Page 345 of Awakened

He looks every inch the battle-ready Commander he was born to be.

Knowing he’s got my back gives me the final boost of strength I needed to turn and face my destiny.

It’s overwhelming to see the girl I’ve spent the last twenty-two years watching from afar now less than three yards away. She looks different from the last time I saw her, three days ago—before she vanished, going somewhere not even the scrying chamber could locate her.

She has an aura of confidence that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, and to anyone else she probably just looks like a normal twenty-ish human female. But for someone who’s watched her nearly starve to death while chained to the walls of her father’s basement for almost a week, the difference is stark.

It’s there—in the slight lift of her chin. The relaxed, ready way she stands, hands loose at her sides. The way her shoulders lack tension. She no longer looks like she’s bracing herself for a blow. No longer looks like she’s afraid she’s taking up too much space in this world, simply because she dared wake up with a beating heart and functioning lungs.

Of course, part of that could be the myth at her side, long silver tail coiled loosely around Idril’s leg, striking sapphire eyes with vertical slits narrowed on me in obvious warning.

I shake my head at the impossibility of it all and can’t help but throw back my head and bark out an incredulous laugh.

“Is something funny?” One of her Mates steps forward like he’s preparing to square up on me for laughing. I can tell by the military haircut and piercing black eyes—this is Caelan.

One of the good ones.

“Oh no. Not funny per se,” I tell him. “More… shocking. Or… perhaps, unforeseen. Astonishing? No, that’s not right either⁠—”

“What are you talking about?” Caelan forces each word through clenched teeth. Fates… I think he wants to hit me. What’s got him so riled up tonight? I’m the one who just faced down a dragon, for Fate’s sake!

I throw out my hand, gesturing toward the fire-breathing myth poised at Idril’s side, waiting for a reason to attack. A shiver runs down my spine, and I shudder dramatically, taking a step back for good measure.

I forgot how absolutely terrifying the winged beasts were. That’s one thing that fantasy show got right, at least. Dragons Bond to one person and one person only. That relationship is based on mutual respect and a soul-deep connection. Dragons are not pets. They are not pretty, scaled birds you can ride on their backs like tamed horses.

They are voracious. Terrifying. Fierce, ancient, and incredibly intelligent. Not only that—they’re cunning. Entire battles have been won with a single dragon and its rider. Entire enemy contingents—wiped out in the course of an afternoon. Hunted like prey, smoked out of hiding and burnt alive.

One singular creature is impervious to the mental tricks of Veylen dark magic. Their minds cannot be accessed. Their memories cannot be altered. Their dreams cannot be seen. Their futures remain unknown.

Dragons.

For that reason, they were one of our biggest assets in the war.

Well, that and the whole fire-breathing, aerial scouting, flying ten times faster than the fastest horse, stupidly long-lived and impossibly loyal to their rider things.

Oh. They’re also fucking huge.

“Words, red,” the wolven snarls from behind Idril when I take too long to answer.

“Red?”

I frown. Then it clicks, and a grin splits my face in two.

“Oh, because of my hair! Oh my gosh, a nickname already? This is amazing! Well, goodness, now I need to come up with one for you.”

I start to pace, tapping a finger on my chin as I think out loud. “You know, I really should take the time to come up with something really splendid. You caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting nicknames for at least another few weeks. I really thought I’d have a chance to get to know you a bit better.”

I spin, narrowing my eyes at the wolven. “Quite honestly, I do love the nickname, truly. But don’t you think it’s a little… oh, I don’t know… on the nose? I mean… yes, of course I have red hair. But there are so many more interesting things about me. So while I’m flattered—truly, it’s so delightful to be welcomed with open arms—let’s wait for a bit before making Red a permanent thing, okay? We can think of it like a trial run.”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Soren hisses at Caelan, who shrugs.

“Do you think he’s someone’s family member? Maybe he escaped from somewhere?”

I laugh at Vaelenor’s joke at first, then quickly remember that we hate him and stop laughing abruptly. I glance up and pin him with my most furious glare.

“You are quite witty, Vaelenor,” I tell him. “That’s not a compliment. I’m simply stating facts. So forgive me if your gift for comedy gets the better of me at first. I would like to formally state for the record that any smiles, giggles, chuckles, snorts, chortles, cackles, titters, sniggers, or guffaws are not a wordless endorsement or approval of your character.”

I turn to Daxen, clasping my hands behind my back and standing straighter.