Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
We burst from the king’s chamber like a thunderclap, boots pounding against the marble as we tore down the corridor. My heart was a war drum in my chest, each beat driving me forward faster—toward the screams, the smoke, the chaos on the Ascension Grounds.
But as we reached the arched castle doors, Kaelith’s voice slammed into my mind, sharp and commanding.
Stop! Stay where you are.
I staggered to a halt, arm flinging out to stop Zander and Remy from charging ahead. “Wait—Kaelith said stop.”
Across the field, the battle was unraveling.
Riders sprinted from the melee, some bloodied, others carrying wounded. The Crimson Sigil loyalists pressed forward, blades lifted, confusion painted across their faces. They weren’t expecting the retreat.
They didn’t understand.
Not yet.
Until the sky screamed.
Kaelith and Hein dropped from the clouds like falling stars, their wings tucked, their descent a blur of motion. Then they opened, massive, thunderous, and the wind howled.
Then came the fire.
A searing wall of orange and black flames tore across the Ascension Grounds. The two streams of flame collided in midair, swirling together in a maelstrom of death. Hein’s. Kaelith’s.
The fire didn’t touch the retreating riders. It curved around them like it had eyes, a force shaped by will and rage and something ancient.
The Crimson Sigil didn’t even have time to scream.
They were there.
And then they were gone.
Their bodies turned to ash in an instant, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air shimmered with heat and the smell of scorched steel.
Silence fell.
Even the dragons in the skies above hovered without a sound, the storm of battle dying as suddenly as it began.
I took a step forward, staring at the scorched ground, the blackened blades, the piles of drifting ash.
Kaelith’s voice returned to my mind, softer now.
They threatened our riders and our young.
I swallowed hard and reached for Zander’s hand.
“They picked the wrong battlefield,” I whispered.
Zander nodded once. “And the wrong dragons.”
I ran.
My breath caught in my throat, legs moving faster than my thoughts, until I was skidding to my knees beside Cordelle. He had Riven cradled gently, her head resting in his lap, blood darkening the dirt beneath her.
Meri knelt at her side, her hands glowing with that soft, golden light that always felt like the first warm day after winter. The wound on Riven’s shoulder was deep, but the bleeding had slowed, and I could already see new skin knitting beneath Meri’s magic.
“She’ll be okay,” Meri whispered without looking up, her voice resolute and fierce.
Riven’s eyes fluttered open.
“Did I at least look cool going down?” she rasped, and winked.
A shaky laugh burst from my throat, too close to a sob. I blinked fast, trying to banish the tears that burned the backs of my eyes. Not now. She’s alive. She’s alive.
“You always look cool,” I whispered, brushing a piece of ash from her cheek. “Even with a hole in your shoulder.”
Cordelle’s fingers tightened protectively around her, his green eyes fierce despite the freckles that made him look far too young to be cradling a wounded warrior.
The castle doors slammed open behind us.
Major Ledor strode out, flanked by a half-dozen guards, not with weapons, but armed with brooms, buckets, and cloths. Ash still drifted on the wind, catching in the folds of their cloaks. One of the guards gagged at the scent of scorched leather and burnt bone.
They didn’t speak. Just fanned out wordlessly and began to sweep what was left of the Crimson Sigil into piles of soot.
Major Ledor didn’t even glance at them.
His boots stopped at the edge of the scorched field where his podium had once stood, now nothing but molten slag and splintered wood.
He stared at the blackened ground, at the place where fire had eaten treachery whole.
Then he turned toward me.
But I didn’t rise. I stayed kneeling at Riven’s side, my hand still on hers, Kaelith’s heat still curling in the air around us like a warning.
The horn’s call rang sharp across the scorched air.
Major Ledor stiffened, his back straightening just as the heavy castle doors boomed open behind him. I turned, my stomach already knotting.
Theron emerged, draped in a cloak of blood-red velvet lined with silver. Twenty guards in ceremonial armor flanked him like a wall of steel and loyalty, though the only thing they seemed loyal to was fear.
He stopped beside the major, his expression cool and unreadable as he surveyed the wreckage, the blackened stone, the ash-smeared blades still cooling in the dirt, the stunned faces of riders who had nearly died just minutes before.
“Riders,” Theron called out, voice crisp and commanding. “This attack on our ranks, on the honored guild, will not be tolerated.”
His words rang hollow against the silence that followed. No cheers. No nods of agreement. Just the rustle of wind and the hiss of lingering embers.
Then Cade stepped forward from Crownwatch, jaw clenched.
“Where was Iron Fang?” he demanded. “They left five minutes before the ambush. Seems pretty convenient.”
Gasps rippled through the gathered riders. I hadn’t realized they were gone in the confusion.
Theron’s lips thinned into a slash of irritation. “I had dispatched them on an errand for the crown.”
Cade didn’t back down. “The entire squad?” They were the largest squad, and they had never left together before.
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Theron lifted his chin. “I will call them back immediately. Clearly, the castle is under siege, and we must unify under strong leadership. To that end—”
He raised his hands, gaze sweeping the grounds like a victor surveying the ashes of his conquest.
