Page 80 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

Zander stood with arms folded as we circled the ring, tension rising like the slow draw of a bowstring. Then his voice cut through the early morning haze.

“Ashlyn. Naia. You’re up.”

I exchanged a glance with Naia, both of us already stretching from the moment we arrived, then stepped into the stone ring.Our boots crunched against sand and cracked earth scorched from dragon fire and past battles. We squared off, though our attention was already shifting.

Because movement rippled through the far end of the Ascension Grounds.

A cluster of armed guards emerged from the northern gate, each one in full ceremonial dress armor, crimson and gold polished to a gleam. At the center, draped in obsidian-plated finery, strode Theron.

No Sophisticants. No smug courtiers. Just a column of soldiers, and Dorian walking beside him like a man who had just swallowed broken glass.

Theron moved like a king already crowned, his chin high, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his blade. His eyes swept the grounds and landed on his younger brother.

Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he motioned to Zander like he was a stablehand.

Zander’s jaw clenched, but he moved. He walked toward the podium, toward them, and every rider on the grounds fell still. Iron Fang, Warborn, even Stormforge. Eyes locked on the trio like they might explode.

Theron relished it. Drank in the attention like wine. But Dorian? Dorian looked like he’d rather be facing down a Blood Fae war camp than standing beside his brother.

Theron leaned in and gestured to Thrall Squad with a sweeping hand, disdain curling his lip. “Zander,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “you’re wasting your talents with those commoners. Let Remy take over your duties. He’s trusted. Leading them is beneath you.”

Zander’s face didn’t move, but I felt the fury pulsing off him like a dragon just shy of flame.

“I decline,” he said flatly.

The silence that followed was razor-sharp.

Theron smiled thinly. “That wasn’t a request.”

“And this isn’t a monarchy, yet,” Zander replied. “They’re my squad. Until Dorian takes the throne, you don’t get to decide where my loyalty lies.”

Gasps rippled from the assembled squads.

Theron’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat before his voice cut through the air like a poisoned blade.

“You’re weakening the kingdom’s military focus because you want to fuck a prospect.”

Gasps rippled across the Ascension Grounds, and for a heartbeat, all I could hear was the ringing silence in the aftermath of his words.

Zander didn’t even blink.

“You wish that were the case,” he said, voice low and lethal. “But you’ve got your head shoved so far up Father’s ass, you wouldn’t know what military focus looked like if it spat fire in your face.”

The guards surrounding Theron tensed. Dorian stepped forward instantly, hands half-raised in peace. “Enough, both of you.”

But Theron wasn’t done.

He turned his glare on Dorian like a man disappointed in his favorite weapon. “Fine. Then you’ll take the next diplomatic mission. You’ll go to Thubia. Cement relations. We need more commoners in our ranks.”

He cast another pointed look toward Zander, sneering.

“Since my brother only cares about certain dragon riders, it falls to you to recruit the guilds we actually need.”

I felt Naia’s eyes flick to mine, and I didn’t need to say it aloud, we were both thinking the same thing.

He wasn’t talking about swordfighters or medics.

He meant warders.