Page 59 of Burning Heir

I leaned into his touch. “Yes,” I breathed. The first truth to spill beyond my tongue and ink-stained fingers.

I trusted Damien.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He brushed my streak behind my ear. I curled my hands around his jaw, leaning in to kiss him, but he shifted back. “You don’t want to kiss me, Sev. Not now.”

I leaned back on my heel. “I know how I feel, Damien. Do you… not…” I cut my breath off, biting my tongue.

“I’m two things, Severyn. One, I don’t overshare. Two, I don’t believe in fables. This is not the moment for our first kiss. Not when you’ve been in the forests for a night, lying about the most important bond in your life.”

“I’m… sorry.” Flinching, I kept my gaze low. “I should have told you the truth.”

He changed the topic. “Cain’s shield snapped when he felt your quell. The man is a hound for sensing quells and saw something dark in you today. I saw his mind.” A gust of wind hit my face.

“Archer thinks Myla died that day at the trial,” I whispered. “I… saved her. Revived her—I’m still trying to grasp it.”

His hands smothered my lips. “I’m not the only one whose quell can listen to silent conversations. We’ll discuss this later.”

I nodded.

Chapter Thirteen

Rows of dragons lined the sprawling fields.

Emerich’s sea of green was the first one to approach us. Ciaran’s midnight scales gleamed under the sun—and my heart stuttered, knowing Archer was nearby.

A few dragons circled the grounds for prey. Most lounged, waiting for their riders.

A senior student I’d never seen before made his way across the field, eyeing me down. He looked to be from an Autumn realm, bearing the same amber-colored eyes as Malachi. He wore a Serpent pin, and I assumed he was in the lead to claim the next heir.

“The pigeon fields are on the other side of the campus, Winter,” he said with a cocky grin.

A shadow flew above, and Naraic landed behind me with a growl, curling his snarled lip. He placed one claw protectively in front of my boot. “This is Skia,” I said. “My dragon.”

The redhead jerked back, and his eyes darted between Naraic and me. From that beat of silence, I feared he knew who Naraic was. I didn’t imagine there were many white-scaled dragons in Verdonia, but he certainly was the only one at the Serpent Academy.

He scoffed, muttering as he walked toward Tydon, “That thing looks like a walking corpse.”

Archer appeared in a shadow beside Ciaran, leading her to the middle with a leather riding suit shrugged across his shoulder. Malachi stood beside a lean, grey wyvern, and my heart sank seeing Astoria for the first time. Horns trailed the beast’s slender neck. Her right eye was scarred, and the dragon looked like she’d survived a war and back, with patches of discolored and torn scales.

Archer threw some leathers at me. “Change,” he hissed low. “Your clothes will be shredded the moment you’re airborne.”

I glanced around, conscious of the dozens surrounding me. “In the middle of a field?”

Archer threw his arm up, and darkness swallowed me whole. I quickly shrugged off my uniform and slipped into the form-fitting leather suit and matching black jacket. Stepping out from the shadow, I adjusted to the weight of every eye turned in my direction.

Archer dropped the shield and addressed the crowd. “Normally, we don’t have riders joining us this late, but Severyn Blanche has bonded with Ciaran’s cousin, so I’ve made an exception. I hope you are all kind to her during her first session.”

Monty grinned, his gaze drifting over the leather suit that hugged every curve. Damien’s eyes lingered on me, and I could feel his attention like a weight. Knox mounted his dragon, a silver wyvern that could easily be a distant relative of Astoria. Everett’s dragon was smaller, a burnt-orange scorpius-blade with piercing golden eyes.

Antonia arrived a moment later, Alaric beside her, his face pinched in a scowl. Jace followed a few steps behind, his shadow and starlight casting prisms around each leg.

Archer gestured to the crowd. “Everyone mount your dragons. Today, we’ll go over the basics and obstacle obstruction.”

A few groans rippled through the group. I knew Archer did this for me, but the intensity of the other riders’ glares still hit me hard. As I approached, Naraic bowed low, his body a crawl on the ground as I passed. I grazed my heel over a rib. “Sorry,” I whispered, struggling to lift my leg.

“Speak in your mind. We have an audience,”Naraic said through our bond.

Damien noticed my struggle. “Do you need a lift?” he asked.

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