“He’s using Zander,” Ferrula added, her voice edged with disdain.
“Yes.” My voice dropped to a whisper, my gaze flicking to Zander—still standing like a statue carved of marble, face unreadable. “And the worst part? He knows it.”
Zander might carry the title. But Theron still held the leash.
And I didn’t know how long Zander would keep pretending not to feel its choke.
I stumbled slightly when Gerane bumped into me. “Sorry, Rider. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
As far as pickpockets went Gerane was clumsy, but my father hadn’t hired him because he needed a thief. My fingers deftly slipped to the piece of paper tucked into my armor.
I opened it slowly and glanced at the message as the murmurs on the Ascension Grounds turned to full-blown questions.
ChapterThirty-Four
The sun hung low, casting gold and crimson across the Ascension Grounds as Theron stood at the podium, fielding questions from the gathered guilds like a seasoned performer. His voice rolled out as smooth as silk, but every word was calculated—controlled. The bastard was using Zander’s promotion as a salve, a rallying point. And they were eating it up.
“How long has the sanctuary existed?”
“Why now?”
“Are the dragons aligned with this plan?”
“Is it true only certain riders can enter?”
The questions came rapid-fire, mostly from Stormforge and Warborn, though even a few from Crownwatch were laced with genuine curiosity. The tension that had been unraveling the guilds seemed paused—held together by the gravity of a shared enemy and a single, unifying mission.
“He’s smarter than he looks,” Teren muttered beside me, arms crossed tight over his chest. His eyes were locked on Theron, lips twisted in something between annoyance and reluctant respect.
“With the exception of Iron Fang, everyone else will follow Zander now,” I said, watching Theron nod graciously at a Stormforge captain’s question.
“Iron Fang follows Theron,” Teren agreed, his jaw ticking. “So now he has the Fourth Guild’s unilateral support.”
“It wasn’t just about the Fae Sanctuary,” I said, but the words felt heavy in my chest.It was part of it, yes, but not all.
Teren’s dark eyes shifted to me. “Oh, that’s definitely part of it. But there’s more to this. Always is.”
I smirked. “You’re quick. Most wouldn’t have noticed.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What did the guard give you?”
Damn.
I reached into the side pocket of my flight belt and retrieved the small, folded scrap of parchment the courier had slipped me near the barracks—timed perfectly with the Theron’s theatrics. The seal was wax, but cracked with no emblem. That alone was a message.
I handed it to Teren without a word.
He unfolded it, careful not to draw attention. His eyes scanned the brief note, then narrowed.
“Cryptic, isn’t she?” he said, handing it back.
I nodded. “Yeah. But it says exactly what it needs to.”
The assembly ended with a flourish of Theron’s cape and a wave of his hand. “Eat well and rest, riders,” he declared from the podium, his voice far too smug for someone who’d just pulled the strings of half a kingdom. “Tomorrow, we begin preparations in earnest.”
The moment he stepped down, the crowds began to disperse. No one cheered. No one booed. It was just… resignation. The kind that settled into your bones when you knew you’d just been maneuvered like a piece on someone else’s game board.
We filtered toward the dining hall in squads, banners left behind and boots crunching across the gravel like a funeral march. The tension hung as thick as smoke, but it was quieter now—tired murmurs, shared glances, too many unspoken truths floating just beneath the surface.
