32. Fen
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
FEN
The bond felt like a door I’d kicked open without checking to see what might be on the other side first. It was dark there, and a cliff waited. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall.
I stood beside Aristus on the black sand shore, my fingers finding the ridge above his eye where the harness’s noseband had sat for most of his life. The scales there were smoother than the rest, worn down by leather and metal and my refusal to see what I was doing.
Twenty-three years of pressure. The proof had been carved into his body.
Since removing the harness, the connection between us had changed.
Before, it had been like speaking through water, muffled, delayed, and filtered through runes that transformed every communication into something controllable. Now it still felt distant, but also raw. Emotions bled through in a way they never had before.
My hands ached with the need to do something about it.
His breathing came easier without the harness’s throat latch restricting it. But his responses felt confused, cycling through relief and anger and hope so fast I couldn’t keep track.
I pressed my fingers against his neck, feeling for the pressure points where the leather had dug deepest. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into my touch either. Just tolerated it, the way he’d tolerated everything I’d done to him.
I did this to you. The thought arrived completely formed in my mind.
Tension locked into my shoulders, the same rigid stance I’d used during council meetings when my mother was watching. Except no amount of perfect posture would fix what I’d done.
Through the bond, Aristus tested our new connection, and I found confusion, mainly. He’d spent most of his life with me telling him what to feel, what to do, and how to exist. He didn’t know how to just be.
Neither did I.
He reached for me. This wasn’t the commanded response I’d trained into him, but a tentative nudge. Testing to see if I’d flinch or force an answer.
I didn’t know how to receive it. My instinct was to redirect it, make it something I could control.
I held still and let his unease wash through me until I couldn’t tell which of us felt more lost.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
The words felt inadequate. Worse than inadequate. Obscene.
I dragged air into my lungs, breathing in and out the way I’d been taught to manage panic. Except this was grief, and I’d never been trained to handle that.
Aristus’s head turned, his eyes finding mine. Intelligence looked back at me, and something else underneath. Not forgiveness. Maybe the possibility of it, if I proved myself worth the effort.
That hurt worse than anger ever could.
The tremor in my hands had worked its way up to my elbows. I couldn’t make it stop, couldn’t lock it down the way I’d been trained. The control I’d spent my life perfecting had cracked, and I didn’t know how to seal the fissure.
“Your Highness.”
Vella’s voice cut through me from behind. I didn’t turn, just kept my attention on the ridge of scar tissue under my fingers.
“If we could have a word?” She came closer, her boots crunching on the sand.
“I’d rather not.”
“You need to listen.”
“I do as I please.”
But did I? Or did I always do what pleased my mother?
I glanced Vella’s way. “Speak.”
Her shoulders fell, and she shook her head. “You removed your dragon’s harness.”
“I did.” I traced another pressure point. Aristus groaned with pleasure when I found it.
Blair grunted. “Your mother is going to…”
“Do what?” I glanced his way, my lips twitching when he took a stumbling step backward. “Be disappointed? Explain how I’ve embarrassed House Lancifer in front of witnesses who cheered at the thought of me dying?”
Shock, then fury flashed across Lady Severine’s face, before she smoothed it.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Her voice cracked, but it didn’t sound like anger.
Fear.
“My father sent word. The betting houses are in chaos. The queen has ordered loyalty assessments for anyone who ‘showed questionable judgment’ during the first trial.” Her hands twisted together. “My family’s name is on that list because I’m on your team.”
My stomach dropped. I’d thought the cost would be mine alone. “I didn’t mean—”
“Intent doesn’t matter when your choice affects all of us, Sire.” She met my eyes. “I’m still on your team. For now. But if you keep making decisions without consulting us, I can’t guarantee the others will stay.”
“I removed my dragon’s harness. I didn’t commit treason against the crown.”
“In front of everyone.” Vella stepped closer, her voice dropping. “My family has been negotiating alliances based on our team’s projected victory. Grain contracts. Mining rights. Everything was positioned around your success, and you threw it away.”
She wasn’t concerned about Aristus or even her own dragon. She was worried about damage to her family investments.
I turned to face her. “I’m not asking them to bring me a new harness for the next trial.”
Vella’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.” My voice stayed flat.
Vella gaped at me like I’d announced I was abdicating the throne, and maybe in a way, I was. I was certainly giving up on the role she’d built such careful plans around.
“You don’t understand. You’re endangering the future we were building.”
My mother and her parents were negotiating the terms of our potential marriage. It wasn’t set in stone, and she knew that.
“We weren’t building anything,” I said. “We were performing.”
Her glare could rip me apart.
“We’re done speaking,” I said, turning back to Aristus. “Leave.”
She stalked away, her footsteps fading into the general noise of the camp.
Somewhere behind me, Terrant would be composing a message for the morning’s imp. I no longer bothered wondering what his message said.
I could still salvage this. Call Vella back. Explain that the stress of nearly dying had affected my judgment. If I requested a new harness, a servant would deliver it before I’d finished speaking. I could strap it on Aristus and pretend I’d never removed it.
Terrant would report that I was complying.
I would not do it.
Choice. That’s what Eradin had shown me when she’d made it clear she would ride an illegal dragon. I’d given a gift to Aristus, and I wouldn’t take it back.
I stood beside him, my shoulders locked, grinding my teeth together.
Vella was right. My mother was always watching, and she would not let this pass. I was surprised I hadn’t heard from her already.
Aristus’s head lowered, and I thought he might let me stroke his snout the way he used to after they’d collared him. But when I reached out, he pulled back.
I didn’t sense rejection. Just caution. I’d earned it. And I’d keep earning it until he decided I was worth the risk.
I didn’t care what the world thought, though I wanted to. I craved the familiar weight of approval or disapproval that would tell me how to act. Feel. But the script had burned up with the harness, and I was standing in the ashes without lines to recite.
But if their approval didn’t matter, then nothing I’d built did. Every careful negotiation and perfect performance. Whenever I’d swallowed what I wanted to say to maintain the facade. Twenty-three years of my life, and I’d set it on fire for a dragon who didn’t trust me.
And a woman I’d kill to touch.
The commons riders had settled on the bare ground with their packs. Eradin lay close to Selira, her spine curved with exhaustion, her rich brown hair loose down her back.
I knew how her hair smelled of wild places and herbs. I’d been close enough to learn it that night.
The wanting hadn’t faded. It had teeth now, and they were biting down hard.
A short distance of sand lay between us. It might as well be a vast sea.
She touched something at her throat, a gesture I’d seen her make before when she was trying to steady herself. I wanted to know what she was holding onto. I wanted to go to her and ask.
Aristus made a low sound. I felt his awareness shift, tracking something himself. His attention locked on Selira with the same intensity mine kept finding Eradin.
I sensed his question.
“I don’t know,” I said.
But I did know.
I’d torn apart everything I was supposed to be for a creature who didn’t trust me yet and a woman who’d made it very clear about where commons and the crown stood.
Too far apart.
The terrifying part was that I’d do it again.