Chapter Five
“You should see the look on your face.” Talen chuckles, creases forming around the bruise on his nose that I just gave him. But I can’t even look at him properly. My gaze keeps snapping back to the bite-sized dragon in his hand, like if I stare hard enough it will make sense. It doesn’t.
“She… she shrank!” I manage, my eyes so wide it actually hurts.
“No.” Talen’s grin widens as he hooks a finger under Ahria’s chin, earning a low, pleased rumble from her. “She grew.”
“That’s not—” Shaking my head, I point at her tiny green-scaled body nestled in his palm. “That’s not how dragons work.”
“Ah, Bloom. So much you don’t know…”
“And whose fault is that?” The question slips out more barbed than I intend.
“Yeah… of course. Right. Well—” His grin falters. “This is their natural size. This is a dragon. But when they choose, they can expand. Grow.”
Grow.
Sure. Why the hell not. Everything else I thought I knew has already been ripped out from under me—so yeah, miniature dragons. Makes perfect sense.
Shaking my head, I glare at her as Talen’s thumb strokes over the top of her head and the ache hits again. That need to reach for her, to touch. To be closer.
To bond.
My hand lifts before I can stop it.
Ahria puffs—doubling in size in a heartbeat—and snaps for my fingers. I jerk back with a sharp hiss as a burst of fire spits from her jaws, licking across my skin.
“Yeah—maybe don’t try to touch her just yet,” Talen steps back as I suck my finger into my mouth, trying to kill the sting. “She’s small and unbonded, but not harmless. Knows exactly where to bite so you bleed out in seconds. Plus there’s still more Threads packed into her than most could survive.”
“Then how?” I ask as I drop my hand back down, brows pulling in. “How is she… that size if she's so powerful?”
“Their Threads don’t reduce, but we think they can reshape them.
Compress them to fit their form.” He gives Ahria a nudge and she lifts from his hand, wings catching the air as she hovers by his side.
“Which means, a bonded dragon doesn’t get weaker when they’re small.
They're just as dangerous. Still capable of channeling a brutal amount of magic through their rider. And it also means...” Turning his attention to Ahria, his tone sharpens.
“they’ll die far too young if they don’t bond.
If they don’t find a way to release it.”
Ahria huffs out a thin wisp of smoke before flying off to a nearby post, claws clicking softly against the wood as her rat-sized frame settles neatly on top.
“But if they can grow...” I say frowning as I watch her and try to make sense of it all. “Why stay small? Why not stay… Big? Fierce.”
“We think it drains them.” Talen folds his arms loosely. “Holding their Threads in that expanded state takes energy. A lot of it. So they can only manage it for short bursts. A few hours. Less if they’re flying or fighting.”
“So this is how Lucien can be bonded without anyone at the Citadel noticing? His dragon’s with him the whole time—just… miniature?”
“Exactly,” he exclaims and out of the corner of my eye, I catch his smile returning.
“Inside the Innerland Veils, JC can’t fly or communicate with Lucien.
But once a dragon bonds, they need to stay close to their rider to release their Threads…
so she doesn’t leave him for long. A few days at most.”
I almost ask why we don’t know any of this. But the answer’s obvious. The Citadel doesn’t want bonding to return, so of course the story they sell is simpler. Dragons are monsters, dragons will kill you.
Fear is always easier to control than truth.
“So is Cal small?” I turn back to face him.
He lets out a short laugh. “No. Let’s just say Cal doesn't like being little. And since he merged with me… I don’t think it’s possible anyway. My Threads can’t compress like his. So he only comes through in his larger form. Which means he can’t stay around long... Much to his frustration.”
My head shakes in disbelief as my fingers curl at my side. God, how much more is there that I don't know? That he hasn't told me?
Angling away from him, a cool breeze from the lake brushes over me, sending a shiver slipping down my spine. Dropping my gaze, I realise that, aside from the damp wrap clinging to my breasts, I’m bare to my waist. Rubbing at my arms, I try to pull warmth back into my skin.
“Come on,” Talen sighs, gesturing ahead. “This has been enough for one night. Let’s get you properly dry, and then to Ezzy.”
Ahria's tiny green body glides along beside us, effortlessly plucking helpless little moths from the air as we walk back toward the camp in silence.
By the time we reach the tents, the quiet has become unbearable enough that I risk a glance up, only to find Talen already looking at me.
We both turn away at once, awkward and guilty, like we've been caught doing something we shouldn't, and I force my attention back to the moonlit path beneath my boots.
