Chapter 25 #2
“Don’t,” I whispered under my breath, but it was too late.
The blade flashed, but Remy’s hand shot out like a viper.
His fingers locked around Perin’s wrist, twisting it sharply until something snapped .
Perin’s scream rang out across the courtyard as the dagger clattered to the ground.
Remy didn’t stop—he hooked his leg behind Perin’s knee, driving him down to the stone with bone-crushing force.
Perin hit so hard I heard the breath rush from his lungs.
Remy knelt over him, one knee pressing mercilessly into Perin’s ribs as his broken arm twisted at an unnatural angle. His free hand wrapped around Perin’s throat, fingers flexing like he was moments away from finishing the job.
Perin’s face turned red, veins bulging at his temples as he gasped for air.
“ Enough! ” Major Kaler barked.
For one terrible second, I didn’t think Remy would stop. His fingers flexed again, eyes black with that cold, predatory look I knew too well.
Then, just as quickly, he released Perin and stood. Perin rolled onto his side, coughing and gasping.
Remy turned his back on him like he wasn’t even worth the effort.
“Next time,” Remy said quietly, “bring a bigger knife.”
Remy approached with that same guarded expression I used to know too well—distant, calculating—but this time there was something else. Something softer that I didn’t want to believe was real.
“You’re injured,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Let me escort you to the healers.”
I opened my mouth to refuse, but Zander’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “I oversee the Thrall Squad,” he said firmly as he stepped between us. “Return to Warborn, Lieutenant.”
The air shifted, heavy and dangerous. Remy’s eyes locked onto Zander’s, his shoulders squaring. “We have the same rank,” Remy said in a low tone, each word intentional. His hand drifted unconsciously toward the hilt of his blade, though he didn’t draw it.
Zander’s lavender eyes darkened, swirling with black like ink bleeding into water. “Do we?” he asked, voice low and lethal. His tone wasn’t a question, it was a threat. One that everyone nearby could hear.
Several squad members shifted uneasily, exchanging glances. The courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
“So,” Remy said softly, “you’re finally using your royal title.” He smiled, but there was no humor in it.
Zander shook his head slowly, a cold smirk curling his lips. “Not my royal title.” He paused, then added with a chilling finality, “Ask your dragon.”
Remy’s face hardened, his gaze flicking toward the Dragon Isle. Whatever he saw there, whatever Katama showed him, was enough to turn his expression grim.
“I do love a challenge,” Remy muttered. His gaze lingered on me for half a second longer before he turned and stalked away, his shoulders rigid.
I had no idea what Zander and Remy were talking about, but my ribs throbbed with sharp pain and my legs felt like they were made of lead. The ground swayed under my feet, and I staggered slightly.
“Then stop wasting time threatening me and take her to a healer,” Remy growled over his shoulder.
Zander was there in an instant, his arm slipping around my waist, warm and solid against my side. His grip was tight but careful, like I might shatter if he held on too tightly.
“Come on,” Zander said quietly, his voice losing its edge as he guided me away from the courtyard. “Let’s get you patched up.”
I didn’t argue. For the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe.
“Why aren’t you healing?” he whispered as we walked.
“I am, but he broke several ribs; it takes time for me to repair several injuries.”
“He was subtle. I didn’t realize he had hurt you that bad.”
Zander’s arm stayed firm around my waist as he led me across the courtyard, weaving through the pathways that wound through the Yarrow Gardens.
The air was rich with the scent of damp earth and wild blooms, the soft whisper of leaves brushing against one another.
The garden stretched beyond what I’d realized before—neat rows of herbs lined the pathways, but wild clusters of yarrow spilled across the stones, threading golden blooms along the edges like tangled lace.
We reached a wooden door nestled beneath an arch of ivy. Zander pushed it open without knocking, stepping aside to let me pass. The warm scent of salves and dried flowers filled the air, and the space inside was serene—a sanctuary away from the chaos outside.
“You’ll be fine with Meri,” Zander said softly. His fingers lingered on my arm a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back. “I’ll be back shortly.”
I didn’t get a chance to thank him before he turned and left.
“Sit here,” a gentle voice said. I turned to see the young woman, no older than me, who had helped us on the beach and the Ascension Grounds. Her copper curls were pulled into a loose braid. Her soft brown eyes were warm and welcoming.
