Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The dining hall buzzed with the hum of conversation, clinking utensils, and the occasional burst of laughter, but our table was quieter than usual, mostly because every other table seemed to be watching ours.
More specifically, watching Tae.
He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He leaned back in his chair, one boot propped on the rung of the bench as he lazily tore a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.
Naia passed him the stew pot. “Eat more. Meri said you need to keep your energy up.”
“I like her,” he muttered with a smirk. “She’s bossy. It’s comforting.”
I stirred my bowl, eyes drifting across the room. Riders from Warborn, Crownwatch, even a few from Iron Fang, kept sneaking glances at us, whispering behind hands or downturned faces. I could feel it, that subtle shift in how they looked at Tae.
No one had any idea how powerful he was.
Until now.
And now they were realizing how dangerous a mind controller could be… especially one who had Thrall Squad behind him.
Tae caught my eye, then Naia’s, and lifted his spoon in a mock toast. “Cheers to being terrifying.”
Naia rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder into his. “You scared half the guild into pissing their pants.”
“And the other half into fantasizing,” he said under his breath.
A tall brunette in Warborn colors walked behind him just then, leaning down to whisper something hushed and sultry into his ear.
“No thanks,” he said casually, not even looking up from his bowl.
Jax, seated across from us, paused mid-bite. “What was that about?”
Tae leaned in, deadpan. “She’s curious what I can command her to do.”
Jax blinked. “Like… in general or—”
“In bed.”
Jax choked on his water.
Ferrula narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”
Tae gave a helpless shrug. “Hey, I’m not the one pitching magical kink fantasies over dinner.”
Jax coughed again, recovering. “I mean… not that I’d recommend using powers for that, obviously…”
Ferrula arched a brow in his direction.
“I mean, you shouldn’t. That’s… wildly inappropriate.”
Tae’s grin widened. “Uh-huh. You think?”
Even Cordelle snorted into his cup at that one, and Naia just shook her head, clearly biting back a laugh.
Me? I tried not to smile too much, but it was hard.
Tae might be a walking disaster sometimes, but he was our disaster.
The doors to the dining hall slammed open, and the buzz of conversation died instantly.
Major Kaler stepped inside, his armor catching the light like storm clouds edged in steel. His face was a wall of controlled fury, his mouth pressed into a line that said whatever he was about to tell us wasn’t good.
Every rider, every cadet, every guild member went still as he approached the center of the hall.
“There was an attempt on Inderia Claen’s life,” he announced, voice as hard and cold as iron. “The assassin was killed during the attempt, but an investigation is underway.”
Gasps flared around the room. My heart kicked against my ribs.
From across the hall, Zander sat with Crownwatch, his back straight, face unreadable. But his voice slid into my mind like a whisper against skin.
Do you know anything about this?
No, I answered quickly, pulse pounding. Do you think this has to do with us?
His silence was enough of an answer. Then—I think the timing is suspect. She helps Theron... and his entire plan crumbles. Now she’s almost killed?
That’s too much of a coincidence, I agreed. My eyes narrowed, watching the way the major’s gaze swept across every table.
Do you think they suspect us? I asked.
No, Zander responded. The major will ask his dragon before accusing a rider. Especially after what happened with us. But this investigation... it’ll involve everyone else. Every guild but ours.
I felt my stomach turn.
“The dragons have cleared all riders of wrongdoing,” Major Kaler continued, confirming Zander’s suspicion. “But we have three other guilds. And they are all under investigation.”
A silence settled over the hall, thicker than fog.
“Fuck,” Tae muttered at my side. “This could fracture the guilds worse than they already are. We barely work together now.”
And he was right. We were already walking the edge of something dangerous, teetering on a knife between trust and rebellion.
Now that knife was twisting.
Major Kaler’s heavy boots echoed through the suddenly quiet hall as he crossed the floor toward our table. Conversations halted, heads turned, and I felt every gaze shift to me before he even spoke.
“Cadet Rebec,” he said, his voice firm, “may I have a word?”
