FIFTY #4
“Darragh was just a boy when I took command,” he says softly. “He wanted to be a rider more than anything.”
I take a step toward him. “You trained him yourself.”
Thane nods, but he doesn’t look at me. “And now he’s gone. Just like that.”
His hands are clenched at his sides. Through the bond, I feel the grief he keeps buried beneath years of discipline and duty.
He knows this is part of war, but Darragh was young. And Thane trained him.
Thane moves toward the weapons rack by the far wall, his fingers brushing over familiar hilts as though grounding himself in something solid. I cross to the corner where I left my gear, kneeling beside the chest and beginning to strap on my blades.
Neither of us rushes, but urgency hangs between us all the same.
As I slide another blade into the sheath on my left leg, I hear him speak.
“Losing a soldier is hard enough.”
He selects his sword and slides it into the scabbard strapped across his back.
“But when a bonded dragon dies too, it’s different. It’s worse.”
Pausing in my preparation, I give him my full attention. He doesn’t look at me as he continues.
“It isn’t just a life lost. It’s a bond severed. Something ancient breaking all at once.” His jaw tightens. “Darragh wasn’t just a rider. I trained him. I watched him become a warrior I trusted at my back.”
I rise, the last dagger secured. Sliding my sword into the scabbard across my back, I step toward him and place a hand on the small of his back.
I don’t speak. There are no words for what he’s feeling. I’ve known loss, grief that cuts deep and lingers, but not like this. Not with the burden of command. Not with the weight of knowing someone died because of a choice you made. Because they followed your orders.
Thane finally meets my gaze. I take his hand and turn it over before pressing a soft kiss to his palm.
“Then we fight for him now,” I say softly. “For all of them.”
He inclines his head. The grief remains, but so does the fire.
He turns to fasten the last of his gear.
I close my eyes for a breath and reach for the first bond that thrums just beneath the surface. Calryx. My mind stretches toward her.
“You must have heard.”
Her presence answers immediately, brushing against my thoughts like a gust of wind over sun-warmed stone. Strong. Certain. Yet beneath it, I sense a weighted solemnity that wasn’t there before.
“I heard.”
The loss moves through the bond between us. Not with the sharpness of human grief, but with the weight of something ancient and understood.
“The sky has lost a great voice.”
The words hit harder than I expect and I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat. Then her focus shifts forward.
“I am waiting to be called by you. Are you ready?”
“Always.”
Ten minutes later, we’re standing in the open fields beyond the castle walls, the wind cold against our skin and the reality of what’s ahead settling heavily over us.
Thane stands at my side, jaw set, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Garrick, Rian, Jarek, and Rowena form a line beside us, shoulders squared, weapons strapped to their leathers, every one of them silent.
Fifteen other riders stand with us, spread out in a wide arc across the grass. Each one armed. Each one chosen.
There’s no talking now. No last-minute briefings. We all know what we’re flying into.
Moments later, we hear the distant beat of wings. It begins as a faint tremor beneath our boots before building into something impossible to ignore.
The dragons arrive.
One by one, they descend from the sky in sweeping arcs. Massive wings cleave through the air. The ground shakes beneath us with each landing, the earth rumbling beneath clawed feet striking stone and soil.
I feel Calryx before I see her. Her presence collides into mine through the bond, fierce and full of fire.
She lands in front of me, wings flaring wide, talons sinking into the earth. Smoke curls from her nostrils, flames dancing at the edges of her breath. Her scales shimmer with an opalescent sheen, catching the light in shifting hues of silver, violet, and pale gold.
Others land beside her. Obsidian scales. Bronze. Copper. Deep blues and greens. Twenty-one dragons now stand before us.
I glance toward Thane. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, but I feel the change in him all the same. It’s time.
The dragons lower their necks in unison, heads bowing low, wings half-spread like drawn blades.
Around me, riders break into motion, sprinting toward their dragons, gripping saddles, swinging into place with practiced ease. Leather creaks. Metal flashes. The field comes alive with purpose.
I’m just about to move when a hand closes around my arm. Firm. Urgent.
I turn, and Thane pulls me back to him. He doesn’t say a word. He just kisses me. Hard. His mouth finds mine with a desperation that steals the breath from my lungs. Fear. Love. Everything he can’t bring himself to say aloud.
His hand cups my face, holding me there for one precious moment longer. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven.
“Please,” he says quietly. “Stay close to me.”
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
Then we run.