Page 50 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

He’d returned days later, riding his golden dragon, with a pact signed in blood and dragon fire.

Together, he and the dragons had forged what the book calledthe Accord of Flame and Crown, a contract between man and dragon, brokered to protect the continent from foreign empires and Blood Fae incursions.

But what caught me, what held me, was the repeated reference tothe sacrifice.

It came up again and again.

The price the first king paid.

The blood that sealed the pact.

The sacrifice made to protect the balance.

But nowhere…nowheredid it say what that sacrifice was.

I turned pages faster, scanning for clarity, for truth, but the farther I read, the more obscure the references became. No names. No specifics. Just the lingering echo of something lost, something the dragons remembered, but the humans had chosen to forget.

A knot twisted in my chest.

Because if there was a cost to forging a kingdom with dragons then maybe there was a cost to keeping one.

Cordelle flipped through his third book, a large one with a cracked emerald cover and pages so delicate they whispered when turned. He hunched over it like it might vanish if he blinked, muttering softly as he skimmed lines in the old dialect. I recognized the way his fingers trembled, not from fear, but excitement.

“Gods,” he breathed. “Ashe—look at this.”

I leaned toward him so I could glance at the text he was reading. Zander leaned forward too, the weariness in his eyes sharpening with curiosity.

Cordelle turned the book toward us. The page was inked with curling script, and though the language was archaic, enough of it had been translated in the margins to make the meaning clear.

At the top, scrawled in dark, near-faded ink:

From ash and storm, the Stormborn shall rise. Blood of two thrones, heart divided. Marked by ruin, gifted by blood. One shall bring unity, or the kingdom’s final breath.

Beneath that was more:

Born of what should not be,

A child of both hollow and flame,

Neither wholly fae, nor man,

Storm-crowned and soul-shackled.

They will wield power unbidden,

Call dragons with voice alone.

If unclaimed, they shall fall.

If chosen, they shall rule or ruin all.

Cordelle looked up, his eyes wide. “It’s an ancient prophecy.”

I stared at the ink, at the curling letters that felt like chains wrapping around my ribs.

“It’s describing a fae,” I said slowly. “A powerful one.”

Cordelle nodded. “Yes, but not just any. It saysdescendant of the Blood Throne.”