Her brows lifted.
Thorne barked a laugh. “You finally stopped flying like your ass was on fire.”
“Yousetmy ass on fire, you menace.”
They flew until the sun passed the peak, sweat soaking leather and hands blistered from reins.
As the sky drills closed, the cadets circled low toward the landing tier, wings drawn tight. Breathless, flushed, and wide-eyed, they returned to the ground one by one. Vornokh landed in a thunderous quake of talons. Nyxariel touched down a beat later, smooth andregal. Thaelyn dismounted and pulled off her gloves; her fingers tingled.
“You flew clean,” Thorne said, approaching with a tilt of his head.
“You flew cleaner,” she said softly.
“No,” he said, voice low, just for her. “We flew as one.”
She looked up at him, lips parted, something warm and dangerous flickering in her chest.
Professor Caelira’s voice cracked across the stone. “Again at dawn tomorrow. Formation syncs, high wind drills, and midair target tests. You did not survive the bond just to glide. Youwillbecome worthy.”
Commander Dareth folded his arms behind her. “Dismissed.”
Dragons roared behind them.
The dragons had long since settled into their cliffs. Their roars faded into rumbling breath, deep and distant as thunder sleeping beneath stone. The wind had lost its bite. Thaelyn walked beside Thorne down the path that wound from the upper fields toward the dormitories. The scent of pine, smoke, and cooling stone lingered in the air. Her leathers were stiff with salt and wind. Her braid had mainly come undone, and damp strands clung to her neck. Her boots were coated in dust. Her arms ached from the long flight and drills, but there was something warm and restless stirring in her chest.
Thorne walked close, his hand brushing hers once, then again.
The third time, she caught his fingers and laced them through hers without looking. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let go either.
“You’ve got a smug look on your face,” she said, voice low.
“I have alook?” he asked, tilting his head slightly toward her.
“Yes. It’s the same one you wear after a sparring match when you know you landed a hit but pretend you didn’t.”
He glanced at her sidelong, his mouth tugging into a crooked smile. “And what makes you think I’m not just enjoying your company?”
She snorted. “Because you’re Thorne Dareth. Your version of ‘enjoyment’ usually involves teasing me until I threaten you with bodily harm.”
He made a sound of mock offense. “Threaten? You threw a dagger at my head last week.”
“Youdeservedthat. You said my stance looked like a drunk goat in a windstorm.”
“I stand by it,” he said lightly. “Your left foot was drifting. I only said ‘drunk goat’ to make sure you remembered.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Admit it,” he murmured, voice softer now, “you like having me around.”
They reached the split in the path where the torchlight pooled golden across the flagstone. Ahead, the tower where the female cadets bunked stood silent. Behind them, the academy walls glowed faintly under the fading sky. Thaelyn slowed, the flickering light casting shadows across her face.
Thorne studied her, his gaze sharp and searching but no longer guarded. There was something earnest there now, something raw and honest. “I meant what I said earlier,” he told her. “You were incredible up there today. The way you flew with her. Nyxariel isn’t just responding. She’s resonating. That’s rare.”
Thaelyn shrugged a little, embarrassed by the weight of his praise. “She makes it easy.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he said, stopping entirely now, tugging her gently to face him. “She tolerates almost no one. Even Vornokh barely earns more than a growl some days.”
“I’m starting to think you only like me because our dragons do.”
