Then, with a grunt and a flex, the beast leapt skyward. Wind thundered. Dirt scattered. Thaelyn’s braid whipped over her shoulder as the force of Vornokh’s launch pushed a ripple through the gathered cadets. The sky opened wide above them. Thorne was airborne. Commander Dareth and Razorth darted off after them.
“Did anyone else forget how to breathe, or was it just me?” Vaeryn’s voice cut the silence with amused disbelief.
Thaelyn turned slightly, blinking back into the moment. “I-No,” she said, then flushed. “I was watching his technique. It was practical.”
“His technique?” Feyra snorted. “Is that what we’re calling itnow? Because I’m pretty sure what you were watching was the way his thighs flexed when he?— ”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Thaelyn snapped.
“We all saw it,” Iri teased.
“Yeah, I think I bruised something in my neck so that I could see too.” Feyra laughed.
“I would agree,” Iri said, trying to sound academic and failing miserably, “It was a perfect saddle mount, controlled center of gravity. Nice handholds. Very… uh… solid leg engagement.”
Thaelyn groaned, “You’re all hopeless.”
“We’re not the ones gushing over the fire lord in sweaty leather.” Vaeryn arched her brow. “That would be you, Thae.”
“I wasn’t. ” She hesitated. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, please,” Feyra said. “The air around you was practically humming.”
“Let’s go before I shove you all into the wall,” Thaelyn muttered, brushing past them with as much dignity as she could gather.
Vaeryn laughed and called after her, “Just admit it, Thae. You’re going to dream of sweaty dragon riders' thighs tonight.”
Thaelyn didn’t turn around. She didn’t give them the satisfaction.
Chapter
Ten
The steps leading to the Sacred Sanctuary Pool were slick. Thaelyn kept one hand to the wall as she went down, finding the seams in the stone by touch alone, and a cool dampness pressed through her sleeve. The air changed halfway along the tunnel, heavier, saltier, threaded with a faint metallic tang that made her tongue taste like old coins.
Light grew ahead, not from torches, but something clearer. She rounded the last curve and stopped. The chamber opened like a secret that had been held too long. Skylights cut the dome into ribs of pale fire. Water filled the basin of the Sacred Sanctuary Pool, a polished oval that breathed. Mist lifted from its skin and drifted through the rafters. Sound died against the stone. Even whispers did not dare.
Sentinels lined the entry, silver helms beading with condensation. Their spearheads cast thin blades of light across the floor. Cadets moved past one by one, shadows stitched together by nerves. Thaelyn slid along the railing to her squad, finding Iri by her braid and the quiet set of her shoulders. Feyra gave Thaelyn’s wrist a quick squeeze. Vaeryn watched the pool as if it might flinch. Thaelyn looked, too. The surface seemed still, but it was not. Something beneath shifted now and then, a thought changing its mind.
Cadets lined the outer railings of the stone terrace that encircled the pool, their uniforms damp with humidity, eyes wide withreverence. This wasn’t a performance. This was communion. Or judgment.
Boots scraped the upper dais. Commander Dareth stepped into view, black leather damp with the humidity that clung to all of them. The old scar on his brow did not soften when he spoke.
“During the Water Trials, the most important thing is that you listen and let things happen.” That was all. No lecture. No story. The words struck the stone and stayed.
Professor Lyndra Morren came forward and lifted her hands. Runes along her wrists woke like small tides. The water tightened at the touch of her gaze, a drawn bowstring. “Enter only to be honest,” she said. “Do not force it. Water will test your essence. It will not yield. Water is the element of memory. And it will not forget.”
Names rang. The pool answered in the language of temperature and pull.
The first group went in. A boy braced his jaw, stepped to his thighs, and waited. Ripples pressed to his knees, then smoothed. He came out with his face blank and his hands shaking. Another girl tried to breathe in the pattern of the lanterns’ sway, then hissed when the cold climbed her spine. She almost ran when the water let her go.
“Breathe,” Feyra muttered, maybe to Thaelyn, maybe to herself.
“I am,” Thaelyn said, though her lungs were tight.
Their row was called. They moved to the boundary thread and stopped as one. “Vaeryn Malet.” The name echoed. Vaeryn slid into the water as if she had been walking into a lake her whole life. The water tilted toward her calves, curious, then circled once and settled. She bowed her head to it and left without complaint. There was grace in that, and steel.
“Orion Tallen.” Orion waded deep and disappeared. Ten heartbeats. Twenty. The surface gathered in a small hollow where he went under, then smoothed. He rose with water streaming from his lashes and gave nothing away.
