Page 50 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

Tess

Silvius's voice crashed across the arena, magically amplified to reach every corner. "All applicants will now gather with their assigned teams in the central arena for final evaluation."

Falling into line with my teammates felt like walking to an execution. The space between us yawned wide, all those watching eyes making my skin feel stripped raw.

Lord Protector Silvius rose from his seat on the highest tier of the Guild platform, the crowd packed tight on every level—Supe leaders, Guild officials, all of them waiting for blood. "Applicants, the Final Guild Trial is now complete."

Silence fell. Silvius consulted a glowing tablet that materialized in his hands. "The results of today's trial will be announced by team ranking, followed by individual scores."

My stomach twisted into knots. Dragons called overhead, their voices carrying notes I couldn't interpret but that made something deep in my chest ache.

The scores came in waves—Team One with Draven earning a solid eighty-three points, relief flooding through me so hard I almost stumbled.

At least he was safe. At least he'd get his shot.

Team Two with Kane at ninety-one points, my heart doing this stupid flutter. He'd made it through. They both had.

When Team Four was called with Mason's name ringing out at eighty-one points, something fierce and protective roared to life in my chest. My mate—passing, succeeding, earning his chance to bond a dragon. The thought sent warmth cascading through our bond even as my own dread spiraled higher.

Team after team, respectable scores that built my anxiety higher.

"Team Five," Silvius's voice sliced through the air. "Team score: First place. Individual scores: Selena Nightshade, eighty-nine points. Valen Beaumont, eighty-seven points..."

First place. Of course. Bitter taste flooded my mouth even as part of me acknowledged their skill. Selena and Valen—both passing with flying colors while I...

My chest tightened with each announcement. I'd known this was coming—had made peace with sacrificing my score to help others. But watching people who'd stepped over others to get ahead sail through while I...

"Team Eight," Silvius announced, his voice cutting through my spiral. "Team score: Last place. Individual scores: Kira Nightpride, seventy-three points. Tobias Ironstone, sixty-seven points. Jace Riverborn, fifty-nine points. Senna Shadowmere, sixty points. Tempest Whittaker..."

The pause stretched like a held breath. Like the moment before a car crash.

"Eighteen points."

The number hit me like a slap across the face. Eighteen. Not just failing—humiliating.

A murmur rippled through the crowd—sharp, confused, angry. Fragments of whispered conversations erupted from the stands:

"—saved half the arena—"

"—my son would be dead if not for her—"

"The girl showed more leadership than half the teams combined!" another voice added.

The dragons above us went wild, their calls becoming louder, more insistent.

I'd known I was making a choice that might cost me when I decided to help the other applicants instead of focusing on my own performance.

I'd accepted that sacrifice, made my peace with it.

But seeing Selena and Valen's scores—people who'd stepped over others to get ahead—made something bitter and sharp twist in my chest.

It wasn't that I regretted helping people. I'd do it again without hesitation. But the unfairness of it all, the way the system seemed designed to reward selfishness while punishing those who actually cared about others...

My teammates had actually done well—really well for the circumstances. But me? Eighteen measly points out of a hundred.

"Order," Silvius called, his voice pressing down on the crowd like a physical weight.

The crowd's confusion spread. Even the Guild officials on the platform looked uncertain, exchanging glances and hurried whispers.

Silvius's pale gaze swept across the restless crowd, and when he spoke again, his tone carried centuries of cold authority—along with something that might have been amusement.

"Honored observers, I sense some... confusion regarding today's results." The word dripped with mockery, his lips curving in what wasn't quite a smile. "Perhaps we should hear from someone deeply invested in the Guild's future. Someone who witnessed today's events firsthand."

His gaze found Kane in the crowd of applicants, and my blood turned cold. There was cold satisfaction in Silvius's expression as he looked between his son and me—the look of a predator who'd successfully cornered his prey.

This wasn't about clarity. This was a trap.

"Kane Ellesar," Silvius said, his voice carrying a father's pride and something darker underneath. "As my son and a future leader of this Guild, what is your judgment of today's trial? Specifically, regarding the applicant Tempest Whittaker?"

