Remy reached into the inner pocket of his riding jacket, pulling out a rolled missive sealed with crimson wax.
He held it out toward Zander, his mouth tight with something that might have been guilt, or maybe just exhaustion.
“Luther’s not the only reason I’m here,” he said, voice low.
Zander took the missive without hesitation, breaking the seal with his thumb. His eyes flicked over the parchment, his jaw tightening with every line he read.
He handed it to me next, the parchment still warm from his grip.
I scanned the message before handing it back to him.
Zander blew out a slow, frustrated breath. “Ashe and I have been called to court,” he said, folding the missive neatly before slipping it into his belt.
Behind us, Remy shifted his weight awkwardly.
“In the meantime,” Zander said, glancing at the squad, “Remy has been left in charge of Thrall Squad.”
The silence that followed was colder than ice.
Ferrula crossed her arms, one brow arched high in disbelief.
Naia just stared at Remy like he’d personally offended her existence.
Tae muttered something about bad ideas and idiots under his breath.
Jax’s mouth twitched in a grimace, but he said nothing, only tightened the strap on Koddos’ saddle with unnecessary force.
Riven didn’t even bother hiding the way she rolled her eyes.
Cordelle was the only one not to react.
Remy stood there, taking it all without flinching, his mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line.
I swung up onto Kaelith’s back, the saddle creaking under the familiar weight of my body.
Across from me, Zander mounted Hein in one fluid, practiced movement, his expression tight with barely restrained fury.
Behind us, the others stayed to finish what needed to be done.
Burying the charred dead.
I watched for a moment as Ferrula and Jax moved among the blackened remains, their faces grim, their movements careful. Naia stood with a shovel in her hand, her jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Cordelle and Tae scavenged stones from the tree line to mark the graves.
My stomach twisted, but Kaelith’s impatient shift beneath me snapped me back to the present.
Zander and I lifted into the air without another word, soaring over the ruined clearing and leaving the smoke and ash behind.
The flight back to Warriath was short and heavy with the weight of everything we had experienced.
Despite the ache in my limbs, despite the exhaustion dragging at every part of me, we went straight to the castle as soon as we landed.
Straight to Theron.
He waited for us at the far end of the Great Hall, lounging on the throne-like chair reserved for council sessions, his tunic immaculate, his smile sharp and thin.
Inderia stood to his left, draped in deep-crimson, her fan fluttering lazily in front of her smug face.
“You summoned us,” Zander said, striding forward until we stood a few paces from the dais. His voice carried, clipped and cold.
