Page 118 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“Why can’t you stay out of trouble for more than five minutes?” His tone was dry, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I wasn’t exactly out picking fights,” I shot back. “I was walking back from breakfast.”

He blew out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. “It’s like you’re a chaos magnet.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe if my dragon actually liked me, I wouldn’t be half-dead every other day.” The bitterness in my voice surprised me.

Zander chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Kaelith doesn’t hate you. She’s just... stubborn.”

“Like her rider,” I muttered.

His mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but didn’t dare. Instead, he turned his gaze on me, and something shifted in his eyes—that dark, swirling storm gathering force. His pupils expanded, swallowing the lavender whole until his eyes were nothing but black.

I should’ve been afraid. I knew what that meant—Dark Fire simmering just beneath his skin, power barely restrained. But instead of leaning away, I moved closer.

Stupid. So stupid.

“You should be afraid of me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of me.

“I know,” I said. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I didn’t pull back. “But I’m not.”

He let out a low breath, and for the briefest second, his hand lifted—like he meant to touch me—but he stopped himself, fingers curling into a fist instead.

“You should be,” he said again, but this time it didn’t sound like a warning.

It sounded like regret.

I could still feel the heat of him when he stood and walked toward the door. He paused there, hand on the handle, and turned back to me.

“Don’t roam the compound alone again,” he said. “Not until I say it’s safe.”

“Sure.”

Zander’s brows furrowed. “I wish this were the worst thing that is going to happen to you today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Go to the Ascension Grounds, Ashlyn. You are about to find out.”

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Ibarely noticed my feet moving as I left the room. Zander was still standing by the door, but his eyes followed me, burning into my back. I didn’t dare look back. I needed air—space—something to clear the weight pressing on my chest.

I stepped between Jax and Riven in the Ascension Grounds, my heart still hammering in my ears. Zander rejoined Crownwatch, but I saw him glance over at me, his eyes flickering—lavender bleeding into black like a storm rolling in. Whatever was about to happen, Zander didn’t like it.

Major Kaler strode to the podium, his voice ringing out. “We have one of our own rejoining Warborn. He has been away for over three years. Please welcome back Lieutenant Saulter.”

“Have you ever heard of him?” Riven whispered.

I shook my head, my gaze still drifting back to Zander. His eyes flicked between colors again, sharp and cold like a blade glinting in the sun. Whoever this Lieutenant was, Zander’s distaste was undeniable.

A dragon roared above us, and I instinctively glanced up. The figure descending was unmistakable—a Catalan dragon.

The dragon’s light-green scales shimmered like pale-jade, stretched over a powerful body built for endurance. Its long,serpentine tail swayed low behind it, ending in a jagged row of barbed spines. The creature’s fangs, longer than a man’s forearm, glistened with the telltale sheen of poison—a deadly venom known to kill even dragons. While still enormous, the Catalan was smaller than Kaelith, its frame more agile but no less threatening.

“Katama is a beautiful and rare dragon,” Major Kaler announced with pride.