But Theron was not a rider and did not hear the decree. It was Major Ledor who stepped forward. “Theron, if you continue this… discussion, then the riders… all riders will leave with the dragons.”
Gasps rippled through the onlookers.
Theron scoffed, forcing a guttural grunt through clenched teeth. “I am not afraid of a Courier dragon.”
Siergen stepped forward, his shadow swallowing the second prince whole. His teeth bared, fangs glinting.Then you’re a fool.
Kaelith landed behind me, her presence thunderous.If he moves against us again,she said, her voice sharp in my mind,I’ll make sure he fears more than dragons.
Zander didn’t raise his voice—he didn’t need to. There was steel in every word, and Kaelith’s looming presence behind him only sharpened the blade.
“Theron,” he said, staring straight at his brother, “you are about to lose more than the throne. Your idiocy knows no bounds, and you’re on the verge of destroying the only alliance that can save you.”
Theron sneered, but Zander didn’t flinch. “If not for yourself,” Zander continued, “think of the people. The innocents in the villages. The children in the castle. All will be enslaved if we lose this war. And make no mistake, without the dragons, we will.”
Theron scoffed, lifting his chin. “The dragons need us too. That’s the reason the treaty was made.”
Zander nodded once. “True. But the dragons were unaware their brethren had survived on the lost continent when they made that treaty. Now they know. And they’ve already been offered an alternative to the Dragon Isle.”
A hush fell over the grounds like a dropped veil.
Theron’s face paled, and I could see the realization settling like ash in his expression. He hadn’t considered the dragons could simply… leave.
But Inderia…
Inderia smiled.
It wasn’t the gleeful grin of someone who’d won, it was slow and knowing. A smile of approval.
As if this possibility, the mass exodus of dragons and riders alike, was a solution to a problem only she understood. Or worse, one she had planned for.
I studied her carefully, her fingers delicately at her waist, her posture regal and calm. But behind her mask, something stirred. Something sharp.
What was her game?
She looked at Theron and gave him a faint smile.
Theron’s face had gone the color of old parchment. “I need to confer with the council about this development,” he muttered, voice brittle and strained. “It seems… it was a mistake to rely on the dragons to protect us.”
Then he turned, Inderia glued to his side like ivy to a crumbling wall, and the two of them disappeared into the castle without another word.
Not a single rider moved.
Not Crownwatch. Not Warborn. Not even Iron Fang.
Because it had become painfully clear—to all of us—that Siergen held more sway with the dragons than anyone had ever dared believe.
More than the king. More than the crown.
More than Theron ever could.
I stood frozen, the weight of it all settling in my chest like a stone. My voice came out low, barely a whisper. “Will we really leave our people to perish?”
My thoughts wandered, unbidden, to Solei. To the children who played near the market square with wooden swords and stone shields. To the bakers and smiths and seamstresses. To the men and women who had no magic, no wings, no dragons. Just hope.
They’ll die without us.
Siergen’s voice wrapped around my thoughts like smoke and steel,I hope Theron will come to his senses. But he is obsessedwith power, and can’t see that such things are nothing but an illusion.
