“They nearly killed you,” I said quietly, my fingers twisting in my lap. “You were bleeding out in my arms.”

  Darian was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window where grey morning light filtered through. When he looked back at me, something softer had crept into his expression.

  “I didn’t, though,” he said simply. “Bleed out, I mean.”

  “That’s not⁠—”

  “I make a point of not bleeding out in my friends’ arms,” he continued, that familiar smirk creeping back onto his face. “It’s in my personal code of conduct. Very important rule. Right up there with ‘don’t fuck your enemies’ and ‘always have an exit strategy.’”

  I stared at him. “You don’t know me well enough to call me a friend.”

  “I know you well enough.” Darian’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve got amazing kids. You’ve survived shit that would’ve killed most people.” His mouth quirked into a crooked smile. “And anyone who shoves me into a bush, I call a friend.”

  I snorted, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “That’s your criteria for friendship?”

  “Absolutely.” Darian’s grin widened, all wicked amusement again. “Most people are too terrified of me to do it. You didn’t even hesitate. Just—” He made a shoving motion with his hands. “Right into the shrubbery. It was beautiful.”

  “You were being insufferable.”

  “Fuck.” He rubbed his temples. “You and Eilrys are going to team up and be the death of me.”

  “Speaking of death,” he said, taking on an edge I hadn’t heard before, “what the actual fuck were you thinking yesterday?”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?”

  “Jumping off a dragon.” His tone was flat, but I could hear the fury building behind it. “In mid-flight. While we were being attacked by shadow dragons.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “It worked out.”

  “It worked out?” Darian sat up straighter, wincing as the movement pulled at his bandages. “Isara, you threw yourself into empty air. You could have died.”

  “But I didn’t.” I crossed my arms, defensive. “The green dragon caught me. Thessarian got you and Varyth to safety. Everyone lived.”

  “By sheer fucking luck.” The words exploded from him with enough force to make me flinch. “Do you have any idea what it was like watching you just... step off into nothing? While I was bleeding out and couldn’t do a damn thing to stop you?”

  The raw pain in his words caught me off guard.

  “Do you have any idea what it was like for Varyth?” Darian’s voice went quieter, which somehow made it worse. “Watching you drop?”

  I stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Come off it, Isara.” His eyes were narrowed, seeing right through my bullshit. “You show up here looking like that—” He gestured at my rumpled state. “Clearly something’s happened, and now you’re playing dumb?”

  My mouth opened, but whatever half-formed excuse I’d been about to offer died in my throat as the door to the chambers swung open.

  22

  Varyth stood in the doorway, looking only slightly less dishevelled than me. At least he’d managed proper clothes. Dark trousers and a half-buttoned shirt that did absolutely nothing to help my current state of mind. His hair, though, was a disaster. Wild and tangled, like he’d dragged his hands through it too many times. Like he’d been as rattled as I was.

  His eyes found mine first, then flicked to Darian. Back to me. Something unreadable passed across his face, surprise maybe. Or frustration.

  He hadn’t expected to find me here.

  The silence stretched too long. Uncomfortable. Heavy with things neither of us were saying.

  “I was just leaving,” I blurted, already pushing to my feet. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, but I forced them to hold. “I should—I need to get dressed properly. Check on the children.”

  Varyth nodded. Stiff. Formal. Like we were strangers instead of⁠—

  Instead of what? People who’d spent the night wrapped around each other?

  I started toward the door, but I had to pass him to get there.

  I almost made it.

  “Running away again, I see,” he muttered under his breath.

  I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid as those words carved themselves into my spine.

  Slowly, so slowly, I turned to face him.

  “What did you just say?”

  Varyth’s jaw tightened. “You heard me.”

  “Running away?” The words came out strangled, caught between disbelief and fury. “I’m not—I was giving you space. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “Right. Space.” His laugh was bitter, humourless.

  “What exactly is your problem?” I demanded, taking a step toward Varyth instead of away from him.

  “You ran the second you woke up. Barely said a word. Didn’t even look at me.”

  “That’s not—” I broke off, fists clenching at my sides. “You know what? Fuck you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” I stepped forward, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “You don’t get to act like I’m the problem here. Like I’m the one running when you⁠—”

  “When I what?” His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “When I let you sleep in my bed? When I held you through your nightmares?”

  “Stop.” I snapped. “Just stop.”

  “Why?” He leaned in, and gods, he was too close. “Does it bother you? Hearing it out loud?”

  “Yes.” The word ripped out of me before I could stop it. “Yes, it fucking bothers me because you’re acting like you did me some grand favour when I never asked for any of it.”

  His face went hard. “Right. Of course. How could I forget? You don’t need anyone.”

  “That’s not what I⁠—”

  “Isn’t it?” He cut me off. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like it. That between us⁠—”

  “There is nothing between us.” The lie tasted like ash on my tongue.

