Page 65 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Naia sat at the edge of my bed, dropping her voice so the others wouldn’t overhear. “I don’t know what to do with you, Rebec. Your father is the reason my brother is dead.”

I flinched at the bluntness of it, but I didn’t look away.

She shook her head, eyes dark with something uncertain, conflicted. “I wanted to see you fail. I wanted to see you suffer. Because that would have been justice.” She let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over her face. “But you don’t quit.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling too seen.

“I keep expecting you to break,” she admitted. “And you don’t.”

I looked down at my hands, at the faint tremor still lingering in my fingers from the Storm magic earlier.

“I don’t have the luxury of breaking,” I muttered.

Naia studied me, her brows pulling together.

“What does Cyran want from you?” she finally asked.

I let out a humorless laugh and gestured to my white hair.

“He never wanted me,” I said quietly. “Not as a daughter, not as family. He just saw an opportunity.”

Naia’s jaw clenched. “That bastard.”

I huffed. “He’s worse than you know.”

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t press.

For the first time since we’d met, she didn’t look at me like an enemy.

“Get some rest. You and the others who haven’t gotten their dragon to bond with them, get to try again in the morning.”

Chapter

Thirteen

We took turns in the washroom, the routine now second nature. There was no modesty left in a shared barracks, not when time slots were tight, and privacy was a luxury we simply didn’t have.

Jax finished first, stepping out with his damp hair sticking up in unruly spikes, stretching his arms. “Hurry it up, ladies. I’d rather not have to throw elbows to get a decent meal.”

Naia rolled her eyes but grabbed her boots. “I wouldn’t get between you and food, Jax. That’s how people lose limbs.”

Once everyone was ready, we headed to the dining hall, the air still cool with the lingering morning mist.

Iron Fang was already seated across from us when we arrived.

Perin, of course, was the first to speak.

“I wonder if Snowtop will anchor today.”

His voice was mocking, but none of his squadmates joined in. If anything, they looked uneasy, shifting uncomfortably, as though they weren’t quite sure they wanted to be associated with him.

I ignored him, focusing on my food, but Riven hummed as she stabbed at her eggs with her fork.

“I wonder if our magic is a reflection of our soul?” I mused as I recalled the magics that surfaced yesterday.

“Maybe,” she said. “Fire definitely suits me. And Cordelle’s power is earth-based. Seems fitting for him.”