Page 174 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

Zander didn’t flinch. He ignored the blood still trickling from his wound as he stepped forward, placing a steadying hand against Hein’s side. The dragon went still, but the heat radiating off him could have melted steel.

“I would choose your next words very carefully, brother,” Zander said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Hein knows my heart. My thoughts. I have never betrayed the crown, and I never will.”

Theron’s gaze fell to the dead guard at his feet, the man who had taken the arrow meant for him. His expression shifted, not to grief, but calculation. Then regret.

“I was… misled,” he murmured, breathless. “It’s obvious now. The traitorous sect isn’t just trying to destroy the guild. They mean to cleanseour bloodline. To end the royal family.”

Zander’s eyes narrowed. “That should’ve been clear the moment they declared war.”

“We must get word to Dorian,” Theron said, already turning toward the castle. “He needs to prepare the borders.”

And as the court scrambled back into motion, the banners still fluttering above us like battle flags, I made my way to Zander and Hein, feeling the pressure of this new war.

The chaos on the Ascension Grounds still echoed in my bones as I stepped to Zander’s side. His tunic clung wetly to his arm, the blood soaking through fabric and leathers.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked, quieter now that the crowd had dispersed.

He nodded once, the grim set of his jaw softening for a flicker of a moment. “Yeah.”

Cade joined us as we began walking toward the Yarrow Gardens, his stride purposeful but alert, his hand never far from the hilt of his blade.

“I’ve been looking into the sects,” Cade said as we passed beneath the arched trellises of the garden paths, our boots crunching on gravel. The perfume of blooming herbs was a cruel contrast to the metallic scent of blood. “But I didn’t think either group would be bold enough to openly oppose the crown. Not yet.”

“I’m surprised too,” Zander muttered, clutching his arm as a fresh line of crimson trailed down his fingers. “It doesn’t make sense. Why reveal yourselves with that kind of declaration? They should’ve stayed in the shadows for as long as possible.”

“They just made themselves a target,” I added.

“Exactly,” Zander said, grimacing as we reached the entrance to the Healers’ Quadrant. “Now every dragon in the Horde will be looking for them.”

“Well,” Cade said with a slight smirk, “they can’t exactly send dragons into the village without causing a kingdom-wide panic.”

Zander huffed a breath of agreement but didn’t respond as we stepped through the stone archway. The scent of mint, dried blood, and antiseptic filled the air.

“Dragons have excellent hearing. That was a death sentence.”

Meri appeared instantly, her red hair tied back in a loose braid, green eyes as sharp as steel. Her gaze dropped to Zander’s arm, and without a word, she ushered us toward an empty cot.

“Lay down,” she instructed firmly.

Zander obeyed, sinking into the cot with a wince. Meri knelt beside him, pressing two fingers just above the bolt.

“Hold still.”

She placed her hand close to the wound, not touching it but hovering just enough that threads of gold began to hum beneath her palm. The magic was delicate and precise.

Then—with no more warning—she yanked the arrow free.

Zander’s entire body tensed, a hiss of pain escaping between his teeth.

Meri handed the bloodied bolt to Cade and pressed a cloth against Zander’s skin, letting the healing magic pulse through her hand.

“I can fix the muscle,” she said calmly, “but you’ll be sore for a day or two. Try not to wrestle anything bigger than a stray dog.”

Zander cracked a weak smile.

Cade raised an eyebrow at me. “Welcome to court politics?”

I looked at the crimson-streaked cloth, at Zander’s pale skin beneath the wound, and the fading echoes of fire in my mind from Hein.