Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
Siergen stood near the boundary of the clearing, a golden sentinel bathed in twilight.
To his right, Koddos lowered his armored head, and to his left, Narvea bent her sleek neck.
Together, they extended their snouts until they nearly touched, forming a dragon-arch—magnificent and solemn, their scales shimmering in the fading sun.
The clearing went still. Every rider, every dragon, seemed to hold their breath.
Jax stepped forward first. He wore a white tunic embroidered with gold thread that gleamed with each movement.
The tailoring was vivid, the lines clean, the fit impeccable.
Even his trousers matched, as white as new snow, the fabric heavy with quality.
He slid a calloused hand down his side, almost sheepish, clearly unused to such finery. But gods, it suited him.
Then Ferrula appeared.
The dress clung to her as if it had been made for her alone—simple, but devastating.
The silver bodice work gleamed as it caught the light, intricate lacing running the full length of the back.
It hugged her athletic frame without softening her strength, instead amplifying it, showing her for what she was—fierce, radiant, unbreakable.
Jax pressed his hand to his chest, his dark eyes wide, his breath caught. “I have no words.”
Ferrula, usually so bold, glanced down at herself, her freckles darker against flushed cheeks. “I have never worn a dress,” she admitted, her voice husky. “But it is an honor to wear this one.”
Siergen’s voice filled the clearing, a deep, resonant command that pressed into every mind. Attend, riders. Attend, dragons. Witness.
We all straightened, attention snapping to him as his vast wings lifted, framing the moment in gold firelight.
The ceremony itself was short and sweet—no theatrics, no unnecessary words.
Siergen spoke of bonds—of choice, of loyalty, of the power of love in the face of war.
His booming cadence made the vows feel intimately real.
Since Jax’s mother could not hear the dragon’s words, Naia stood at her side, translating each line with reverence, her voice trembling with pride.
“I am yours,” Jax vowed, voice raw.
“And I am yours,” Ferrula answered.
When it was done, Siergen lowered his massive head, a rumble of approval vibrating through the ground beneath our feet.
Then chaos erupted—cheering, laughter, the crush of bodies as Thrall squad surrounded them. Riven clapped Jax on the back, Cordelle nearly knocked him over in a hug, and Naia kissed Ferrula’s cheek with tears in her eyes.
We shouted and cheered as Ferrula pulled Jax into a fierce kiss, Narvea bellowing her approval while Koddos roared, his wings flaring wide in triumph.
Kaelith’s voice slipped into my mind, firm and steady. You must return to Warriath. Zander has matters that need tending.
And you… you must see to Loretha, I said.
I glanced at the little silver curled under Hein’s wing, its flank rising and falling with steady breaths.
Yes.
Jax laced his fingers through Ferrula’s. His grin was boyish, his eyes bright. “Koddos has asked for the honor of carrying you to the Ascension Grounds. Will you ride with me?”
Ferrula’s lips curved into a smile that was soft in a way I’d rarely seen from her. “It will be my honor. Besides, Narvea wants to stay with the young ones.”
Jax waited, patient and proud, as Ferrula gathered her skirts.
She hiked the hem just enough to step into Koddos’ saddle, then swung both legs neatly to one side, graceful despite the dress.
Jax mounted behind her, strong hands wrapping around her waist as he settled into place.
He pulled her onto his lap without hesitation, and she didn’t resist. Together they looked fierce and utterly unshakable.
Koddos launched into the air with a thunderous sweep of his wings, Ferrula’s sash streaming like silken flame behind her. Naia followed close behind, her mother clinging to her waist, Temil’s orange wings beating hard to keep pace.
I slid onto Kaelith’s back, the familiar rush of her strength grounding me. Around us, the others mounted, dragons shifting into formation, waiting for the signal.
Just before Kaelith leaped skyward, Siergen’s voice entered my mind, vast and heavy with meaning. I look forward to yours and Zander’s ceremony.
As do I, I whispered into the bond, my hand tightening on Kaelith’s reins.
Thank you, my dove.
A startled laugh slipped from me. You haven’t called me a pet name in some time.
In honesty, I feared Kaelith might chase you away.
She wasn’t exactly fond of me, that’s for sure. But I can’t say I blame her. She knew who and what I was before I did.
Yes… but you should ask her why she shunned you. The answer is not what you think.
