37. CHAPTER 37 #2
I saw her clearly. Pink flush spread across her cheeks.
Her hand instinctively brushed against her tunic, over the spot where the brand had touched.
Esme shifted closer, curling protectively, silver scales catching the faint light of the torches.
That dragon watched her Rider intently and challenged anyone else to approach.
My fists clenched in my lap. If I’d been down there, I would’ve stood the same way.
The bell tolled once more, drawing every gaze to the dais. My stomach tightened as my eyes locked on him. Her Father. Cold, unflinching, as though the ceremony hadn’t merely torn through flesh and spirit alike. His voice cut through the stadium like steel.
“You have been chosen. You have been judged. Now you're bound—not only to your fliers, but to the future of this realm.”
He paused, eyes sweeping over them, over her. I swore he lingered, just a breath too long, on Auri.
“You carry the weight of our survival in your bonds. Do not falter. Do not fail.”
Major General Kamban stepped up beside him, less polished, rawer, his words grinding like stone. “Your scars are proof. Your bonds, your strength. But strength without discipline is nothing. Take this gift, take this power, and remember it is not for you. It is for all of us.”
The crowd erupted as the ceremony came to a close. Elders lifted their wings, their voices shaking the night sky before taking off to the Vale, vanishing in the dark like shadows of gods. All the fliers left the field and followed behind.
And me? I sat in the stands, the roar of the crowd crashing around me, feeling more like an outsider than I ever had because I couldn’t see it. Because I wasn’t one of them. And because every heartbeat told me Auri’s world was pulling her further into a place I couldn’t follow.
***
The firelight danced against stone, spilling over mugs of ale and flushed faces. Music wound its way through the air, laughter loud enough to echo against the towers. Riders clumped in circles, their fliers nowhere in sight, the bonds fresh but already pulsing between them.
I stuck close to her. Always.
But even here, I felt it—the distance. The way they looked at her was different now, not only because she was the General’s daughter but because of whatever shimmer now lived beneath her skin. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the weight of it pressing on the edges of the night .
The courtyard was alive with firelight and noise, but beneath it all, I felt the crackle—tension threading its way between the laughter and ale. I kept Auri close, one hand brushing against hers when I could, a silent reassurance that I was here. Always here.
Then I saw it. The shift. The cadet’s stare—hard, bitter, venomous—as he shoved his way through the crowd toward her. His words dripped with poison, not at her, but at her blood.
The cadet came in calling her a daddy’s little girl, throwing insults around like she was her father.
My blood turned molten.
Auri lifted her chin, calm, steady, the way only she could. She tried to plead and reason with him, letting him know she wasn’t her dad, nor did she know what he was talking about.
But he wasn’t hearing her. His eyes burned too deep, too dark. His hand twitched toward his belt. And the courtyard shifted. Riders leaned in. The air thickened. Someone laughed—too sharp. Another shouted something I didn’t catch. The cadet lunged, and the whole thing snapped.
My wings tore free.
They ripped out with a force that silenced the courtyard, something shifted with Auri, I couldn’t quite see it, but oh fuck I felt it. Gasps filled the air, but my focus was only on him.
He never even saw her move. The flash of steel. Auri’s dagger in her hand, a blur of silver in the torchlight as she ducked low. Two sharp strikes, clean and brutal. His scream cut through the night as his legs buckled, tendons sliced, blood spilling onto the stone.
He hit the ground hard. And the world went silent.
Every Rider froze, mugs half-raised, eyes locked on us.
Then it happened—like a crack splitting the night—Auri’s arms were shimmering with silver scales, and a sense of shadows was all around her.
I didn’t know how I could see it. I shouldn’t be able to, but with our mating bond, maybe I could? I couldn’t see anyone else’s, though .
The courtyard shifted again. Fear. Awe. Curiosity. And I knew this would change everything. I could feel her magic pulling me, begging me to touch her and use it.
The courtyard was a storm. The cadet writhed on the stone, his screams twisting through the air, blood smearing under his boots as he tried to drag himself upright.
Auri stood above him, her dagger still gleaming, her shimmer still hard and clinging to her skin like armor forged from shadows themselves.
Some of the Riders around us leaned forward, eyes wide, hungry for the fight to continue. Others shifted uneasily, clearly calculating what it meant that the General’s daughter bled shadows and that I, a Drusearon, had just unleashed my wings during their celebration, on their domain.
The silence was razor-sharp. I stepped forward, wings flaring wider, letting the tips drag sparks against the stone walls.
“Enough!” I yelled again, even louder.
The word echoed, carried not just by sound but by weight. Authority I hadn’t yet been granted—but claimed at that moment. My gaze swept across the Riders, meeting eyes that dropped almost instantly.
“This ends here,” I said, low but steady, a command rather than a request. I planted myself between Auri and the rest of them, every feather humming with tension, daring anyone to move. “There will be no more blades, no more challenges, no more blood spilled in this courtyard tonight.”
The cadet on the ground coughed a laugh, bitter and cracked. “You think you can command us, Drusearon?” he spat.
I bent low, wings curving over Auri like a shield, my stare locking him in place. “No,” I said, voice sharp as steel. “But I can end you before you crawl another inch. And so can she.”
The courtyard went deathly still again, all eyes watching. Testing. Waiting. And I knew in that silence—I had to seize it. I had to make them believe.
Straightening, I folded my wings in, not all the way, but enough to signal I wasn’t about to strike. My tone shifted, steadier, carrying the cadence of command I’d heard from generals and even my father my entire life.
