36. CHAPTER 36
The silence between the three of us still throbbed, thick with things none of us wanted to say out loud. Alex broke it first, exhaling through his nose before forcing a lopsided grin.
“Enough brooding. They’ve got the celebration set up in the courtyard—platters of roasted meats, honey cakes, and more ale and wine than half of us should be trusted with.”
Lili had just stepped back to my side, a spark of her usual mischief flashing in her eyes. “Good, because I fully intend on drinking until I forget just how terrifying today was. Losing my best friend is never an option.”
Alex huffed a laugh. “You and half the field, probably. It’s tradition—bonding day isn’t complete without someone stumbling out of the hall trying to sing the ballads of the First Riders.”
His gaze shifted to me, softer. “But you need food in you first, Auri. And rest. You’ve pushed your body harder than most.”
Zane squeezed my hand, voice firm. “We’ll go. She’s not missing this.”
“Good,” Alex said, his grin sharpening into something closer to their old camaraderie, if still fragile. “Let’s at least walk in looking like we are friends instead of three people trying to murder each other. Deal?”
I couldn’t help it—my lips twitched upward, a tiny laugh breaking the heaviness. Awkward or not, maybe that was the first fragile step toward something that wouldn’t break us completely.
When we stepped out into the courtyard, the air carried the rich scents of roasted venison, spicy root stew, and the sharp bite of strong ale.
Lanterns swung overhead, their warm glow highlighting armor and shimmering marks.
The crowd of Riders glittered as if the gods themselves had dressed them for the feast.
That day’s courtyard celebrations were for the Riders—bonding day belonged to us alone.
The only others present were those who came as companions: siblings, close friends, or lovers, like Zane.
He carried himself like he belonged, though I noticed more than one curious glance thrown his way. Let them look.
Long tables had been set up in neat rows, but already the order was unraveling—groups clustered in circles with mugs raised high, songs beginning to rise in half-sung, half-shouted verses.
At the far end, barrels were being tapped, the foamy ale poured into clay mugs faster than the servers could carry them away.
“See?” Lili said, nudging me as she grabbed a mug from a passing tray. “Exactly what I promised. Food, drink, and questionable decisions before sundown.” She tipped her mug toward me, her faint shimmer pulsing as the lantern light caught her chest.
Zane’s hand brushed mine where no one could see, grounding me. “You’re pale,” he murmured, low so only I could hear. “Eat something before you drink. I mean it.”
Alex caught the exchange, his jaw flexing, though he forced a thin smile. “He’s right. The courtyard doesn’t wait—you’ll be three cups in before you realize you haven’t touched a plate.”
“I’m fine,” I said, but my stomach betrayed me with a quiet growl. Lili laughed and tugged me toward the food tables, tossing a teasing glance back at the boys. “Come on, Auri. Before they start bickering like an old married couple.”
Behind us, I heard Alex mutter something under his breath. Zane didn’t answer, but the silence between them was sharp as a blade.
The celebration engulfed us completely—joyful song, hearty laughter, flickering firelight, and the comforting knowledge that the first-years present had survived where others had not.
That night, despite underlying tension, we felt alive, bonded, and close.
The courtyard pulsated with life, making the world beyond appear surreal—war, politics, and death couldn’t breach the radiant glow of the lanterns.
Someone began singing about the first Riders, and by the second verse, half the courtyard had joined in, mugs raised and voices resonating confidently.
I sat squeezed between Lili and Zane on a long bench, a plate heaped with food in front of me. Zane had pushed it toward me before I could protest, and now he was ignoring his own plate, keeping his arm behind me on the bench. Protective. Always protective.
Across from us, Alex nursed his ale, watching me more than he should.
His jaw tightened every time Zane leaned close, every time my laugh slipped out when Lili whispered something ridiculous in my ear.
He wasn’t cruel—he hadn’t been since everything broke between us—but the strain was heavy, the kind that made silence louder than shouting.
“So,” Alex said at last, his tone just casual enough to fool no one. “How does it feel? The bond. The shimmer. Being one of us now.”
