Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zander moved with quiet purpose through the crowd, his boots thudding lightly on the stone as the swarm of riders parted for him. All eyes followed him, some curious, some hopeful, some wary. I held my breath as he ascended the podium, standing just behind his brother.
He leaned in close, murmuring something only Theron could hear.
Whatever it was, it made Theron’s jaw tick and his lip twitch, just shy of a snarl. His nostrils flared, the perfect image of a cornered predator cloaked in silk and power. But after a beat, he turned to the gathered riders, smoothing his expression into one of diplomatic calm.
“My brother,” Theron said, his voice loud enough to echo across the grounds, “has volunteered to lead a reconnaissance mission into the middle kingdoms. He will take Thrall Squad with him to assess Blood Fae presence, report enemy movements, and relay the needs of the displaced to the castle.”
A rumble of approval swept through the ranks.
“I’ll go too,” a Crownwatch rider called.
“Count me in,” said another.
Dozens of heads nodded, eager voices rising in solidarity. Crownwatch. Warborn. Even Stormforge. The show of unity shook the air more than dragon wings.
But Theron raised his hand, and silence followed like an obedient dog.
“No,” he said coldly.
The word hit like a slap. Confusion spread like wildfire across the crowd.
“Your request is denied,” he continued. “This is a precise operation, not a crusade. Too many riders will draw too much attention. Thrall Squad is small and already known to operate on the fringes. They are suited for this mission. You are not.”
A ripple of discontent passed through the riders. Crownwatch looked especially betrayed.
Zander’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the flash in his eyes—the quiet rage barely restrained. He didn’t argue, though. Not here. Not now.
I clenched my fists at my sides, watching Theron bask in his moment of forced control. He might’ve agreed to the mission, but only to save face. To pacify the riders. To appear magnanimous while still pulling the strings.
He didn’t want reinforcements sent to the middle kingdoms.
He wanted us to go alone.
I turned when I heard a man clear his throat loudly. Gerane motioned to the woman on the street. Solei’s hands moved quickly. No reinforcements have entered the cities to the west of us. Troop movements are nonexistent.
I glanced back to see Remy’s eyes on Solei. He had read that message as easily as I had. And he looked furious.
He stepped closer to Theron. “Why haven’t you sent ground troops to help the other kingdoms. We are bursting with members from First Guild.”
Theron sneered at Remy. “First Guild is my concern, not yours.”
“It is when you recall the dragons,” Remy snarled.
Theron’s gaze sharpened like a blade, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He simply stared at Remy—long enough to make the moment stretch taut across the Ascension Grounds.
It was hard to imagine the two of them as childhood friends, as Zander once claimed. There was no familiarity in Theron’s expression now. No camaraderie. Only calculation.
“Perhaps,” Theron said at last, his voice as smooth as polished steel, “you would like to accompany Thrall Squad.” His tone held that familiar threat-disguised-as-civility. “You’ve always been loyal to the crown, Remand. Many here would feel… safer knowing you’re with them.”
Remy didn’t bow or speak. He simply gave a nod—curt, and unamused. But there was a muscle ticking in his jaw that told me exactly what he thought of the suggestion.
My fingers moved before I could stop them, flashing a quick pattern only Remy would recognize. What are you doing?
His eyes flicked toward me as subtly as the twitch of a dagger in a sheath.
He shrugged just enough to seem casual, but his fingers responded low at his side, concealed from Theron’s view. I can work with Prince Rayne. That doesn’t mean I like him.
That’s not what I mean, and you know it.
His lips barely twitched, and his reply was slower, reluctant. I want to know what Theron’s planning. From the inside.
I bit back the sigh rising in my chest. You’re playing both sides, Remy.
Perhaps, he signed, his fingers motion exaggerated. But I’m the only one he trusts enough to underestimate.
That scared me more than I cared to admit. Because he was right.
And Theron’s slight smirk as he looked between the two of us made it all too clear—this move was deliberate. Calculated.
He wanted Remy close. To us. To Zander.
And no matter how well Remy played the game… we all knew Theron was playing one too.
