Thaelyn stirred, not all at once. Her body was heavy, leaden with exhaustion, and stitched with aches that sang a dull pain in her limbs. Her thoughts were slow to return, sliding into place like shards of shattered glass. She remembered darkness. Chains. The cold. Then a storm, a roar, a rush of wind and flame, and the pounding of wings. Her eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above was smooth grey stone, faintly etched with sigils that pulsed dimly with wards of healing and protection. Someone had tucked her beneath fine linen sheets; thick quilts were bundled at her sides. Her skin itched where the healing salve had been applied, and she could feel a fine tracing of bandages around her ribs and left thigh.
"You're awake." The voice was soft and warm with relief. Thaelyn blinked slowly and turned her head. Nyxariel sat curled just beyond the open arch that led to the dragon’s alcove, her massive blue-and-silver-scaled form folded neatly into the space."I felt you stirring,"the dragon murmured."You slept for three days."
"Three?" Thaelyn rasped, her throat dry. "That long?"
"Your body needed it. What they did to you, the wards and methods they used... the drain on your Aether. Your heart stopped."
Pain flickered through Thaelyn’s chest, but not from her wounds. Memories swelled behind her eyes. She recalled flashes of the chamber, of shadows pressing in, and of the helplessness that clung like ice.
Thorne. She felt it before she saw him. A warmth at the edge of her awareness, steady as the drumbeat of her own heart. She turned, and there he was, curled awkwardly in the high-backedchair beside her bed. A book resting half-open sat in his lap, and his head was lolled back against the stone wall. His hair had fallen over his brow. A line of several days of stubble shadowed his jaw. One of his hands, strong, calloused, and familiar, was still clasped loosely around hers.
Thaelyn stared at him for a long time, her chest rising slowly beneath the quilt. This man was so many things. He is brooding and arrogant, dangerous and lethal, a trained assassin, and so drop gorgeous he takes my breath away. He also has a side to him that is rarely seen by others. He is protective and sweet, takes the time to draw me a bath, washes my hair, brings me flowers when I don’t expect them, and here he is by my side, asleep with a book in his lap as if he had lain awake all night. He’s vulnerable in the quiet moments when I see how broken he is because his father has hurt him and abused him as a child to toughen him up. He never felt important, valued, or loved by his father. He is so many things, and my heart feels like a fist is around it, squeezing tight.
"He hasn’t left,"Nyxariel said gently."Not once."
As if sensing her gaze, Thorne stirred. His hand tightened slowly around hers. Then he blinked awake, confusion flickering briefly across his features before his eyes landed on her. His breath hitched. "You’re awake," he whispered.
She tried to smile, but it faltered. "You came for me."
"Always," he said hoarsely. “There is no place you could go where I wouldn’t try to find you. I would burn down the world for you.” He leaned forward, brushing the hair gently from her temple. "You’re safe now. No one’s ever going to touch you like that again."
A tear slid from the corner of her eye. Thorne caught it with his thumb, his touch reverent and protective. "You fought, Thaelyn. Gods, you fought like hell. We saw the aftermath when we broke into the cell where they had been holding you." He paused, his voice tightening. "Nyxariel nearly tore the sky in two."
Thaelyn looked at him. Her heart ached, not from fear or pain, but from something deeper, something heavy and precious.
"Did you catch them? Are they gone?" she asked.
Thorne shook his head slowly. "Only ash and ruins are leftbehind. When we got there, you were alone. We took care of the ones that were present, and the dragons burned the rest to the ground. We tracked what we could. Commander Dareth thinks he knows who orchestrated it. But nothing's confirmed. He wants to talk to you to get confirmation when you are ready."
She frowned faintly. "Is it Kaen? I sensed him, at least I think I did. There was so much darkness. I don’t know what was real or not."
Thorne didn’t answer directly, but the look in his eyes was answer enough.
She sank back into the pillows, her hand still curled in his. "I need to speak to the council."
"You will. But not yet. Rest first. The General wants to see you once you're strong enough."
Thaelyn didn’t argue. For now, she was safe, held between warmth and shadow. Safe with all that she cared about. Her dragon. Her bondmate. Her Thorne. For the first time since the sky stole her away, she let herself feel safe.
Chapter
Forty-Six
The grand chamber of the Asgar Training Academy’s Council Room was suffocating. Incense burned from braziers along the walls, but the sweet scent could not mask the tension. Light from the diamond-glass ceiling spilled over the table carved with the sigils of the elemental orders. Each seat was filled, commanders, generals, and royals, watching her as though she were both a miracle and a threat.
Thaelyn stood alone in the center, wrapped in a plain gray cloak. The stone beneath her boots still held the chill of night. Her breath felt loud in her ears. Her body still ached with pain.
Queen Elyria’s calm radiance anchored one side of the chamber; beside her stood King Varian, every inch the iron monarch. At their right, Commander Dareth and the generals waited, faces expressionless as if cut from stone. At the back, arms folded, jaw sharp, eyes like polished ice, stood Kaen. The weight of his gaze made her skin crawl.
General Ravaryn Solas spoke first, her crimson armor gleaming in the morning light. “Cadet Marren,” she said, her voice crisp as tempered steel, “You were taken from the academy aerial grounds during a sanctioned patrol. Tell us what you recall.”
Thaelyn drew a breath. Her fingers twitched against her cloak, seeking steadiness. “It happened fast. We were ambushed by Riftwraiths, mages, and necromancers. There were dozens of them. They came out of nowhere. Their magic was strong. They usedsome kind of spelled weapons to capture me. I was stabbed with something that paralyzed my body.”
Vaelen Solen leaned forward, eyes glimmering with knowledge that saw more than he admitted. “And after?”
Thaelyn hesitated and began to tell it all. The memories slashed through her mind like blades, shackles biting her wrists, the beatings, poisons, and toxins she ingested that burned her from the inside out, Maelor’s burning staff, the whisper of shadows inside her skull. She finished with “I woke beneath what I thought was the Rift,” she said softly. “The air was wrong. Cold. There were voices.”
“Who?” Vaelen pressed.
