Page 173 of The Fallen Fae King

I can use that.

“Why aren’t you wearing an army uniform?” I blurt.

Wren pulls back, glaring.

Here comes the scolding.

Having my arse kicked by my rival feels familiar enough to make my shoulders relax.

If Aurelius believes that he can hurt my feelings, then he needs to understand that I have grown up with Wren.

“I should have expected that someone who, if our spies are correct, has been prepared to train as both courtesan and assassin for our enemies would ask me that,” Wren admonishes. I wince. “But I have principles. A Druid would never pollute their magical core by fighting for⁠—”

“He failed the physical trials in the first week,” Elatha dryly cuts in.

Wren blushes, dropping his head and avoiding my gaze.

“Ela,” Bai hisses, as if she has let out a secret that they had agreed to keep.

My expression gentles. “Who’d want to fight for these bloody dragons anyway, right? They wouldn’t appreciate your abilities like I did. And you’ll soon be my righthand fae again like you should be.”

Wren’s head snaps up like he expected me to mock him. “I shall serve you until my death.”

“Let’s keep you alive, aye?”

“That’s what Iggy says,” Bai pipes up.

I turn to stare at him. “Iggy? Has he actually said you can call him that? Isn’t he your instructor?”

“He’s different to the other dragons.” Bai tips up his chin. “He stopped the other instructor from beating me when I played a prank by stuffing feathers into his helmet. You should have seen his silly face when they fell all over him when he put it on! They all got stuck in his hair and beard. Iggy was so angry when that instructor tried to drag me to the whipping post. He ordered all the whips to be burned right there in this big bonfire. I wrote a song about it.”

Of course he did.

“Good on Iggy. I’ll maybe even let him win the next round of cards that we play.” My heart is in my throat.

Bai was almost whipped like I had been.

I must get them out of here.

“Also, he let me sing him the song,” Bai says proudly. I frown. Is he finding another hero to worship? I don’t know how to feel about that. “He asked me if I was a bard and what instruments I played. I told him how sad I was that the mean dragons smashed my instruments when they took me prisoner. Then a week later, he gave me this…”

He pulls aside his cloak.

I lean down, peering at the gleaming bone whistle that hangs from his belt by a leather chord.

I smile at his glowing happiness. “What a good dragon.”

Wren growls.

He grabs me by the arm and drags me backwards toward the cots. He hurls me onto my back next to Elatha.

Then he leans down over me, caging me. “There is no such thing as a good dragon, Thorn. Just because they treat you kindly as a pet, rather than with brutality, doesn’t make them good. A prisoner is a prisoner, whether the cage is made of gold or iron. You have been here too long. Have you forgotten what you owe your people?”

My breathing is too fast.

Elatha twists onto her back and snakes her arm around my middle.

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” I snarl.