  “Finally, something we agree on.” The words were flat. Cold. “It was nothing. A mistake, if you’d stopped running or interrupting me for two seconds, you might’ve figured that out.”

  I forced myself to laugh, the sound brittle.

  He crossed his arms, his expression carved from stone. “You think I make a habit of letting people into my bed?”

  “I think you make a habit of being an asshole.”

  “And I think you make a habit of assuming the worst of everyone around you.” His eyes were ice now. “Must be exhausting, constantly looking for reasons to push people away.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if people stopped trying to—” I broke off, fists clenching at my sides.

  “Stopped trying to what? Care about you?” He laughed, and it was a cruel sound. “Don’t worry, Isara. Lesson learned.”

  “Good.” The word came out vicious. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  “Wonderful. So you can stop acting like I’ve wronged you somehow.”

  “I didn’t.” Heat rushed up my neck, into my face. “Fuck you.”

  “Already said that.” His jaw tightened. “Getting repetitive.”

  “Okay, let’s all just—” Darian started, but I rounded on him.

  “Stay out of it.”

  “I’m really thinking I shouldn’t,” Darian said, hands raised. “Because you two are about thirty seconds from doing something monumentally stupid⁠—”

  “It was one night,” Varyth cut him off. “One night that meant nothing. She’s made that abundantly clear.”

  “I haven’t made anything clear because you won’t shut up long enough to⁠—”

  “To what? Hear you explain how desperate you were to get away from me?” His mist had begun to curl around his arms. “Message received, Isara.”

  “Listen to yourselves,” Darian tried again, stepping between us. “Both of you. You’re⁠—”

  “You’re unbelievable.” My power rose to meet his, flames igniting at my fingertips. “You couldn’t even look at me this morning.”

  “Because I was giving you space.”

  “And where was that space last night?”

  Varyth’s expression shuttered immediately. “Well, you’re getting it now.”

  Something cracked inside my chest. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

  “Please,” Darian said, and there was actual desperation in his voice now. “Whatever this is, whatever you’re both trying to prove⁠—”

  “I’m not trying to prove anything,” I said. “I’m just done pretending last night was anything other than a mistake.”

  Varyth flinched. Actually flinched, and I hated how much satisfaction that gave me. Hated myself for wanting to hurt him just because I was hurting.

  “There we go,” he said softly. “At least now we’re being honest.”

  “Honest?” My laugh was acid. “You wouldn’t know honest if it bit you.”

  “And you wouldn’t know how to stay if someone paid you.”

  “Varyth,” Darian started.

  “No.” Varyth’s eyes never left mine. “She wants to leave? Let her.”

  The words carved themselves into my spine, sharp and brutal.

  “You’re right,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I am leaving. And you know what? I’m glad it meant nothing. Saves me the trouble of having to care.”

  “Good.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Would you both just—” Darian tried one more time.

  “I’m done with this.” I backed toward the door, even as every part of me screamed to stay. “Whatever you think this is, whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested.”

  “Then go. No one’s stopping you.”

  I turned and walked out before he could see my hands shaking.

  Behind me, I heard Darian mutter, “That was—both of you just—do you have any idea what you⁠—”

  “Don’t.” Varyth snarled.

  I didn’t stop walking.

  Didn’t look back.

  There was nothing between us.

  Nothing at all.

  We’d both just said so.

  23

  Kaelen’s scales were warm beneath my palms as I hauled myself into the saddle, every muscle in my body protesting the unfamiliar movement. The leather was supple and well-crafted, with high backs and sturdy handles that looked like they’d been designed by someone who understood exactly how easy it was to fall off a dragon.

  Around me, Brynelle sat astride her silver dragon with an easy confidence that came from years of partnership. Shaelith’s mount—a sleek black beast with violet eyes—stamped impatiently, wings rustling. Fenric’s dragon, storm-grey and scarred, watched everything with the same calculating intensity as its rider.

  “So,” Kaelen’s voice drifted into my mind, amused and knowing. “Was this your idea? A new and creative way to avoid the High Lord?”

  Heat crawled up my neck. “No. It was Fenric’s idea.” My fingers tightened on the saddle grips. “Besides, Varyth has been away this week.”

  “Away. Right.” Kaelen shifted beneath me, muscles bunching as he prepared for takeoff. “So he’s avoiding you.”

  “No one’s avoiding anyone,” I said through gritted teeth. “We mutually agreed to stay out of each other’s way.”

  “Sure,” his voice came again, rich with laughter. “Of course. And I suppose that ‘mutual agreement’ is why you both look like wounded animals every time someone mentions the other’s name?”

  “Your opinions are neither requested nor appreciated.”

  “Good thing I give them freely then.” A pause, and I could feel his amusement radiating through the bond. “You know, I could just eat him when he returns. Would make avoiding him significantly easier. One less brooding High Lord cluttering up your emotional landscape.”

  I choked on air. “You can’t just—you’re not eating Varyth.”

