Dorian paled, and for the first time in days, I saw uncertainty in the eldest prince’s eyes.
He shook his head once, curt and clipped. “Father nominated you as regent. I stand by the law.”
Zander stared at Dorian, his jaw clenched like he wanted to shout.
Like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Dorian wasn’t just yielding the throne.
He was handing Theron the blade that would be used to gut us all.
“What is going on?” I muttered, my voice barely above the wind stirring through the courtyard. “Why are the dragons letting human politics affect the Horde?”
No one answered.
Kaelith was there, high above, circling with the others, but she was quiet.
I reached for her through the bond.Kaelith?
Nothing.
Just the faintest pressure. A presence.
And then… the slow, aching sensation of her pulling away.
Not gone. Not severed.
But distant.
Detached.
I clenched my jaw, eyes still fixed on the broken circle of squad leaders and nobles below.
Theron’s voice rose again, silk-smooth and falsely warm. “Brothers. Shall we speak somewhere more… private?”
He didn’t wait for an agreement. He turned, his velvet-clad fiancée at his side, and Dorian followed him like a man walking to his own execution. Zander gave me one last glance. His dark eyes unreadable before falling into step behind them.
The prince regent and his brothers disappeared into the castle, and with them, the fragile order of the courtyard fractured.
Squads began to drift apart, muttering among themselves, tension riding the wind like a storm waiting to break.
I knew there wouldn’t be training today. Not until things cooled down.
If they ever did.
Remy found us by the rails a few minutes later, his steps casual but his eyes focused.
“I’ve arranged for new saddles,” he said, tapping the polished edge of the leatherwork laid across the rail. “But they’ll need adjustments for your dragons’ specifications.”
We followed him toward the racks.
Naia’s orange swordtail, Temil landed first. She growled low in her throat as we approached, but stilled under Naia’s hand.
“Here,” Remy said, helping her anchor the saddle strap. “She flares her wings wider during glides. Adjust this here, tighter, just behind the second ridge.”
Naia nodded, focused, her brows furrowed as she followed his instructions.
Then Remy turned to Cordelle.
