Page 27

Archer Lynch

Serpent Academy — Skyfall.

Klaus slung an arm around my shoulders just before the annual Skyfall race.

“You sure you don’t want to know who wins?” he asked, flashing that crooked grin of his. But there was weight behind the teasing.

I shook my head. “No thanks. I’d rather not get expelled for cheating.”

“You’re no fun.”

Ahead of us, Ciaran clawed at the dirt, wings flaring wide just as Headmaster Mundair’s voice thundered across the field.

“Riders, mount your dragons! It’s time to race!”

I turned to go, but Klaus caught my arm. “Hey. This course can be deadly. Don’t die on me.”

Sentimental? From Klaus Blanche? Unheard of. I smirked. “Don’t go soft on me, Blanche. Trying to psych me out before the race?”

But he didn’t laugh. He just pressed a folded note to my chest. “If I don’t make it, give this to my family.”

“Klaus— ”

“There’s one for my sister. I want you to read it to her in person.”

Before I could say more, Mundair’s voice cut through the air. “Archer! Klaus! Mount up or forfeit!”

Klaus gave a tight nod. “Just a precaution.”

But Klaus Blanche didn’t believe in precautions, he knew everything. Day one, he’d warned me about four students who turned out to be smuggling illegal herbs through the upper dorms.

Unfortunately, we were also linked . An ill-timed mind bond that should’ve been a curse, until we both found out our dragons were twins. Two barely-adult guys sharing thoughts? Disastrous, awkward, and occasionally hilarious.

Most days, I blocked him out. Klaus Blanche had many talents, but subtlety wasn’t one of them. He flirted with professors, narrated his life like he was the main character, and made sure no one ever forgot it.

Just then, Delair brushed past, her fingers grazing my bicep like I might finally give in to her flirtations right before a race that could kill us.

“Better get moving, Arch,” she purred. “Wouldn’t want you to be disqualified.”

She rode the fastest wyvern at the Academy. Her great-grandfather had been a royal racer, back when civilians bet on dragons like prize stallions. You didn’t need to be a Seeker to know that she was going to win this race.

“I appreciate your concern,” I said, stepping neatly out of reach.

Klaus’s voice snapped through the bond as he mounted Naraic. “When are you going to tell Delair off? She’s obsessed. Not in the hot way. In the stalker way.”

“She’s a distraction,” I muttered. “And I don’t do emotions. ”

“What’ll your future wife think when I tell her you used girls to cope?”

“Use this bond for something useful. And I’m not getting married.”

Delair narrowed her eyes. “Klaus talking again? You always get that glazed, constipated look when he’s in your head.”

“Not now, Delair.”

She twirled a strand of silvery-blonde hair around her finger. “I’ll be in the showers after the race,” she said. “Come find me. Maybe I’ll teach you how to shut off that bond for good.”

I gave her a slow glance, letting the edge of a smile rise. “Tempting,” I said, voice low. “But hooking up with a rival? That never ends well.” I swung onto Ciaran’s back without another look.

I wasn’t in the mood to be someone else’s regret. Especially not a rival whose father and brother held guard ranks high enough to bury me without consequence.

Across the field, Klaus didn’t miss a beat. “You just flirted with her. Tell her to go away.”

“I subtly told her how bad of an idea it would be,” I muttered in my head. “Gods, stay out of my personal life.”

Then the king stepped onto the field, and beside him was Charles Blanche. I didn’t understand why Malvoria was here.

“Klaus,” I murmured, eyes narrowing. “Your brother’s here.”

“I see him,” Klaus said coolly. “Cully’s here, too, apparently. Probably bribed his way in with poetry. If you spot him, let me know so I can threaten him into writing my good side into his next Serpent Press article.”

The king’s voice rang out like a war drum, echoing from the academy towers and across the stone bleachers. He was using something to enhance it. Probably magic. Because of course he was .

“Welcome, honored spectators, noble bloodlines, and civilians from far and wide! Today, you witness Skyfall, Verdonia’s most ruthless rite for dragon riders. A spectacle of wings, will, and war.”

The crowd erupted, a thunder of cheers crashing against the cliffs and the academy walls.

“These are your possible heirs,” the king continued. “Born to rule. Raised to conquer. Bound to risk everything for a title that cannot be gifted... only earned.”

His gaze swept the arena like a blade. “And remember this, in Skyfall, only one will rise. The rest will fall.”

The horn split the sky.

Ciaran launched upward, wings slicing through the cold with practiced fury. Below, the crowd blurred into a smear of color and sound—except for two figures on the viewing platform.

My grandfather, Theodore Octavion, stood tall in a dark-hemmed cloak. Beside him was a hooded woman I didn’t recognize.

