Page 165 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

My pulse quickened. “They wanted the court to see me as vulnerable,” I said slowly. “Weak. Like I needed protection. That’s the only reason to add that detail.”

“And they wanted to keep your magic a secret,” Zander added. “That’s dangerous information. Someone wanted you underestimated.”

I felt sick—the kind of sickness that settles in your bones, twisting like a coil ready to snap. Every aspect of my life had been manipulated, orchestrated by unseen hands. My father. The Order. The king. Even Remy. Nothing had ever really been mine. Not my choices, not my power, not even my past.

I stood there, staring at the ground as my stomach churned.

“You, okay?” Zander’s voice was low and softer than I expected.

“No,” I admitted, my voice a whisper.

“Come on,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go for a walk.”

We didn’t speak as we left the camp. The air was cool, the scent of pine lingering as we moved deeper into the trees. The glow of the fire still flickered in the distance, faint but steady. It was enough to keep me grounded.

Zander stopped by a fallen log and motioned for me to sit. I didn’t hesitate, sinking down as if the weight of the world had finally pressed me low enough to break. He didn’t sit right away, just stood with his arms crossed over his chest, staring out into the shadows.

Zander sat beside me, elbows on his knees. “I know how you feel.”

I scoffed bitterly. “I doubt that.”

“You think being a prince makes life easier?” He shook his head, staring at the dirt between his boots. “It’s not what people imagine. Every step... every breath is planned. I was told when to train, what to learn, even who my friends should be. Everything decided for me.”

“That sounds...” I trailed off, unsure of what word to even use. Pathetic? Stifling? Horrible? All of the above.

“It’s exhausting,” he said. “People think the royals live in comfort—and sure, the clothes are finer, the food’s better, but there’s a cost.” His voice grew tighter. “I wasn’t allowed to leave the castle without guards shadowing me. They reported everything I said or did to my father. Everything. I couldn’t even eat breakfast without someone taking notes.”

“That’s insane.”

He gave a dry laugh. “I’d give anything to spend a day unnoticed.” He paused, voice quieter now. “The only time I was free... was with Hein.”

I turned my head, watching him closely. “Your dragon?”

He nodded. “Hein doesn’t care about politics, or titles. He’s just... Hein. No expectations. No manipulation.” He exhaled and finally looked at me. “That’s why I get it, Ashe. What you’re feeling right now—that helplessness? That feeling like your whole life has been planned without you knowing?” His eyes softened. “I know what that’s like.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me harder than I expected. Zander Rayne—prince, soldier, rider—understood what it felt like to be a pawn.

I swallowed hard, blinking against the tightness in my chest. “I just... I don’t know how to fix it,” I whispered. “Everywhere I turn, someone’s pulling the strings.”

“You’re not alone.” His hand brushed mine, fingers curling around mine. Warm, reliable, certain. “Not anymore.”

I knew I should pull away, but I didn’t. Instead, I let my hand stay in his, clinging to the first solid thing I’d felt in days. The first thing that didn’t feel like a lie.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

The fire’s warmth had faded from my skin when Kaelith’s voice erupted in my mind.

We are under attack!

I jolted upright, scrambling out of my bedroll. My boots were already on—rider protocol—and my weapons were within arm’s reach. I grabbed my rapier as I scanned the clearing.

“Where are they?” I asked, but Jax’s shout cut through the chaos.

“Get to your dragons!”

The others were already moving, throwing on belts, grabbing weapons. I bolted toward Kaelith, her scales glinting silver-violet in the low light. She was already crouched low, muscles coiling to launch skyward.