Thaelyn had entered quietly, not long after they returned. She’d spoken no more than a few words and had gone to the far side of the room, peeling off her gloves and setting her satchel down like it weighed a thousand stones.
“She said she was going to bed,” Rhys answered, lowering his voice instinctively.
They turned, their gaze drawn to the back corner whereThaelyn’s bed sat beneath the high window. Light filtered through in a haze of gold and rose, tracing the edges of the scars on her arms. Her back was to them, shoulders tense even in rest, her body curled tight beneath the blanket.
No one said anything for a moment.
“She needs the rest,” Iri whispered. “You all saw how pale she was. She didn’t even flinch when Nyxariel passed overhead.”
“She hasn’t slept well since bonding Nyxariel,” Orion added. “And today–”
“Her moment was stolen. She didn't get to be part of the ceremony today.” Feyra’s voice was flat.
“No,” Rhys said quietly. “Her momentalready happened,and it ended with a bang, or her blowing out the dome.”
They all laughed silently. A thoughtful silence passed through them, like a ripple of unspoken truth. Feyra nodded slowly.
“She didn’t need to be chosen again,” Iri murmured. “She’s already something else. Something bigger than the rest of us.”
The dorm door creaked as someone opened it from the hall, a second-year cadet, flushed and grinning. “You losers coming to the party? The fires are already roaring, and the dragons are out there, too. First-years get the first drinks.”
Feyra glanced at the others. “Well. Iambonded to a fire-breathing God now. I think a drink is owed.”
“I’m bringing mine meat,” Rhys said with a grin. “Tarnak eats roasted lamb like a prince.”
They all laughed again and began to gather their things, belts, cloaks, and extra boots. Laughter returned, tempered now with the ache of something more. Orion lingered by the window, one last look out into the sky before joining them.
None of them asked Thaelyn to come. No teasing. No pleading. Not because they didn’t want her there, but because theyunderstood. The ceremony had taken something from her. Not her pride, no, that remained intact, stitched into the steel of her spine, but something quieter. A piece of breath she hadn’t yet gotten back. Her journey had always been different. Her fire didn’t burn like theirs. It stormed.
As the door shut behind her squad, Thaelyn’s eyes flickered open beneath the covers. She stared at the stone wall before her, breath slow and shallow. Nyxariel’s presence stirred faintly in her thoughts, warm and steady, like the thrum of distant thunder.
Rest,the dragon whispered through the bond.The wind is not yet calm.
And Thaelyn, for the first time in days, allowed herself to believe it was safe to sleep.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The wind clawed softly at the eaves of the Asgar Training Academy. Thaelyn woke and could hear the faint sounds of the party in the fields. She sat up in bed. She moved to the edge of her bed, her limbs wrapped in stillness, as though motion itself might break the fragile thread holding her together.
Moonlight spilled in a ribbon across her floor, brushing her knees and her hands. There was a fine tremble at the edge of her fingers. Her nightdress clung to her skin, damp with the weight of heat and desire she could not explain. There was no storm outside, but one brewed within her.
It had started as a hum. A subtle thrumming beneath her skin. Not pain, not fear, but something older, something elemental. It whispered in her blood, pulsing through her bones like a forgotten song. It was her dragon’s voice that warned her first.
Raise your shields tonight, little flame,Nyxariel had said in a murmur that trembled like thunder in the distance.Vornokh will not be denied his mate much longer tonight. And through him, Thorne will feel it too.
Thaelyn had tried, Gods, she had tried every technique she had learned to shut the bond down. Meditation. Breathwork. Even that ridiculous herbal tea Iri insisted soothed everything from broken hearts to bruised egos. None of it was working. Every time she closed her eyes, heat and shadow twined around her mind like smoke around flame. Thorne was there, not physically, but the echoof him curled inside her chest, a smoldering presence that refused to leave.
A soft breath escaped her lips as she stood and crossed to the window, resting one palm against the glass pane. Somewhere across the campus and stone towers, he was out there. Awake. She could feel him. And in that moment, he could also feel her.
"Thaelyn."
The voice wasn’t spoken, but ittrembledthrough her chest like a dark promise.
Her lips parted. Her breath caught. Her skin ached.
In his quarters, Thorne stood half-dressed, shirt discarded. Moonlight painted silver across the ridges of his abdomen, his arms taut with restraint as he braced them on either side of the wash basin. The bond howled through him.He gritted his teeth.This is going to be another long night,he thought to himself. He moved and sat on the edge of his bed. Sweat was already gathering again along the lines of his chest. His breathing was uneven, shallow. Shadows licked the corners of the chamber like restless sentries, and the air hung thick with a magic he knew he needed to try and resist.
