36. CHAPTER 36 #2
Before I could form a response, my bond mark ignited.
Silver shimmer burst across my skin, scales unfurling from my chest outward like wildfire, locking tight against me in a shield I hadn’t summoned.
Gasps rippled through the nearby cadets.
The other Rider laughed darkly—his shimmer flared, unmasked by drink and rage.
Grey scales, jagged and stone-like, crawled up both his arms and spread across his chest, pulsing with threatening energy.
He hadn’t intended to reveal it, but now it bore him completely, his dragon answering my defense with one of its own.
The courtyard grew still. Firelight caught our shimmering hues, silver and grey clashing like a fierce storm .
“You see that?” he barked at the crowd, gesturing at me, his eyes wild. “The General protects his own while the rest of us fight to be noticed. She’ll never pay the price we do!”
The silver scales on my chest hardened further, searing heat coursing through me as Esme’s voice cut into my mind—sharp, unyielding. “Threat. I will not let him touch you.”
I staggered back, breath uneven, heart pounding as my armor sealed around me. The weight of every eye in the courtyard pressed down. Zane stepped forward, his grip finding my shoulder, his voice low and lethal.
“One more word, and you’ll regret it.”
But the cadet only bared his teeth, grey shimmer pulsing brighter in the torchlight.
For a heartbeat, it felt like the celebration would ignite into something else entirely.
The cadet’s grey shimmer pulsed like storm light, jagged scales crawling higher up his neck.
The courtyard was silent but for the crackle of bonfires, every Rider, every flier-tethered bond holding its breath.
I raised my hands slowly, my silver shimmer still tightly locked across my chest and arms even though I hadn’t intentionally willed it. My voice shook, but I forced it to steady.
“I’m not him,” I said, searching his eyes. “I’m not my father. Whatever he’s done—whatever you think I’ve done because of him—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not my dad.”
For a flicker, something crossed his face. Doubt. Pain. But it hardened in a heartbeat, drowned by rage and drink.
“Doesn’t matter,” he spat. “You carry his name. That’s enough.”
And then he lunged.
His fist slammed into my shoulder, the grey shimmer along his arm scraping sparks against my silver scales. Gasps erupted around us as the crowd surged back, the courtyard exploding into chaos.
Zane moved instantaneously, shoving him off me, his own snarl tearing loose. “Back the fuck off!”
But the cadet only came harder, grey shimmer flaring brighter, his fist cracking against Zane’s jaw. The sound of it rang like steel on stone .
I stumbled, heart pounding, with silver armor still fused to my skin. I hadn’t summoned it—but it was alive, glowing with every pulse of Esme’s fury in my chest. My hand shot out instinctively, hitting his ribs. He staggered, then drove his knee into my stomach, hard enough to rattle my teeth.
The crowd roared. Other Riders began shoving in, some trying to pull him back, others egging it on. Someone threw a cup. Somewhere else, shimmers began flashing in the firelight—gold feathers, red scales, black shimmers—all uncontrolled, answering the madness.
“Enough!” Zane’s bellow ripped through the yard, but it was already too late.
The courtyard was a battlefield.
The cadet swung again, grey shimmer striking mine, sparks dancing between us.
My chest felt like fire. Esme’s voice in my head like a drumbeat, “Harden. Survive.” And for the first time—I let it.
My silver shimmer surged outward, locking around me like a second skin. The cadet’s blow rebounded off me with a sharp crack, his hand twisting at an ugly angle. He screamed.
The chaos swallowed the sound.
Bonfires cast the courtyard into madness—shimmer on shimmer, Riders against Riders, old grudges exploding as ale and anger fueled the night.
And at the center of it all—I stood trembling, silver armor burning against my skin, knowing there was no putting this back in its box.
The fight churned around us, Riders clashing, shimmers blazing in wild, uncontrolled bursts.
Ale splashed across the stones, firelight glinting off steel and feathers and scales.
The cadet came at me again, his grey shimmer burning bright down his arms, teeth bared. I barely registered the pain in my gut before instinct had my dagger in hand, the steel glinting pale in the torchlight .
And then—Zane moved.
The mask dropped. For the first time in months, other than in our chambers, his wings exploded outward, massive and black, catching the firelight with a sheen that stole the breath from the courtyard.
Gasps ripped through the crowd as space cleared instinctively around him, the sheer dominance of the display forcing bodies back.
The cadet faltered, just a step, and that was enough.