The arena fell into absolute silence. Even the dragons stopped calling, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

I turned toward Kane, my heart hammering against my ribs, searching his face desperately for any sign—any flicker—of the man who'd held me, who'd whispered that I was extraordinary. For a moment—just a moment—our eyes met across the distance.

But Kane's jaw tightened, his gaze sliding away from mine as if I were nothing more than a stranger. As if looking at me caused him physical discomfort. The deliberate dismissal cut deep.

His gaze was arctic blue, empty of any warmth I'd imagined there. No flicker of the man who'd traced my cheek with gentle fingers, who'd whispered my name like a prayer. Nothing but cold calculation, as if he was looking through me rather than at me. As if I'd never mattered at all.

He didn't look at me again.

"Father," Kane said, his voice carrying clearly across the arena. Each word precise, measured, delivered with the kind of clinical detachment I'd heard him use in strategy sessions. "Lord Protector. Honored Council."

"I observed Tempest Whittaker's actions throughout today's trial," he continued. "And I must say, what I witnessed was deeply concerning."

The words slammed into me like a physical blow to the chest.

"She abandoned her assigned team," Kane said, his voice never wavering. "Ignored clear objectives in favor of personal heroics. Showed a fundamental inability to follow Guild protocols or respect established hierarchies."

"More troubling," Kane continued, "was her emotional instability. She made decisions based on sentiment rather than strategy. Compromised mission objectives for personal relationships."

"Such behavior," he said, "represents a clear danger to the Guild's political balance. To our relationships with allied Supe factions. To the very stability we've worked centuries to build."

He paused, and in that silence, I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

"In my judgment," Kane said, his words falling into the arena, "Tempest Whittaker has proven herself unfit to bear the responsibility of a Dragon Rider."

The gasps that followed seemed to come from everywhere at once. Outrage from some sections of the crowd, shocked silence from others. I heard Anya's voice above the din—"That's bullshit!"—before being quickly hushed.

But I barely registered any of it. I was drowning in the echo of Kane's words, in the clinical precision with which he'd just destroyed everything I'd thought we were building together.

???

Tess

The hollow ache in my chest carved deeper with every breath. Kane's words echoed in the sudden silence— unfit to bear the responsibility —each syllable a deliberate cut meant to sever whatever fragile trust I'd been foolish enough to build.

The betrayal hit deeper than I'd expected. Deeper than it should have. Because some treacherous part of me had still believed he'd protect me here. Even after everything, even knowing his loyalty to the Guild ran deeper than whatever we'd built together, I'd hoped—

What exactly had I hoped? That the man who'd kissed me like I was his salvation would stand up for me when it mattered? That the strategic genius who calculated every move three steps ahead hadn't calculated this one too?

Stupid. Bitter on my tongue. So fucking stupid.

I'd seen glimpses of something real beneath his icy control. Felt it in the way his hands had trembled when he touched me, heard it in the rough edge of his voice when he said my name. But maybe that had been strategy too. Maybe everything had been.

The worst part? I couldn't even hate him for it. Because I understood. The Guild was his world, his identity, his future. And I was just... what? A human who'd stumbled into something she didn't belong in?

My throat burned with unshed tears I refused to let fall. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

Silvius stepped forward, his pale eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed the crowd. The whispers had died to nothing, leaving only wind across stone and the distant calls of dragons from the cliffs.

"Thank you, Kane," he said, and there was genuine warmth in his voice—pride. A father whose son had just proven himself worthy.

The sound made my stomach twist. Kane had earned his father's approval by destroying me. By reducing everything I'd fought for to a clinical assessment of my failures.

He turned to address the arena, his voice carrying easily across the space. "Citizens of Dracara. Honored guests. The trials have concluded, and the Guild Council has reached its verdict."

My legs wobbled beneath me, but I forced myself to remain upright. Whatever was coming, I wouldn't face it on my knees.

"The applicant Tempest Whittaker," Silvius continued, "has failed to demonstrate the qualities essential to a Dragon Rider.

Her actions today revealed a fundamental inability to prioritize Guild objectives over personal sentiment.

A dangerous tendency toward emotional instability.

A complete disregard for established protocols and hierarchies. "