Page 3 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

“I just…” My voice caught. “I want to go back to my room. Lie down. Pretend for five minutes that I’m just another prospect who isn’t hunted by her own family.”

Zander didn’t move at first. Something flickered behind his eyes. Concern. Rage. Restraint.

Finally, he gave a short nod. “Go.”

I turned before he could change his mind, feet dragging as I made my way down across the Ascension Grounds, the stone chilled beneath my boots. The barracks door groaned open, and the familiar scent of worn leather, damp stone, and steel greeted me like a sigh.

I slipped inside, barely sparing the others a glance. My bunk waited like a cradle. I didn’t even bother changing; I just crawled beneath the blanket and curled on my side.

The silence stretched.

Then—

“Are you alright?” Cordelle’s voice drifted from the bunk beside mine, as soft as a breath.

I wanted to lie. To protect him. To protect me.

“I will be,” I whispered back.

But the words tasted like ash.

Because I didn’t believe the lie.

I woke to the sounds of my squad stirring—boots scuffing the floor, quiet murmurs of movement, the low creak of leather armor. Morning light filtered through the narrow window, soft and gray. Today wasn’t for training or trials.

Today, we lay Eilvin to rest.

I sat up slowly, my body aching more from grief than strain. Jax passed behind me, pausing just long enough to rest a warm, solid hand on my shoulder.

“You can go ahead of me, Ashe,” he said softly. “I only need a moment in the washroom when you’re done.”

I looked up at him and offered a tired smile. “Thanks.”

He just nodded and strolled away.

I moved quickly, washing the sleep and ash from my face and dressing in silence. My flight armor fit like a second skin now, dark leather reinforced with steel at the shoulders and chest. Ifastened each buckle with practiced fingers, but my chest still felt tight. I wasn’t ready. None of us were.

When we stepped outside, the world was still, the sky pale with the hush of dawn.

Our dragons were already waiting, solemn and still. Kaelith stood closest to me, her usually bored expression tempered into quiet respect. Across the stone path, the other guilds were assembled in full formation, standing at attention, arms clasped behind their backs.

A silent salute.

Major Ledor stood beside Zander, his black-and-gold uniform pristine, his face unreadable.

“Thrall Squad,” he said, his voice carrying in the silence. “You are given leave to send Eilvin Spokel’s soul to Charrem.”

He turned to Zander.

“Escort Thrall Squad to the Riders’ Graveyard in Dragon Vale.”

Zander raised a gloved hand, jaw tight. “Mount up.”

We moved as one. No banter. No teasing. Just the quiet efficiency born of shared grief. I climbed onto Kaelith’s back, settling into the seat as her wings spread, rustling like sails catching the wind.

Zander and Hein took off first, their silhouettes sharp against the rising sun. One by one, the rest of us followed, a flight of grief carried on dragon wings.

The wind stung my eyes as we crossed the sea. But when we veered toward Dragon Isle, my chest twisted.