Neither of them looked at me. They were watching Klaus. The woman leaned in toward my grandfather, her lips moving just enough for me to catch the words: “Is that the Seeker boy?”

My grandfather nodded once, then mouthed something back.

My blood turned cold. No one knew what Klaus was. Not even his family. He’d kept it buried, protected. We both had. So how the hell did they?

“Archer,” Ciaran rasped in my mind, “your heart is beating too fast.”

“My grandfather mouthed something about Seekers,” I said. “And he was looking at Klaus.”

Ciaran surged faster, wings snapping through cloud. But it was too late, we were already trailing in last place.

Then a voice blared from the enchanted speakers, thundering through the arena. “Who will claim Skyfall this year? It certainly won’t be Archer Lynch, who seems more interested in the crowd than the crown!”

Laughter rippled through the stadium. My grandfather didn’t smile. He just stared, like he’d disown me on the spot if I didn’t get the hell off the field.

I pounded on our bond. “Klaus, where are you?”

“Not telling. You’ll cheat.”

“Be serious for once.”

We shot into the trails—and a dagger sliced across my shoulder. Just a graze, but it burned like hell.

I twisted on Ciaran’s back, eyes locking onto the culprit. Some cocky second-year from Autumn, riding like he had something to prove.

“Wrong move,” I muttered, the words low and sharp.

Shadows flared. I launched a pair of daggers that clipped his cloak. The rider tumbled, screaming, until the wind swallowed him whole.

Ciaran banked sharply, wings churning us higher. The trees fell away as we surged above the canopy, climbing fast.

“You’ve still got that letter, right?” Klaus asked through our bond.

I hit a cliffside curve hard, pain jarring through my side as the wind slammed into my ribs. Each gust stung like needles against raw skin.

“Klaus,” I gritted out, scanning the sky. “Where are you?”

“Beating your ass in this race,” he replied dryly.

Typical sarcastic bastard, I growled under my breath as rain knifed through the sky and we tore into the Autumn sector. Ciaran lunged, snapping her jaws around the velvet ribbon threaded through a circular obstacle, shredding it clean as we passed.

“We could still win,” she rasped .

“I don’t care about a damn dragon race. Someone knows about Klaus.”

Below us, Delair emerged from the mist, her wyvern a streak of steel. She moved so fast her shadow trailed behind. “Only two ribbons, Arch?” she called sweetly. “Want one of mine? We could share later.”

“I’m looking for Klaus,” I muttered, scanning the sky.

A herd of griffins swept past in tight formation, golden and gray wings slicing through the rain. Their riders wore full Malvoria armor, swords gleaming like polished bone.

At their lead was Charles Blanche.

“What the hell…” Delair’s voice dropped. “Why is Malvoria ruining our race?”

“I need to find him!” I shouted. “Klaus!”

“Archer!” she called again, but I was already a wingspan away.

“If Malvoria is here, we shouldn’t get any closer,” she yelled from behind me. “I’ll inform my father—”

I didn’t hear the rest. I had never flown so fast.

“Ciaran, find Naraic,” I said, every breath sharp with panic. “Everyone knows Klaus is a Seeker.”

Ciaran skimmed the treeline, weaving through the storm.

We crossed into Summer.

And there he was.

Klaus was midair, locked in a brutal swordfight with the cloaked woman from the viewing platform. She rode a smaller wyvern, scarred and scaled like something that had survived war. She laughed, a high, jagged sound, sharper than steel.

“Little Seeker,” she sneered, thrusting out her palm. “You’re coming with me.”

A blinding flash cracked the sky. Behind Klaus, a portal tore open, swirling with a sickening force.

Klaus snapped his fire at her. “No thank you.”

“You’ll be mine now,” she hissed, magic clawing toward him.

I launched a rope of shadow, wrapping it tight around her throat. “Back. Off.”

“Archer!” Klaus shouted, voice caught between relief and panic. “Thank the Gods. This lunatic wants me to write for her. Like I’d ever freelance for a Seeker cult.”

Only Klaus would joke during a death match.

“Be serious!” I snapped. “You need to fly—now!”

My vision blurred. The bond pulsed in my ribs, sharp as a blade.

Then I saw him.

Charles dove low on his golden griffin, blade drawn. It caught the light, gleaming like a warning. With one clean, devastating strike, he hit Klaus with ice.

Not normal ice. It shimmered gold, unnaturally bright, as if laced with something ancient and cruel.

“Klaus!” I screamed. “Fly! Now! Malvoria’s here—they’ll kill you!”

“No,” Klaus rasped, swaying midair on Naraic’s spine. “It’s my brother. He wouldn’t—” But his pupils blew wide, black as the void, like something had been ripped out of him.