like a damn peacock strutting in the field.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Gods, no,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“Mine used to shimmer like wildfire when I first bonded. Over time, Verya helped me rein it in, taught me how to tuck it under my skin when I didn’t want every Rider in a mile radius watching me glow like a lantern.
You’ll get there too. Esme will show you how. ”
The mention of her name stirred Esme at the back of my mind, a flash of silver warmth pressing against my thoughts. “Yes. I will teach you.”
My chest tightened, the mix of awe and weight settling deeper. “I don’t know if I’ll want to hide it,” I admitted, softer .
Lili’s smirk gentled into something more earnest. “That’s your choice, Auri. That’s the thing no one tells you—the shimmer is you and your flier. How you carry it is just as much a part of the bond as the brand itself. You’ll find your balance.”
I glanced at her again, the faint navy shimmer over her chest shifting like hidden wings in the light. Subtle, but strong. Her balance.
Lili’s shimmer pulsed faintly as she leaned against me, her grin sharp but her tone soft. “See? You’re already glowing brighter than most. Esme wants the world to know she chose you.”
I brushed my fingers lightly over the iridescence on my left arm, the scales shifting faintly in the light. It felt… vulnerable, visible in a way I couldn’t yet name. Before I could answer, a voice tugged at my thoughts, low and warm.
“Gods, I wish I could see you right now.”
Zane.
My heart jolted, the bond I had recently reopened crackling alive like a live wire. I turned my head to give him a look, him still sitting where we had sat moments before, allowing Lili and me a private moment.
He came to stand next to us. “I can’t see it, but I know it’s beautiful—because it’s yours.”
Heat rushed up my neck, and I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Lili, of course, smirked and elbowed me lightly. “Careful, Zane. She’s still learning how to keep it from glowing brighter when you’re around.”
His lips curved, but his eyes never left mine. “Good. Let it shine. I want everyone to see.”
The weight of his words pressed into me, fierce and steady, and for the first time since the brand seared into my chest, I didn’t feel exposed. I felt claimed. Seen.
Esme stirred in the back of my mind, her voice a silver ripple. “He is not wrong. Your bond is meant to be seen.”
And with both of them watching me, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hide it at all. The three of us lingered in the thinning crowd, Esme’s warmth a steady hum in the back of my mind, when another familiar voice cut through the space.
The crowd was fading as Alex located us. His movements were deliberate, and his face was composed yet tense, as if he’d practiced this scene many times and was still uncertain about proceeding.
“Auri.” His voice was smooth, but my name carried too much in it.
I smiled faintly, unsure. “Hey, Alex.”
His gaze flicked to Zane, only for a heartbeat, before settling back on me. “Esme suits you. I’m glad you made it back in one piece.”
“Thanks,” I said.
The silence stretched, uncomfortable. Lili muttered something about finding someone and slipped away, leaving the three of us in the charged space.
Zane shifted, tension in the way his arm brushed against mine, but he didn’t speak first. He never did, not when it came to Alex.
Alex’s jaw worked as he studied us. Finally, he exhaled. “I’ve been angry. Hell, I still am, if I’m honest. You were—” He broke off, eyes darting briefly to Zane, then away again. “You were my brother for two years. Then she came along, and everything changed.”
Zane’s voice was quiet, steady. “I didn’t plan it. Neither of us did. But I won’t apologize for loving her.”
A flicker crossed Alex’s face—pain, resentment, maybe even a trace of understanding. He dragged a hand over his jaw and shook his head. “I know. That’s the worst part. I know you didn’t mean to… and I know you’d die for her.”
“I would.” Zane’s voice hit firm, his eyes locked hard on Alex.
For a long moment, they barely looked at each other—two years of friendship stretched thin, tugged almost to breaking, but not snapped completely.
Finally, Alex nodded, the sharpness softening.
“I don’t completely forgive you. Not yet.
Perhaps not in the same way it was before.
But…” His gaze flicked to me, then back to Zane.
“For her sake—and because sh e’s a Rider now—I’ll try.
We all need each other if we’re going to survive what’s coming. ”
Zane dipped his head slightly, the closest he’d ever get to a salute between them. “That’s enough for me.”
The air was still heavy, but different now—less like a battlefield, more like the first tentative step off it.
Standing between them, I realized it wasn’t about me choosing one or the other anymore.
It was about whether the two people I cared about most could find a way to carry this without letting it break them.
And maybe—just maybe—they could. Perhaps we all could be friends.
Alex and I were always better as friends anyway.