They’re gone. All of them.
Frowning, I scan the table, trying to figure out how that’s even possible when my focus lands on Ahria. She’s perched right in the centre, her tiny paws braced wide and her stomach noticeably rounder than before.
My eyes widen as I watch the last piece of meat disappear between her teeth before she swallows with visible effort, licks the grease from her jaw, and lets out a tiny, satisfied puff of smoke.
All of them? She ate all of them? Seriously, there must have been six, how does she even fit them inside?—
“Yeah, you’ve got to be quick.”
The voice makes me jump, and I look up to find a tall blonde recruit sliding his tray in beside Neeve. Once he settles, she leans over, and he presses a kiss to her cheek before straightening and turning back to me.
“It’s pretty impressive—they’re like bottomless pits.” He smiles, shaking his head as he plucks a few sausages from his own plate and sets them down on the table beside it. A second later, a small brown dragon slips from his pocket and immediately starts to swallow them whole. My mouth hangs open while I watch.
“Oh, Lyra,” Neeve cuts in, “this is my fiancé, Darren.”
Lifting my attention from the dragons, I reach for his hand—but Ahria darts in, her wings tucked and snatching a sausage straight from the brown dragon before launching back into the air.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry.” I apologise as the brown dragon lets out a tiny roar and shoots after her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Darren laughs, taking my hand. “Nex can hold her own.”
His grip is warm, rough against mine, and when I look at him properly, my breath catches because for one strange heartbeat, something about him feels so familiar. Not fully the same. His skin is more weather-worn, more tanned, and a rough beard shadows his jaw, making him look older, broader. But his eyes are soft and blue, and when his blond hair catches the light just enough, for a second, it’s not Darren I’m looking at.
It’s Rowan.
Grief punches clean through me and I don't even realise I'm still holding his hand, still staring until Darren coughs.
“So, um… when did you bond?” I mumble awkwardly, dropping his hand quickly and turning my focus to the empty plate in front of me.
“A few years ago now,” Darren replies, splitting his bread open, sliding a sausage inside, and taking a large bite.
“And you?” I look over at Neeve and Darren chokes.
“No. I’m not bonded,” she responds, her lips pulling thin. “Darren won’t let me.”
“It’s not that I won’t let you,” he interrupts, swallowing. “I simply don’twantyou to.”
“Same thing.” She angles away from him. “I don’t see why you’re so worried. I’ve already been having dreams.”
“Oh—me too!” The words slip out, and instantly I wish I could take them back when Darren’s head whips in my direction, jaw flexing.
“See?” Neeve huffs, gesturing at me. “Lyra’s been having dreams! It’s not just me, it must be a sign.”
“Yes, but Ahria is here,” Darren bites out, frustration sharpening his voice. “Lyra’s chances of bonding at the Blood Moon Ceremony are much higher. We don’t even know what your dreams mean.” He shakes his head. “The dragon population is small. Bonding is so rare, Neeve.”
Rolling her eyes at him, she crosses her arms. “You did it. And I mean—what’s the worst that could happen?”
Darren lets out a quiet breath, then reaches up, tipping her chin toward him and pressing a brief kiss to her lips. She tries to protest, but it falters against the touch.
“If you don't bond, the dragons will burn you alive.” His thumb brushes her jaw. “And I would rather marry someone who isn't dead.”
The bread slips from my fingers, hitting the table. “Sorry—they what?!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Darren drops his hand from Neeve, angling toward me—but before he can answer, a tall male recruit comes up behind him and grips his shoulder.
“Hey, Daz—didn’t you hear? They’ve moved the census up.” His voice catches slightly.
