Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Kaelith descended from the mist like a thundercloud breaking through a storm, wings spread wide and silent. The bond thrummed inside me now, faint, fragile, but real. Her presence tethered to mine like silk pulled taut through fire.
We landed hard, her talons skidding against the stone, and the Ascension Grounds erupted around us.
My squad roared.
Ferrula let out a shrill whistle, and Naia clapped her hands over her mouth, relief etched in every line of her face. Even Cordelle exhaled audibly, the tension bleeding from his shoulders as Kaelith folded her wings behind me.
I slid from her back, my knees buckling the moment my boots hit the ground.
I stumbled.
Jax was there in seconds, catching me with strong arms, his face pale and tight with concern. “Easy,” he said, steadying me. “You alright?”
I glanced past him, just once, and caught Zander’s gaze from across the field. He looked like he wanted to run to me, but his place in Crownwatch held him like iron. His knuckles were white against the hilt of his sword.
Remy stood near his squad too, staring at me with something unreadable in his eyes.
But they couldn’t move. Not yet.
The trial wasn’t finished.
Jax helped me back to our line, one arm around my waist. “What happened?” he asked.
“She bonded me,” I said, my voice rasped, barely audible. “But only at the last second. It’ll take time for me to… repair the damage.”
I didn’t tell him my heart still felt like it was struggling to pump. That each beat echoed with an ache I couldn’t name. My insides had been hollowed out and I had to focus to put one foot in front of the other.
Cordelle reached me first, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. The others quickly formed a half-circle around me, their bodies a wall shielding me from the eyes of the watching riders across the field.
Their presence gave me a moment to breathe.
Riven slipped in and threw her arms around me without hesitation.
“How do you feel?” she asked, pulling back just enough to study my face.
I managed a smile, tired and too thin.
“Like I died,” I whispered. “And she brought me back just in time.”
Riven’s brows knit, but she didn’t press further.
Because the pain was still written across my face. And she knew some things were too deep to explain.
We gathered near the edge of the Ascension Grounds.
Our dragons were perched on the cliffs beyond the castle.
They seemed to look down on us like gods surveying their people.
The sun was fully risen now, casting long golden lines across the field, lighting our breath in the cold air.
Around us, squads celebrated, laughter echoing like victory bells.
But here, within our circle, there was something quieter. Something deeper.
Bonded.
We were all finally bonded.
Naia moved so she could sit in a patch of grass cross-legged near the Yarrow Gardens, her face flushed with excitement.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, her voice glowing like her eyes. “It was like… all the noise in my head went quiet. Everything I hated about myself, every doubt, it just didn’t matter in there.”
She placed a hand over her chest. “It wasn’t just magic. It was peace. Like he saw all of me and didn’t flinch. He chose me.”
Jax nodded, seated beside Ferrula with one arm draped over his bent knee. “Same for me. When Koddos touched my mind, it was like standing in the eye of a storm. All the chaos around me, the yelling, the pressure… gone. Just calm. And purpose.”
Riven leaned back on her elbows, her dragon Lola resting behind her with her eyes half-lidded. “It’s addicting,” she admitted. “Like you never knew how much you needed someone until you feel them inside your soul. No walls.”
Cordelle, sitting just a few feet away, didn’t speak—but the content expression on his face said it all. He had bonded Kass the first day he touched his pendant and their bond seemed stronger than any of ours.
They all looked lighter somehow. Changed.
Better.
Ferrula smirked. “I just can’t wait for the next phase. The training. The new missions. We’ve earned this.”
Jax grinned. “Now we hone it. Battle formations, aerial combat, magic fusion—”
“Espionage,” Riven added, grinning slyly.
Their excitement was contagious.
But I said nothing.
Because inside, I felt hollow. Kaelith hadn’t spoken a word to me since the bond was sealed. Not a whisper. Not even a flicker.
And I knew deep down that she hadn’t chosen me.
Not truly.
She had saved me because Siergen told her to.
And that knowledge pressed against my ribs like a weight no healing could touch.
