Then it shattered.
Not gently. Not gradually. The entire massive structure of water collapsed in on itself, fragmenting into a thousand smaller waves that broke harmlessly against the seawall, spraying foam into the night sky.
Cassia’s knees buckled.
She would have fallen, but Aero caught her—his arm around her waist, holding her upright against his chest. They were bothbreathing hard, both trembling from the expenditure. Magic still crackled between them, residual energy looking for an outlet.
“That wasn’t natural.” Her voice came out hoarse. Wrecked. “That wave—it was too big. Too directed. Someone built that.”
“I know.” Aero’s arm tightened around her. He didn’t seem to realize he was doing it—or maybe he did and didn’t care. “That was an attack.”
Around them, the harbor slowly calmed. The smaller waves dispersed. The boats stopped bucking at their moorings. Voices called out across the docks—confused, frightened, but alive. All of them alive.
“We stopped it.” Cassia sagged against him, too exhausted to pretend she didn’t need the support. “We actually stopped it.”
“You stopped it.”
“We did.” She twisted to look up at him. His face was inches away, illuminated by the emergency lights from the dock. His eyes still crackled with residual lightning. His arm was solid and warm around her waist. “That was—I’ve never?—”
“I know.” His voice had dropped to something low and rough. “Neither have I.”
They stayed like that, neither moving. Her back against his chest. His arm around her waist. Magic humming between them with an intimacy that had nothing to do with spells and everything to do with something far more dangerous.
“Aero.” She didn’t know what she was going to say. Didn’t know what she wanted to ask.
“Not here.” His voice was strained. Barely controlled. “Not with an audience.”
She became aware, distantly, that they were surrounded. Fishermen and dock workers and curious townspeople, all staring at the dragon elder and the storm witch who’d just broken a monster wave with their bare hands.
“Right.” She straightened reluctantly, putting space between them that felt like tearing off a bandage. “Right. We should—investigate. Figure out where it came from. Who?—”
“Tomorrow.” He caught her hand before she could move away. Just for a moment. Just long enough to press his fingers against hers. “Tonight, you rest. You’re depleted.”
“So are you.”
“Dragons recover faster.” He released her hand. “I’ll walk you home.”
It wasn’t a question. Cassia didn’t argue.
They walkedin silence through the harbor district, past the ramshackle café and the harbormaster’s office and the weathered buildings of the fishing cooperative. The night air was salt-sharp and cold, but Cassia couldn’t feel it. Not with Aero’s heat bleeding into her side, not with the memory of his magic tangled with hers still singing in her blood.
Gust found them halfway up the hill, swooping down to land on Cassia’s shoulder with an indignant chirp. His tiny talons dug into her jacket as he glared at Aero, feathers ruffled with obvious displeasure.
Where were you?his psychic bond demanded.I felt the wave. I felt your magic spike. And you were with the lizard.
He helped,Cassia sent back.We couldn’t have stopped it alone.
Gust’s disapproval radiated through their bond, but he settled against her neck and said nothing more.
At her cottage door, he stopped.
“Thank you,” she said. “For—all of it. The dinner. The magic. The walking me home like I’m going to collapse, which I might.”
“You won’t collapse.” His eyes traced her face, memorizing something. “You’re stronger than you know.”
“That’s what everyone says.” A beat. Then, quieter, surprising herself: “Maybe tonight I’m starting to believe it.”
Something shifted in his expression—quick, unguarded, almost relieved.
