Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
“Let’s focus on the missing supplies,” I said, forcing my voice steady even though everything inside me still felt cracked open and raw.
Zander hesitated for half a breath, then nodded once.
He led me back to where the others waited, their gear already slung across their backs, weapons glinting under the mid-morning sun.
“We split into groups,” Zander announced. “Two-man teams. Spread out. Talk to whoever will listen.”
I ended up paired with Riven and was thankful.
We headed into town, boots crunching over the narrow, cobbled streets. The air smelled of baking bread, smoke, and something more distinct… wariness.
The village was small, pressed tight against the outer walls of the Kruisaan castle. Stone buildings leaned into each other like old men whispering secrets. The market square was mostly empty, a few vendors packing up their wares the second they caught sight of us.
Unfortunately, they knew who I was.
I saw it in their eyes, the recognition and the whispered names passing between them. The lowborn rider. The Order daughter.
No one would meet my gaze.
Every question we asked was met with tight-lipped silence or awkward half-bows, followed by a quick retreat.
Riven didn’t bother smiling or softening her stance—she knew it wouldn’t help.
We tried all afternoon, going from tavern to bakery to the stables tucked behind the main square.
Nothing.
Just the same uneasy looks, the same stiff backs, the same shuttered windows swinging closed as we passed.
But there was something else, too. Fear.
It bled off the people in waves. The way their hands trembled slightly. The way their eyes darted to the forests beyond the walls, like they expected something or someone to emerge from the trees at any moment.
As the sun dipped low and the streets emptied, Riven and I finally turned back toward the castle, our boots heavier than before.
Dinner was a muted affair in the same cramped room as this morning. Bread, cold meat, and a thick stew that tasted of too much salt and too little hope.
No one talked much.
The weight of the day hung over all of us like a suffocating cloak.
Afterward, we drifted back to our rooms one by one.
I closed the door behind me, leaned my forehead against the rough wood for a long moment, and finally pulled off my boots, my jacket, the sword belt digging into my hip.
Then I collapsed into bed, the faint sounds of the castle settling into silence outside my window, my mind already bracing for whatever tomorrow would bring.
The door to my room exploded inward with a deafening crack, splinters flying like shrapnel.
I was already moving with my heart in my throat and my blade in hand. I’d slept in my armor, my instincts still honed from the last intrusion. My fingers found the hilt of the dagger beneath my pillow, and I rolled off the cot in one fluid motion.
But I wasn’t expecting palace guards.
Six of them stormed the room, heavy boots shaking the floor, the glint of royal insignia from Kruisaan flashing off their shoulders.
“Stand down!” one barked, sword raised.
My back hit the stone wall as I kept my blade raised, breath tight in my chest.
Zander burst in through the adjoining door between our rooms, weapon half-drawn, only to be grabbed from behind by another enforcer.
“What the hell is this?” I shouted.
“You are under arrest,” one of them snapped, stepping forward with a scroll in hand. The seal wasn’t Warriath’s. It was Kruisaan’s.
“The charge is collusion with the Blood Fae.”
Zander’s eyes blazed. “That is ridiculous.” He turned his head quickly toward the hall. “Thrall Squad, grab your gear and go! Now!”
The other rooms erupted into motion. I heard the others rousing, the echo of doors slamming open, boots pounding against stone.
Ferrula’s voice carried down the hall. “What’s happening?!”
“Run!” I yelled. “Get to the dragons!”
They didn’t hesitate.
Gear was thrown over shoulders, blades strapped in place mid-sprint. One by one they burst through the corridor, ducking and weaving past enforcers trying to close in.
We were shoved, dragged toward the courtyard, my dagger torn from my grip as one of the guards twisted my arm behind my back.
Zander fought harder than I did, teeth bared, one man clinging to each of his arms.
We were forced into the courtyard under the pale morning sky, where a dozen more guards ringed the stone.
“Where are the dragons?” Ferrula growled as she skidded to a halt.
“They can no longer land here,” the lead guard said, smug and calm. “Runes line the castle perimeter. Your dragons are circling above, but they cannot break through.”
I reached out for Kaelith with everything I had.
Nothing.
Just silence.
The cold void of absence that chilled deeper than steel.
