Chapter 6 #2
Her pale fingers tapped once against the white tablecloth, then she angled her chin, directing my attention to the rest of her table.
I followed the prompt.
That's when I saw them.
Selena sat there in a gown that probably cost more than a semester's tuition, her dark hair arranged in elaborate braids.
Beside her, Valen lounged, his wine untouched before him as his red eyes scanned the room.
Around them clustered other familiar faces from the arena—unbonded applicants, all dressed in formal wear that couldn't quite hide the shared thread of rejection.
All watching the celebration like vultures.
Why are they even here? This dinner was for the newly bonded. A tradition. A recognition. An affirmation of magic choosing who it would trust.
"They shouldn't be here." Draven's voice cut into my thoughts.
I turned. His eyes were fixed on the same table, his jaw tight.
"This dinner is traditionally for bonded pairs only," he continued.
I caught Anya's gaze again. Her eyebrow lifted in silent communication—the kind of wordless exchange we'd perfected during late nights in the library when we were both too tired to speak but still needed to understand each other.
My fingers tightened on the stem of my glass. "Why would they invite unbonded applicants?"
"Good question." Mason's hand found mine beneath the table.
I set down my spoon, appetite gone. "I knew tonight was going to be formal, but this..." I gestured subtly at the crowd. "This is huge. How many people are here?"
"About one hundred," Mason replied, his dark eyes still cataloging faces and positions. "More than usual for a bonding ceremony."
Draven leaned back slightly, scanning the room. "See how the tables are arranged? It's all about proximity to power." He nodded toward the front. "Closest to the dais—that's the Omnium Council delegation. Notice the spacing, the formal seating arrangement."
I followed his gaze to the elegantly positioned tables near the front, where figures in rich robes and ceremonial dress sat with the kind of casual authority that came from centuries of practice.
My eyes caught on a familiar figure seated at the table closest to the Omnium without actually being part of their delegation—Lord Malrec, the same man I'd seen supporting Silvius after the trial.
His placement spoke volumes about his influence.
A few tables back, another familiar figure.
Theron. Seated with the senior instructors, that particular stillness he carried into rooms like this one.
He'd already been looking at me. The moment our eyes met, his shifted away—not casual, not rushed, just controlled, the way he did everything.
Whatever he'd been thinking, he wasn't going to let me see it.
I felt the absence where there should have been something easier.
He'd been my mentor since I first walked into the Guild, and the last time I'd seen him had been at the trial.
He'd watched Kane denounce me from the front row and said nothing.
Hadn't moved when the Guild called to sever my bond.
Whatever he'd been thinking that day, he hadn't shown me. He wasn't showing me now either.
"Behind them," Draven continued, "experienced riders and Guild leadership.
Then the elite supernatural families—old bloodlines, established power.
" His voice remained conversational. "And further back, visiting dignitaries and newer families.
The closer you sit to the front, the more influence you wield. "
The weight of it settled over me. "And they're here because...?"
"Because Dragon Riders answer only to the Omnium Council and the dragons themselves," Mason said quietly, gesturing subtly toward the power structure laid out before us.
"Traditionally, we operate with near-complete autonomy.
The Guild trains us, but once we're bonded.
.." He shrugged. "We're essentially untouchable. "
"Untouchable how?"
Draven's smile was sharp. "Think of it like being the head of a major supernatural family, love.
We have resources, political weight, the backing of creatures that could level cities if they chose to.
Most conflicts get resolved through negotiation rather than force because nobody wants to find out what an angry dragon can do. "
My soup bowl vanished with a shimmer of magic, replaced by something that looked artfully arranged and expensive. I didn't touch it.
"But that's based on precedent," I said slowly. "Tradition. The assumption that Riders will follow established patterns."
"Exactly." Draven's eyes had shifted to that amber color they took on when he was thinking strategically.
"For centuries, Riders have come from established supernatural bloodlines.
Families with their own power bases, their own political connections.
The system works because everyone understands the rules. "
"And then there's me."
"Human," Mason confirmed. "No bloodline. No established power base. No clear place in the existing structure."
I picked up my wine glass, letting the reality settle. Around us, conversations continued—the polite murmur of supernatural politics conducted over food I couldn't bring myself to eat.
"So everyone here is trying to figure out if I'm going to be a liability or set a new precedent," I said.
"The smart money's on precedent," Draven said quietly. "Change makes people nervous, especially people who've spent centuries perfecting the status quo."
I glanced back at Anya's table. At the unbonded watching us.
"Someone's changing the rules," I murmured.
Before either of them could respond, the mood in the hall shifted.
The last of the dessert plates disappeared in a magical shimmer. Rich chocolate and delicate pastries that moments ago had tasted like heaven now sat heavy in my stomach.
The lights dimmed. Not dramatically—just enough to cool the mood from celebration to something more formal. Expectation moved through the room.
A bell chimed once.
Silvius rose from the head table.
He didn't speak immediately. Just waited, hands resting lightly on the table's edge, while conversations died and every face turned toward him.
When silence settled completely, he began.
"Tonight, we celebrate bonds formed," his voice carried easily.
"Though perhaps not quite as tradition would have prescribed.
" A thin smile touched his lips. "The dragons, in their infinite wisdom, chose to bypass our time-honored selection process entirely.
They moved with what one might call... creative interpretation of protocol. "
The pause that followed was deliberate. "Their wisdom, as always, surpasses our mortal understanding. We are grateful for their partnership, their trust, and the sacred duty they have bestowed upon these new Riders."
Polite applause rippled through the crowd. I kept my hands folded in my lap, watching him the way I'd watch a venomous snake.
"This year's bondings occurred under exceptional circumstances.
" He paused, letting the words settle. Never looked at me directly.
Didn't need to. Every person in the room knew exactly who he meant.
"The dragons demonstrated remarkable... independence in their choices, selecting Riders through means that were certainly ancient, if somewhat removed from established precedent. "
"In light of these unique events," Silvius continued, "the Guild has made a decision designed to strengthen our ranks and honor the exceptional talents displayed during this year's trials."
My stomach tightened. Mason's hand found mine beneath the table.
"We are implementing a Training Partner Initiative," Silvius announced. "Select applicants—those who demonstrated remarkable skill, dedication, and potential—will remain at the Guild to support our newly bonded Riders throughout their required training semester."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I sat frozen, processing.
"These training partners will provide invaluable assistance," he elaborated.
"Tactical challenge during combat exercises, magical support in field assessments, sparring opportunities to sharpen our Riders' skills.
They will train alongside our bonded pairs, offering the kind of rigorous preparation that has always been the hallmark of Guild excellence. "
He paused, scanning the room.
"This is both an honor and a service," he continued.
"These individuals will play a crucial role in ensuring our new Riders are prepared for the responsibilities ahead.
And should the dragons call for another Choosing in the future, these partners will be among the first considered—their dedication and continued training a testament to their worthiness. "
The applause was louder this time. Several of the unbonded applicants sat straighter.
But I heard what he wasn't saying.
Mason's grip tightened. Across from me, Draven had gone very still, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
Training partners. The words sounded noble. But the way Silvius said it—the way his eyes swept across the room—made it clear this wasn't about help.
It was about control. Observation. Surveillance.
I looked at Anya's table again. At Selena's perfect smile. At Valen's calculating red eyes. At the others dressed in their formal best, seated among the elite as if they'd already earned their place.
Not guests. Not even hopefuls.
Watchers.
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. The dress suddenly felt too tight.
They hadn't been invited to celebrate.
They'd been positioned. Planted like spies we'd be forced to drag along, their eyes tracking every mistake, every stumble, every moment of weakness.
Waiting.