Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Luthias stepped between them like a wall of muscle and quiet authority, his broad chest filling the space just before Zander could close the last few inches between himself and Remy. His green Clubtail rumbled softly behind him, as if sensing the tension and preparing for the worst.
“Do we have a problem, Lieutenants?” Luthias asked, voice calm but edged with steel.
Remy didn’t blink. His gaze stayed fixed on Zander, his eyes sharp enough to cut. “No problem here,” he said slowly. “Prince Rayne remains the highest-ranking officer.”
Zander’s fists were still clenched, his shoulders tight, but he didn’t speak. The black in his eyes flickered faintly before dimming, though the rage still burned beneath the surface.
Luthias gave a short grunt. “Good. Because rank doesn’t mean shit in the Outer Kingdoms, not when we’re fighting Blood Fae.” His voice dropped lower. “And the last thing we need is a power pissing match when people are dying.”
Remy finally turned to face Luthias, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re right, of course. We should focus on the real threat.”
Zander adjusted his cloak and smoothed his tone into something almost civil. “Perhaps we should speak with the city magistrate, see what they’ve uncovered about the raid. It might give us a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with.”
Luthias nodded once, but not before flicking a look toward Zander, a silent warning, or maybe a test of restraint.
Zander didn’t move.
I stood just behind him, the letter still burning in my thoughts, my pulse still racing.
Because this wasn’t about command. It was about me.
Luthias took point, his long stride sure as he led us from the landing platform down the winding stone path toward the village proper.
The dragons had already taken to the cliffs and trees, distant but near enough to reach if summoned.
The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and something faintly metallic, like old blood long since dried.
Beyond the trees, the castle shimmered on a high cliff like something out of a painted story, its spires gleaming gold against the blue sky, banners snapping proudly in the wind.
I’d never been to Vrangoth before, but I’d read about it.
The city was a symbol of alliance, wealth, and strength of the southern coast. A place known for trade, diplomacy, and security.
And yet here we were.
Luthias guided us not into the heart of the town but toward the outskirts, where the neatly cobbled roads gave way to more rugged ground and the scent of saltwater turned sharper.
The warehouse stood alone at the edge of a cliffside storage district; its doors thrown open, the odor of hay and old crates clinging to the walls.
The magistrate waited inside, an older man with dark eyes, sun-weathered skin, and a tired expression.
“Thank you for coming. This is our second theft,” he said, voice hoarse with disuse or frustration, maybe both.
“The guards were incapacitated without a sound. No magical traces. Just… unconscious. No sound, no blood. The wagon tracks led out of town, but we lost them at the cliff’s edge.
Whoever they are, they’re professionals. ”
He gave us a quick nod and left with two guards in tow, leaving us in the silence of a hollowed-out crime scene.
We spread out, combing the dusty floorboards, shelves, and back rooms. There were crates split open, some storage seals broken, but no sign of a struggle. No drag marks, no magical residue. Even Zander, who had a sense for hidden spellwork, came up empty.
“Nothing,” Ferrula muttered from a back wall.
“It’s like they were never here,” Naia said quietly.
I crouched near a scuffed section of floor, fingers brushing along faint wheel marks. Not recent enough to be useful. I stood, rubbing my palm against my thigh just as Teren strolled up beside me, expression devilishly casual.
“You know,” he said, just loud enough for the others to hear, “I was thinking we could ditch the others and explore Vrangoth together. I’ve heard the taverns have the best rum on the coast.” He leaned a little closer. “Or we could get a room.”
I arched a brow, amused despite myself. “Tempting.”
Across the room, I could feel the eyes. Zander’s shoulders went stiff, jaw ticking. Remy, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his glare. His arms were crossed, his posture tight, and his aura screamed mine even if he had no claim.
Teren grinned, clearly pleased with the chaos he was causing. He winked. “You have options. Just saying.”
I rolled my eyes but smirked, not bothering to correct him. I knew what he was doing—needling both lieutenants in one breath. He wasn’t serious. He just enjoyed the fire it lit.
Remy stepped forward, ignoring Teren entirely. “We’re wasting time. There’s nothing here.”
He pointed to the faint wagon tracks near the open doors. “We should fly south along the coast, follow the path. If we’re lucky, they haven’t covered their trail completely.”
