Chapter Three
TALEN’S POV
Every muscle in my body moves before thought can catch them as I step between Ahria and Lyra. With my arms outstretched, my magic snaps outward, unfurling loose around me. Air answers immediately—slamming into place a heartbeat before the flames collide with us.
The impact is brutal. Heat crashes into my shield, jarring my arms to the shoulders and nearly tearing my footing out from under me, but I drag the air in harder, compressing it until it screams in my ears, thicker and tighter, forcing the flames to bend into the dark around us instead of through us.
“For fuck’s sake, Ahria!” I shout, teeth gritted as another blast hits. “We talked about this!”
Behind me, Lyra freezes, and a barbed, protective instinct catches under my ribs.
I widen my stance, boots grinding into the dirt as I lift my chin toward the massive dark-green dragon before us. Locking my gaze with hers, I let Cal bleed through.
Not fully—but just enough to let her know I’m not fucking around.
Power floods beneath my skin as I meet Ahria’s violet eyes head-on.
She freezes mid-breath, pupils narrowing to slits.
She knows that look.
Knows who stands behind it.
For a moment, I think she’s going to make me work for it, but then her jaws snap shut, cutting the flames off mid-roar, and the pressure against my shield collapses all at once. Dropping my hands, I let my muscles loosen, but my chest keeps heaving, fast and heavy.
“Tell the human,” Ahria’s voice vibrates through my skull, smoke curling from her nostrils, “I am not her dragon.”
The disdain she packs into her words is thick enough to taste, and through the haze I swear I catch the slow roll of her eyes.
“Oh, come on, you know what she—” I start, but the scent of sulphur and scorched linen slices through my words.
Breaking off, I glance down and catch an ember chewing steadily through my sleeve.
“Damn it, Ahria.” Cursing under my breath, I slap at the fabric, hands moving fast before the flame can take more.
But it’s enough. The second my focus slips, Cal claws against the edge of my mind, trying to force his way back through the gap.
Jaw locked, I shove him back.
Not now. I can’t deal with two enormous dragons with egos to match rattling around in my head while I’m also trying to keep Lyra from emotionally imploding.
Turning from Ahria, before I say something that will make this worse, I lower my hand to Lyra. She’s folded in on herself, arms over her head like she’s bracing for another strike.
God, please, just let me get through this without giving her any more reasons to hate me.
For a second, she doesn’t move. Then she cautiously glances up, moonlight catching the emerald green of her eyes as they flick to Ahria behind me.
The moment they land, her Threads flare.
The tremor strikes mine like a bow scraping across a string.
Fear.
Lyra’s.
Sharp and climbing.
I move before it can take hold, shifting my rhythm in response, dropping the vibration of my own Threads lower until they settle into one clean, even frequency—like striking a single note.
Then I push that note toward her.
Her wild rhythm connects with mine and skips, like two heartbeats out of sync, but I hold it level until her pitch begins to drop and her shoulders loosen.
“She… she tried to kill me,” Lyra’s voice comes out calm but her eyes stay wide.
“No...” I say, trying to brush it off as her fingers curl into mine and I pull her to her feet. “She’s just being pedantic. She doesn’t like being referred to as anyone’s...” Turning toward the towering dragon, I raise a brow. “Isn’t that right?”
Ahria scoffs, smoke curling around my shoulders. “I don’t like humans, let alone this... replacement.”
“You like me...” My mouth tugs left.
“Doesn’t count.” Another exaggerated eye roll.
Lyra blinks between us. “You, you can talk to her?”
“Unfortunately, in this case… yes.” Reaching up, I scratch beneath Ahria’s chin before she can complain again. “Dragons can usually only mind-speak with their own kind or their bonded rider, but because of Cal, apparently, that includes me.”
Ahria’s scales burn against my fingers, but I keep my hand there anyway, welcoming the distraction of the heat because it gives me something solid to focus on while every reckless instinct in me yearns toward Lyra, straining against the leash I’m barely holding.
“But I don’t understand. Why can’t I hear her? When I saw her, I felt...” Her breath stutters, and fuck, I want to hold her. “I felt like—”
“Like she already belongs to you?” I cut in, stopping myself from moving forward “Like you’ve always known her?
Like she settled somewhere under your skin the second you saw her, and now the thought of losing her...
” My throat tightens before I can stop it.
“Would hollow you out until there’s nothing left?
