Page 481

"Frequently."

I freeze. Caelen does too. Cassian slowly looks toward him. I point. "No."

Caelen frowns. "What."

"You cannot start saying that."

"Saying what."

"Nothing."

Nyra closes her eyes. "Please stop." Good.

A hand appears beside my shoulder. Sets down another coffee. I look up. Rhyven. He continues walking without stopping. No word. No glance.

Just coffee. I look at the cup. Then at him. Then at Caelen. Caelen is still holding mine. I smile."Keep it."

His expression immediately becomes suspicious. "What."

"I don't need it anymore." He looks toward Rhyven. Then the new coffee. Then me. Nothing. Thank gods.

I pick up the replacement cup. Exactly right. I take a sip. Better than the stolen one. Probably because spite improves flavor.

Rhyven sits farther down the table beside Dax. Chiefs. Maps beside breakfast. Because apparently they have forgotten meals can exist without administrative paperwork. Dax points toward something. Rhyven says something I can't hear. Dax looks offended. Good. Normal. For once, nobody mentions Elarion.

Or Tiravell. Or Lyssara. Not because anything changed. It hasn't. But there is training in forty minutes. Breakfast in front of us. Sunlight coming through the high dining-hall windows. And apparently the world has agreed to wait. I'll take it.

Morning training is almost pleasant. Which means Professor Vayne isn't running it. Professor Kaelis has dragon practicals. No simulated Hollowborn. No blood samples. No ward failures. No injuries assigned. Just dragons. Actual dragons.

And for once, nobody is trying to make us survive something. We're learning how to move with them.

"Ground teams." Kaelis calls. Everyone separates.

Dragon Bloods remain with their bonded dragons.

The rest of us are assigned around them. Communication. Positioning. Keeping safe distance while still being useful. Reading when a dragon is about to launch. Knowing where not to stand when one lands. Recognizing which direction a Rider intends to move before the dragon ever leaves the ground. Things that seemed ridiculously specific months ago. Now? Necessary.

I'm assigned beside a deep green female and her Rider. Second-year Sky Wing. The dragon watches me approach. Interested. Not threatened. Good.

I stop where I should. Wait. Her Rider nods. "Closer." I take two steps. The dragon's head lowers slightly. Eyes steady. Tail loose. Fine. Another.

Her weight shifts. Back. I stop. The Rider smiles.

"Good."

I look at him. "She wanted space."

"Yes."

"Easy."

"She likes you." I look at the dragon. She blinks slowly.

"Questionable taste."

Today's exercise is coordination. The Rider gives no verbal commands to us. We're supposed to read the dragon and predict what happens next. Launch. Land. Turn. Defensive positioning. Protective movement. We move according to what we see.

Not what we're told.