“He brought up dinner and wine,” Thaelyn said before she could stop herself, then groaned and covered her face with the cloak. “Why do I say things?”
“Wine!” Iri squealed.
Feyra folded her arms. “Gods, Thae. We expected you to be a slow-burn. You guys probably burned the whole damn forest down in one night.”
Then a low, dry voice floated in through the door. “I’m flattered.”
All three girls froze. Thaelyn turned in horror.
Thorne leaned against the open doorframe, arms crossed, one brow cocked in amused triumph.
“You left it open,” he said casually. “And you talk very loudly.”
Iri stared. “He’s beentherethe whole time?”
Vaeryn cleared her throat and offered a weak salute. “Prince Dareth.”
“Rider’s Squad Leader Dareth,” Feyra corrected.
“Thorne is fine,” he said, still smirking.
Thaelyn groaned, “You can all die now.”
“I could,” Thorne agreed, “but then who would walk you to flight training?”
He turned with a flourish and descended out of the door.
Thaelyn turned to the others with a helpless shrug. “He’s impossible.”
Iri grinned. “He’s walking you to the flight training?That’s going public.”
The moment Thaelyn stepped back into the corridor, fully dressed and braid redone, she saw them, half the first-years loitering near the stairwell, blatantly pretending not to stare. A few second-years leaned against the walls, exchanging subtle glances. One nodded in greeting, another whispered to a companion.
Thorne stood, arms behind his back, entirely unbothered by the attention.
She joined him, shoulders square. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she muttered.
“I wanted to,” he said. “Let them look. We’ve earned this.”
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Thorne and Thaelyn walked side by side across the courtyard, boots crunching on old frost. Dragons were already gathering on the field, stretching wings, huffing into the chill. Above, banners snapped along the flight towers. The instructors waited at the stone circle, Professor Caelira standing tall and crimson against the white sky, and Commander Dareth beside her in full flight armor.
The cadets assembled in lines; pairs forming with practiced ease. Thaelyn mounted Nyxariel with the efficiency of someone who no longer questioned the bond. The dragon rumbled beneath her, amused and proud. Thorne mounted Vornokh with a fluid swing. His dragon huffed, wings half-spread. The sky shimmered with cold, but the wind had stilled. It was a perfect day for high-altitude maneuvers. Professor Caelira raised her voice.
“Today, we test unity. You will fly in full formation, eighteen cadets, six dragons per tier, and three tiers. You must shift ranks mid-flight, execute split dives, spiral syncs, and hover-locks.”
Commander Dareth stepped forward. “Today, I fly with you.”
Whispers rippled through the cadets.
Darian blinked. “He’s flying with all the cadets?”
“I’ve never seen him do drills,” Garric murmured from a few feet away.
“He doesn’tneedto,” Brynnek muttered.
