His lips barely twitched, and his reply was slower, reluctant.I want to know what Theron’s planning. From the inside.
I bit back the sigh rising in my chest.You’re playing both sides, Remy.
Perhaps,he signed, his fingers motion exaggerated.But I’m the only one he trusts enough to underestimate.
That scared me more than I cared to admit. Because he was right.
And Theron’s slight smirk as he looked between the two of us made it all too clear—this move was deliberate. Calculated.
He wanted Remy close. To us. To Zander.
And no matter how well Remy played the game… we all knew Theron was playing one too.
The sun was just beginning to dip toward the treetops when Theron’s voice boomed across the Ascension Grounds. “This assembly is dismissed. Thrall Squad, you are to prepare for departure within the hour.”
No farewell. No thanks. Just orders.
Typical.
We turned away from the podium as the crowd began to disperse, the tension still crackling in the air like static clinging to skin. Our boots hit the packed dirt in heavy silence as we headed for the barracks.
Teren muttered a curse under his breath, then another—more creative one as he shoved open the barrack door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he spun on his heel and marched back to punch Theron square in the jaw.
But it was Ferrula who drew my eye.
She stood perfectly still at her bunk, her pack at her feet. Her face—always carved from quiet strength—looked like it had turned to stone. The green dragon tattoo on her shoulder peeked from beneath her tunic like a silent sentinel. She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stared at nothing.
“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes found mine. Quiet. Controlled. But something raw stirred beneath the surface. “You are sure Diria has fallen?”
I nodded, the weight of truth heavy in my throat. “Yes. I’m sorry. There are survivors… and as far as we know, Vrangoth hasn’t closed its gates. Not yet.”
She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “They can’t accommodate the entire kingdom, so it is only a matter of time before they do.”
I stepped closer. “Your people are fierce warriors, Ferrula. If anyone can survive, it’s them.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, emerald and unflinching. “That’s the thing, Rebec. Dirians don’t run away from a fight.”
Her voice cracked like a blade pulled from its sheath.
“They will die to protect their burning cottages.”
The words hollowed me out. Because I knew she wasn’t just talking about strategy or tactics.
She was talking about family. About home.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “And we’ll avenge them.”
Ferrula nodded once, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a vow in her bones. Then she picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder, turning to face the storm ahead.
The barracks were nearly silent.
Zippers slid, leather buckles snapped into place, and canvas bags rustled softly as we packed. No one spoke. The air was too thick with things we couldn’t name—fear, anticipation, the dread of what we might find once we left Warriath’s walls. Each of us moved like clockwork, movements practiced from repetition, but I could feel the weight in every motion. Even Tae didn’t crack a joke. Not a single one.
By the time we stepped back onto the Ascension Grounds, the sun had dipped down enough to stretch the shadows long and gold. The squads were gathering, but what caught my attention wasn’t the assembled riders. It was Remy and Zander, standing face to face near the rails, locked in what looked like a heated conversation.
They stopped when we approached.
