“You think power is an illusion?” I asked, watching as the last sliver of Theron’s cloak disappeared into the castle’s shadow.
True power requires control,Siergen said,and that is never an absolute.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
He turned his massive head, golden eyes settling on me with quiet intensity.
Even the most powerful dragon will die,his voice echoed like ancient memory,and sometimes the seemingly weakest human will become king… or queen.
I swallowed hard, the truth of it hitting somewhere deep. Not because I wanted a throne—but because I understood, finally, what he meant.
“What an awful thought,” I said quietly, because it meant that nothing was safe. Not the crown. Not the dragons. Not even hope.
Siergen didn’t answer.
He simply spread his wings and launched into the sky, leaving the Ascension Grounds heavy with silence and the aftertaste of truths we weren’t ready to speak aloud.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Iwoke curled against the steady warmth of Zander’s chest, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. The morning sun filtered through the window, casting soft light across his bare shoulders. He hadn’t let me go all night. Had simply held me after leading me from the Ascension Grounds, stripping away my armor like it was nothing more than a heavy memory, and laying me down beside him.
He hadn’t tried to kiss me. Or touch me beyond the soft strokes of his thumb against my back.
He’d just been there. And it had reminded me what it meant to feel safe.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as I stirred.
I blinked up at him. “Hey.”
“I had breakfast delivered.” He motioned toward the table where a tray of fruit, warm bread, and honeyed butter sat untouched. “But we can join your squad if you prefer.”
I stretched slowly, a yawn escaping. “I’ll take you up on breakfast.”
We ate side by side on the edge of the bed—peach juice sticky on my fingers, bread still warm from the hearth ovens. He let me pick off his plate and didn’t complain when I stole the last berry.
Afterward, we dressed in comfortable silence. Zander shrugged into his black and silver uniform, the one that bore the subtle mark of the royal house, though today he seemed to wear it for necessity, not pride. I tightened the straps of my armor, cinched the twin daggers to my sides, and tied my hair back as we made our way to the Ascension Grounds.
But the moment we arrived, I halted.
Every rider was assembled. Crownwatch, Warborn, Stormforge, Iron Fang… even the Lowborn Squad stood with Thrall. Dragons stood in formation behind them, silent and still, as if waiting for something.
“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing toward Thrall Squad.
Riven turned to me, her red hair windswept, her silver dragon gleaming behind her.
“Theron ordered a dragon trial,” she said, and her tone was grim. “And we are pretty sure we know why.”
Major Ledor’s boots thudded against the packed dirt as he approached, his expression caught somewhere between stern and regretful.
“Ashlyn,” he said, his voice low. “You’re up first.”
Zander’s arm stiffened under my hand. “What a surprise.”
The major glanced sideways at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m required to follow the prince regent’s orders.”
“Sure you are,” Zander muttered, dark eyes narrowing. His voice carried the ache of old grievances, and the edge of warning.
