Page 75 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Dorian just smirked. “Yes. But where’s the fun in that?”

Zander shot him a dark look, but he didn’t argue.

I watched him closely, feeling something I hadn’t before—a strange kind of sympathy.

Because for all the power he had, Zander was still the prince caught between worlds.

And from the looks of it, neither of them fully wanted him.

“Stormforge will train first. The other squads take a break,” Dorian said.

I was about to turn toward our barracks when Zander fell into step beside me, his long strides effortlessly matching mine.

“That was tense,” I said casually, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

Zander grunted. “Unfortunately.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the training grounds fading behind us. The tension of the argument between his brothers still lingered, as thick as storm clouds.

“Do they do that often?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Zander rubbed his hand over his chin. “More than they should. Theron and Dorian have been at odds for years, but lately… it’s gotten worse.”

I arched my brow. “Why now?”

Zander hesitated, his jaw clenching, but he answered anyway.

“Power shifts within the kingdom. The war with the Blood Fae isn’t just bleeding our armies—it’s bleeding our alliances.Theron believes we should reinforce our own lands, strengthen our defenses, and focus on ground forces. Dorian thinks we should expand our reach, push forward, and utilize the dragons to reclaim lost territory.”

“Sounds like they’re both right.”

Zander gave me a sidelong glance, his golden eyes sharp. “They are. That’s the problem.”

I frowned, considering that. “And what about you?”

Zander’s expression tightened, as if I had hit a nerve. “What about me?”

“Where do you stand in all of this?”

A shadow flickered across his face, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked ahead, his expression shuttered, unreadable.

“Warriath is stronger when we fight as one,” he said at last. “But lately, it seems we’re too busy fighting each other.”

His words hung between us, heavy with meaning.

As we neared the barracks, I stole a glance at him. There was something in the way he had spoken to me just now—like he had forgotten who I was for a moment.

Not a commoner.

Not an outsider.

Just another dragon rider.

The realization must have hit him, too, because he slowed his pace, as if only now realizing how much he had said.

His usual cool mask slipped back into place as he stepped away from me.

“Warborn is up after Stormforge,” he said, his tone clipped, his walls back up. “Take the break while you can.”