“—I will ascend as the King of Warriath within the week, to ensure our protection and continuity.”
No one clapped. No one moved.
Because for the first time, everyone saw it for what it was. And it was not a declaration of protection.
But a power grab made in the wake of blood and betrayal.
And some of us weren’t sure he hadn’t lit the fire himself.
Theron’s face contorted like a mask cracking under pressure.
“Have the dragons do a sweep of the roads connecting to Warriath,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. “Clear them. All hostiles will be expunged.”
Major Ledor stiffened. “Majesty…” he began, but his voice faltered. For a man who had commanded soldiers and dragons alike, it was jarring to see him hesitate. “Our dragons will not obey that order.”
I blinked, stunned. My gaze cut to Zander, but he only gave a slight shrug, then shook his head. He was just as confused as I was.
“What?” Theron’s voice climbed, brittle and incredulous.
“The dragons,” Ledor said, slowly and with great weight, “will not follow you.”
Theron’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Do they follow you?”
The pause that followed made the entire grounds hold its breath. Then Major Ledor answered, each word a measured defiance. “They will in most regards. But if they feel an order is politically motivated and not for the safety of Warriath, they will refuse.”
A deeper silence settled as Ledor continued, “You are not their chosen heir.”
Theron’s jaw flexed, his eyes burning with unspoken fury. It was the kind of look I’d seen before, just before someone did something reckless. Something they couldn’t take back.
And for a second, I thought he might strike Ledor right there, in front of every rider and dragon on the grounds.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood frozen, dethroned not by blade or army, but by the will of creatures older and wiser than any crown.
The dragons had spoken.
Zander took a steady step toward his sibling, every line of his body radiating tension. He didn’t stop until he stood just in front of Theron, face to face with the brother who had threatened everything we were fighting for.
“Theron,” Zander said evenly, “you have to give up your bid for the throne. It’s Dorian’s. You know that.”
Theron stared at him like he was nothing more than a fly buzzing too close to his ear. “Our oldest brother refuses to take up the mantle. I haven’t had a report from him in days. For all I know, he could be dead.”
Zander tapped his temple with two fingers. “He’s fine. His dragon stays in communication with the horde. They won’t reveal his location, but he is well.”
Theron’s lips curled into something like disgust. “And tell me, little brother—who is running Warriath? The dragons, or us?”
“There is no us, Theron,” Zander said, his voice low but cutting. “You don’t want to protect the realm. You want the crown for yourself.”
“I want the continent safe!” Theron barked.
“And your siblings dead,” Zander countered. His voice dropped to a razor’s edge. “Except for Elara. You’ll keep her alive so you can sell her off like a prized broodmare.”
Theron’s expression twisted into something crueler. “Not sell, brother. Marry. She will be a beautiful bride one day… to a husband of my choosing.”
“You are a pig,” Zander growled, fists clenched at his sides.
And in that instant, every rider on the grounds knew this wasn’t about politics anymore.
This was personal. A kingdom split by blood, brothers, and betrayal. And it was only getting started.
Hein landed with a thunderous crack, claws gouging furrows into the scorched stone of the Ascension Grounds.
Wind lashed outward from the force of his wings as they flared wide, blocking the sun for a heartbeat before folding against his sides.
His snarl was guttural, primal, and aimed straight at Theron.
Theron didn’t flinch, not outwardly, but his fingers twitched toward the hilt of his blade as he stepped slightly behind Major Ledor. Hein took a step forward, molten fire glowing in his throat, smoke curling from his nostrils.
“You really shouldn’t have threatened Elara,” Zander said, his voice biting. “The dragons love her.”
Theron scoffed, his eyes narrowing on Zander. “She’s a child. They don’t even know her.”
Zander’s jaw clenched, and he moved beside Hein, eyes like tempered steel. “She’s flown on Hein’s back more times than you’ve deigned to speak to her. She doesn’t need you. She’s already chosen.”
“You can’t know a dragon will choose her,” Theron said.
“I do not know what her power will be,” Zander added, his voice quieter, “but it will come. And when it does, she’ll be a rider.”
Theron’s face twisted with something sour, disgust or jealousy, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll never allow it. She will not—”
Hein surged forward with another rumbling roar, smoke erupting from his throat in a warning burst. Fire trembled at the edges of his bared teeth, restrained only by Zander’s presence.
“She will not what?” I asked coldly, stepping to Zander’s other side.
Theron’s lip curled. “Your dragon does not rule here.”
Hein’s tail snapped through the air like a whip, slicing a gust of wind between us. Zander didn’t move, didn’t even blink as Hein stepped forward again, heat radiating from his scales.
Kaelith’s mind brushed mine. Hein is ready to burn him where he stands. Say the word.
I didn’t. Not yet. But the thought was tempting.
“Then maybe it’s time someone who actually gives a damn about this realm did,” Zander said quietly, his voice full of quiet thunder.
Theron said nothing. But his hand dropped from his sword hilt.
And he took a single step back.