I swallowed a sip of ale, setting the mug down carefully. “It feels… right. Like I’ve been walking half-asleep and finally woke up.”
Zane’s hand brushed mine under the table, his thumb pressing once against my knuckles. Alex’s eyes flicked down, catching the movement. His mug clinked a little too hard against the wood when he set it down.
Lili, sensing the tension, raised her mug high. “To survival!” she declared, loud enough to draw cheers from nearby tables. “To the dead bastards who said we couldn’t make it this far!”
The courtyard erupted with laughter, mugs crashing together in messy toasts.
For a moment, the sharp edge between Zane and Alex dulled, drowned by the celebration.
But even as I laughed with the others, even as I let the ale warm me and the music roll through me, I could feel both of them watching—one with fierce devotion, the other with something quieter, heavier.
Regret, maybe. Or forgiveness, he wasn’t ready to give.
And beneath it all, the shimmer on my chest pulsed faintly, Esme’s presence brushing against the edges of my mind, reminding me that no matter what turmoil simmered here, I was not alone anymore.
The courtyard grew louder as the night stretched on, the air thick with the aromas of roasted meat, spiced cider, and an excess of ale.
Lanterns hung from the old stone arches swayed in the winter wind, casting moving shadows across the courtyard where cadets sang, shouted, and shoved each other toward the fountain like overgrown children.
Someone shouted "Drink!" from the center, triggering a chant that grew louder with each round of mugs slammed on the wood. A drinking contest erupted between phoenix Riders and griffin Riders, with half the courtyard taunting and the other half betting.
“Gods, every year it’s the same,” Lili muttered, though she was grinning ear to ear. She tugged at my sleeve. “Come on, you have to at least watch.”
Before I could protest, she dragged me closer to the lively circle of shouting cadets.
Zane followed, his firm hand at the small of my back kept me steady as bodies jostled and shoved around us.
Alex moved with us but hung back slightly, his eyes scanning the chaotic crowd instead of watching the fierce contest. A phoenix Rider tipped backward, unconscious to a chorus of boos.
His friends hauled him out of the ring as a griffin Rider opposite him threw his arms in the air in triumphant victory.
More mugs clattered on the rough wooden table, frothy ale spilling over in wild splashes.
“You’d beat them,” Zane said in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek.
“Would I?” I arched a brow, smiling despite myself.
“You’d drink them under the table and still walk straight.”
“You’d have to carry me when I actually didn’t,” I teased back.
Alex’s voice cut through, cool and quieter than the chaos around us. “You really shouldn’t. Not with stitches still fresh.”
I stiffened, the reminder landing harder than it should’ve. Zane’s arm tensed around me. For a moment, the celebration noise dulled, the three of us caught in a silence heavy enough to smother the air.
Lili, ever the savior, broke it. “Or,” she said, “we could skip contests and find warm cider. It’s less fun but far fewer hangovers.”
We laughed—too sharp, too fast—but it loosened something enough to move again.
Later, I ended up sitting at the edge of the fountain, the chill of the stone seeping through my trousers as I watched Riders dunk each other into the water, shrieking and cursing.
Zane leaned against the fountain behind me, his hand brushing my shoulder in that grounding way he always had.
Across from us, Alex sat with a mug dangling from his fingers, his gaze unreadable as he watched the flames flicker in the courtyard braziers.
The chaos swirled around us—songs, dares, cadets stumbling arm-in-arm—but between the three of us, it was quieter, tighter. No words could undo what had been broken, but at least that night, amid the celebration, we were trying not to bleed on the cracks.
The courtyard buzzed with laughter, music, and the heat of bonfires, but it all turned sharp when a cadet shoved through the crowd toward me. His words slurred with drink, but his intent was razor-clear.
“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” His eyes burned, the flush of ale making his sneer sharper. “Daddy’s little girl. Protected while the rest of us bleed for scraps.”
A few heads turned. The surrounding noise quieted down, and conversations stalled into uncomfortable silence. My mouth felt dry. I hadn’t said anything to offend him—but it was pointless. It was never truly about me. It was about my last name.
“Careful,” Zane muttered at my side, his hand already twitching toward me, ready to step in.