“You all saw it,” I said, sweeping my gaze across the Riders. “Strength was demonstrated, lines were drawn, and whether you liked it or not—respect was earned.”
No one argued. Not out loud.
The cadet on the ground groaned and tried to crawl away, while a few others finally rushed to help him.
I stayed still and silent until he was out of sight.
Then, slowly, the murmurs and music began to return, and the chaos eased into a tense quiet.
But everything felt different now. Not after this moment, not after Auri’s shimmer revealed itself to me.
Not after the courtyard went silent beneath my voice.
Her shimmer was fading, but the memory of how it had hardened against her will still haunted me.
It had protected her—shielded her—but also unsettled her.
I saw it in how her fingers trembled slightly around her dagger, even as she sheathed it, and in the stiffness of her shoulders as she forced herself to stand tall.
She wouldn’t let anyone else see it. But I did.
I stepped closer, folding my wings tight until they walled her off from the last curious stares. “Come on, we should go.” My voice left no room for debate. She glanced up, ready to argue, but the exhaustion in her eyes gave her away. She only nodded once.
I took her hand—not for show, not for defiance, but because she needed grounding. Together, we pushed through the shifting crowd. A few Riders stepped back when my wings brushed too close, but no one stopped us. Not now.
The academy's corridors felt empty and chilly after the courtyard, with our footsteps reverberating loudly in the silence.
She walked beside me, chin raised, acting unfazed.
I let her maintain the facade around others, but between us, the truth was clear—her heart pounded, her mind a jumble of emotions: fear, anger, disbelief, all colliding .
When we reached her chambers, I pushed the door open for her. She stepped inside, and I followed, closing it firmly behind us. The silence pressed down, thick and suffocating.
She turned, finally letting her shoulders slump, her guard fall. I caught her before she could even speak, hands framing her face.
“Rest, you’re safe now,” I whispered, even though both of us knew safety was a lie here. Still, I needed her to hear it.
Her eyes softened, the hardness in her shimmer dissolving completely. “For now,” she murmured.
In her chambers, I knew she was safe. I placed the ward myself, and I was damn good at boundary warding.
I stood outside her chambers long after the door clicked shut, palms still burning from her touch. I’d told her to rest, to take all the time she needed, but honestly, it was me who needed space. Space to breathe. Space to regain my control. Because every fiber of me wanted stay inside.
I wanted to pull her against me, press her into the bed, and bury the world outside. I wanted her warmth, her lips, her breath on my neck, her legs tangled with mine until neither of us knew where one ended and the other began.
But it wasn’t just the hunger for touch.
Gods, if it were only that, I could manage it.
It was the hunger born from seeing her fight.
From watching her shimmer harden around her like armor, from the flash of her dagger, from the way she didn’t hesitate to bleed for her survival.
She looked untouchable and wild, and it stirred something profound within me—something darker and more desperate. And that was what frightened me.
Because if I gave in to that craving now, staying in that room might make it hard to stop. I might not be gentle, and she was injured. Part of being branded meant, unless it was life or death, Riders shouldn’t get mended until forty-eight hours after, to ensure the scar remains on their chest.
So, I remained in the hallway, jaw clenched, struggling with myself just as she had struggled with that cadet.
I reminded myself she needed rest. That she was still reeling from the fight, from the brand, from the weight of her father’s words.
But the truth was—my restraint wasn’t for her.
It was for me. Because loving Auri wasn’t just about wanting her, it was about craving her fire…
and knowing one day, if I wasn’t careful, it might burn me alive.
I forced myself to walk away from her door before I gave in and took her in every way I wanted, knowing she wouldn’t stop me.
Her restraint was worse than mine. My boots echoed down the stone corridor, each step dragging the ache in my chest along with me.
If I wasn't able to hold her in my arms that night, then I needed another way to burn the fire out before it consumed me. I knew exactly where to go.
The sparring ring was dimly lit with torches hissing softly along the weathered walls. Eli stood there, leaning against the railing with that familiar, easy smirk that hadn’t changed since childhood. He had always been quicker than me and sharper with his blade, and he knew it.
“You look like you're about to snap,” Eli said as I stepped into the circle. He straightened, tossing me a dulled training sword. “Lucky for you, I’m in the mood to break something.”
I caught the sword in one hand, rolling the grip in my palm, feeling the weight. “Good. Because if I don’t bleed this out, I’ll go mad.”
His brows raised just slightly. “Her again?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. He knew me too well.
Eli grinned, feral. “Then fight me like you’d fight the thought of her.”
I swung harder than I should have, pouring all my frustration, craving, and unmet desire into each hit. Eli responded equally, sparks flying as our blades collided. He pushed me back, but I managed to shove him off, sweat already trailing down my back.
“You’re sloppy,” he barked, laughing between sidesteps. “She’s in your head, Zane.”
“She’s always in my head,” I growled, pushing forward, slamming my weight into him.
He staggered, regained his footing, then smirked. “Good. Hold onto that. Let it sharpen you, not drown you. ”
We kept at it until my arms burned and my lungs heaved, until the sting of each strike dulled the storm inside. When we finally broke apart, panting and grinning like idiots, I felt the fire inside me settle—not gone, never gone, but contained.
Eli slapped my shoulder as we left the ring. “Better?”
I sheathed the dulled sword, shaking the sweat from my hair. “For now.”
However, the truth was that sparring was only a temporary solution. No fight, no bruises, no blades could quiet the deeper hunger. The one that belonged to Auri alone.