Page 125 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

“—I’m telling you, the king’s getting worse,” one muttered, voice low but clear. “Last week he threatened to exile ahealerfor waking him up too early.”

A snort. “Yeah, well, he nearly gutted a steward for wearing blue in the upper halls. Said it reminded him of drowning.”

“That’s insane.”

“Everything’s insane right now. And don’t even get me started on Theron. Bastard acts like he’s already wearing the crown.”

“He’s still better than Dorian, though. At least Theron stays in the castle. Dorian keeps vanishing when his brother needs him most.”

That jab landed like a stone in my chest.

The guard continued, oblivious to how close I stood. “If he’s supposed to be the heir apparent, why’s he always off flying with that dragon of his? Half the staff think he’s stalling. Like he doesn’t want the crown.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” the other said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard whispers that some of the villagers… they’re hiding magic users.”

“Hiding them?”

“Yeah. You know, the really strong ones. Especially the ones from outside noble lines. Keeping them out of sight. They’re afraid the king’ll order them to enlist. Or worse.”

My blood chilled.

“That’s treason,” the first guard hissed.

“It’s survival,” the other shot back. “You’ve seen what he does when someone shows unpredictable magic. Even dragons can’t always protect their riders.”

I leaned back against the wall, heart pounding.

Zander’s voice drifted back to my ears, but I didn’t look at him.

Because those guards weren’t mistaken. Something was very wrong in Warriath. Even if I didn’t agree with some of their assumptions.

Zander finished whatever quiet words he was trading with Dorian, the elder prince nodding once before turning and disappearing down a corridor in the opposite direction, shoulders straight but heavy with the burden only a crown-in-waiting could carry.

But Zander strode toward me.

There was something in the way he moved—grace and fire wrapped in command. The leather of his flight jacket clung to his frame just right, the faint bruises along his jaw only making him look more dangerous, more real. My insides fluttered, andKaelith chuckled in the back of my mind like she was teasing me for it.

He didn’t say a word at first.

Just leaned in, brushed his lips across my cheek, soft and warm, and so infuriatingly gentle that it left my pulse stumbling.

I blinked up at him. “What’s up?”

Zander’s gaze was shadowed, thoughtful. “Dorian’s grown uneasy with the king’s latest orders.”

“Because they’re really Theron’s,” I said, voice quiet but certain.

He nodded. “Exactly. But Dorian’s afraid to confront him outright. He’s walking on a tightrope, trying not to challenge Theron. They need to keep the kingdom stable before we go to war.”

“That’s true, but I heard the guards speaking and they are disillusioned about Dorian’s intentions to say the least.”

“The commoners always think we are lazy and entitled. It goes with the territory.”

I looked at him, studying the worry behind the calm. “Do you think Theron had anything to do with the attack on Dorian?”

Zander’s jaw clenched.

His lavender eyes darkened.