I twisted in the saddle to catch one last glimpse of him. Siergen turned away, his golden wings catching the sun as he strode from the clearing. At his side, Namiren followed, small but glowing in his father’s shadow, the future of the horde etched into his every step.
The flight back to Warriath was slower than usual, the sky thick with wingbeats as Kaelith kept to a steady pace.
The squad rode close, huddling protectively around Jax and Ferrula as if they still couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Their laughter and teasing carried on the wind, shock and joy woven into every word.
“Married on the Dragon Isle,” Riven called over the wind, shaking her head. “And with Siergen officiating? I’m not sure anyone back at court is going to believe it.”
Ferrula only smirked, her arms looped over Jax’s as he held her in his lap, the pair of them looking untouchable.
When we finally swept over the walls of Warriath, dragons circling down toward the Ascension Grounds, the soldiers below erupted into cheers at the sight of us. Kaelith landed in a storm of dust, wings folding tight as I slid down, Zander dismounting Hein at my side.
Major Ledor was already waiting, his expression a mix of relief and weariness.
Zander strode to him, speaking low and fierce, his posture all command.
I couldn’t hear their words, but when Remy approached next, Zander’s jaw clenched.
Their exchange was brief, curt. Zander nodded once, his anger barely leashed, then turned on his heel and mounted the podium.
“Riders,” his voice carried over the gathered, steady and strong, “the war is over, and we usher in a new age of peace.”
The roar of cheers broke out, riders raising fists, dragons trumpeting from the fields beyond.
Zander raised his hand, quieting them. “The incursion has devastated the other kingdoms. It will take years for them to recover. Riders will aid in supply runs, and in any capacity needed, to help the people of this continent heal. Siergen has informed me that even the dragons without riders are willing to help ferry supplies until trade routes are reestablished.”
More cheers rang out—this time desperate, relieved. I caught tears in the eyes of a rider near the front; no doubt she had family in those broken regions.
Zander took a deep breath, his Dark Fire gaze sweeping the crowd.
“Many of you have already heard that we were able to save the dragons enslaved by the fae. Yes, we freed them. But remember—dragons saved us first. Our bond with them was never forged through conquest. It was born of trust. Of sacrifice. Human and dragon alike have given their lives to secure this peace.”
Heads bowed, nods rippled through the mass of riders, the air heavy with solemn agreement.
And then Zander’s voice shifted, softer but somehow louder than all the rest. “Ashlyn Rebec has agreed to be my wife. We will plan our ceremony in due time.”
The grounds erupted again, the cheers deafening, dragons trumpeting their approval into the sky. My face burned, my chest too full to breathe, as Zander’s gaze found mine and held it.
My gaze swept over the crowd, the sea of riders echoing with cheers. Every face was alight with relief, with joy—every face except one.
Remy.
He stood with his arms folded, lips pressed thin, eyes shadowed. Yet when my gaze lingered on him, he gave me the smallest nod. It wasn’t celebration—it wasn’t even warmth—but it was something. Consent. A silent acknowledgment that he wouldn’t stand in my way.
At the podium, Zander’s hand held the carved edge, his knuckles pale with the weight of command. His voice rang out over the crowd, cutting through the din.
“The royalty in the kingdoms of Amdar and Caston have either been eliminated or are on the run. I will not allow the royals of this continent to treat their people like slaves.” His eyes blazed, his Dark Fire voice as sharp as a blade.
“Remand Saulter has agreed to take over Amdar. He will ensure it becomes a kingdom we can be proud to ally ourselves with.”
A ripple of whispers moved through the crowd, then Riven’s voice carried as clear as a bell. “That’s got to be the shittiest posting I have ever heard of. Well, with the exception of Caston.”
A few riders snorted, quickly smothering their laughter. My eyes flicked toward Remy, expecting a retort, but his expression didn’t change. He stood unmoving, a statue of stone, betraying nothing.
Zander didn’t so much as flinch. He lifted a hand and motioned to the nearest guard. “Bring Theron to me.”
The cheers faded into tense silence, the entire Ascension Grounds waiting to see what justice the new King Rayne would deliver.
The crowd shifted as guards emerged from the inner gates, escorting Theron onto the Ascension Grounds.
He looked nothing like the proud prince who had once strutted through these very stones.
His hair hung limp and uncombed, his royal robes creased and stained, as though he’d slept in them for days.
Still, he held his chin high, his arrogance clinging to him like a second skin.
“You called for me,” Theron said, his voice hoarse but haughty as his eyes locked on Zander.