Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The major’s boots echoed like a war drum as he stepped into the ring, hands behind his back, his eyes sharp enough to cut bone. His gaze found me first, then drifted to Zander and Remy like they were ants that had wandered too close to his boots.
“Rebec,” he barked, “you go again.”
I straightened, jaw tight, still catching my breath from earlier, my body heavy with the weight of Kaelith’s absence and the bitter echo of Perin’s words. But before I could move, Zander stepped forward.
“No,” he said, voice calm but firm. “She’s done enough for today.”
“I agree,” Remy added, coming up on my other side, eyes shadowed with fury. “She’s not ready.”
The major barely spared them a glance. “She’ll go again. And you,” he added, turning to Remy, “are already walking on thin ice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Remy asked, his voice a blade sheathed in ice.
“You interfered in the last trial,” the major snapped, tone cold and clipped. “You pulled her out before it was over. A rider’s match is not yours to decide.”
“She was losing consciousness,” Remy growled. “Or did you miss that part?”
“Perhaps I should assign you a week’s stay in the dungeon to remind you of your place,” the major said, eyes gleaming. “You’re not her shield, Remand. You’re barely a soldier these days.”
That hit harder than any blade.
Remy’s hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening, but he didn’t respond. Not out loud. His jaw twitched once. His silence was more dangerous than any threat he could’ve made.
Gods, I thought. Remy’s finally ended up on the major’s bad side. Not that our illustrious teacher had a good side to begin with.
I tried to focus, to call the magic the way I always did—but the familiar warmth didn’t rise. It didn’t hum or burn or crackle. It was just… gone.
The Dragonsbane.
It continued to move through my body like a shroud, smothering my magic.
Damn it, Remy.
I reached inward, deeper, clawing for even a spark—and found nothing but static.
The major turned to me, voice impatient. “Well?”
“I… I can’t,” I murmured, panic curling cold fingers around my ribs.
Remy’s head snapped toward me, realization flickering across his face like lightning.
The major stepped closer. “Then you’ll learn to fight without it.”
The words barely left his mouth before something shifted. A crack. A breath.
My magic surged like a flood breaking through rusted gates.
It wasn’t Kaelith.
It was me.
It returned all at once—a torrent of wind and light and storm, crashing through my veins like the sky had finally remembered my name. My eyes snapped open, and the clouds above the Ascension Grounds darkened, roiling in warning.
I lifted my hand, and lightning sparked across my fingers.
“I’m ready now,” I said, my voice low and laced with thunder.
Remy looked ready to rip the major apart with his bare hands. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, jaw locked, eyes dark with fury that could have boiled blood. But he wasn’t the only one.
My squad had gone still—too still. Jax had stepped forward like he might throw himself between me and the storm I was becoming. Ferrula’s hand twitched toward her blade. Naia stared at the sky, lips pressed into a grim line, while Tae stood frozen beside her, all humor drained from his face.
Zander took a step forward, reaching—Don’t, I wanted to say, don’t look at me like I’m breaking.
Thunder cracked.
It rolled across the Ascension Grounds in a deafening wave as my magic surged again, snapping through the air with a jagged shriek.
Wind whipped my hair across my face, and arcs of silver lightning danced across my arms, pulsing without rhythm.
Too fast. Too wild. Without Kaelith’s presence calming me, it had no tether, no shape. Just power.
I tried to pull it back, to bury it, but it raged like a beast unchained.
And then—
Hein roared.
The sound split the sky as his wings carved down through clouds like judgment.
He landed in the center of the Ascension Grounds with a weight that shook the stones beneath our feet, blue flame curling from his jaws in spirals.
The ground groaned under his claws as he stepped forward, wings folding slowly, deliberately.
The major spun, face flushing with fury. “You were not to call him!”
Zander’s voice was as calm as winter frost. He crossed his arms. “I didn’t.”
The major blinked.
“Kaelith did,” Zander continued, chin lifting. “They’re bonded. And she’s indisposed at the moment.”
A dangerous smile pulled at his lips.
“You’re welcome to argue with Hein about it,” he added. “I’m sure that’ll go well for you.”
The major opened his mouth, then wisely closed it again as Hein advanced, his great head lowering until those ancient, silver-rimmed eyes were level with the major’s. The man took a single step back. Another.
