Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Major Kaler.
He stood frozen, jaw locked, eyes no longer on the pile, but on me.
And there was no mistaking it.
In that cold, murderous glare, Major Kaler looked at me like he was already planning my funeral.
The laughter had long since faded, but the tension lingered like fog clinging to the ground. Most of the squads had dispersed, but Zander and I lingered near the shadow of the collapsed podium, the scent of damp wood and… other things… still thick in the air.
Behind us, near the edge of the courtyard, I caught the murmur of voices.
Major Kaler and Major Ledor.
They were trying to keep it quiet, but their words were clipped. Every so often, one of them would gesture a little too wide, a little too pointed, and the heat behind their so-called “professional conversation” was unmistakable.
Zander’s gaze had already locked on them, his jaw tense. “They’re arguing over Siergen,” he said quietly. “And over us.”
I didn’t doubt it.
His eyes drifted back to me, serious now, the weight of command settling over him like a second skin. “You have to be careful, Ashe. With Kaelith and Hein gone, there are people who are going to see us as vulnerable.”
“I know,” I said, a little too fast. Then softened. “I know. And I’ll be ready.”
He gave a small nod, then paused. “And I meant to say, don’t worry about the demotion.”
I blinked. “Zander?—”
“No,” he cut in gently. “I’ve always been apart. Even before this. Being a prince meant people bowed, but never let me close. Now…” He exhaled slowly. “Now I’m not just a figurehead tied to Crownwatch. As the official commander of Thrall Squad, I get to make some changes. Besides, I still have Cade to keep me updated on Crownwatch issues.”
I studied him, the way his shoulders squared when he said it, how he didn’t try to make it sound like a punishment.
“What kind of changes?” I asked.
A shadow of a smile touched his lips, the icy glint of purpose behind it.
“The kind that makes us a threat,” he said. “And not just to the Blood Fae. But there will be some other changes as well.”
My chest tightened.Gods help them,I thought,because with Zander in command?
They’d never see us coming.
The tension of the courtyard hadn’t completely lifted, but for a moment—just one—Zander and I shared a smile.
A real one.
Not forged from obligation or veiled in sarcasm, but the kind that softened the hard edges, reminded me of who we were beneath the rank, the power, the godsdamned legacy.
His eyes lingered on mine a second longer before Major Ledor turned sharply and strode away, cloak whipping behind him in silent frustration.
Major Kaler, left standing alone and stone-faced, didn’t say a word. But his jaw twitched once before he exhaled heavily and marched toward the old supply shed. A few cadets pretended not to watch as he yanked open the door and returned minutes later pushing a dented wheelbarrow, a rusted shovel slung across his shoulder.
Zander arched a brow. I tried not to laugh. Ireallydid.
But when Kaler trudged past us, scowling like the gods themselves had betrayed him, even Zander let out a quiet chuckle.
We stepped back from the ruined podium, the air still thick with the scent of dragon vengeance, and made our way toward the far side of the grounds.