Zander gave a curt nod, though his eyes were still locked on Teren.
Teren just chuckled. “Look at that. The ex and the prince agree. A royal miracle.”
I sighed, mounting frustration humming beneath my skin. If this mission was supposed to be about answers, we were already slipping too far into personal territory.
And someone out there was using that distraction to vanish into the shadows.
We called for our dragons, and within moments, the sound of wings thundered across the cliffs.
They appeared from the skies like shadows made of light, Kaelith leading the flight with her signature grace, violet wings slicing clean through the wind.
She landed smoothly in front of me, tail curling in practiced precision. A queen. Always.
But the moment Katama descended, his massive green form touched down just a breath too close.
Kaelith’s snarl was immediate—teeth bared, neck arched, fire humming in her throat. She lunged a step forward, snapping her jaws in warning. Katama recoiled, his wings folding in tight as he stepped back with visible unease.
Remy stiffened, his jaw clenched as he moved quickly to my side.
“You hate me,” he said, voice low, tight. “I get it. But please… talk to Kaelith. Katama loves her. He’s not the one she should be punishing.”
I stared at him, heart aching with the weight of too many wounds still left open.
“He wanted me to grab you and leave the moment I met you,” Remy added, his voice cracking just slightly. “He saw you… and he knew.”
I wanted to believe him.
Gods, part of me ached to believe him.
But I couldn’t survive another betrayal.
“Then you should’ve listened to him,” I whispered, the words like a blade across my tongue. “I would’ve gone with you. And it wouldn’t have mattered that you were a noble.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. I turned, climbing into Kaelith’s saddle after I had reattached it. The leather was cool beneath my hands, her magic already moving beneath my skin.
Kaelith, I reached for her privately. Can you lay off Katama? He can’t control Remy. Nobody can.
She shifted beneath me, an irritated roll of muscle and scale I felt straight through the saddle.
He will keep his rider in line, she said with a growl in my mind, or I will scorch him until he learns obedience.
It’s not his fault, I argued gently. Katama chose him because he believed there was good in him. You can’t punish him for believing in someone.
Kaelith let out a soft huff that shook her wings. Dragons do not forgive as easily as humans. You forget, that I see everything. How you wept alone, when no one else was watching.
I swallowed hard. I remember.
Then you understand why I will not trust a male who wounds you and walks back expecting warmth.
Katama didn’t wound me, I countered, and he loves you.
There was a pause, a long one, before she spoke again, quieter this time.
Then let him prove it. Let him protect you the way his rider failed.
I sighed, brushing my gloved hand along the curve of her neck. Her scales shimmered beneath my touch.
Fair enough, I murmured. But no scorching. Not unless he earns it.
Kaelith didn’t answer with words.
But the fire in her chest dimmed.
Just slightly.
We took off in tight formation, the wind tearing at our cloaks as we flew low along the coast, following the faint wagon tracks that snaked through the hills toward Diria.
The sun was beginning to sink into the sea, casting molten light over the cliffs and shadowing the land in golden fire.
Below us, the ground narrowed into craggy outcroppings and twisting paths, until finally, the tracks vanished entirely.
Zander raised his fist, signaling us to descend.
Kaelith landed gracefully, claws crunching against gravel and windblown stone. The others followed in sequence, wings folding as we moved to inspect the area. The cliffs dropped steeply into the ocean below, the waves crashing far beneath like distant thunder.
But there was no sign of a wagon.
No broken axle. No scattered crates. No trail leading inland.
Just… gone.
“Just like last time,” Cordelle muttered as he crouched low, brushing a gloved hand over the fading track marks that ended inches from the cliff’s edge.
Riven had been quiet most of the trip, her expression distant, thoughtful. Now, she moved closer, eyes scanning the cliff’s lip. “There’s more to this,” she murmured. “Wagons don’t vanish. Not unless someone wants them to.”
We spread out, searching the cliffside, combing through brush and cracks in the stone. My boots crunched over loose gravel as I scanned the horizon, eyes narrowed against the dying light.
“Here!” Teren called, waving us over. He stood at the edge of the path, pointing toward the beach below. “I see something along the shoreline. Could be wreckage.”
Zander nodded. “Mount up. We’ll get a better look from the air.”