Chapter Twenty-One
The dragon bell stops ringing, but yet no one dares to move.
Silence holds the Briefing Tent, every breath trapped behind nervous teeth, every body waiting for the next ring of metal to start up again.
A minute passes, maybe less, maybe more, then finally the all-clear echoes through the camp, and the whole space exhales at once, sighs of relief ricocheting off canvas and old sackcloth.
Over the last two days, since the storm ended, we’ve found enough material to finish the extension.
Finished, technically, but it still looks bloody awful.
Old food sacks have been stitched and woven together, hanging in uneven strips from every side, with driftwood poles jammed into the ground to keep the whole thing upright.
It smells like potatoes, cabbage, and rotten wood. But it holds. And, according to Magda, it’s no longer a safety hazard, which means I’m teaching again.
“Right,” Magda calls, stepping aside so I can take the front. “Let’s get back to it, then.”
Silver flashes from her tooth as she gives me an encouraging smile and I brush down the sweater she knitted me, stepping forward and turning toward the fifty or so recruits scattered beneath the sagging roof.
Thick wool scratches at my wrists and throat as I move—the sweater itches like hell—but it’s warm, and with autumn closing in around us I’m grateful to even have it.
“Today,” I announce, keeping my chin lifted as I scan around the tent, “we’re going to start demonstrations.”
Reya says I need to give them something to follow, so that’s what I’m going to do. Blood Moon is only seven days away now, and if I can’t control one teaching session, how can I expect a bloody dragon to bind their life to mine?
I'm going to show these recruits I can lead, and that, unlike the Citadel, I can do it without people getting hurt. Then, once I’m done, if I have enough time, I can hopefully race back to my tent beforehand and see if Talen has replied.
Every time a new letter arrives my heart swells so much I can’t stop the joy from spreading to my face.
Ezzy’s been teasing me the last two days, but I don't care. Since I first wrote to him, it’s as though a dam has cracked inside my mind, and now the only thing keeping it from bursting wide open is more of him.
“About fucking time,” One-eyed bloody Lee responds from the middle, elbowing the recruit beside him. “Though I’m not sure what an unbonded Outerlander can demonstrate that’s worth watching.”
Laughter spills from a few other recruits sitting around him, and at the front, my gaze catches on Neeve, her long braid swaying down her back as she jerks her head around to face him.
She’s been staying with Darren the last few days, so I haven't had the chance to talk to her yet and seeing her makes the knot of guilt I've been carrying around pull that bit harder. But then beside her Ezzy shifts, and the tension loosens.
She’s here.
Actually here. Out of the Food Tent for the first time in weeks.
Returning my attention to Lee, the corner of my mouth lifts as I fold my arms and cock my head at him. “Well, why don’t you come up here and find out if the demonstration is worthwhile yourself then?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks and for half a second I think he might let it go, but then he adjusts the strap of his eyepatch, rolls his shoulders once, and stands.
“Are you sure you don’t want more theory first?” I offer as he steps up to the front, giving him the chance to back down even though I already know he won’t take it.
“I prefer learning with my hands.” He grins, lifting them as he stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my chin to keep his stare. “Listening’s for people who can’t keep up.”
Up close, he’s taller than I realised, older too, the lines around his mouth cut deep, and the skin beneath his eyepatch is pulled taut with scar tissue. Before I can stop myself, I wonder how he lost it, and my Threads spark as a small flicker of panic pulses through me.
Lee might not be officially trained, but that doesn’t make him harmless; none of them are.
The Citadel doesn’t want Innerlanders growing more powerful than its officers, but that doesn’t mean they leave them helpless.
Instead, they teach them just enough to control the basics, enough to bring down an Outerlander without blinking.
And although their magic is rough, unrefined compared to mine now, I’ve watched them train, rough doesn’t mean weak—
Heat lashes across my cheek as flames suddenly scream toward my face, fast and scorching.
Stumbling across the tent, I curse as they catch the ends of my curls, the bitter stink of burning hair filling my nose.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, slapping at my sweater as glowing embers chew through the wool, leaving tiny blackened holes beneath my frantic hands.
“What does it look like?” Taking a step forward, he sparks a lighter in his hand. “I’m demonstrating."