The others exchanged a glance, and then, without a word, they ran.
Tae shouted, “We’ll bring the Horde!”
Jax grabbed Naia’s hand and pulled her through the castle gates. Ferrula and Cordelle followed, faces grim. The Lowborn Squad ran, but I noticed Teren glance back with murder in his eyes.
They didn’t run out of fear.
They ran for us.
As the last of them disappeared into the streets, the lead enforcer turned back toward us.
He stepped forward slowly, lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer.
“Let’s see how loyal your dragons really are,” he said. “When they watch you bleed.”
“Who ordered this?” Zander demanded, his voice a low growl barely contained beneath his fury. The guards held us fast, but he didn’t flinch, even as they forced him to his knees beside me.
The lead enforcer stepped closer, eyes glittering like wet stone, a smile as smooth and venomous as a snake.
“Does it matter?” he said, his words deliberate, savoring each one. “You won’t live through the night. And your whore…”
His eyes slid to me, heavy with cruel intent.
“She’ll service most of our men before we allow her to die. Cyran needs to be reminded of who truly rules here.”
My skin went cold.
Not just from the threat, but from the truth laced behind it.
I’d assumed this arrest was political.
That it came from Warriath. A power move. A warning.
But now, kneeling here with Zander beside me and Kaelith silent in the skies…
I knew.
This wasn’t Theron.
Someone here had powerful friends.
“Did you steal the supplies?” I asked, keeping my voice even despite the tremor beneath my skin. “Or was that just a ploy to get us here?”
His smile dropped.
The slap came fast, splitting my lip and snapping my head sideways.
But he hadn’t noticed my hand slip lower, fingers finding the hidden blade I’d tucked into the back of my waistband before the guards led me from my room.
“You have no idea what’s really going on,” he said, voice tightening now. “You Riders think your gods. But you’re just good little pawns, playing your part like the rest of us.”
I reached inward, searching for the fire, for my magic, but it flickered weakly, a dying spark. The runes… they must’ve been designed to suppress it.
Zander’s voice touched my mind through the bond.
Give it to me. Feed me your power. I am too weak to call my own.
I opened myself to him. My body felt laden as what little power I possessed without Kaelith fed the man beside me.
Dark Fire surged.
It snapped through the space between us like a whip, curling around his body in a rush of black flame laced with violet lightning.
The guards screamed as the fire scorched through their armor, searing flesh beneath.
Ropes melted from his wrists. Mine followed.
The courtyard lit up with fire and chaos—
And we were no one’s pawns anymore.
Zander grabbed my hand, his grip iron-tight as he yanked me forward.
“Run!” he barked, his voice raw with command.
We bolted toward the castle gate, the Dark Fire still crackling at our backs, the acrid scent of scorched stone burning in my lungs.
The guards scattered before us, fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. They weren’t trying to capture us anymore. They were trying to survive.
Zander tore a path through them, a demon clad in black and violet flame, dragging me behind him as the chaos consumed the courtyard.
But not all of them ran.
One guard—a younger one, faster, maybe dumber—gave chase, his sword flashing in the dim morning light.
I stumbled as the blade caught my shoulder, slicing deep.
Pain exploded down my arm, and I cried out, half-falling to one knee.
Zander spun the second he heard me. His dagger, a blade he must’ve hidden in his boot, flashed upward in a deadly arc.
The guard gurgled and fell, clutching at his throat as crimson poured between his fingers.
Zander grabbed me again, pulling me upright without breaking stride.
We pushed through the narrow castle gates and into the winding streets beyond, the shouts and alarms fading behind us.
The village was waking up, but no one dared stop us, not when we moved like a storm barely leashed.
We sprinted through the outer rim of the village, boots pounding the dirt paths, weaving through startled merchants and abandoned carts.
Keep going! Kaelith’s voice slammed into my mind, loud and furious. Run to the trees. We’re coming!
We didn’t hesitate.
We ran into the forest, the heavy canopy swallowing us whole, the sound of pursuit fading behind the thick trunks and low-hanging branches.
The wooden limbs lashed my face and arms, and my shoulder burned with every step, but we didn’t stop.
Not until we felt them. Our dragons. Their presence pressing against our minds like a promise of salvation.
