Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Ferrula and I emerged from the tunnel into the crisp air, the sunlight almost blinding after the gloom of the pool chamber. The courtyard stretched before us, and it was clear word had traveled—at least among the dragons.
Most of Thrall Squad had returned, their dragons restless in the perches above. Naia stood with Jax, heads bent in low conversation, while Tae and Cordelle lingered near the steps, both of them looking toward us expectantly.
Before I could speak, Kaelith’s voice rolled through my mind like warm thunder. The spell is broken. The king is waking.
I froze mid-step, my gaze snapping to Zander. He was already watching me from across the courtyard, his posture alert. Our eyes met, and the bond between us thrummed with urgency.
Come with me, he said, his voice low but firm.
I crossed the courtyard at a run, falling into step beside him. Ferrula called after me, but I only waved for her to hold position.
Zander didn’t waste time with explanations as we moved, our strides in perfect sync. We slipped through the castle’s arched entry, the cool shadow of the great hall swallowing us whole.
We passed several guards along the way, each one snapping to attention and nodding to Zander as we went. The curiosity in their gazes followed us, but no one dared to stop us.
The air seemed heavier the closer we got, anticipation curling tight in my chest.
At last, we reached the double doors of the king’s royal bedchamber. Two of the King’s Guard stood there, halberds crossed until they recognized Zander. Without a word, they stepped aside.
The doors opened, and I stepped through at his side, bracing myself for whatever waited within.
The heavy doors shut behind us, muffling the sounds of the castle.
King Emlem lay propped against a mound of pillows, the golden light from the tall windows pooling over him. He looked… peaceful, but far too frail, his once-broad frame diminished, skin pale against the rich crimson blankets.
His eyes fluttered, eyelids trembling, and then they opened. For a heartbeat, confusion clouded his gaze as he looked between us. Then, with a slight grimace, he closed them again as though the light was too much, or the pain too intense.
“Father,” Zander said quietly, stepping forward. “Are you alright?”
King Emlem was silent for a long moment, his breath shallow. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough. “My bond with my dragon… is severed. I do not possess enough magic to reconnect with him.”
I felt the weight of that truth like a stone in my chest.
Zander took his father’s hand gently but firmly. “You were poisoned and spelled. It’s a miracle you survived at all.”
The king’s gaze sharpened. “Who was behind this? You must have killed the caster.”
Zander’s jaw tightened before he answered with a sigh. “It was Inderia. She pledged herself to the Blood Fae. She’s been working with them to bring an army against us.”
“The Varnari?” Emlem asked, his tone cautious.
“No,” Zander said, shaking his head. “The Varnari were just a ruse to sway those with magic to their side. The true threat is called the Crimson Sigil, and they’re working with the Blood Fae.”
Emlem coughed, the sound dry and labored. “Does Theron know?”
Zander’s mouth thinned. “He helped the Crimson Sigil as well.”
The king’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw working as if he were tasting the bitterness of betrayal. When he opened them again, there was no hesitation in his voice. “Dorian must take the crown.”
“I agree,” Zander replied without pause, his hand still wrapped around his father’s.
Zander’s thumb brushed over his father’s hand, his voice softening. “Rest, Father. We’ll handle the rest.”
But Emlem Rayne had already gone to sleep, his breathing slow and even, the lines of pain in his face smoothing out under the weight of exhaustion. Zander lingered a moment longer, then gently placed his father’s hand back onto the blanket.
We left the royal bedchamber in silence, the heavy doors closing behind us with a muted thud.
Kaelith’s voice filled my mind before we’d even reached the stairwell. Dorian and Foran are landing.
I glanced at Zander, already feeling his stride lengthen beside me. “Let’s go,” he said, and we broke into a quick pace, heading for the Ascension Grounds.
When we arrived, the air was alive with movement. Stormforge was gathered in a loose semicircle, their dragons restless but alert as Dorian dismounted Foran. The prince looked wind-worn but steady, his dark hair tousled from flight.
He was already moving toward Lirane. The moment he reached her, she launched herself into his arms, clinging to him like she never meant to let go.
“Being without you,” Dorian murmured, his voice carrying just enough for us to hear, “was the worst punishment I could have endured.”
