Looking at Riot now—really looking—I saw him clearly for the first time. Not a threat. Not a mystery. Just a man who’d loved someone and lost her, who carried guilt like a stone in his chest, who served the Furies not out of obligation but genuine devotion.
A servant. A dragon Guardian. That was all he’d ever been. All he’d ever be.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tucking the key carefully into my pocket.
I stood to leave, already thinking about the games, the performance we’d have to give, the weight of Tiberius’s expectations.
“Syneca.” The Oracle’s voice stopped me at the door. “Breaking an oath is not always betrayal. Sometimes it is the only path to the truth.”
She was talking about his oath to her, I realized. Suggesting he didn’t have to serve forever, that he could choose freedom if he wanted it. The thought made me sad. Riot seemed happy in his service. Content in his devotion.
I left them there—the blind Oracle in her window and the dragon at her feet.
Chapter 30
Syneca
To brew protection tea, steep rosemary in water touched by starlight. Drink it cold. Warmth invites things that should remain uninvited.
The Nexus arena was even louder than last time.
Thousands and thousands of people packed into the tiered stone seats, all screaming for blood and glory, stomping to the music that echoed around the arena. Banners snapped in the wind, red and silver for the Thunderfen Hounds, blue and silver for the Silverbolt Serpents. The smell of fried dough, caramel crumbles, and roasted nuts mixed with the sweat and excitement and magic that made it all come alive.
Our seats were in the Magistrate’s section, elevated enough to see the entire field, but not so high we’d miss the violence. Premium positioning for premium guests. And the Magistrate was nowhere to be seen. We were to hold the constant spotlight. Just as he’d planned.
“The Hounds are going to crush them,” Calder announced, settling into his seat with the confidence of someone who’d never lost a bet in his life. Even though he most definitely had.This wasn’t about the game to him. This was about the show. About preservation.
“Absolutely not!” Pip flew up to hover directly in his face. “The Bolts have Kieran Asp as striker. He’s got the best scoring record this season!”
Lucy snorted. “Asp’s play leaves a weak left side. The Hounds will exploit it in the first quarter.”
“Agreed,” Calder said, shoving the last bite of his salted bread roll into his mouth.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Pip huffed, shifting her stocking cap to make sure the blue bolt on the front was centered.
“Twenty crowns says I do.”
Pip’s eyes went wide. “Twenty crowns? That’s... that’s a lot of money, Calder.”
“Scared, Pip Squeak?”
Her wings fluttered faster. “No! I accept! The Bolts are going to win, and you’re going to owe me twenty crowns and an apology!”
“I’ll throw in a candy apple when you lose.”
“Whenyoulose!”
Lucette leaned forward in her seat beside me, a large bucket of caramel crumbles balanced on her lap. “My brother played for the Bolts. Before... Well, before. I’m with Pip on this one.”
“Sentimental betting,” Calder said, already reaching over to steal a handful of her caramel crumbles. “The worst kind.”
“Says the man about to lose twenty crowns to a sprite.”
I glanced across the section to where Wickett sat with Aureth and Riot. Far enough away, no one would assume we were allies. Close enough, I could see him if I let myself look.
Which I absolutely was not doing.
Except I was.
