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Then another notice appears. VARETHIAN SUPPORT DEPLOYMENT — PHASE ONE I read too quickly. Go back. Read again. The Council has approved immediate humanitarian and defensive support to Elarion. The following resources will deploy within twenty-four hours: Senior ward specialists. Six adult Riders. Twelve military personnel. Two Academy professors specializing in defensive manifestations. Medical supplies. Ward crystals. Dragon-response instrumentation.

No Chiefs. No third-years. No fourth-years. I exhale.

Slowly. Cassian appears beside me. "Well."

Nyra joins. "Limited deployment."

"Very."

She reads. "They denied the request."

"Partially."

"They asked for response command."

Cassian says. "And they aren't getting it." No.

Caelen finds us fifteen minutes later. He looks exhausted. I hand him the notice. He doesn't take it.

"I've seen it."

"Obviously."

"Where's Rhyven?" I ask. Too quickly. Whatever.

Caelen doesn't react. "Dragon grounds." Of course.

"Why did they refuse?" Nyra asks.

Caelen looks toward the courtyard. "Because Varethia was first." We wait. He continues. "We don't know if the Hollowborn relocated. Or expanded. Or are trying to pull defenses away." There it is.

Cassian folds his arms. "That would require planning."

Caelen looks at him. "Yes." None of us like that.

"So the Council believes this could be bait." Nyra says.

"They believe it could be anything."

"Useful."

"No." Caelen rubs his face. "But if Varethia sends its strongest Riders, Chiefs and senior students to Elarion and something happens here..." He doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. Theryn. Aelindra. Jonas.

Five people. A dragon. The Hollowborn know our wards. Know our response times. Know what our strongest defenders look like. Maybe. We assume. Again. Nothing certain. Everything dangerous.

"And Rhyven agrees?" I ask.

Caelen looks at me. "Yes." That surprises me. Apparently visibly. His eyebrows rise slightly. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You thought he'd want to go." Not a question. I hate siblings.

"He usually wants to fix everything himself."

Caelen snorts. "Tell him that."

"Maybe I will."