Tae glanced around before answering, careful not to let his voice carry. “A noble from Brosha. He was returning onhorseback, standard travel, nothing flashy. They hit him as soon as he hit the main road. Killed himandhis guards.”
Ferrula swore softly.
“Who do we like for this. The Varnari or the Crimson Sigil?” I asked.
“Since it was a noble killed, the word is, it was the Crimson Sigil. But the investigation team will have to confirm that,” Tae said.
Naia paled. “That’s bold. Even for the Crimson Sigil.”
“Especially for them,” Cordelle said, his tone quiet but sure. “Nobles from Brosha don’t travel without diplomatic protections. This wasn’t a message, it was a declaration.”
We were still processing when the heavy clack of boots approached from behind.
Zander stood at the end of the table, his expression unreadable, but his tone was clipped. “Finish up. We’re heading out. There was an attack, this one just outside the city. We’re investigating.”
Cade hovered behind him, already armored and nodding subtly to each of us in greeting. He didn’t need to say it, but Cade had become much more protective of Zander lately, and I wondered why.
We all exchanged a look, then rose without a word, food forgotten.
The Ascension Grounds were quiet, almost eerily so, the usual clang of training swords and shouted commands absent as the rest of the guild still lingered in the mess hall. The sky above was streaked with gold and pale-blue, the air crisp and windless—the kind of morning that promised blood beneath its stillness.
We moved in silence, boots thudding lightly against stone.
No orders. No chatter.
Just the sound of wariness tightening between us.
One by one, we called to our dragons—through bond, through breath, through that deep thrum that lived in the marrow of us. And one by one, they came.
Lola was first, silver wings slicing through the clouds. Then Temil and Kass, Narvea and Koddos, even Hein, massive and thunder-backed, descending like judgment from the sky.
And last, Kaelith.
She landed with acrackof wind, her violet wings folding in slow, deliberate precision. Her head turned slightly in my direction, gold eyes unreadable.
Hi, I sent softly, reaching for the bond.
Nothing.
No response. No warmth.
Still, I swung up onto her back, adjusting my grip on the rope I’d fastened over the ridge of her neck. The others mounted quickly, saddles left behind—this ride was short, and we’d need speed, not ceremony.
Zander led the way, Cade on his left as we rose into the sky, the wind slicing past our faces as the guild disappeared behind us. No words were shared midair. We didn’t need them.
When we reached the site, the signs were immediate.
Smoke.
Horses, still pawing nervously at the earth, reins tied to a bent tree just beyond the bodies.
Six dead.
The guards stood in a loose perimeter around them, their armor dulled by travel and dried blood. Most had weapons drawn—not in aggression, but in habit. Like whatever had done this might return.
We landed a short distance away so as not to spook the mounts. Kaelith touched down without a sound, her wings furling like drapes being drawn closed.
I slid down from her back and started forward with the others, boots crunching over broken twigs and scorched earth.
