Page 22 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

It was effortless. Controlled.

The mark of a rider whose dragon wanted her.

The fire reflected in Riven’s sharp eyes as she lowered her hands, a flicker of satisfaction curving at the corner of her lips. Not a single hesitation. No falter.

A sharp pang twisted in my stomach.

Major Kaler turned to me. “Your turn.”

The words cut through the thick silence, and my pulse roared in my ears.

I stepped forward, my boots heavy against the stone, the heat from Riven’s fire still licking at my skin. The brazier’s metal rim was warm beneath my fingertips, waiting. Expectant.

I inhaled, steadying myself.

Then reached for the bond.

It burned.

A jagged lance of pain tore through my skull, white-hot and blinding. I stumbled, barely catching myself. My dragon shoved back, resisting me.

A wall slammed down between us, the rejection so sharp it felt like claws raking through my mind.

No.

The word wasn’t spoken, but I felt it. A force slamming into my chest, a refusal that reverberated through every nerve in my body.

I clenched my teeth, forcing past the pain. The bond was there—frayed, broken, but it existed. And I would take what I needed.

I pushed harder.

The brazier erupted.

But the flames weren’t golden. They weren’t steady. They raged—wild, unstable, twisting in unnatural hues. White-hot, then blue, then darker. Shadows curled at the edges, licking at the air like something alive, something wrong.

The ground trembled beneath me.

A gasp tore from my lips as the magic twisted, unraveling in my grasp, turning against me. The fire lashed outward?—

Pain.

It slammed into me, searing across my skin, a shock of agony that stole my breath, sent me to my knees. Someone shouted—Zander? One of my squad? I couldn’t tell. My vision blurred as darkness clawed at the edges of my consciousness.

The magic backfired, ripping through me, sinking into my veins like lightning made of fire. My body betrayed me.

I hit the ground hard.

Then—nothing.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Then breathe.

A slow inhale, air rushing into my lungs.

The pain that should have shattered me, that should have left me burned and broken, was already fading.

Sharp-edged whispers surrounded me.