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"You came all the way over here to ask how long my ward shift was?"

"I confirmed it."

"Why?"

His brow furrows slightly. "Scheduling."

"Scheduling." I repeat.

"Yes."

"...For what?"

"So training doesn't overlap."

I blink. That actually makes sense. "Right."

He gives one short nod. Then looks toward Cassian. "Ward Five tomorrow."

Cassian straightens. "Already?"

"Sunrise." Rhyven adds.

"I was hoping to sleep." Cassian groans

"No."

Without another word Rhyven turns and walks back toward the training grounds. Already pulling another folded map from the leather case beneath his arm. I watch him go. Nyra watches me watching him. "What?"

She smiles to herself. "Nothing."

"No." I narrow my eyes. "That smile means something."

"It does."

"What?" My voice is louder than I intended.

"I'll tell you another day."

I frown. "Nyra."

She hooks her arm through mine before I can press further. "Come on. Curfew."

"I liked you better before you became mysterious."

She laughs. "No, you didn't."

High above us a dragon circles once over the Academy before disappearing into the darkening sky. Below, wardkeepers continue their endless patrol. Lanterns burn along the walls. Students hurry toward their residences before the final bell. The Academy still looks beautiful. Still feels like home. But beneath every familiar routine something fundamental has shifted.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Vyrael is lying in the middle of the training field. Of course he is. I stop at the bottom of the stone steps and stare. There is absolutely no reasonable way to describe how much space that dragon occupies. Half the eastern field, perhaps. Maybe more. His enormous body stretches across the grass like something the mountains themselves decided to leave behind. Dark scales catch the morning light in uneven flashes, scarred in places, thicker around his shoulders and neck. One folded wing rises high enough that three students could probably stand beneath it without touching the membrane. His tail disappears somewhere beyond a row of training posts. I can't even see the end of it.

Around him life continues. Which somehow makes the sight more absurd. Riders carry equipment. Professors arrange wooden boards. Two younger dragons rest near the far wall. Students gather in increasingly nervous clusters. And Rhyven stands beside Vyrael's foreleg, reading a piece of parchment. Completely unconcerned. Naturally. Cassian stops beside me. "Every time I see him..." He stares. "I forget how unreasonable that is."

"What?"

He gestures vaguely toward all of Vyrael. "That."