Chapter Eleven #3
She squints at me for a second. “Yeah… didn’t they teach you about it in the Air Realm? It’s drilled into us Earth kids as soon as we start school.”
My grip tightens on a piece of kindling. I hadn't realised until now that she doesn't know I'm an Outerlander... I mean technically I was born in the Innerlands, and I came from the Citadel. Still, I'm not sure what she thinks of Outerlanders yet, so I don't correct her.
“Oh, I must’ve forgotten,” I reply, passing her the stick.
She takes it with a casual shrug and places it in the furnace.
“Well, for one thing, the whole kingdom is cursed. Since the Treaty, if you try to step through the gates of Aurelia, you die.” She claps her hands once—sharp enough to make me jump.
“Poof. You turn to ash. Gone. But that apparently wasn’t enough, so there’s a second curse too—on the Aurelian bloodline: No true heir of Aurelia shall rise again.
May their seed be thin, their wombs frail, their line crumble to dust.”
She rattles off the saying like it's a bedtime nursery rhyme. Probably was, knowing how fucked up the Innerlands system is.
“So basically,” she finishes, “if any of them tried to have children, it didn’t go well. Most didn’t survive, and the ones that did, didn’t last long. So over time, the bloodlines have faded out.”
We stand, and she turns to grab a match for the fire before holding it out to me.
I stare at it, hesitation creeping in—but before I can take it, a loud cough sounds behind us.
Lucien is no longer at the back of the tent but across the table from us.
JC perched on his shoulder, both of them watching us like they’ve been here longer than I realised.
“Sorry to break up this little history session,” He quips, the leather of his jacket pulling as he crosses his arms over his chest. “But we’ve got the briefing later, so if you want to fly, we need to go now.”
Shit. The thought of being up in the air already makes my stomach churn. I was hoping for at least another hour before any training started.
Maybe I could tell him that I'm busy, to come back later. But he’s already warned me that next week he won't be around as much, and I need as much flying time as possible.
Across from us, JC lets out a tiny roar as Ahria slips past, stealing a nut from her claws. I track them as they glide around, until my gaze drops back to Neeve—and the unlit match still sitting in her hand.
Yeah, I’ll take heights over fire any day.
“I should go.” I tell Neeve, brushing the flour from my hands. “Catch you at the briefing?”
Her gaze stays locked on Lucien, but she gives a small nod.
An hour later, JC lands hard, the impact shuddering through her massive frame—and before I can steady myself, her muscles bunch and roll beneath me, throwing me off her back and into the dirt.
I barely get my hands under me before the first wave hits, and I lurch forward, retching into the ground.
Lucien’s had me up and down at least ten times already this morning, and I’m starting to wish I’d stayed baking bread—or even taken my chances with Dave.
“You did good, Bloom.” He chuckles, some of the tension finally easing from his voice as he drops down beside me. “Next time, keep your focus fixed on the mountains, okay? But I think that's enough for today.”
“No.” I stay folded forward, arms braced around my waist. “Give me a second, and then let's go again.”
I will not be the girl who can’t handle this. I can do this.
Moving to stand, a blur of green darts past me as Ahria chases a cricket through the long grass. The motion sends another wave rolling through me, so I stay hunched over until the floor stops spinning—then push myself upright.
“Sorry, can’t. The briefing will start soon,” Lucien holds out a flask in my direction. “Here.”
I take it and gulp down a large sip. The cold water hits the back of my throat and eases the churn in my stomach.
“Thanks.” Swiping a hand across my mouth, I pass it back.
He flashes me a wide smile, then turns and starts heading back toward the camp. For a while, we stroll in silence, but he seems relaxed enough today that I figure I might as well try some simple questions.
“Why’s she called JC?” I ask, watching the two dragons flying ahead.
He lifts a shoulder, the leather of his jacket pulling across the muscle beneath. “Well, her full name is Jhaecyrianthos… So JC is easier.”
“How did you know she was your dragon? Did you have any dreams?”
“No,” he scoffs. “I didn't have a fucking clue.”
“Why did you enter the ceremony then?”
“I was young and cocky. Still am.” He throws me a wink.
“And I went into the Blood Moon pretty naive, to be honest. The ceremony is really short, a few hours, but the juice from the Vega fruit is brutal. It doesn’t just open your Threads—it rips them apart and everything you’ve ever buried comes crawling up. ”
A slight tremor rolls through him, as though he’s reliving the memory.
“And it’s not only your fears or your memories, but things you didn’t even realise were sitting in you.
Your possible futures too. And the dragons…
they’re there. In the distance, watching all of it.
Not just what you do—but how you break, how you hold it together.
And then they decide if you’re worth it. ”
He huffs a quiet laugh and lifts his hand to fiddle with the dull gemstone around his neck.
“Still not sure why JC actually picked me. Guess she saw something I didn’t...”
My mouth opens to ask more, but as we reach the outer ring of tents, Lucien spots Reya and calls after her with a piercing whistle. Her eyes roll when she spots him—grey and bright against her dark, tanned skin.
“Save your shit for later, Luc.” She bites out, stopping in front of us. “The boss wants to see me.”
A flash of purple catches in the corner of my vision as Shanwyn, Reya’s purple dragon, swoops past us, landing on a nearby tent with JC and Ahria.
“Goldie flew down?” Lucien probes, his brows drawing together. “What the fuck—he’s going to ruin himself. I told him he doesn’t need to be here today.”
My pulse spikes. Talen’s here?
Reya gathers her thick black waves back into a quick bun, exposing the tip of the fire tattoo along her neck. “Well, I don't know why he's here, but apparently he’s pissed at me again, so...”
Lucien lets out a charged breath. “Yeah, no shit. Sneaking around, disappearing for days on end, not telling anyone where you’ve been. What did you think was going to happen?”
She doesn’t reply—simply shoots him a stern glare, jaw locked, then turns and stomps off.
“You’re asking for it, Reya,” he calls after her.
“Eat my arse, Lucien.” She throws up a finger and keeps going, not looking back.
“If only you'd fucking let me!”
Either she doesn’t hear him, or she chooses not to, because she keeps her head down and disappears around the next corner with her dragon.
Beside me, Lucien drags a hand over his cropped hair and exhales hard through his nose. “God, she does my bloody head in… But damn do I want her.”
“I’m surprised you haven't already slept together,” I joke, “you seem perfect for each other.”
“Oh, we fuck. That's not the issue.”
His throat works once, and his expression softens, as his attention stays fixed on the corner she just turned.
“No? Wait… is this love?” I tilt my head at him. “Is Officer Thornviel in love? I didn’t think you had it in you!”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, cut me some slack, Bloom. It’s not going to happen. If Talen wasn’t enough for her, then I’m never going to be.”
“Talen was with Reya?” I try to cover the jealousy in my voice.
He nods and we resume walking. “When they were cadets. Inseparable for like two years... Maybe more.”
“God, it is like Beth all over again.” I mutter.
“Hey, no. It’s nothing like that.” His head turns toward me. “Talen simply screwed and drew Beth for a while, that's all. With Reya, they were actually serious about each other. He trusts her. You can trust her.”
I swallow back the bile rising in my mouth. “Great, that makes me feel so much better.”
“No worries.” He hums, not picking up on my sarcasm. “And anyway, they were over years ago. The only thing that’s distracting him now is you.”
My mouth opens to reply—but as we round the next corner, my steps falter, then stop.
Reya stands about ten metres ahead outside the Briefing Tent , her face is flushed red and her hands slice through the air, furious, as she shouts.
But it’s not her who makes my heart skip a beat—it’s who she’s yelling at.
Talen.