  “Why not? I’m told I have an excellent palate for pompous males who can’t communicate their feelings. Very tender. Pairs well with a nice red.”

  “Oh my gods.”

  “Besides,” he continued, entirely too pleased with himself. “Think of the convenience. No more awkward hallway encounters. No more pretending you don’t notice when he walks into a room. Just blessed, uncomplicated silence.”

  “You’re absolutely deranged.”

  “I prefer pragmatic.”

  The dragon launched into the sky without warning, the sudden acceleration forcing the air from my lungs. Wind screamed past my face as we climbed, Kaelen’s wings carving through clouds with liquid grace.

  “The offer stands, by the way. One High Lord, lightly seasoned. Just say the word.”

  “Shut up and teach me to fly,” I snapped, even as my body thrilled at the sensation of altitude, at the way the world spread out below us like something I could finally escape.

  “Gladly, wildfire.” His tone shifted, growing serious. “But first rule of dragon riding: honesty. Especially with yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” he said, banking into a turn that made my stomach flip. “That you can’t run from things while sitting on my back. The sky doesn’t lie. And neither should you.”

  Around us, the other dragons fell into formation—Brynelle’s silver to our right, Shaelith’s black slightly ahead, Fenric’s grey bringing up the rear like a storm waiting to break.

  “Fine,” I said, my voice nearly lost to the wind. “You want honesty? Here’s some. I have no fucking idea how to fly a dragon, everything in my life is a disaster, and the one person who makes me feel like I might not be completely broken is the same person I can’t be around without wanting to either murder him or⁠—”

  I stopped. Swallowed hard.

  “Or?” Kaelen prompted, entirely too smug.

  “Or nothing. Teach me to fly before I change my mind and set you on fire.”

  His laughter rumbled through his entire body, vibrating into my bones. “Now that’s the spirit. Hold on, wildfire. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  The world tilted.

  One moment we were level, the next Kaelen folded his wings and dropped. My stomach stayed somewhere in the clouds as we plummeted, wind turning into a knife that wanted to peel me off his back. I should have screamed. Should have dug my fingers into his scales and prayed to gods I didn’t believe in. Instead, something wild and vicious tore loose in my chest—and I laughed.

  The sound ripped out of me, raw and unhinged, swallowed immediately by the roar of air. We were falling so fast the world blurred into streaks of green and brown, and it felt like finally, finally letting go of something I’d been clutching too tight for too long.

  The handles were a revelation. Instead of clinging desperately to Kaelen’s neck, I could actually sit up, could look around, could experience the flight instead of just surviving it.

  “Still there, wildfire?” The dragon’s laughter rumbled through my bones.

  “Still here,” I called back, and for the first time, I actually meant it. “This is incredible.”

  Around us, the other dragons soared, their riders sitting tall and confident like they’d been born to the sky. Brynelle waved at me, one hand casually leaving her own saddle handles to gesture while they banked through a turn that should have been impossible.

  “Don’t compare yourself to them,” Kaelen advised, his flight evening out into a pattern that felt more like floating than falling. “They’ve been doing this for centuries. You’ve been doing it for approximately thirty seconds.”

  “Forty seconds,” I corrected, finally brave enough to really look around. “And I think these handles deserve most of the credit.”

  The view stole what little breath I had left.

  We soared above Edrithas, the castle spread below us in miniature splendour. Gardens became geometric patterns, courtyards turned to postage stamps, and people moved like ants along pathways that from up here looked no wider than threads.

  But it wasn’t just the castle. Beyond its walls stretched forests and rivers, mountains that rose like ancient sentinels against the horizon, and valleys painted in shades of green I didn’t have names for. The world was vast and wild and beautiful.

  “Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Kaelen’s voice was gentler now, tinged with a reverence that came from seeing this view thousands of times and never growing tired of it.

  “It’s...” I struggled for words, then gave up. “How do you ever come back down?”

  “Very carefully, in your case. Speaking of which⁠—”

  Kaelen banked to the right without warning, the movement so sudden and graceful that even with the saddle, I felt my body slide sideways. My grip on the handles tightened instinctively, knuckles white with effort as I fought to stay centred.

  “Second rule of dragon flying,” he said conversationally as I hauled myself back into proper position. “Never trust your dragon not to be an ass.”

  “Noted,” I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Any other wisdom you’d like to share before trying to kill me again?”

  “Oh, many things. But where’s the fun in telling you when I can demonstrate instead?”

  This time I was ready when he dove.

  The world became a blur of speed and wind and the wild exhilaration of falling with purpose. My stomach dropped to somewhere near my boots, but instead of terror, I felt something else entirely—joy, bright and fierce and absolutely intoxicating.

  The handles let me lean into the dive instead of fighting it, let me feel like I was part of the dragon’s movement instead of just cargo along for the ride. When Kaelen rolled to the left, I rolled with him. When he pulled into a harsh climb, I was already shifting my weight to match.

  I laughed.