Page 52 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

He nodded once, no hesitation, just the reality of understanding, and stepped closer. His hand closed around mine, rough and warm despite the chill rolling over the battlefield.

I closed my eyes and reached for our bond, not the thin, tenuous tether of dragon-mates, but the deeper, unshakable one forged in blood and choice. It was there, waiting, like a locked door I’d always known existed but never dared open.

The moment I turned the key, it slammed into me.

Zander’s magic surged forward—Dark Fire, molten and heavy, laced with an undertow of shadow so deep it pulled at the edges of my mind. It coiled around me in hot, living streams, seeking my storm magic as if it had always known where it belonged.

I felt the collision when they met, fire and lightning snapping together, sparking wildly. The attraction was undeniable, each force feeding the other, building higher and higher until my knees buckled.

Zander went pale, the fine muscles in his jaw tight, but he remained upright, his hand tightening on mine as if daring me to let go.

My body shook, every muscle straining as the power filled me—more than Kaelith had ever given at once. I felt like a fragile container brimming to the top, liquid magic sloshing against the edges, desperate to spill over.

The storm inside me roared, hungry, waiting for me to unleash it.

The others instinctively stepped back, the air around me crackling with an electric hiss.

“Ashe,” Riven said slowly, her tone halfway between awe and alarm, “your eyes are glowing like fireflies in the night.”

Cordelle’s gaze dropped to my hand locked in Zander’s. “So are her veins,” he murmured, voice tight. “If she doesn’t release it soon, she won’t survive.”

“Not yet,” I ground out, the words vibrating in my throat from the magic pressing against it. “We have to make sure she doesn’t do it again.”

The magic inside me was a writhing storm, snapping and twisting like a living thing desperate to break free. I forced my will around it, bending its flow, redirecting it in ways that made my entire body shudder. The heat was unbearable, lightning dancing beneath my skin, every nerve ending screaming in protest.

I knew I was standing on the precipice of death; one wrong breath, one moment of weakness, and the magic would consume me from the inside out. Still, I didn’t let go. Not until my vision warped and fractured, the edges of the world bleeding away in streaks of white-blue, and my limbs felt like they were being wrenched apart at the joints.

The pain ripped a scream from me, raw and unrestrained, and the air trembled with its echo.

Chapter

Nineteen

It felt like my very bones were on fire, every inch of me searing from the inside out. Light blared from my eyes—blinding, unrelenting—until I couldn’t see anything but the white-hot glow that swallowed the world.

The power coiled tighter, wrapping me in a cocoon of light so dense I could barely breathe. Somewhere beyond it, I heard Zander’s voice break, Ashe! Raw, desperate, before the storm inside me finally tore free.

I let it go.

The Light Storm ripped out of me with the force of a detonation, an unbridled explosion of lightning and fire that shattered the air. It hurled the others back in violent arcs, their bodies thrown like leaves in a gale. The backlash slammed me to the ground, knocking every bit of breath from my lungs as my magic roared away from me.

It rose high, a swirling vortex of white-blue lightning threaded with veins of Dark Fire, writhing like a living thing. Then it tilted, almost with purpose, and streaked across the battlefield—headed straight for the dragons locked in combat above.

Fear gripped my chest so tightly it hurt. I’d unleashed something I couldn’t call back, and all I could think was—Gods, what if I’ve just doomed the rest of our riders?

The Light Storm streaked higher, cutting through the fray, and for one agonizing heartbeat I thought it was going to tear straight through a red Swordtail and its rider from Warborn.

But when it reached them… nothing. The light passed over the pair as gently as sunlight on a warm spring morning, glinting harmlessly off scarlet scales before rushing past. My breath caught—maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t destroy everything in its path.

Then it hit the black dragon the Swordtail had been fighting.

The beast’s scream was like metal tearing apart. Smoke poured from its scales as if something deep inside it was burning alive. The stench of scorched flesh and magic hit the air, heavy and choking. It thrashed violently, snapping at the air, and its rider—one of the Blood Fae—was thrown from the saddle, tumbling headlong toward the ground.

The fae’s scream cut off with a sickening thud, but the dragon’s roar didn’t carry rage—it carried something else entirely.

Relief.

It circled once, almost unsteadily, before gliding to the ground. I swore I saw the black fade from its scales, the darkness bleeding away until green shimmered beneath the smoke. Then its great head lowered, and with a final, rattling exhale, it collapsed. Its body stilled, and the battlefield seemed quieter for a moment, as if the world had just witnessed something far greater than a single kill.