Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
The dining hall buzzed with the low hum of early conversation and clinking cutlery, but Thrall Squad sat in a tight cluster near the back, heads low and mood heavy. The long night of research had left us hollow-eyed and aching, and though the food was warm, it tasted like ash on my tongue.
We’d gone to bed only after Cordelle admitted the books had nothing more to give us. The prophecy was maddeningly vague, and if there was a spell capable of unraveling the mind of a bonded king, it remained buried in shadows older than any of us.
Jax leaned forward over his plate, his voice low but alert.
“We spoke to Meri last night after you all passed out. She didn’t know anything about a spell, but…
” He glanced at Ferrula, who nodded, still chewing a hunk of bread.
“There are several poisons that can induce mental instability. Even in someone bonded.”
I frowned. “And the dragon bond can’t help with that?”
Cordelle didn’t look up from his food, pushing his fork slowly through a pile of eggs.
“The bond makes us stronger. We all have some level of innate healing because of it. But the strength of that varies depending on the person.” He stabbed at his plate and sighed.
“And if the king’s symptoms are worsening, that suggests… ”
“That he’s either being repeatedly dosed…” I murmured.
“Or a spell is involved,” Cordelle finished with a grim nod.
The truth of it settled into my bones. If someone was doing this intentionally, then they weren’t just targeting the king; they were targeting the entire realm.
My hand curled around the edge of my mug, warmth bleeding into my fingers, grounding me.
That was when I felt it.
The heat of a glare like acid on my skin.
I looked up—
And met Perin’s eyes across the room.
He sat with Iron Fang, a few tables over, shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth. And he wasn’t smiling.
He was staring.
His shoulders rigid. Eyes narrowed with something that wasn’t just anger; it was obsession.
He took a sharp, aggressive bite of his bacon, not looking away.
I raised my brow, unwilling to flinch.
Let him stare.
Because if he wanted to finish what he started,
I wouldn’t be the one bleeding.
We finished the last of our breakfast in heavy silence, scraping plates clean more out of habit than hunger.
The conversation from earlier still lingered like a storm cloud, talk of poison, of spells, of kings slowly unraveling beneath a crown that might no longer fit.
The mood followed us as we filed out of the dining hall, armor clinking softly, boots heavy on stone.
The Ascension Grounds were cool in the morning light, the wind sweeping down from the northern cliffs carrying the scent of fresh earth and dragonscale. We lined up in our usual formation, waiting for Major Ledor to appear at the podium.
But he never got the chance to speak.
Zander broke away from Crownwatch, his cloak trailing behind him like storm-touched fire. His expression was unreadable as he crossed the yard, his pace quick, direct, with that edge of tension that made every step feel like a prelude to bad news.
He stopped in front of us, arms clasped behind his back.
“We’ve been asked to assist Luthias and his team,” he said, voice sharp but even. “There’s been another raid. This one’s in Vrangoth.”
Riven shifted beside me, her shoulders going stiff. Ferrula muttered a curse under her breath.
“They requested reinforcements,” Zander continued. “And the major is sending us.”
Jax crossed his arms, the look in his eyes not angry, just tired. Tired of being the sword they threw first. “Because Thrall Squad is expendable.”
Zander’s gaze met his. “You’re not.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t offer an apology. Just turned toward the racks where our saddles were stored and gestured firmly.
“Pack your gear. This could be an extended trip. Then call your dragons. We leave within the hour.”
No one argued.
We turned as one and headed back toward the barracks. The tension followed us like a shadow, but we moved with purpose, grabbing extra rations, sharpening blades, double-checking armor straps. Every one of us knew what a raid in Vrangoth meant.
The attacks were becoming more widespread.
And whatever was happening in Warriath was now bleeding beyond its borders.
We returned to the long iron rails that held our saddles, the racks glinting dully in the morning light. The air smelled of leather and oil, and the tension of the upcoming mission pressed hard against my shoulders as we moved wordlessly, the rhythm of routine taking over.