So I smiled when they laughed. Nodded when they celebrated.
But I didn’t speak.
Because I couldn’t bear to say the words they all expected to hear.
I was not complete.
Zander approached us from across the grounds, his steps purposeful, his expression carved with that familiar mix of concern and control. His presence made our circle shift—no one said anything, but the air tightened, like it always did when a prince crossed into another’s territory.
His eyes found mine.
“Ashe,” he said quietly, “may I have a word?”
I hesitated only a second before nodding. “Sure.”
I rose from where I sat and followed him a few paces away, away from the others’ ears, though I could feel their eyes trailing me.
He stopped near one of the stone pillars flanking the grounds, arms folded briefly before dropping them.
“I know things didn’t go as you hoped.”
“Hein told you Siergen intervened,” I said flatly.
Zander blinked. “Siergen? No. Hein just said Kaelith waited until you were in pain.”
I grunted, half a laugh, half a grimace. “No. She waited until I was seconds from death. My heart is still healing from my magic shredding it.”
His jaw clenched, the muscle twitching once. “Gods,” he muttered, and reached out, brushing his fingers gently against my cheek. “You’re pale. I assumed it was the strain.”
“It was,” I said, hollow. “The strain of holding my organs together. It’s hell on a girl’s complexion.”
Zander didn’t smile. His thumb lingered for a moment, like he wanted to fix something he couldn’t touch.
“How did Siergen order Kaelith?” he asked, voice low.
I shrugged. “They need him. I think he has more sway with the dragons than any of us realized.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, to challenge it, but he didn’t.
Instead, he tried to reassure me. “Kaelith bonded you. That’s all that matters. Whatever brought it to the edge, you made it back. You survived. You’re—”
“Stop,” I whispered, cutting him off as I stepped back. “I’m not like the others.”
His brow furrowed.
“Kaelith never wanted me. She never will.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. “I’ll do my duty. To her. To my squad. Until the day I die.”
I turned from him before he could speak again. I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want his pity.
I walked away, leaving the prince of Crownwatch standing alone in the shadow of his title.
And I sank back down into the grass beside Naia.
She said nothing.
But she slid her hand into mine.
And for now, that was enough.
We’d sat on the edge of the Ascension Grounds with something unfamiliar running through all of us, relief. The bonding trial was behind us. Most of us had survived it. Scarred, shaken, changed… but we were still alive.
And now, the energy had shifted. We were all cadets.
We were bonded. Our dragons rested near the cliffs, watching us like guardians from another world.
Naia stretched out her legs in the grass, her braid unraveling as she leaned back and let the sunlight kiss her skin.
“I can feel him now,” she said with a smile. “Temil’s always there. Like this hum under my skin. It’s more than magic. It’s calm. Like he’s breathing with me.”
Cordelle chuckled, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve felt Kass in my dreams since I got my pendant. But now it’s like… we’re woven. I tried practicing my power again the other night, just a little.”
“You did?” Riven leaned in, wide-eyed.
He nodded. “Kass told me to stop. Said I wasn’t ready yet. But I think he meant… emotionally. We’re training as a unit now. No one rider fights this war alone.”
Ferrula grunted in agreement, rolling one shoulder. “Damn right. You bond, you belong. Anyone trying to use their power without their dragon’s blessing is asking to get turned inside out.”
Riven, ever the showoff, flicked her hand, and orange fire danced like a snake across her knuckles before vanishing. “Controlled demonstrations only,” she teased. “Let’s not burn down the barracks.”
Tae grinned, eyes glinting. “Oh, please. You wish you had the flair I do.”
He raised a brow, then pointed a single finger at Jax, who stiffened instinctively before waving him off.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jax warned, but there was laughter behind it.
One by one, they all gave small shows of their gifts, light sparking from fingertips, vines erupting from the grass wrapping around boots, wind curling through hair like whispers.
They were radiant. Connected.
Whole.
I sat quietly at the edge of the group, legs pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. Kaelith rested high above on a cliff ledge, wings folded in, watching like she was part of the world but untouched by it.