I dropped low, my silver shimmer hard against my skin, and slashed once, twice. The dagger bit clean through the tendon—both of his ankles, giving wet, awful pops. His scream tore the air as he collapsed, thrashing on the stones, his shimmer flickering uselessly.
Zane stepped behind me, wings flared wide, shadows draping across the courtyard. His stance was lethal, protective, a wall of fury and darkness standing guard at my back.
And the noise died.
All around us, the chaos froze. Shimmers dimmed, fists lowered, voices dropped into silence. The only sound left was the cadet’s ragged sobbing, cut through by the slow rasp of my own breath.
No one else dared move.
Because at that moment—dagger in my hand, silver shimmer glowing hard across my arms, and Zane’s wings stretched out like death itself—I wasn’t just the general’s daughter anymore.
I was a survivor. I would not fall.
The courtyard went silent.
The Rider lay writhing, clutching at the ruin of his ankles, his cries sharp against the night. My dagger dripped steadily onto the stones. My shimmer burned too bright on my chest, refusing to dim no matter how I willed it, and the strange heaviness in the shadows at my feet made my stomach twist.
Whispers rippled.
The General’s daughter.
Savage.
Untouchable.
Zane moved again .
His wings unfurled fully, black and vast, blotting out torchlight until shadows swallowed the courtyard. His voice cut across the silence, low but carrying, edged with authority that brooked no refusal.
“Enough.” The word cracked like steel against stone.
Every cadet froze. Some dropped their eyes instantly, others stiffened like they wanted to challenge him—until his wings shifted, the air pressure forcing them half a step back.
Zane took another slow step forward, putting himself squarely between me and the crowd. His gaze swept the ring of cadets, unflinching, daring them to move. “You’ve all made your point. Now stand down. Before this turns into something none of you will crawl out of.”
For a long, tense beat, no one breathed. One by one, cadets lowered their stances. A few muttered curses, but no one stepped forward. The boy on the ground groaned, dragging himself back, blood smearing across the stones.
Zane kept his wings stretched wide until the noise faded into uneasy quiet.
When he finally folded them, the courtyard still felt smaller, like his presence alone pressed every cadet into line.
I could feel eyes lingering on me, my chest shimmer still too sharp, too alive.
I tightened my grip on the dagger, willing the strange pressure at my feet to vanish. It didn’t.
Esme’s voice brushed faintly against my mind, sly and knowing. “It’s beginning.”
I shoved the thought aside, swallowing hard.
Next to me, Zane exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes remaining fixed on the determined cadets who refused to look away.
He commanded them to stand down. He took charge effortlessly as the natural leader he was, though he might dislike hearing it.
He was next in line to be the duke, yet he preferred to deny that fact.
And just like that, the balance of the courtyard shifted.
Not only around me, but around him. Every cadet there saw it—Zane taking command, his wings dark banners over us both.
The courtyard began to thin out, cadets peeling away in hushed clusters, their eyes still darting quickly and furtively toward us.
Whispers tangled in the air—about me, about Zane, about the blood still smeared across the stones.
Zane’s hand closed firmly around mine, grounding me. His wings remained still exposed until the last of the crowd drifted away. Only then did he pull them back into himself, the air pressure easing.
“Come on,” he said, his voice low, roughened by the weight of command, “we should go.”
I let him guide me, sheathing my bloody dagger into my thigh sheath.
My shimmer refused to fade, the faint glow a reminder that everyone had seen more than I wanted them to.
We slipped through the quieter corridors, the sound of our boots echoing against the stone.
He didn’t speak, and I didn’t ask him to.
The silence stretched, heavy but safe, his presence cutting through the lingering dread that still clung to my skin.
At my door, he finally stopped. He didn’t let go of my hand, just turned enough to study me, his jaw set, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.
“You handled yourself,” he said, voice steady but tight. “But the next time someone comes for you like that—” His wings twitched, like they might snap open again. “—I’m not sure I’ll stop at just guarding.”
I swallowed, the weight of his words pressing against the frantic thrum of my heart. “Zane…”
He squeezed my hand once, hard, and then let go. “Rest, you’re safe now.”
“For now,” I murmured. I wanted to protest even more, but something in his gaze stopped me cold.
The protective fury that wouldn't bend, not that night.
My chest still shimmering faintly in the dark, and the door clicked shut behind him.
Only when I leaned back against the wood did I let my breath tremble free.
The shadows along the walls flickered strangely, as though they were following me inside.
Esme’s whisper brushed the back of my mind. “Closer now. Much closer.”