Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Riven shook me awake, her palm lightly tapping my shoulder with far more amusement than urgency.
“Damn, this is becoming a habit,” she said with a half-laugh, stepping back as I groaned and blinked blearily into the soft morning light bleeding through the barracks window. “I was asleep when you hit the sack. It must’ve been late.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed at my eyes and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my joints stiff, my mind still half-entrenched in the echo of flames and secrets.
I washed up quickly and dressed in silence, strapping my flight armor into place with mechanical precision. Riven waited by the door, already lacing her boots, her fire-red braid catching the light like embers.
We made our way toward the dining hall, the scent of spiced meats and toasted bread wafting out into the corridor. But just as we neared the wide stone arch, a man brushed past us. His robes marked him as a warder, green-gray with faint runes stitched into the hem.
He didn’t meet my gaze, but his hand reached out and slipped something into mine.
I froze.
He didn’t look back. Just kept walking.
I glanced down.
A small folded note, sealed with wax, an unmistakable emblem embedded into the press.
The Order of Thorn.
My pulse quickened.
Stay vigilant, the note inside read.
No signature. No name. But I knew the handwriting. The slant of the letters. The shape of the “V.”
Solei.
Or someone using her signature.
I shoved it into a hidden pocket in my armor, unsettled, but too trained to panic in public.
Was it a warning?
Or a threat?
Another hit squad?
I grabbed a plate of food, but the eggs felt like ash in my mouth. I barely forced down a bite before a shadow fell over our table.
Zander slid onto the bench beside me, his jaw set in a grim line.
“We have to go,” he said, skipping any form of greeting.
I straightened. “Where?”
“Thubia.”
Riven tensed beside me.
“Why?” I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.
Zander’s eyes met mine, something dark and sharp flickering in their depths.
“My brother Dorian was just attacked.”
We rushed from the dining hall, plates forgotten, boots thudding against the stone as we sprinted into the morning light. The Ascension Grounds were already in motion, dragons circling in the sky like rippling scales of color and power.
Kaelith landed hard beside the others, her massive wings sending gusts of wind whipping through the yard. The others followed—Temil’s orange tail swishing low, Hein’s massive form gliding in with all the force of thunder behind it.
“How did they know?” I asked, grabbing my saddle off the rails.
Zander hefted his own onto Hein’s back with practiced speed. “The same way I did,” he said. “Dorian’s dragon, Foran, called for help.”
“Do you know where he is?” I asked, adjusting the straps across Kaelith’s back.
“Yes,” Zander said without hesitation. “His power saved him, but the riders who were with him… they didn’t make it.” His eyes darkened. “Including one dragon.”
My breath caught.
Only one thing could kill a dragon.
“The Blood Fae,” I whispered.
Zander nodded once, grim and furious.
We mounted in silence, the gravity of the mission settling across us like weighted armor. The others didn’t speak, but the tension crackled through the air like a storm waiting to break.
“They were badly outnumbered,” Zander continued as Hein shifted beneath him.
“What is his power?”
“Battle manipulation,” he said. “He can see the outcome of a fight once it starts. He can also see alternate outcomes and what maneuvers to make in order to survive. Since he can control the flow of combat, the dragon and his men who died had to have perished in the first wave.”
Damn.
We were getting set to take off when a voice rang out.
“Zander!”
Cade was sprinting across the grounds, armor half-fastened and determination written all over his face. He reached us just as Hein gave a low rumble of impatience, his wings flexing.
Zander turned, already halfway into the saddle. “I have to go.”
“Not without Crownwatch,” Cade said, breathless but unwavering. “I understand you need to protect them”—he motioned toward me and the others—“but Dorian is the future king. We’re going.”
Zander’s lip twitched, the barest glimmer of something between pride and exasperation.
“And Remy?” he asked, arching a brow.
“He gets to maintain castle security.”
“Oh, he’ll love that,” Zander chuckled as he spoke.
Cade grinned and gave a theatrical wink.
A roar split the air, and I turned to see five massive dragons slicing through the sky, Crownwatch, in full formation, descending with military precision. Their scales shimmered in the sun, blues and bronzes gleaming like the blades they carried.
Zander gave Cade a short nod, all hesitation gone.
We took to the skies, dragons surging upward as one unit.
And for a heartbeat, with the wind on our faces and war in our blood, we were unstoppable.
The coast of the Earendall continent unfurled beneath us like a jagged ribbon of slate and foam, cliffs rising sharp from the sea, wind carving paths through the ancient stone.
Waves crashed against the rocks below, spraying salt into the air even this high up.
Forests hugged the inland side, but the sea was a silver shimmer to our left, endless and open.
And above it all—us.
We flew in a formation unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Thrall Squad, small but fierce, held tight near Zander and Crownwatch.
But Crownwatch… gods. Over thirty riders soared around us, their dragons painted in hues of green, silver, and midnight-blue.
Wingspans blocked the sun, and their presence was a thunder that echoed across the sky.
It felt like a force the Blood Fae would fear.
Zander’s voice slid into my mind, calm and commanding as always.
Hein says the skies ahead are clear, but he can smell the blood on the wind.
What else are they saying? I asked, focusing on Kaelith’s breathing beneath me.
Foran is still alive. He’s injured, but moving. The other dragon, they lost was a blue striker, like Foran.
I swallowed hard.
Hein… he’s angry, isn’t he?
Zander’s response came with the weight of flame and fury behind it.
He’s livid. That dragon was from his den. One of the few clutch mates he had left. Hein says this is a blood oath now. He wants Dorian and Foran back alive. He wants the price paid in fire.
My stomach coiled, part fear, part exhilaration. We’re going to find them, I said, more to myself than to Zander.