They didn’t notice I hadn’t joined in.
Didn’t see the way my jaw tightened when Jax spoke of redirecting energy, or how my chest ached when Naia described Temil’s constant presence.
I didn’t offer to demonstrate my power.
Because I didn’t want to call on Kaelith for anything.
And I didn’t say why.
I just smiled. Nodded. Let them shine.
And stayed very, very still.
I glanced toward the other squads gathered across the Ascension Grounds.
The newer cadets were scattered in tight clusters, mimicking what they saw from us, small demonstrations of fledgling power, sparks of fire, gusts of wind, a few shaky illusions.
Their dragons watched from the cliffs behind Warriath like proud parents, the air charged with possibility.
But mine remained distant. Still. Perched near Hein.
My gaze swept the field, catching on Major Ledor near the command platform. He was watching me.
Not the others. Me.
His arms were folded, posture tight, brows furrowed with something that wasn’t quite distrust, but wasn’t far from it either.
Wary.
He should be. I didn’t even trust myself right now.
But I was too tired to care.
And then the horn blared, echoing like a warning through the field.
The crowd shifted as everyone turned toward the castle.
Theron emerged, cloaked in his usual arrogance, the sun catching on the embroidery of his coat as if the fabric itself had been stitched with gold. Behind him, his entourage trailed like shadows, guards, advisors, sycophants.
But not Inderia.
I was grateful for that mercy.
Theron ascended the podium with the grace of someone who’d already decided the ground was his to command. His voice rang out across the training fields, polished and cold.
“By decree of the crown,” he called, “I will act as heir and Regent of Warriath until Prince Dorian returns from his campaign in the outer kingdoms.”
A hush fell.
Until Zander stepped forward from Crownwatch’s ranks, breaking from his squad like a lightning bolt of defiance.
“You can’t just claim the regency,” he said, loud enough for every rider, every dragon, every noble to hear. “Father may be ill, but the throne still stands. And Dorian is not dead.”
Theron’s gaze sharpened, but his smile didn’t falter. “No, but he’s absent. And Warriath needs leadership now. Not promises.”
Zander stalked closer to the platform. “You’re power-hungry and reckless. And I won’t let you endanger the realm just to play king before your time.”
The crowd shifted again, whispers breaking out like wildfire, tension climbing the air like heat before a storm.
Theron leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “Careful, brother. You’re speaking treason.”
“No,” Zander said, voice low and cutting, “I’m speaking truth.”
Even the dragons stirred.
Kaelith lifted her head, as did Hein and Temil, wings rustling across the cliff edge.
The court lines had always been drawn in ink and law.
But today, they were being redrawn in public. In stone. In blood.
And everyone was watching.
The tension snapped tight as Zander stood his ground before the podium, his voice echoing with open defiance.
Across the Ascension Grounds, a gust of wind tore through the silence, and then the air rumbled.
Hein.
The large silver dragon descended from the cliffs like a storm given form, wings spread wide as thunder cracked from the sky above.
He landed hard behind Zander, the stone beneath his talons splintering on impact.
His scales glinted in the morning sun, ancient and battle-worn, like a warning to every soul present.
Hein’s growl resonated through the field, not loud, but deep, a sound that lived in bone and blood.
And Theron flinched.
Only for a second. But it was there.
A flicker of wariness as his gaze flicked up to the massive dragon who now stood behind Zander like a towering wall of teeth and vengeance.
Theron’s jaw tightened.
“You think your dragon makes you untouchable?” he said, voice clipped, louder now so the others could hear—masking his unease with bravado. “That he can shield you from the consequences of your mouth?”
Zander didn’t move.
Hein’s wings flared slightly, enough to cast a shadow across Theron’s guards.
Theron’s lips curled. “He can’t protect you forever, little brother.”
Zander met his gaze without blinking. “No,” he said calmly, “but you’ll wish he could protect you.”
The field was dead silent.
Because in that moment, no one believed Theron was in control.
Not with Hein behind Zander.
Not with fire building at the edge of loyalty, waiting to decide where it would burn.