I nodded and rose from my seat. Behind me, I felt my squad shift like a pack sensing tension, but I offered them the barest shake of my head before following him a few paces from the others.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“The assassin,” he said slowly, “is assumed to have been commissioned by your father.”
I didn’t flinch. “He wasn’t.”
Kaler’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because my father told me himself. He won’t move against the crown right now, not with the Crimson Sigil and the Varnari forming some kind of truce. There’s too much instability. This wasn’t the Order.”
He blinked once, but it was the kind of blink people did when something hit harder than expected. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. Finally, he asked, “The Sigil and the Varnari have a truce?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “We learned that when we were… visiting my father.”
His jaw tightened, and his head turned slightly, like he’d just tasted something foul. The soft overhead light caught on his bald head, a glimmer of steel over pale skin.
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said after a long moment. “I hope we can call on you if we need… information from your father.”
I met his gaze, steady and unflinching. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I won’t spy for either of you. But I am willing to relay messages.”
He gave a stiff nod, then turned on his heel without another word and strode from the dining hall, leaving a trail of speculation and silence in his wake.
Zander’s voice slipped into my mind like a whisper behind my thoughts. What did he want?
He thought the assassin was sent by my father, I answered, keeping my expression neutral for the sake of the eyes still watching. But Cyran won’t move against the crown right now. He made that pretty clear.
He looked mad when he left, Zander noted, and I could feel the edge of his irritation mirroring my own.
I told him the Varnari and Crimson Sigil have a truce. He didn’t seem to like that.
No, he didn’t. There was a pause, the kind of silence where thoughts spun too quickly to land. Have we considered that the Blood Fae created one of the sects to oppose the crown, and then created a truce with the other?
I tensed. Yes, I admitted. I just wish I knew which one they’re aligned with.
Yeah, he murmured, nothing like having three enemies instead of one.
A bitter laugh echoed between us. I glanced toward the far end of the dining hall, where Theron’s chosen loyalists whispered behind their cups like they weren’t standing on fractured ground.
Dorian is trying to find out who started the sect, Zander added. And what their connection is to the Blood Fae.
Is that why he’s always away?
There was a pause again, longer this time. It’s one of the reasons, he said, but there was something heavier behind the words. Something he wasn’t saying.
I didn’t press. It wasn’t my place to dig into his brother’s secrets, at least not yet. I trust him to handle it, I said instead.
So do I, Zander replied.
But that silence lingered between us like a shadow in the back of my mind. Because deep down, I knew Zander was leaving something out.
And that meant whatever Dorian had discovered… it wasn’t just about the Blood Fae.
The thud of wings outside the dining hall made every fork freeze midair. Dragon talons scraped against stone, heavy and deliberate. Teren was already on his feet, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, though we all knew it was out of reflex rather than fear.
“They’re not supposed to be here,” he said, before striding for the doors.
We followed, the air thick with tension as we stepped onto the Ascension grounds.
Two dragons stood where there had been none moments ago, one a sleek brown Swift, the other a dark-green Clubtail with battle-worn scales and the faint scent of soot still clinging to them.
Their riders dismounted with practiced ease, their armor dulled from weather and wear, not polished pageantry. These were not fresh recruits.
“I don’t recognize them,” I murmured to Teren as he moved up beside me.
“Technically, they’re Warborn,” he replied, his voice tight. “But they rarely return to the castle. They’ve spent the last three years guarding the middle kingdoms.”
“Like you used to.”
He nodded once, his eyes locked on the man Luthias was already striding toward. His armor bore the Warborn crest but was overlaid with strange markings. Not Varnari. Not Crimson Sigil. Something I didn’t recognize.
“They patrolled the same territory as you?” I asked quietly.
“No. Comrone’s patrol was between Brosha and Moustal. Rough land. High cliffs. Smuggling routes.” Teren’s eyes narrowed. “And not somewhere you abandon without cause.”
“Then why are they back?” My words were more suspicion than question.
Teren’s jaw ticked. “I think Luthias is asking that exact question right now.”
I glanced at Luthias, who stood face-to-face with Comrone. No greetings. No smiles. Just two men trading questions.
Something was off.
And whatever it was, it had the air of a storm building on the horizon.