Page 33 of Fallen Nocturne

I steal glances at Landon as we walk, trying to reconcile his quiet gentleness with the commanding presence from my dream. The one who pinned me against a wall and made me beg for forgiveness.

Is it really the same person?

Heat blooms in my cheeks again and I look away quickly when he glances over. I draw a slow breath and force my thoughts away from the dream. Landon clearly has no memory of it, and searching his face for answers will not make him remember. Whatever happened between us last night will have to remain unanswered for now.

I push the ruined palace and the masked fae to the back of my mind. None of it belongs here. Coral needs me. She deserves my full attention, not a rider distracted by dreams.

Tarian circles Coral with his arms crossed. The wyvern trainer is an older fae, with dark hair pulled back from his face and faint lines around his eyes. Scars mark his hands, earned from centuries of handling wyverns.

“She ignores commands, breaks formation and treats every lesson like play.” His gaze follows Coral as she wanders away for the third time. “She has no discipline whatsoever. A wyvern her age should hold position. She should respond to commands. Look at her.”

Coral has her nose wedged into a crack between two stones, investigating something invisible.

“She’s still young,” I say.

“I have trained wyverns for three centuries.” Tarian turns his stern gaze on me. “Young is not an excuse. It means now is exactly the time to correct her, with firm handling and consistency. Every time she breaks position, every time she ignores a command. Let it go now and you will fight it for the next hundred years.”

Coral extracts a pebble from the crack and eats it.

Tarian says nothing. His eye twitches.

My wyvern has indeed abandoned her position to investigate a patch of wildflowers growing through the training-ground stones. She noses through them delicately, for all her bulk. A butterfly lands on her snout and she goes cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“Coral,” I call gently. “Come back, sweetling.”

She looks up at me, one flower dangling from her mouth and makes a pleased rumbling sound deep in her throat.

“We need to train now.” I take a step toward her. She bolts in the opposite direction.

Landon moves to intercept but Coral darts past him. She’s surprisingly nimble for something her size. I chase after her, my boots slipping on the dew-wet grass. Her chirps sound almost like laughter. She thinks this is a game.

The training ground is larger than I first thought, extending past the main plateau into a series of terraced levels. Coral leads me on a merry chase through all of them, her pale scales flashing in the sunlight. The morning dew soaks through my boots as I run.

“Coral, please,” I say, trying to sound stern. It comes out more like pleading.

She slows to inspect a brightly colored stone. I lunge. She scampers away at the last second and I stumble. Landon appears at my side, offering his hand. I take it, and he pulls me upright.

His grip is warm and steady, offering the same gentle comfort as before. There is no spark racing beneath my skin. His touch feels nothing like that of the person who ravaged me on an altar last night.

My chest tightens.

“She’s fast,” he observes, releasing my hand to brush dirt from my sleeve.

We both look at Coral. She has found a puddle and is splashing in it with delight. Muddy water sprays everywhere, coating her belly and legs in dark streaks. She looks absolutely delighted with herself.

The keeper shakes his head. “This won’t do. She needs firm correction.”

He reaches for his belt and pulls out a riding crop, the leather worn smooth from use.

My blood runs cold. “Wait—”

“Wyvern scales are hard as steel. She won’t feel a thing,” Tarian assures me.

I look to Landon, waiting for him to say something. Surely he’ll object. Surely he won’t—

But Landon’s hand moves to his own belt, where an identical crop hangs. My heart sinks.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Landon says calmly. “Rhianelle, wyvern scales are incredibly thick. The crop doesn’t hurt them. It’s just a tool for communication.”