“Mara and Thalaesyn can handle an evacuation.” Leather creaked as Lykor crossed his arms. “They’ve done it before. That’s not where I’m needed.”
“It is,” Jassyn answered, meeting his eyes. “Even bonded, they don’t have your reach. Or your strength. You know that.”
Lykor’s jaw ticked. “Then send Vesryn.”
Jassyn shook his head. “We’ll need his sunfire.”
Lykor didn’t move. He held his silence like a bared weapon, steady and unblinking, dangerous in its calm.
“So now we’re strategizing fallback plans for the end of the world?” Lykor said at last, voice low and cold. “A few portals won’t make any difference.”
“It will for the city.” Jassyn exhaled, the breath dragging in his chest. “If the king moves while we’re inside the Maw—if those razorwings strike—you’ll do what’s needed without waiting for orders. I’m trustingyouto carry the others forward if we don’t return.”
He stepped in closer before Lykor could answer, cutting the argument off at the throat. “If we fail, someone has to protect what’s left. The eggs. The hatchlings. The civilians. The future.”
Defiance flashed in Lykor’s eyes. “Give someone else that order.”
Jassyn didn’t look away. He knew what this was—Lykor trying to command him. To force the burden back into his hands. To make him choose anything but this.
“The king won’t stop,” Jassyn said. “He’ll burn through every last sanctuary until there’s nothing left but ash. Our stand can’t end here.”
Lykor’s arms tightened across his chest, knuckles cracking. “You think this war will be won by hiding survivors in rubble? By buying a few days while Galaeryn takes more sky? If that storm claims you, none of this matters.”
“Time mattered in your fortress,” Jassyn said, softer now. “You bought lives with it. I’m asking you to be ready to do it again.”
Lykor’s chest rose and fell faster with every breath, like he’d taken a blow straight to the sternum.
“No,” he said finally. Firmly. “I’m flying with you.”
“You can’t. You traded your fire.” The guilt struck as soon as Jassyn said it, twisting through his ribs. “You can’t redirect lightning now.”
“I can shield you from the strikes,” Lykor growled. “I’ve done it before.”
Jassyn closed the distance and set a hand to Lykor’s shoulder, anchoring himself before the ground shifted beneath them both.
“You’re not doing that again,” he said, fingers tightening in the leather. “You’re not expendable. And I won’t pretend you are.”
Lykor’s lip curled, but he stayed silent, tensing under Jassyn’s touch.
“You helped forge this alliance,” Jassyn continued, each word unsteadier than the last. “You’re the reason I’m standing here at all. You could’ve stopped it. But you didn’t.”
Lykor flinched, and the motion hit harder than when his gauntlet had struck Jassyn across the face.
“I’m telling you where I need you,” Jassyn said, voice growing hoarse. “Will you follow that order or not?”
Lykor’s nostrils flared. “If you go, and—”
He choked on the rest, jaw tightening, the snarl dying half formed. His fangs caught a flash of distant light, but there was no threat in them now.
“Don’t give me an order I can’t follow,” Lykor hissed. He searched Jassyn’s face as if trying to find a fracture, some weakness to wedge the plea into before the command could set like stone. “Don’t make me stay behind while you fly into that storm. Give me one reason—onerealreason—why I can’t be at your side.”
Jassyn’s chest cinched, breath lost before it ever reached his lungs. The words didn’t eviscerate him nearly as much as the way Lykor looked when he said them. For the first time, there was no fury or fire. He just lookedlost.
And something in that unraveling dismantled Jassyn completely.
For one heartbeat, he wished he could rewrite the moment—help Lykor understand. Nudge his choice with nothing more than a breath of power.
The urge to coerce flickered through him, a spark landing where it had no right to burn. He smothered it instantly, sickened by the shape of it.