Zander slowed only enough to glance back at me, his face thunderous with rage and something darker, something more dangerous.
“This is how they plan to break us,” he said, his voice hoarse as we stumbled into a clearing, the distant beat of wings finally reaching our ears. “Bit by bit.”
“Someone falsified the intelligence,” I panted, clutching my bleeding shoulder. “They used the missing supplies to lure us here. Or they arranged the theft.”
Zander’s jaw clenched so tight I thought it might break.
“The leader of the guards,” I said, dragging in a shuddering breath, “he works for the Crimson Sigil. But the others…”
I shook my head, my vision swimming.
“I’m not sure.”
Above us, Kaelith and Hein broke through the clouds, diving toward the clearing with rage burning in their roars.
Kaelith dropped into the clearing like a thunderclap, wings slicing the air as she landed hard enough to shake the earth. Hein landed just behind her, Zander already running to meet him.
My heart thudded painfully as I reached for the rope slung across my chest. No saddle as mine was still in the courtyard, abandoned when everything fell apart, but I always carried my rope.
Kaelith lowered her head as I tossed it over her shoulders, bracing herself as I looped it around the base of her neck and pulled myself up.
It took effort. My shoulder screamed, blood slick under my fingers, but I gritted my teeth and hauled myself onto her back.
I wrapped the rope twice around my wrist and locked my knees tight behind her neck ridges.
Zander didn’t need a rope.
He swung up onto Hein like he was part of him. One fluid motion, no hesitation.
Kaelith launched into the air, and I clenched the rope tight as my legs gripped her sides.
The wind screamed past, slicing through my tunic and armor, biting deep into the open wound on my shoulder.
But as Kaelith soared higher, the pain dulled.
She was feeding me her magic, trickling it in like thread through a torn cloth.
It wouldn’t heal fast, this was deep damage, torn muscle, not just skin, but the bleeding slowed. The burning began to ease.
The others joined us in the air, and I was relieved they had not been targets.
We climbed into formation, all of us riding the wind in silence.
The dragons flew fast, wings cutting through the sky in perfect rhythm, the steady beat a comfort against the chaos of what we’d just escaped.
And then, sooner than I expected, the towers of Warriath broke the horizon.
Sharp. Regal. Waiting.
We were home, but we had a new enemy.
Kaelith’s wings stirred up a gale as she landed hard in the courtyard, stone and dust lifting around her massive form. I didn’t even have time to dismount properly before a court courier, slim, dark-haired, and sweating, rushed toward me.
Kaelith rumbled low as I slid off her back, still clutching my rope. My boots hit the stone just as she lifted off again, her wings sending the courier stumbling a step back.
He shoved a sealed parchment into my hand, bowing quickly.
I broke the wax with my thumb, eyes skimming the page.
Come to the healers’ quadrant immediately. —Meri
My brows drew together.
“How did Meri know I was hurt?” I asked, glancing up at him.
He adjusted his collar nervously. “I only deliver messages, Miss.”
I nodded once, folding the parchment and tucking it into my belt.
“I’ll be right back,” I told the others. They were still dismounting, the dragons settling into their roosts above. “Healers’ quadrant.”
They didn’t question me.
The path wound through the yarrow gardens, where pale-white blossoms bobbed in the breeze, their scent distinct and medicinal. I was just about to step through the arched door when a figure moved from the shadows.
Inderia.
She stepped from the doorway like a ghost made of silk and spite.
A robe of deep-red velvet clung to her shoulders, open just enough to reveal the creamy satin of the dress beneath, flawless, expensive, and meant to be admired. Her hair was twisted back in a cascade of perfectly placed curls, a glinting ruby nestled at her throat.
Her smile was as soft as it was venomous.
“You are a whore,” she said smoothly, “but this is what happens when a prince forgets his station.”
My hand moved before I thought.
The slap cracked through the garden like a whip.
Her head jerked sideways, her curls shifting like serpents.
Inderia gasped and touched her cheek, shock flaring in her eyes before the rage.
“Guards!” she shrieked. “I want her head!”
Kaelith’s roar ripped through the sky above before any guard could take a single step.
The ground trembled.
Windows shook.
Inderia paled.
Because Kaelith wasn’t just protecting me.
She was promising death.