I laid out Kaelith’s gear with precision, checking every strap and loop, sliding my extra rations and supplies into the side compartments. Water, rope, flints, dried meat, a pair of daggers tucked beside my bedroll. We didn’t know how long we’d be in Vrangoth, only that it wouldn’t be short.
Once everything was in place, I stepped back and drew in a breath.
Kaelith, I called silently.
Her presence ignited in my mind almost instantly, a slow burn of violet fire and iron will. I hear you.
I could feel her wings before I saw them, the thrum of her approach like a pulse beneath my skin.
But before she crested the rise, my attention snagged on a shadow leaning against the far rail.
Perin.
Smug as ever, arms crossed casually over his chest, he tilted his head and sent me a lazy smirk. Then, just before turning away, he winked.
Asshole.
I gritted my teeth and turned just as Kaelith descended with her usual elegance, wings slicing through the air in smooth, silent arcs. Her scales shimmered like stormlight, her presence commanding the space the second she landed.
One by one, the rest of our dragons followed. They landed in a loose half circle, eyes bright, wings folding close as they waited.
We moved fast, slipping into practiced motion, strapping our saddles on and securing gear in silence. Even Ferrula, usually quick with a quip, was focused.
Across the yard, Teren, Luthias, and Kaila mounted their dragons with equal efficiency. The three of them radiated calm, confident energy, hardened by missions we hadn’t yet faced.
Zander climbed up Hein gracefully with his dark cloak snapping in the wind. His voice rang out like thunder.
“Mount up!”
Without hesitation, we settled into our saddles.
Kaelith shifted beneath me, her power humming in my veins as my hands gripped the reins.
“Take flight!” Zander ordered.
Wings exploded around us.
And then we were airborne, rising into the sky.
We rode for hours, the sun dipping lower behind us as the terrain shifted from dense forest and rocky ridges to sloping hills marked by winding trade roads and scattered vineyards. The air smelled of salt before we even saw the ocean, that sharp tang threading through the wind like a warning.
Then the city of Vrangoth came into view.
It stretched along the coast, nestled against pale cliffs that jutted into the sea like jagged teeth.
Stone towers rose above the tiled rooftops, and ships bobbed gently in the sprawling harbor.
The port city shimmered gold in the waning sunlight, its streets clean and orderly, its buildings ascending in tiers up the cliffs.
“Nice setup,” I muttered as we descended toward the massive landing platform built just outside the upper walls.
Wide, smooth stone and polished dragon-tether rings gleamed like they’d been scrubbed just for us.
Past it, nestled against the hills, was a private inn flanked by gardens and banners displaying the sigil of Warriath’s allied houses.
Teren guided his red Swift in beside me and leaned slightly from his saddle. “In Vrangoth, only highborn nobles stay in the castle. Everyone else gets the inn.”
I raised a brow. “So Zander’s the only one with a castle invite.”
Teren nodded, smirking. “Pretty much.”
As we landed, the wind from our dragons stirred petals loose from the blooming hedges. Zander dismounted first, sliding from Hein’s back in one fluid motion. He removed his saddle with practiced ease, setting it down near the secured racks.
“Undress your dragons,” he called, voice firm. “Let them hunt and rest. I’ll be staying at the inn with the squad.”
I blinked. “You’re not going to the castle?”
Zander shook his head once. “I don’t leave my squad.”
Teren let out a disappointed sigh as he slid from his own dragon’s back, stretching. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to make a pass at Ashe while you were otherwise occupied.”
Riven let out a bark of laughter, and Jax grunted, half-amused and half-exasperated.
Ferrula and Naia exchanged knowing smiles, both clearly enjoying the show, while Cordelle… well, Cordelle looked like he wanted to melt into the nearest bed and sleep for three days straight.
Zander’s head turned slowly toward Teren.
His eyes, normally a rich lavender, darkened into something pitch and endless.
“I would advise you,” he said coldly, “to keep your hands to yourself. That goes for all members of Thrall Squad.”
