Page 60 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“I will not alter the rules for Thrall Squad,” Zander said.

Theron arched a brow, unimpressed.

“They are riders,” Zander continued, taking a step forward, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “The decision is that of their dragons, and they will have the same training as the nobles.”

Theron’s expression sharpened, but before he could respond, another figure approached.

This one I recognized instantly.

The black leathers he wore, nearly identical to Zander’s. The way his movements were fluid, sharp—like someone who had spent a lifetime training.

Dorian Rayne.

The eldest prince.

Dorian strode toward them, already exhaling as if he had been dragged into this conversation against his will.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

Zander didn’t answer.

Theron did.

“I am ensuring that only worthy riders survive the Binding Trials,” Theron said smoothly, ignoring the look Zander shot him.

Dorian grunted, unamused.

“Theron, you’re an idiot.”

Theron’s nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”

Dorian crossed his arms. “You’re not a rider, and you have no authority here. So, unless you’ve suddenly developed the ability to bond a dragon—” He made a mocking show of glancing behind Theron. “Oh, wait, you haven’t—so fuck off.”

I swore I saw Zander’s lips twitch, like he wanted to smirk.

Theron’s face darkened, his fingers twitching like he desperately wanted to punch his brother.

Still, he forced his expression to remain neutral and turned to Dorian.

“We do not need more riders,” Theron said, his voice tight with restraint. “But those who have been fully accepted by their dragons are welcome, of course.”

Dorian scoffed. “Right. So, only the ones who survive without healing? That’s a brilliant strategy, Theron. Let’s just kill off the ones who haven’t mastered their bond yet.” He shook his head. “We’re already losing ground every day in the outer kingdoms, and you want to start thinning out the only reinforcements we have?”

Theron’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond.

Dorian ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration etched into his every movement.

“The outer kingdoms would be happy to take commoner reinforcements,” Dorian continued, his voice tighter now, like he was holding something back. “Especially dragon riders. We’re already stretched thin enough—if we keep wasting resources, it won’t be long before the enemy reaches Warriath itself.”

The enemy.

My mind raced.

And then?—

The vault.

The messages.