Warborn’s leader, a grim-faced woman named Beradin with battle-scarred armor and eyes like forged steel, raised her voice next.
“If Zander Rayne is not released,” she said, “Warborn will side with Dorian.”
Gasps rang out. Shock rolled through the courtyard like thunder. Even the dragons overhead let out low, uneasy groans, sensing the shift in loyalty, the fracture deepening.
Theron staggered slightly, his mouth opening and closing once, then again.
“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter, laced with desperation. “You don’t understand what Zander has done.”
But it was too late.
Because every soul on the Ascension Grounds understood something else?—
Theron had just declared war.
Not just on his brother.
But on the dragons.
And the court could survive many things.
But not that.
ChapterTwelve
The tension had morphed from shock to unease, and now into something caustic. Something dangerous.
Theron stood alone now, though the guards remained at his back. But his supporters? The ones who had once flanked him with blind loyalty? They were quiet. Still. Warborn had spoken their stance, and others were watching with narrowed eyes and guarded stances. The court had turned, subtly, but definitively.
He might be the prince regent, but it was painfully clear?—
Theron didn’t understand riders.
And he sure as hell didn’t understand their dragons.
His gaze flicked to Siergen, and for the first time, I saw his hesitation.
“I apologize for my outburst,” Theron said, his voice quieter now, attempting to smooth the edges. “I value our treaty with the dragons. Deeply. But I am… angry. I trusted Zander, and he betrayed me.”
Siergen didn’t move. But the growl that curled from his throat was slow, deliberate, and full of disbelief.
He didn’t buy a word of it.
And neither did most of the grounds.
“What did he do?” I asked, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest.
Inderia’s eyes cut to me like twin daggers, her lips curling with venom. “Who are you to oppose the king?”
I arched a brow, shifting Elara in my arms as I met Inderia’s glare without flinching. “The king? I wasn’t aware his father had died.”
A murmur spread through the onlookers. Even Warborn looked impressed.
Theron stiffened and turned to Inderia with a look that could slice bone. “She misspoke,” he said, his tone clipped. “I am simply the prince regent.”
He turned back to the crowd, trying to reclaim control, chin lifted high. “But since you asked so nicely,” he continued, gaze locking on me, “I’ll tell you.”
The silence around him grew taut again.
