Zander moved with quiet purpose through the crowd, his boots thudding lightly on the stone as the swarm of riders parted for him. All eyes followed him, some curious, some hopeful, some wary. I held my breath as he ascended the podium, standing just behind his brother.
He leaned in close, murmuring something only Theron could hear.
Whatever it was, it made Theron’s jaw tick and his lip twitch, just shy of a snarl. His nostrils flared, the perfect image of a cornered predator cloaked in silk and power. But after a beat, he turned to the gathered riders, smoothing his expression into one of diplomatic calm.
“My brother,” Theron said, his voice loud enough to echo across the grounds, “has volunteered to lead a reconnaissance mission into the middle kingdoms. He will take Thrall Squad with him to assess Blood Fae presence, report enemy movements, and relay the needs of the displaced to the castle.”
A rumble of approval swept through the ranks.
“I’ll go too,” a Crownwatch rider called.
“Count me in,” said another.
Dozens of heads nodded, eager voices rising in solidarity. Crownwatch. Warborn. Even Stormforge. The show of unity shook the air more than dragon wings.
But Theron raised his hand, and silence followed like an obedient dog.
“No,” he said coldly.
The word hit like a slap. Confusion spread like wildfire across the crowd.
“Your request is denied,” he continued. “This is a precise operation, not a crusade. Too many riders will draw too much attention. Thrall Squad is small and already known to operate on the fringes. They are suited for this mission. You are not.”
A ripple of discontent passed through the riders. Crownwatch looked especially betrayed.
Zander’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the flash in his eyes—the quiet rage barely restrained. He didn’t argue, though. Not here. Not now.
I clenched my fists at my sides, watching Theron bask in his moment of forced control. He might’ve agreed to the mission, but only to save face. To pacify the riders. To appear magnanimous while still pulling the strings.
He didn’t want reinforcements sent to the middle kingdoms.
He wanted us to go alone.
I turned when I heard a man clear his throat loudly. Gerane motioned to the woman on the street. Solei’s hands moved quickly.No reinforcements have entered the cities to the west of us. Troop movements are nonexistent.
I glanced back to see Remy’s eyes on Solei. He had read that message as easily as I had. And he looked furious.
He stepped closer to Theron. “Why haven’t you sent ground troops to help the other kingdoms. We are bursting with members from First Guild.”
Theron sneered at Remy. “First Guild is my concern, not yours.”
“It is when you recall the dragons,” Remy snarled.
Theron’s gaze sharpened like a blade, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He simply stared at Remy—long enough to make the moment stretch taut across the Ascension Grounds.
It was hard to imagine the two of them as childhood friends, as Zander once claimed. There was no familiarity in Theron’s expression now. No camaraderie. Only calculation.
“Perhaps,” Theron said at last, his voice as smooth as polished steel, “you would like to accompany Thrall Squad.” His tone held that familiar threat-disguised-as-civility. “You’ve always been loyal to the crown, Remand. Many here would feel… safer knowing you’re with them.”
Remy didn’t bow or speak. He simply gave a nod—curt, and unamused. But there was a muscle ticking in his jaw that told me exactly what he thought of the suggestion.
My fingers moved before I could stop them, flashing a quick pattern only Remy would recognize.What are you doing?
His eyes flicked toward me as subtly as the twitch of a dagger in a sheath.
He shrugged just enough to seem casual, but his fingers responded low at his side, concealed from Theron’s view.I can work with Prince Rayne. That doesn’t mean I like him.
That’s not what I mean, and you know it.