Lirane’s eyes shone, and she cupped his face in both hands. “You’re back now. That’s all that matters.”
Zander stepped forward then, crossing the distance in a few long strides. His arms wrapped around his brother in a tight embrace, one that said more than words ever could.
Around them, Stormforge’s riders grinned and clapped each other on the shoulders. A ripple of joy moved through the group, their relief tangible. Even the dragons seemed to ease, their tails swaying and their wings relaxing at their sides.
For a moment, the war felt far away.
For a moment, it was just brothers reunited—and the people who loved them, smiling like they’d won something back that mattered more than any crown.
Zander and Dorian stood a little apart from the others, the din of Stormforge’s laughter and the deep rumble of dragons fading into the background. I lingered close enough to hear, Kaelith’s presence humming at the edge of my mind.
Zander’s tone was clipped at first, but as he spoke, the whole story unfolded—Theron’s treachery, Inderia’s betrayal, Severeth’s infiltration, the Crimson Sigil’s growing threat. Dorian listened quietly, his expression calm, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
When Zander finished, Dorian’s smile widened, warm and proud. “You did so well, little brother.”
Zander exhaled, something unspoken passing between them before he spoke again. “The crown is yours, Dorian.”
Dorian’s eyes dropped for a moment, then lifted back to meet Zander’s gaze. “The poison had a lasting effect on me, Zander.”
“You’ll heal,” Zander said quickly. “You look—”
Dorian reached out, clasping Zander’s shoulder with a firm grip. “It rendered me infertile. That is the reason I stayed away from you.”
Zander froze, his eyes narrowing.
“I did not know how I was infected,” Dorian continued, “but I needed you to be whole. Theron is a traitor, and now…” He glanced at the dragons circling above before fixing his gaze firmly on his brother.
“Only you can ensure the next generation for Warriath. You have the magic, and the dragon, to lead.”
Zander took a single step back, as though putting distance between himself and the weight of the words. “What are you saying?”
Dorian’s hand stayed on his shoulder, grounding him. “I’m saying you must take up the mantle of king.”
The words hung there between them, as heavy as the crown itself.
Zander shook his head quickly, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “You do not need heirs to be king.”
Dorian’s smile was small, almost wistful, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I must do what is right for our kingdom.”
He turned from Zander to where Lirane stood, her expression already clouded with worry.
Gently, he touched her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin as if he were memorizing the feel of it.
“I cannot give you the children you deserve,” he said softly.
“As much as I love you, it would be unfair for you to bind yourself to me knowing that.”
Lirane’s eyes flashed with defiance as she stepped closer, cupping his face in both hands and forcing him to meet her gaze. “I have low levels of magic,” she said firmly. “My skills are best as a dragon rider. As a fighter. My place is by your side, Dorian—with or without children.”
For the first time since he’d landed, Dorian’s smile warmed, deep and genuine. “You’re certain?”
“I am,” she said without hesitation.
He leaned his forehead against hers, their bond unshaken, their choice made in front of all of us.
My heart sank at the tenderness between them, but it was Zander’s face that hollowed me out completely. His anguish was raw, unguarded—more than I’d thought possible for him to show in public. It wasn’t just about the crown anymore.
It was about the cost of it.
Dorian turned back to Zander, his expression calm but resolute. “I know our father will fight this, but he has lost the horde. His bond is gone. You are the only choice. I will help you and act as your second-in-command.”
Zander’s shoulders tensed, his eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that meant he was one breath from violence. “This is not over, Dorian. I will take up the mantle until the war is over and allow you time to heal. Meri may be able to help you.”
Dorian smiled, but the look in his eyes made it clear he didn’t believe in that particular miracle. “As you wish, my brother.”
The moment hung heavy between them before Zander finally turned away, and that was all it took for Thrall Squad to close ranks around him—like they’d been waiting for the signal.
Ferrula stepped to his left, Jax and Naia flanking the other side, Tae and Riven just behind, each of them wearing the same fierce, unshakable loyalty in their expressions.
Lirane’s gaze shifted to Zander. She placed her hand over her chest and bowed her head slightly. “What are your orders, my king?”
The words seemed to echo across the Ascension Grounds, carried on the sound of dragon wings overhead. And for the first time, it wasn’t just a title.