My jaw stiffens and the rhythm in my chest kicks up so hard I can hear it drumming in my ears. “This isn't what I meant by demonstrating—”
Lee throws again, but his fire splits in midair, half of it tearing straight for me, the other half blazing toward the roof, toward the dry potato sacks that have been woven together to hide us from Serrane’s dragons.
He’s fucking crazy.
Gritting my teeth, I throw out both hands, releasing my Threads. Half of them yank at the air, dragging it into a shield around me, the other hooks for moisture, hurling it up at the roof before his Threads can set the whole damn tent alight.
My arms strain under the pressure and my focus is so split that I don’t see the next one coming until it’s already there.
A fireball slams into the support pole inches from my stomach and the force knocks me back, but the flame ricochets, spinning wild straight for a girl at the front.
Shit.
Panting hard, I drop the shield and snap my hand sideways, sending air surging out in a hurried gust My magic smashes into the ball of fire seconds before it reaches her, knocking Lee’s flames sharply off course so they shoot through the canvas opening and crash into a pile of cabbages outside.
They burst with a wet, miserable thud.
Spinning back around, my eyes widen in disbelief when I see Lee still stalking toward me.
“What’s wrong?” he mocks. “Scared?”
“Yes!” I admit. “Scared you’re going to fucking kill someone.”
Magic burns at my fingertips, a pulsing pressure crawling up my arms, spreading through my veins and ready to break loose.
Shit. I quickly scan the space. The recruits are all watching now, leaning in. Waiting to see what I do next, how I lead, how I handle Lee when he’s clearly trying to embarrass me in front of everyone.
I don’t want to hurt him. This wasn’t supposed to go like this.
But then his hand lifts again and something inside me cracks wide open.
Magic surges down my arms before I can stop it, my muscles lock and my arm lifts as I force a blast of air through the tent with so much power that half the sacks from the extension blast free.
Lee’s mouth drops open—
and suddenly he’s airborne.
Gasps erupt in front of me as he hurtles backward.
Too fast.
Too hard.
And straight for one of the makeshift support poles.
Shit, shit, shit.
For a heartbeat I consider letting him go, letting him bleed—
Let them fear me.
But fear isn’t the same thing as respect.
Before he hits, my Earth Threads lash out on instinct and a wooden chair answers, ripping across the ground, legs scraping dirt, and sliding beneath him at the last possible second.
Lee slams into it with a brutal crack. The impact jars through my shoulder as the chair skids, wood splintering beneath him, but I tense every muscle and hold firm, lungs burning until finally it grinds to a stop.
My chest rises fast and heavy while he sits there, stunned, his eyepatch knocked sideways to reveal the hollow scar beneath, and around us the other cadets stare, just as startled, their silence pressing in like they’re waiting for me to finish the blow.
Lifting his hand to his face, Lee drags his patch into place. “You holding back on me?” he mutters.
Magic still crackling at my fingertips, I hold his gaze. “I’m trying to teach you,” I hiss quietly. “Not bury you.”
His expression flickers—anger, maybe, or shame—but it’s gone too quickly to name. Then, with a huff, he pushes himself upright, shoulders stiff, and limps through the watching recruits without another word.
Filling my lungs, I shake out my hands, trying to bleed off the tension still buzzing through my veins and knot what’s left of my Threads before they can flare again, then turn to face the rest of the tent.
“So.” I exhale. “Who wants to go next and learn how not to end up like Lee?”
Silence.
It hooks under my ribs and pins the next breath in place.
Fifty sets of eyes stay fixed on me, but no one moves.
Brilliant.
Maybe I did scare them. Maybe now they’re all glaring at me like I’m some crazy person who can’t control her own magic.
Then, right at the front, Neeve slowly raises her hand.
A beat later, the recruit behind her does the same.
“Screw it,” someone in the middle mutters, pushing to their feet.
And just like that, the room shifts.
“That was a good session today, Lyra,” Magda notes, catching me the second the last recruit walks away and bending down until she’s eye level with me. “This isn’t an easy crowd to win over. Then again I suppose a group of rebels was never going to be easy.”
Glancing around the tent, I can’t stop a grin from forming as I watch the last few recruits drift out, each one passing Ahria on their way.
At least five stayed behind after I’d finished, asking more questions instead of slipping away the second they were dismissed. I would have stayed longer, gone through every single one if Magda hadn’t needed the space cleared for a meeting with some of the riders.
Which suits me more than I want to admit.