Page 37 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Ferrula, who rarely spoke, crossed her arms, his piercing gaze raking over me like he was assessing the damage. “Pretty sure that’s what she wants.”

A shiver rippled down my spine, but I wasn’t sure if it was from her words or the creeping numbness in my limbs.

The wounds still burned.

Not just normal pain—something else. Something deeper. My knees nearly buckled as a fresh wave of dizziness hit me, and suddenly, Ferrula’s words didn’t seem so ridiculous.

I had heard the stories.

Some dragons of the past had been poisonous. Their fangs, their claws, even their blood. If they marked you, it meant death.

But that was folklore, wasn’t it?

Kaelith wasn’t a Catalan. And besides, ghosts couldn’t hurt me. At least, they weren’t supposed to.

Yet here I was, bleeding from wounds that shouldn’t exist.

Poisoned?

I had never tested whether my abilities could handle venom. And now, probably wasn’t the best time to start.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice thin. “But if I don’t get back to my bed soon, I may pass out.”

The world tilted.

Zander cursed under his breath. A second later, his arm was around my waist, holding me upright, his grip solid as he half-dragged, half-supported me toward the horses.

I was too exhausted to argue. Too drained to do anything but lean into his warmth and pray that whatever was crawling through my veins wouldn’t kill me before sunrise.

“I’ll take her on my horse.”

Jax’s voice cut through the thick silence as we stood near the horses. His stallion, a beast nearly twice the size of our mares,pawed at the ground impatiently. He was built for endurance, meant to carry warriors clad in armor through battlefields.

Zander hesitated. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering toward me, where I swayed on my feet, barely holding myself upright. Blood still clung to my skin, and the pain coiling through my veins made my limbs feel like lead.

Jax arched a brow. “She won’t make a four-hour ride on her own, surely leaving her to endure the pain instead of giving her a lift on your dragon is penance enough.”

Zander’s gaze snapped to him, dark and dangerous. But Jax, simply smirked, taking his hesitation as proof that Zander had actually considered the alternative.

After a beat, Zander exhaled and gave a curt nod.

Jax mounted his horse easily, then reached down. Zander stepped forward, his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me effortlessly onto the stallion. His touch was careful but firm, his warmth bleeding through my thin clothes. Even in my dazed state, I noticed how he lingered for just a second longer than necessary before settling me in front of Jax.

I glanced down at him. He did not look pleased.

“I will do better next time,” I whispered, though my voice lacked any real strength.

Zander stepped back, his scowl deepening. He said nothing, just watched as Jax dug his heels into the stallion’s side, and we surged forward into the night.

We rode in silence for several minutes, the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the dirt the only sound filling the empty space between us. My body ached with every movement, but the steady warmth of Jax behind me kept me from slipping. My head rested against his chest, my body leaning into his as his arm circled my waist, keeping me upright.

“Now would be a good time for you to do your healing thing,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

I exhaled, but I didn’t move. Instead, I let myself stay there, held together by Jax’s grip, by the rhythmic sway of the horse beneath us. There was something comforting about it—like the way a brother might shelter a sister.

After discovering that nearly every part of my life had been carefully manipulated, I allowed the moment of vulnerability.

Even Soleil had likely only trained me because our father told her to.