The sun was just beginning to dip toward the treetops when Theron’s voice boomed across the Ascension Grounds. “This assembly is dismissed. Thrall Squad, you are to prepare for departure within the hour.”
No farewell. No thanks. Just orders.
Typical.
We turned away from the podium as the crowd began to disperse, the tension still crackling in the air like static clinging to skin. Our boots hit the packed dirt in heavy silence as we headed for the barracks.
Teren muttered a curse under his breath, then another—more creative one as he shoved open the barrack door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he spun on his heel and marched back to punch Theron square in the jaw.
But it was Ferrula who drew my eye.
She stood perfectly still at her bunk, her pack at her feet. Her face—always carved from quiet strength—looked like it had turned to stone. The green dragon tattoo on her shoulder peeked from beneath her tunic like a silent sentinel. She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stared at nothing.
“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes found mine. Quiet. Controlled. But something raw stirred beneath the surface. “You are sure Diria has fallen?”
I nodded, the weight of truth heavy in my throat. “Yes. I’m sorry. There are survivors… and as far as we know, Vrangoth hasn’t closed its gates. Not yet.”
She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “They can’t accommodate the entire kingdom, so it is only a matter of time before they do.”
I stepped closer. “Your people are fierce warriors, Ferrula. If anyone can survive, it’s them.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, emerald and unflinching. “That’s the thing, Rebec. Dirians don’t run away from a fight.”
Her voice cracked like a blade pulled from its sheath.
“They will die to protect their burning cottages.”
The words hollowed me out. Because I knew she wasn’t just talking about strategy or tactics.
She was talking about family. About home.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “And we’ll avenge them.”
Ferrula nodded once, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a vow in her bones. Then she picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder, turning to face the storm ahead.
The barracks were nearly silent.
Zippers slid, leather buckles snapped into place, and canvas bags rustled softly as we packed.
No one spoke. The air was too thick with things we couldn’t name—fear, anticipation, the dread of what we might find once we left Warriath’s walls.
Each of us moved like clockwork, movements practiced from repetition, but I could feel the weight in every motion.
Even Tae didn’t crack a joke. Not a single one.
By the time we stepped back onto the Ascension Grounds, the sun had dipped down enough to stretch the shadows long and gold.
The squads were gathering, but what caught my attention wasn’t the assembled riders.
It was Remy and Zander, standing face to face near the rails, locked in what looked like a heated conversation.
They stopped when we approached.
Remy’s jaw ticked. Zander’s expression was unreadable.
Talking about me, I assumed grimly, even as I tried not to let it settle in my gut like a stone.
Without a word, I turned my face to the sky and reached for Kaelith.
Her answer was immediate. An electric jolt of awareness snapping into place in my chest as her massive purple form broke through the clouds and swooped downward like falling thunder.
Temil, Koddos, and Kieren weren’t far behind, each descending in great sweeping arcs that scattered dust and set cloaks flapping across the field.
Hein came last, but not slowly. No, his descent was a possessive declaration, a streak of gleaming silver that knifed through the sunlit haze with Kaelith in his sights. He banked at the last moment, his wing brushing just inches from hers, and the rumble in his throat was unmistakable.
Stay away from her.
His eyes locked on Katama—Remy’s dragon—who had begun to glide closer.
Katama wisely turned his course.
Kaelith huffed, unimpressed. Hein has decided I need protecting, she said dryly, though her tone betrayed her amusement.
You don’t mind? I asked.
I didn’t say that. I said it’s amusing.
I smiled.
We saddled the dragons with mechanical precision, tightening leather straps, lashing our provisions to their sides, securing the harnesses. Riven tossed me an extra bundle of dried meat, and I caught it without a word.
Then, one by one, we mounted.
Kaelith’s scales shimmered violet in the dusky air, and the moment I settled into the saddle, she pushed off the earth like a cannon shot. I leaned forward and let her rise, let the wind strip away the weight of everything we were leaving behind.
Hein flew beside us. Not ahead. Not behind.
Just there—always there—his silver wings nearly touching Kaelith’s.
A warning to any other dragon foolish enough to think she was alone.
Especially Katama.