He forced himself to speak. “Lykor…”
Lykor halted faster than Jassyn expected. He angled back toward him, the ruby in his eyes catching the light—a subtle, questioning flare.
Fingers gliding over his bracers, Jassyn drew an unsteady breath, preparing for Lykor’s reaction. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
CHAPTER 52
LYKOR
The biting echo of Jassyn’s admission punched through Lykor’s teeth. “Adragon?”
His gaze cut from the stone beast carved into the rocky arch and back to the others—Serenna, Vesryn, Fenn—all standing far too composed. Watching. Waiting for his reaction. Only Fenn looked remotely abashed, eyes downcast as he gnawed on a lip ring, toeing his boot against the pier.
So they had all known. Kept it from Aesar, even. Sidestepped them both entirely.
Realization slammed into Lykor. Every overlooked detail—these druids, their scales, their fuckingwings—landed like hammerblows against his skull, each one pounding the shape of his own stupidity.
Aesar stirred at the edge of his awareness, surely poised to advise against an outburst, but Lykor ignored him. Anger wasn’t brewing—it was something worse.
Lykor homed in on Jassyn, his question a scathing demand. “You didn’t think that this was worthmentioning? How long have you known?”
Jassyn’s hand drifted to the scar on his brow, tracing the jagged line. “Since yesterday,” he mumbled, raking his fingers through his curls before glancing away.
Lykor clenched his fist, talons biting deep into his palm. The sting only punctuated his folly—surrendering his gauntlet. For this deceiver.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his own uneven breaths. This was the revelation they’d all sought—yet he’d been the only one left blind.
The price of isolation settled over him. He’d forged this distance, built his world upon it. But now that he stood alone at its precipice, the chasm stretched wider than he’d ever imagined. By keeping others at arm’s length, he’d only ensured they kepthimout.
Protecting themselves. From him.
Unbidden, shadows coiled around Lykor’s feet, rising like the fury pounding under his skin. But beneath the instinct to destroy, to unleash emotions he didn’t know what to do with, a deeper wound festered—a bitter feeling he wanted to reject.
“We needed the rest yesterday,” Serenna said carefully, as if stepping around broken glass.
“And it’s not like Cinderax was going anywhere,” Vesryn clipped, rising to her defense.
Cinderax.
The name seared in Lykor’s mind, sparking a hesitant ember of hope. The beast could be the force to shift everything. Possibilities raced through him. A dragon’s might, buried magic waiting to wake. The Heart of Stars weighed heavily in his pocket, a reminder of its purpose.
But this victory—finding a dragon—was spoiled. And the source of the betrayal made it even worse.
Lykor’s gaze burned into Jassyn, his words clawing free before he could stop them. “You don’t trust me.” His throat cinched tight, voice scraping like gravel. “Do you?”
Lykor tensed as Jassyn reached out, those amber eyes searching his face. “I wanted to tell you last night.” Jassyn’s fingers hovered near his arm—a bridge half-built, waiting to be crossed. Or burned. “I just…”
Lykor’s attention dropped to that extended hand, the same one that had settled against his shoulder in the dark. But now Jassyn hesitated, as if the thought of touching him had suddenly become unbearable.
Instinct flared as Lykor braced for the rejection. He recoiled first, pivoting on his heel. Regret filled the space he’d abandoned, but he ground his fangs and forged his anger into steel.
Jassyn’s voice followed him. “Lykor, I—”
“Enough,” Lykor growled over his shoulder, the word edged with a finality that he forced.
He stalked past his traitorous companions, who stood around like they had all the time in the world.
His scowl deepened as he caught the druids’ impassive expressions, their cursed wings casting shadows over the ground.