I eased onto the cushioned bench, and she knelt beside me, her fingers brushing lightly over my ribs. A gentle warmth spread from her touch, and the sharp sting dulled almost instantly.
“You know,” she said softly, “most of those cuts wouldn’t have been so bad if you had focused on healing.”
I snorted. “I was a little distracted by the attempted murder.”
Her lips twitched, but her focus remained on her work. “Fair enough.”
I glanced back toward the gardens. “I didn’t realize the yarrow had spread so far.”
“Oh, that’s a healer legend,” Meri said, voice brightening.
“The first healer planted a small patch of yarrow when the castle was built. It was meant to stay in one small corner, but it spread everywhere. The gardeners tried to control it at first, but the healers refused to let them. They said it was a symbol.”
“A symbol of what?”
“Resilience,” Meri said simply. “It grows no matter how often it’s cut back. Stronger every time. That’s why the gardens are so large.”
I let my gaze drift out the window. Resilience. I didn’t feel particularly strong right now.
“There.” Meri sat back, her fingers lingering over my ribs as warmth spread through me once more. “Your bruises will fade by morning.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised at how much better I felt. “You’re good at this.”
Meri tilted her head thoughtfully. “Actually... I think you are too.”
I frowned. “What?”
“I could feel it,” she said quietly. “While I was healing you. Your magic... it reached for mine.” Her eyes searched mine with something like curiosity. “You have innate healing ability.”
I hesitated. “Yeah.”
Meri’s expression softened. “It’s in your blood then,” she said, matter-of-factly. “That happens.”
I stiffened. “What happens?”
“Some people born with healing magic can heal with their blood.” She paused. “It’s rare... but powerful.”
My stomach knotted. “Good to know.”
“But that’s forbidden,” she said, lowering her voice. “We’re not allowed to?—”
“Heal with our blood,” I cut in quickly.
Her eyes flicked around the room before she leaned closer, her white healer’s robe brushing against my arm. “It’s part of our protocols. I’m just a cadet—I don’t know why those rules were written.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I’m telling you,” Meri whispered, “because most people with your power end up in the Second Guild.”
I leaned back and added softly, “Yeah... I expected that too.”
Before I could ask more, the door opened again. Zander returned, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked between me and Meri before landing on me.
“Ready?” His voice was calm, but his gaze lingered like he suspected he’d walked in on something important.
Meri stepped back quickly, smoothing her robes. “She’s all set.”
I slid off the bench, feeling steadier than I had all morning. “Thanks, Meri.”
“Anytime,” she said with a smile.
Zander waited until we were outside before speaking. “You alright?”
I nodded, but my mind was still racing. Healing blood. Second Guild. And whatever secret the healers weren’t allowed to talk about.
I had a feeling my troubles were only just beginning.
Zander walked beside me in silence as we made our way toward the barracks, but just as we reached the courtyard, he stopped abruptly. His gaze sharpened, focused on something I couldn’t see.
“What are they doing?” he muttered.
“Who?” I asked, confused.
“Our dragons.” His tone was tense.
I instinctively reached for Kaelith through our bond, but I slammed into something solid—a wall of resistance I’d never felt before.
“I think she’s blocking me,” I said, uneasy.
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “Hein’s doing the same... which is rare.” His gaze drifted to the horizon. “They’re on the beach.”
“Can we see them?”
Zander nodded, motioning for me to follow him. We moved quickly to the nearest ladder leading up to the battlements. The wood was cold beneath my palms as I climbed, and when I reached the top, Zander was already there, peering over the edge.
I stepped beside him, and my breath caught.
The tide was low, leaving behind a stretch of wet sand that shimmered beneath the afternoon sun. Pools of seawater collected in the dips between jagged rocks. And there—moving through the shallows—were our dragons.
Kaelith’s deep-purple scales gleamed like polished amethyst, her wings slightly unfurled as she dipped her head toward the water. Beside her, Hein’s silver bulk shifted with precision, his claws scraping over the rocky seabed as he mirrored Kaelith’s movements.
“What are they doing?” I asked quietly.
Zander shook his head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know.”
Kaelith lowered her head beneath the water, her neck rippling with tension as though she were searching for something. After a moment, she pulled back, droplets cascading from her scales. Then her gaze turned inland—sharp and focused—like she was watching something we couldn’t see.
“Do you think they’re looking for something in the water?” I asked, still watching Kaelith dip her head beneath the waves again.