Smart.
“Rebec,” the major snapped, voice tighter now. “That’s enough.”
I wanted to stop.
But the storm didn’t.
My magic swelled again, swirling tighter around me, the wind rising into a howling spiral. It hummed beneath my skin, no longer listening, only demanding.
Kaelith, please—but she was gone. Distant. Dreaming.
And then Hein moved.
He didn’t roar this time. He simply breathed.
His magic slipped around me like mist and shadow and raw, unrelenting sky. It wasn’t quite an anchor, not the same as Kaelith’s tether, but it was close. So close it made my breath hitch.
His aura pressed against mine, soothing the edges of the storm, coiling around my out-of-control magic with a will not his own, but something shared. Something older. I felt his link to Zander, steady and unbreakable. And through it, a whisper of Kaelith. Distant, but real.
Hein wasn’t just a beast of war.
He was a force of nature.
Stronger than anyone on these grounds realized.
And the storm inside me began to still.
The wind stirred the dust where Hein had landed, still thick in the air as the great silver dragon stood like a silent sentinel beside the ring.
His eyes tracked every breath, every heartbeat.
My magic had finally quieted, wrapped tightly in the echo of his presence, but the major didn’t look impressed.
He looked furious.
He turned to Zander, his glare sharp enough to peel skin.
“Ask your dragon to leave,” he barked. “We are training without them today.”
Hein let out a soft grunt, something between a warning and a sigh, before unfolding his wings in a languid, deliberate stretch. One last look passed between him and Zander, silent, resolute, and then he launched into the sky, the air rippling in his wake.
Silence settled in his absence.
The major took two steps toward Zander, boots snapping on the stone, and squared off with him like he was addressing a soldier half his rank.
“No dragons have mated while bonded to riders,” he said, his voice low but bitter. “Neither you nor the Rebec girl has any idea how this will affect you.”
Zander didn’t flinch.
He didn’t blink.
He just stared at the major, calm and unshaken. “You’re right,” he said evenly. “We don’t.”
Then his lips curved, not into a smile, but something far more dangerous.
“But Hein has waited hundreds of years to mate Kaelith,” Zander added. “If you want to try and change his mind, that’s up to you.”
A beat passed.
The major paled slightly.
He looked away first.
But he still found his venom.
“It seems,” he muttered, eyes whipping back to Zander like a curse, “you are destined to roam in the gutter no matter what you do.”
Zander didn’t rise to it.
Didn’t snap back.
He just turned his head, until his gaze found me, unwavering, fierce, and unmovable.
And in that moment, I realized something the major hadn’t yet.
You couldn’t drag someone into the gutter if they were born to burn palaces down.
I moved to the ring after the major ordered me to.
It felt smaller without Kaelith in my head, quieter, but not in a good way. The world dulled when her voice went silent, like a song cut mid-verse. Still, I stepped into the center of the circle, shaking out my arms as Riven rolled her shoulders across from me.
Her stance was lazy on purpose. She wasn’t here to win. Neither was I.
“You okay?” she asked, lifting her fists but not advancing, her eyes unflinching on mine.
“I’m fine.” I mirrored her stance, my own movements loose, uncommitted. “But Kaelith is a bit… distracted with the whole mating thing.”
Riven tilted her head. “That must be why your magic’s so unstable.”
We began to move in slow, practiced circles, feet brushing against packed earth, our shadows chasing each other across the stone. Riven lunged lightly, and I dodged, barely trying.
“Maybe,” I said, avoiding her next strike. Maybe that’s part of it. But lying to her, lying to all of them, felt like swallowing glass. Because it wasn’t just Kaelith’s bond to Hein pulling her away. It was something I didn’t fully understand.
Riven smirked and came in again, throwing a fast, low jab to my side. I turned with it, caught her arm, but then—
My magic flared.
Bright arcs of electricity snapped across my skin with a sharp crack, sparking between us before I could rein it back.
Riven gasped and rolled away with a curse, her eyes wide, hair crackling from the static as she scrambled to her feet. “Damn, Ashe!”
“I didn’t mean to—” I started, panicked, magic still singing through my skin like it wanted out.
Then a hand wrapped around my wrist.
I flinched, expecting the jolt to snap through whoever dared touch me.
