Page 60 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

“What happened?” I asked now, my voice rough.

“Nothing,” Riven said, her lips quirking into that crooked smile of hers. “Zander’s calling a meeting. He needs you.”

“He’s better?” My heart kicked.

She smirked. “Looks the same. Sexy and annoying.”

A laugh escaped me despite the heaviness in my chest. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pulling on my clothes with a speed I didn’t quite have the energy for. Riven waited, tapping the hilt of her sword against her thigh, before we headed out together.

The cool morning air hit my face as we stepped from the barracks. The Ascension Grounds were already alive with movement—the squads arrayed behind their banners, armor glinting under the gray light. Kaelith and the other dragons stood watch behind them, their eyes alert, tails swaying with restrained anticipation.

And there was Zander, standing at the podium, posture straight despite the strain I knew still pulled at him. His gaze found me instantly, something unreadable passing between us. With a subtle motion of his hand, he beckoned me forward.

I didn’t hesitate. I left Riven’s side, the crunch of my boots against the packed earth loud in the silence, and climbed the steps until I stood beside him, the curiosity of every squad member surrounding me.

Zander’s smile was brief, more a flicker of reassurance meant for me than the crowd gathered before us. His hand tightened around the podium as his voice carried, steady and unyielding.

“Last night, Perin Cochne attempted to assassinate Ashlyn,” he said, his gaze sweeping the assembly like a blade across a whetstone. “She is Kaelith’s rider and a member of Fourth Guild. We do not kill our own. Since he was… misled into believing that Severeth is the true queen of Warriath, I have asked the dragons to connect with you.”

The moment his words settled, I felt Kaelith slip into my mind—not with the fierce presence she used in battle, but quiet, watchful, the way a parent might watch over a child sleeping. Across the grounds, I saw riders shift, eyes flickering in confusion as their own dragons entered their thoughts. All except Thrall Squad—they stood motionless, expressions unreadable, as if they’d known this was coming.

Zander gripped the podium tighter. “Fourth Guild—does any rider here wish the Blood Fae to be victorious in this war?”

Silence. Not the heavy, uncertain kind, but the silence of a challenge unmet.

Siergen’s voice slid into my mind, and Zander’s—rich and resonant. There are none who follow the Blood Fae.

Zander inclined his head. “Does anyone here wish Ashlyn dead?”

The pause was shorter this time, but it didn’t last.

Siergen’s presence withdrew from my thoughts before he moved outward, threading through the gathered riders. Then he stopped, his head lowering before two members of Iron Fang.

These two despise her and you, Zander, his voice growled in every mind present. They believe Ashe killed Perin and wish her dead.

Zander didn’t hesitate. He stepped away from the podium, boots striking the stone platform hard as he crossed the grounds to stand beside Siergen. His voice dropped to something lethal. “Perin was a traitor.”

The Iron Fang riders shifted uneasily, glancing between Zander and the crimson bulk of their own dragon. “How can you command all the dragons?” one spat.

The answer came not from Zander, but from Siergen himself. He moved away from the squads, his steps slow and deliberate until he stood alone in the open space before the Yarrow Gardens. His voice thundered in every mind—rider and dragon alike.

I chose him as your leader. I raised him when his own father turned his back.

The ripple of shock through the crowd was almost visible—gasps, stiffening postures, wide eyes. Even seasoned riders looked unsettled by hearing the Courier dragon’s voice directly in their thoughts.

Only Dorian didn’t look surprised. He stood with Crownwatch, his expression shadowed, mouth tight. He didn’t look at Zander—he looked at the ground, as though the weight of a father’s failure were his fault.

Then, before anyone could speak, Siergen’s scales began to shift—gold overtaking red like sunlight spilling over molten metal. The air vibrated with the sound of bones and sinew reshaping, the ripple of magic heavy enough to taste. And then he was no longer the familiar crimson Courier…but the massive, awe-inspiring form of the Unifier himself.

The riders gasped as one; the sound swallowed by the deep, rumbling growl that rolled from his chest—directed solely at the two Iron Fang riders who dared question him.

Siergen’s golden form loomed over the assembly, his voice a rolling thunder in every mind. Does any rider here question my choice?

The two Iron Fang members exchanged a single glance before dropping to their knees, heads bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the ground. “Never,” one said, voice shaking. “We would never dishonor our dragons…or you.”

That is exactly what you did, Siergen rumbled, the sound reverberating in my bones, when you helped Perin with his schemes. But you did not knowingly betray the guild, so you will be allowed the chance to prove you are worthy of the dragons who chose you. Let me be clear— His growl deepened, curling through the air like a warning bell. If anyone here does not give their all in this war, their dragons will cut the bond and choose another.

Both riders nodded quickly, the reality of his words sinking deep, before Siergen turned from them, moving toward the gathered dragons with slow steps.