Not confusion. Fury.
Then another shout, louder this time, closer,familiar.
And it moves.
Massive shoulders roll, body coils, then it surges forward. Stone groans, buckling as its claws hammer into the cobblestones like war drums, each strike landing harder, faster than the last—pounding into a rhythm that swallows everything else.
Then pressure. Heavy and sudden, like a wall of force collapsing around me.
Not wind.
Wings
Beating once.
Twice.
Debris explodes sideways, slamming into stone as the dragon tears through rooftops. Each wingbeat a deafening crack of air and force, shoving its weight skyward one brutal surge at a time.
Then, suddenly.
It’s gone.
Air goes still as the last wingbeat fades
But I don’t move. My body stays locked, bracing for a second strike that never comes. No claws. No crushing weight. Just the ringing in my ears and the frantic pulse tearing through my chest—too fast, too hard, like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact I’m still alive.
God, I should be dead.
But I’m not.
Because something turned it away. Which means someone saw. And someone decided I was worth saving, or worth keeping alive? But I have no idea who’s powerful enough to do that. Or why.
“Lyra!”The shout cuts across the ruined square, followed by the frantic slap of boots against broken stone.Rowan. Relief flickers through me. He skids to a stop in front of me, flushed and breathless.
Then Lucien steps in, and just like that, the flicker of relief dies.
“You okay?” Rowan blurts, eyes scanning me. “I saw it land in the square and then I saw you just sitting there, holding your ankle. I tried to run to you, but the fire, the smoke. Stars, I’ve never seen a real dragon before.”
Shit, does he know I tried to run? Does Lucien?
Threads pulse under my skin, angry and loud, fighting not to be forgotten.
But I can't let it show, and I can't reach for the duck. Not while Lucien is watching me like I’m made of secrets he’s dying to crack open.
So I gather a steady breath and force everything down as hard as I can.
I just need to get up, get the hell out of here and somewhere private, a room with a door, before I blow and I need to get there before Lucien, or anyone else, realises I tried to run.
Pain sears up my leg the second I push weight on to it, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs. I sway, ankle useless. Rowan catches me before I hit the stone, grip steady.
“Thanks,” I mutter, barely above a whisper. I lean against him, but it’s not enough. I can’t walk like this.
Lucien steps in, close enough to block the way forward, The stone on his rope necklace swings lazily with the motion.
“Let’s go, Bloom.” Lucien. extending a hand toward me. Not an offer, a command. “I want to get back to the Citadel, before that thing decides it’s not done.” My eyes flick from his face to his hand. “I won’t bite,” he huffs, “I gave Veirmont my word—no one touches you buthim, remember.” Then a smile. “Even if I wanted to.”
Well, that’s comforting, but I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want him seeing this. Ankle fucked. Magic barely caged. Still, I can’t walk, and I can’t stay here. Not with that thing possibly circling back for round two...