But it didn’t.
Remy was there, his fingers firm around mine, the pulse of his skin against mine absorbing the magic like it was heat in a storm.
I knew it shocked him.
I felt it. A distinct zing through the contact. But he didn’t flinch.
His eyes searched mine. “You okay?”
The question was quiet, grounded. Real.
I wanted to lie. To say yes, to wave it off like I always did.
But the look in his eyes told me he wouldn’t believe it.
“I will be.”
Zander’s footsteps were purposeful. He moved like he was still on the battlefield—even when it was just over an argument.
“Is there a problem?” His voice was even, but his eyes weren’t on me.
They were on Remy’s hand. Which was still wrapped around my wrist, steady and warm, like the storm inside me wasn’t crackling beneath my skin.
Remy’s fingers loosened, his touch falling away with careful ease, but not before his lips twitched into that maddening half-smile. The one that said he was entirely too pleased with himself.
“Maybe,” Remy said, turning toward Zander with casual menace. “Maybe you shouldn’t let her fall if you don’t want someone else to catch her.”
The tension snapped tight between them like drawn bowstrings. I stepped between them, pressing a palm to each chest, not hard, just firm enough.
“Don’t start,” I said. “We have to work together.”
Remy’s brow arched, slow and deliberate.
“You didn’t tell him?” I asked.
Zander’s jaw was already tight. “I haven’t had the chance.”
Zander frowned, but before he could demand more, Remy stepped forward, arms crossing. “What’s going on?”
I met both their gazes. “We’re going to infiltrate Blood Isle. The Fae Sanctuary is inside there… somewhere. We just have to find it.”
Zander didn’t speak, but his expression darkened.
“If we don’t,” I continued, softer now, “the king dies.”
Remy blinked once. The amusement vanished from his face like a cloud burned away by the sun.
He nodded, sharp and decisive. “I’m in.”
No hesitation. No question.
Someone shouted and every head on the Ascension Grounds snapped toward the sky.
A small green blur swooped in low, wings flapping wildly, uncoordinated and reckless. A small clubtail.
It hit the dirt with a graceless thud, clawed feet kicking up chunks of grass and dust as it landed in the center of the field. The dragon snarled, swinging its head from side to side, smoke curling from its nostrils as it puffed its narrow chest like it was twice the size it actually was.
“Whose dragon is that?” I asked, already backing a step away, my hand twitching toward my dagger out of habit more than intent.
Zander moved in front of me with his arm extended, halting. “Nobody’s. It’s a juvenile. Stay back. They usually stay on the isle, but young dragons are known to buck authority.”
The little dragon, if you could call something the size of a warhorse little, let out a sharp, irritable screech and released a burst of flame. It flared bright-orange but fizzled before it could do any real damage.
Like a tantrum.
“Are we talking dragon teen rebellion right now?” I asked, incredulous, still backing toward the edge of the ring.
“Pretty much,” Remy muttered from beside me, hands raised slowly, not quite threatening, not quite dismissive. “Hein’s probably already dispatched the youngling’s parents. But don’t agitate him.”
Naia stumbled as she stepped back, her boot catching on a dip in the earth.
The juvenile’s head snapped toward her.
Shit.
It lunged, maw open wide, claws scraping the stone as it rushed toward her, fast and wild, more instinct than intent.
Naia barely got her arms up.
But Tae stepped forward before anyone else could react, throwing his arm out, palm up.
“Stop!”
His power surged, acute and invisible, and the young dragon froze. Its eyes went wide as if it hit an invisible wall of will. It shrieked, backpedaling in alarm, tail lashing wildly.
The dragon collided with the central podium, smashing it in two, then trampled it with a screech that echoed through the valley. Its tail swung in a wide, furious arc and slammed into a young tree lining the practice field, snapping it clean in half.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, a roar echoed from above. Deep. Commanding.
Tae dropped to one knee, his breath ragged, sweat beading across his brow.
The juvenile screeched again, but this time in surrender, and took to the air in a wild, haphazard flight.
Everyone stood frozen.
I looked to Tae, who still knelt with his hand braced against the ground, his chest rising and falling like he’d just gone twelve rounds with a full-grown striker.
“I really hate dragon puberty,” he muttered.