“Doesn’t count.”Another exaggerated eye roll.
Lyra blinks between us. “You, you can talk to her?”
“Unfortunately, in this case… yes.” Reaching up, I scratch beneath Ahria’s chin before she can complain again. “Dragons can usually only mind-speak with their own kind or their bonded rider, but because of Cal, apparently, that includes me.”
Ahria’s scales burn against my fingers, but I keep my hand there anyway, welcoming the distraction of the heat becauseit gives me something solid to focus on while every reckless instinct in me yearns toward Lyra, straining against the leash I’m barely holding.
“But I don’t understand. Why can’t I hear her? When I saw her, I felt...” Her breath stutters, and fuck, I want to hold her. “I felt like?—”
“Like she already belongs to you?” I cut in, stopping myself from moving forward “Like you’ve always known her? Like she settled somewhere under your skin the second you saw her, and now the thought of losing her...” My throat tightens before I can stop it. “Would hollow you out until there’s nothing left?” Lyra nods once. “Because you’re bonded.”
For a beat, she just stares at me. Her mouth opens, then closes again as her attention shifts to the moody creature looming at my side, and when she finally finds her voice, it’s rough.
“But, then why did she try to burn me?”
Grimacing, I remove my hand from Ahria and drag it over the rough scrape of my three-day-old stubble. “Uh... how do I put this...” Exhaling through my nose, I brace for the hit. “She’s not bonded to you.”
Her brows pull in, and her face crumples around her beautiful freckles with a hurt I feel like I’ve put there myself.
“Half-bonded,” I add fast, like it will soften the blow. “That’s the best way I can put it.”
She stares at me like I’ve started speaking another language. She’s smart—smarter than most—but I forget there are gaps she has never been given the chance to learn.
“Okay. So, dragon bonds are messy.” I start to explain as Ahria lets out a low rumble beside me, and Lyra staggers back a step. “Since the exile, we’re still guessing at half of it. Dragons don’t like sharing the details of their magic, don’t trust us. Can’t blame them. We know they only bond with riders if theirThreads are compatible, and that they only bond with those they deem ‘good.’ But how the bond actually forms, and seals, is more...complicated.”
A rough brush of scales slams into my shoulder as Ahria bumps her head against me, knocking the air from my lungs. Grunting, I shoot her a look and lift my hand to start scratching her again before she decides to prove her point with more fire.
“I imagine it’s like two people falling for each other,” I continue, finding the spot behind Ahria's ear that makes her head tilt. “Sometimes it’s love at first sight—Threads align, and it just clicks. Or sometimes they may start off hating each other and realise, slowly, they were connected all along. But sometimes…” My focus drifts. “Sometimes one of them watches.For years. Waiting for the other one to see it too.” Looking back at Lyra, my hand stills. “That was Ahria. She was watching. But she wasn’t watching you. She was watching your mum.”
The words settle between us and I see the pain rise in her face before she can hide it.
My stomach knots, fingers digging into Ahria’s scales, because I know that feeling. The moment you see your dragon, and something inside you locks into place. That bone-deep certainty that this is the missing piece of you. Despite Cal being a relentless pain in my arse, when he chose me, it was mutual, and the thought of being without him feels like losing a limb.
Now Lyra is standing here with that same desperation and certainty, only it’s one-sided.
“She knew my mum?”
“No. Merrin hoped they would, but unfortunately Ahria only watched from afar.”
“How... how do you know all this?” Her head shakes in disbelief.
“Ravenscross,” I say, trying to ignore the memories of that night. “I heard you sleep-talking. You were having dreams?” shenods. “I had them with Cal, too. It’s a sign your Threads were reaching for hers. Probably because you share so much with your mum. The dragon population’s small—since the Treaty, they’ve struggled to rebuild. So I asked Cal and he said you were describing Ahria. He’s the one who brought her here.”
Lyra’s mouth hangs loose as she tries to catch up, but her breath stays slow and even as the pulse from my magic wraps around hers, holding her calm.
The rhythm behind my ribs, on the other hand, starts climbing the longer I hold her gaze.
Shit.Maybe this was a bad idea to try and do this now, with everything already balanced on a blade’s edge.
“Yes,” Cal growls, displeasure scraping through the bond. “It’s a terrible idea. I already warned you.”
Flexing my free hand, I shove it into my pocket, fingers curling around my talisman, grounding myself in its weight. Because he’s right, it is a terrible idea. If I push her now, I might break her. I could wait, should wait. Try again in a week when the only thing holding her together isn't me.
But I don’t have time to wait. I need to be back at the Citadel by morning, and if I leave without forcing this forward, the bond could cool. Ahria will just retreat more and Lyra will convince herself the rejection was final.
Maybe I’m just trading more of her trust for a chance she will bond—and I hate myself for it. But this connection needs movement, Ahria needs to see who Lyra really is.
“So anyway, are you ready?” I rub the back of my neck, swallowing the guilt and handing her a smile.