” Lyra nods once. “Because you’re bonded. ”
For a beat, she just stares at me. Her mouth opens, then closes again as her attention shifts to the moody creature looming at my side, and when she finally finds her voice, it’s rough.
“But, then why did she try to burn me?”
Grimacing, I remove my hand from Ahria and drag it over the rough scrape of my three-day-old stubble. “Uh... how do I put this...” Exhaling through my nose, I brace for the hit. “She’s not bonded to you.”
Her brows pull in, and her face crumples around her beautiful freckles with a hurt I feel like I’ve put there myself.
“Half-bonded,” I add fast, like it will soften the blow. “That’s the best way I can put it.”
She stares at me like I’ve started speaking another language. She’s smart—smarter than most—but I forget there are gaps she has never been given the chance to learn.
“Okay. So, dragon bonds are messy.” I start to explain as Ahria lets out a low rumble beside me, and Lyra staggers back a step.
“Since the exile, we’re still guessing at half of it.
Dragons don’t like sharing the details of their magic, don’t trust us.
Can’t blame them. We know they only bond with riders if their Threads are compatible, and that they only bond with those they deem ‘good.’ But how the bond actually forms, and seals, is more... complicated.”
A rough brush of scales slams into my shoulder as Ahria bumps her head against me, knocking the air from my lungs. Grunting, I shoot her a look and lift my hand to start scratching her again before she decides to prove her point with more fire.
“I imagine it’s like two people falling for each other,” I continue, finding the spot behind Ahria's ear that makes her head tilt. “Sometimes it’s love at first sight—Threads align, and it just clicks. Or sometimes they may start off hating each other and realise, slowly, they were connected all along. But sometimes…” My focus drifts.
“Sometimes one of them watches. For years. Waiting for the other one to see it too.” Looking back at Lyra, my hand stills.
“That was Ahria. She was watching. But she wasn’t watching you. She was watching your mum.”
The words settle between us and I see the pain rise in her face before she can hide it.
My stomach knots, fingers digging into Ahria’s scales, because I know that feeling.
The moment you see your dragon, and something inside you locks into place.
That bone-deep certainty that this is the missing piece of you.
Despite Cal being a relentless pain in my arse, when he chose me, it was mutual, and the thought of being without him feels like losing a limb.
Now Lyra is standing here with that same desperation and certainty, only it’s one-sided.
“She knew my mum?”
“No. Merrin hoped they would, but unfortunately Ahria only watched from afar.”
“How... how do you know all this?” Her head shakes in disbelief.
“Ravenscross,” I say, trying to ignore the memories of that night.
“I heard you sleep-talking. You were having dreams?” she nods.
“I had them with Cal, too. It’s a sign your Threads were reaching for hers.
Probably because you share so much with your mum.
The dragon population’s small—since the Treaty, they’ve struggled to rebuild.
So I asked Cal and he said you were describing Ahria. He’s the one who brought her here.”
Lyra’s mouth hangs loose as she tries to catch up, but her breath stays slow and even as the pulse from my magic wraps around hers, holding her calm.
The rhythm behind my ribs, on the other hand, starts climbing the longer I hold her gaze.
Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea to try and do this now, with everything already balanced on a blade’s edge.
“Yes,” Cal growls, displeasure scraping through the bond. “It’s a terrible idea. I already warned you.”
Flexing my free hand, I shove it into my pocket, fingers curling around my talisman, grounding myself in its weight. Because he’s right, it is a terrible idea. If I push her now, I might break her. I could wait, should wait. Try again in a week when the only thing holding her together isn't me.
But I don’t have time to wait. I need to be back at the Citadel by morning, and if I leave without forcing this forward, the bond could cool. Ahria will just retreat more and Lyra will convince herself the rejection was final.
Maybe I’m just trading more of her trust for a chance she will bond—and I hate myself for it. But this connection needs movement, Ahria needs to see who Lyra really is.
“So anyway, are you ready?” I rub the back of my neck, swallowing the guilt and handing her a smile.
“For what?” Lyra replies skeptically.
“To go for a ride.” The corner of my mouth lifts, like that’s all it’ll take to hide the fact that I’m stepping into this just as blind as she is.
“Are you joking?” she snorts. “I'm fucking petrified of heights, I'm terrified of fire, and dragons do both. Plus I’m pretty sure she just tried to kill me!” Her hand lifts, finger pointing toward the green dragon, only to drop again when a low snarl answers.
“Yes. Absolutely not,” Ahria chips in. “I will drop her.”
“No, you won’t drop her.” I reply.