We will, he replied. The dragons are already closing in on the last known coordinates. We’re almost there.
Kaelith rumbled beneath me, her mind pressing against mine in silent agreement.
And with dozens of dragons streaking through the sky, a prince in danger, and the smell of war on the wind—
I felt powerful.
Like the skies belonged to us.
Ashe. Zander lifted his hand, fingers curling into a signal I hadn’t seen him use before.
The response was immediate. Crownwatch peeled away from formation like a net tightening over prey, wings slicing through the cloud-heavy sky as they circled the rocky spit of an island beneath us.
You land with me. You can tend to Dorian’s wounds.
Okay, I sent back privately, my voice a whisper in the storm between us. I’ve got him. I had anticipated that and brought my pack with medical supplies.
Kaelith banked hard, her massive wings tilting to cut the wind. I stayed low over her back, fingers gripping the ridge of her neck until we touched down in a spray of sea-soaked mist. Hein followed close behind, the weight of him shaking the ground when he landed beside her.
And Kaelith… she didn’t pull away.
She leaned in.
Her wing brushed against Hein’s, slow, like a tentative hand reaching in the dark. Her tail flicked but she didn’t retreat. Her gold eyes locked on him, not with her usual suspicion, but with something soft. Worry.
She was worried.
I hadn’t even unstrapped yet and she was watching Hein like she might lose him.
Slipping off her back, I gave her a final look and touched her flank. He’ll be fine. Stay close.
Zander was already moving. I followed him, boots scraping against the jagged stone as we ducked into the narrow mouth of the cave.
It wasn’t deep, but it was dark enough that my eyes had to adjust.
Foran lay curled near the back, wings tight to his sides like he was trying to make himself smaller, like he’d failed and didn’t want to be seen. His scales were dulled, one side streaked in dark blood, thick and tar-like where it dried beneath his ribs.
And his rider…
“Dorian.” The word barely made it past my lips as I rushed forward.
He was slumped against his dragon’s side, armor dented, pale skin mottled with dirt and blood. One arm hung limp across Foran’s foreleg, the other clutched his side where the fabric of his jacket had turned black and sticky.
His eyes fluttered open at our approach, just enough to see me.
“Ashe… Zander.” His voice cracked like the fire had gone out of it.
“I’m here brother,” Zander said, kneeling beside him. “We’ve got you.”
I dropped beside Dorian, hands already at his chest, assessing the wound. “What happened?”
“I tried to stop them,” Dorian rasped, voice low and full of pain. “Didn’t matter. There were too many.”
I pulled a healing draught from my satchel, cracking the seal. “Drink this, slowly.”
Zander was already unbuckling the straps on Dorian’s breastplate, his jaw clenched. “We need to move him. The longer he stays here, the worse this gets.”
“No.” Dorian reached up, grabbing my wrist. His grip was weak, but his eyes were fierce. “They’re coming. They know.”
“Then we hold them off,” I said, glancing back toward the mouth of the cave. Kaelith, prepare to fight. If anything moves, burn it.
The dragons outside stirred, a hum of tension vibrating through the cave like thunder rolling just beyond the cliffs.
And beside me, Dorian bled.
But he was alive.
And he wasn’t alone anymore.
Dorian leaned heavily against Foran’s side, breath shallow but steadier with each sip of the draught I held to his lips. His hand trembled when he pushed the flask away and looked between me and Zander, the fire in his gaze returning despite the blood that still soaked through his shirt.
“It happened so fast,” he said, voice hoarse. “One minute we were flying recon along the eastern ridge. The next—screaming.”
He swallowed hard. Foran shifted beside him, his large blue form tense beneath his bleeding hide.
“It was an ambush. At least fifty of them.” Dorian closed his eyes for a breath, then opened them, haunted. “Blood Fae. All cloaked in shadow and mist. They hit hard and fast.”
“Who was hit first?” Zander asked, voice tight.
Dorian’s face hardened, pain blooming anew behind his eyes. “Leran. He and Mareth were scouting ahead. Mareth barely had time to scream before his dragon went down in flames. One second, they were there… the next—”
He didn’t finish.
I could still see it too clearly in his face.
The loss carved into him like a blade.
“Leran was a blue striker, wasn’t he?” I asked gently.
Dorian nodded. “Same den as Foran. Hein’s line.”
Zander cursed under his breath, hand balling into a fist at his side.
“Foran said I had to live,” Dorian continued, glancing toward his dragon. “Even when I ordered him to stay, he ignored me and carried me off…” he paused, looking right at me. “He sees what I see.”
“And you would have died,” Zander said flatly.
Dorian nodded once, the truth of it crashing into the air between us.
“Yes.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to stay the shiver climbing up my spine.
“I’m sorry for the ones we lost,” Zander said quietly, but with all the weight of a prince. “But you’re the future king.”
Dorian didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes distant. “Maybe that’s why I was attacked.”
I looked up from where I knelt beside him. “You think this was targeted?”
He nodded. “If I had died, the question of succession would fall apart. Theron would fight you for it, Zander.”
“That makes sense. We have learned the Blood Fae are already manipulating the court…”
Dorian sighed. “I had my suspicions.”
“They could push Warriath into a civil war,” Zander finished grimly.
“Yes.”
The wind howled outside the cave, and I felt Kaelith’s presence stir in the back of my mind.
Something’s coming, she warned.
We didn’t need her to say what.
“We need to leave. Can Foran fly?” I asked.
Dorian nodded. “His injuries will heal faster than mine. Thank you for helping me, Ashlyn.”
I nodded as Zander helped Dorian to his feet. But Foran grunted as he got to his.