Teren chuckled, completely unfazed. “So protective,” he said under his breath, smirking. “No wonder she hasn’t run for the hills yet.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at my lips.
We’d just arrived in a city under threat—
But leave it to Teren to flirt at the gates of a battlefield.
Kaelith and Hein soared into the fading light, wings cutting clean lines across the sky as they rose higher and higher, drifting toward the cliffs beyond the city’s edge. Their scales shimmered in tandem, violet and silver, dancing through the clouds like they had known each other for lifetimes.
I stood beside Zander, both of us watching the dragons disappear into the sunlit haze.
For a moment, it was quiet. Peaceful.
Then I saw his hand, clenched into a tight fist at his side, knuckles pale beneath his gloves.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Teren was only kidding.”
Zander didn’t look at me. “It isn’t him.”
I turned, studying his profile. “Then what is it?”
He finally moved, reaching beneath his armor and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. It was creased from being carried close to the body, edges softened by motion and sweat. He handed it to me without a word.
I took it, and my breath caught the moment I saw the wax seal.
The Order of Thorn.
I opened the letter, careful not to tear the brittle page. My eyes scanned the neat script, emotionless, clinical. And then I found it. The directive.
I pressed my lips together tightly.
“This is the order to assassinate your brother,” I said.
Zander nodded, expression carved from stone. “Your father signed the parchment. But this… this suggests my father placed the contract.”
I stared at the letter, my chest aching. “Cyran always insists on protecting the client’s identity. The name of the requester would only be known to him.”
Zander’s jaw tensed. “So it could have been my father.”
I nodded slowly, handing the paper back. “Only Cyran would know the truth. I’m sorry.”
Zander took the letter with careful fingers, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. They lingered, searching, maybe for something that would make it all feel less like betrayal carved into blood.
“My brother,” he said quietly. “Theron’s pressuring me to uphold the family image.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He blew out a breath and looked away, shoulders tight. “That we have to…” He trailed off, face hardening as his gaze fixed on something behind me. His whole posture shifted, tense, alert.
I followed his line of sight.
“What is it?” I asked.
His voice was colder than before. Flat.
“What is he doing here?”
And when I turned—
Remy was standing at the gates of the inn, cloak flaring in the wind.
And he was watching me.
Zander didn’t wait. He strode across the courtyard with clipped, purposeful steps, and I fell into pace beside him, the heat of his anger radiating off him like a storm waiting to break.
Remy stood just outside the inn gates, his cloak stirring gently in the coastal breeze, his expression infuriatingly calm, as if he’d been expecting this confrontation.
Zander didn’t bother with civility.
“What is the meaning of this?” he barked, stopping just short of Remy’s boots.
Without a word, Remy reached into his satchel and handed over a folded letter, the seal already broken. Zander snatched it and read quickly, his expression souring with every line.
“You had my father assign you to Thrall Squad for this mission?”
Remy shrugged one shoulder, maddeningly casual. “It’s obvious you need help.”
Zander scoffed, crumpling the letter in his fist. “You think I can’t lead my squad through one assignment?”
Remy tilted his head. “Considering Thrall Squad is barely out of training and currently operating without an official squad leader… I’ve also submitted a formal request.”
Zander’s brows lifted in cold disbelief. “Request for what?”
“To be named their leader,” Remy said evenly. “The request is already in review.”
The air between them snapped tight.
Zander’s eyes darkened into pools of black, the bond between him and Hein clearly surging to the surface. “Over my dead body.”
Remy’s smile was sharp, cold. “That can be arranged.”
My heart jolted.
Zander stepped forward, the tension turning lethal. “Was it you, Remy?”
Remy’s eyes narrowed. “Was what me?”
Zander didn’t blink. “Were you the one who assassinated my brother?”
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
Remy’s expression didn’t flicker, but something behind his eyes changed. The faintest tremor in his jaw. The way his fingers curled at his sides.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t confirm it either.
And that silence was louder than any blade.