When we reach his tent, he waits outside while I get warm and dry. I also quickly grab my pack, which is heavier than normal, and shove in the borrowed clothes he'd left out for me, then together we head off to see Ezzy.
“Here,” he finally murmurs, stopping outside a small tent and holding out his leather flight jacket with a weary smile. “Keep it, you’ll want it for training. I managed to get most of it dry while you were changing. One of the benefits of having Air and Fire Threads.”
Reaching out, I take it and bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from smiling back.
“Anyway...” Shifting his weight, he gestures to the canvas shelter beside us. “This is the Healer’s Tent. You’re welcome to stay in my tent. I have to head back to the Citadel now, and I’m hardly ever here... But if you’d be more comfortable elsewhere, I understand.”
“I’ll stay elsewhere,” I reply quickly, before I can think too much about it.
“Okay, then.” Disappointment flickers across his face, but he smooths it away with a short nod.
“You can sleep here with Ezzy tonight, but we need to keep this tent clear, so tomorrow Merrin can find you somewhere more permanent.” He lifts the flap for me to enter.
“I put something in your pack, by the way. A way to reach me if you want or need.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the canvas from his hand. A flash of green shoots past us as Ahria darts inside the tent, and without another word, I follow her in.
I want to slam it in his face—hard enough to make a point—but the canvas is too light, too forgiving and it falls shut with a dull, unsatisfying scrape. So instead I exhale with a loud, exaggerated huff and hope he gets the message.
For a moment I stay standing there, facing the closed flap, my arms folded across my chest and my brows drawn in. Waiting. Almost hoping he’ll follow me in. To argue, to say something, anything to give me a reason to fight back so I can bleed out some of the pressure currently clawing up my throat.
Anger. Frustration. Grief.
I can’t tell where one ends and the next begins.
Then I hear his boots shift outside, a subtle scuff against the dry dirt. Another follows, quieter this time, then another, moving farther away until the sound fades completely and all that's left is the steady beat of Ahria’s wings at my side.
Finally, once my pulse has settled, I draw in a long breath and turn, blinking as my vision adjusts to the low, flickering light.
The tent is small, with only two narrow beds separated by a single wooden chair.
One bed is untouched, in the other—
Ezzy.
Her bright blonde hair catches in the dim candlelight.
My heart stutters when I see her chest rise and fall beneath the blankets.
She’s alive.
Oh, thank god, she’s alive.
Tension gathers behind my eyes at the sight of her, and a tear slips free before I can stop it, but I swipe it away fast before Ahria can see.
I’ve already fallen apart too much tonight, and if there’s even a chance she’ll choose to bond with me, then I can’t let her see me as weak.
I need to be strong. In control.
Like my mum.
Clamping the feelings down before more can surface, I cross the space, gently lower myself onto the empty bed opposite Ezzy with a soft creak, and place Talen's jacket on the chair beside me.
Ahria flutters over a second later, lands right in the middle of it, then burrows into the worn leather and curls up with a satisfied huff like she belongs there.
Once she settles, I shrug off my pack and start digging through it.
I put aside the notebook and the strange golden contraption Talen left inside. It looks like a folded-up ornate candle holder, and reach deeper for what I'm really after.
Rowan's letter to Ezzy and the duck.
As my fingers curl around them, the fragile hold I have on myself slips. For one terrible second, I’m back there again, but I swallow hard and lift them free.
“Here.” My voice cracks as I lean across, placing them beside Ezzy on her bed. “Now Rowan and Finn are both with you.”
Brushing a strand of hair from her face, I tuck it behind her ear, then let my hand settle against her shoulder.
“I don’t know who you’ll be when you wake, hell, I don't even know who I am right now. But I do know this.” Inhaling deep, I force my voice steady.
“I’m not leaving you. I left Bren. I lost Ashvale, Finn.
Rowan.” My throat tightens on his name. “Rowan’s gone, he’s gone because of me, and all he wanted to do was keep you safe.
Rowan loved you. And I loved him, he was my friend.
I refuse to let any of that be meaningless. ”
The words settle in the space between us—no echo, no answer. Just the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath beneath my hand, until a low, rolling groan breaks the quiet.
Glancing down at the chair beside us, I catch Ahria stretching into the tail end of a yawn, wings shifting as she nestles deeper into Talen’s jacket. Her yawn catches, and I follow, the tension in my jaw loosening just enough to let the fatigue through.