Dexmon caught fragnts of mindlinks mid-eting and was on his feet before anyone finished speaking.
"Serena."
The word tore out of him, rough and unguarded.
Aegon:What is mate doing. Why is she gold. What is happening.
Aegon slamd against his skin, frantic to break free, as Dexmon sprinted for the training grounds at alpha speed. Stone blurred beneath his feet.
Aegon:Get her now.
Dexmon didn’t answer.
He skidded into the clearing and saw Gavriel.
Again.
Their gazes locked across the chaos. No words passed between them, but sothing sharp flickered in the air.
Possession.
Challenge.
Dexmon spoke first, his voice cutting clean through the noise, eyes never leaving Gavriel.
"Riders to high formation! Be ready to intervene."
One rider laughed and called back, easy and unbothered. "I don’t think she needs it."
Dexmon and Gavriel both looked up.
Velkaris tore past in a blur of gold and shadow, and every dragon on the field roared in response.
Serena’s eyes still burned with gold light. Power humd around her, her hair lifting as if the air itself bent to her presence.
Velkaris banked hard, carving a wide arc over the field.
"Velkaris is such a little show off," Gavriel muttered, a rare smile tugging at his mouth.
Another rider grinned. "He’s not the only one."
Laughter rippled through the ranks.
Dexmon’s jaw tightened. What was that supposed to an?
Velkaris gave one final, triumphant roar and dropped back toward the center of the field, landing with the weight of a god’s heartbeat.
Serena stepped down Velkaris’s bowed head as if it were a set of stone stairs. Not a dragon head.
Then sothing impossible happened.
Every dragon bowed, heads lowering in perfect unison.
Gasps rippled through the field.
Soone dropped a sword. No one moved to pick it up.
Dragons bowed to one authority alone.
The Commander of the Draken Forces.
But that was Dexmon.
Velkaris lifted his head and looked at Serena with unmistakable affection. His gold eyes softened, bright and pleased in a way none of them had ever seen before. He nudged her gently, possessive and proud, as if she were sothing precious. As if he had been waiting for her.
And that was the problem.
Because Velkaris already had a rider.
Dexmon.
Velkaris was his. His bond. One of only three true bonded pairs in Drakenfell.
Yet his dragon had not even looked at him.
There was only one reason Velkaris would ever allow another rider. And it shattered every rule Dexmon had ever lived by.
But he already had a princess he was bound to in expectation. A chosen mate. A future decided and waiting within these very walls.
Serena had not even glanced in his direction. Maybe that was a good thing, because he was not sure what his face would give away.
Rage tangled with desire. Possessiveness bled into frustration. Threat simred with dominance.
All of it was unfocused and restless, with no clear target to land on.
King Tiberon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched his son.
"Serena," Elara said, moving to her at once. "You are back now. You are safe."
Her voice was gentle, deliberately loud, pitched for every ear on the field. As if Serena needed protection.
Velkaris nudged Serena’s arm with his head. She blinked slowly and stared down at her glowing hand, dazed. The light pulsed faintly beneath her skin.
She swayed.
Elara stepped in without a word, lifting the hood of Serena’s cloak and settling it firmly over her head.
"You are glowing," she murmured, ant only for Serena.
The field was silent enough that everyone heard.
Serena lowered her gaze, the glow dimming but not vanishing.
"Thank you for the honor of this display," Elara said smoothly, calm authority wrapped in courtesy. "Please excuse us."
She turned, pretending not to notice the stunned faces, and grabbed Serena’s arm. Not gently. She yanked hard, forcing Serena to face the castle and away from the riders still staring.
Serena’s legs wouldn’t move for a heartbeat.
"Serena. Walk. Now," Elara hissed through gritted teeth.
The world felt muffled. The crowd blurred together. Her thoughts lagged a step behind her body.
Elara’s words sounded distant, like they were underwater. But Serena recognized that tone.
Alarm bells rang, even if the fog refused to lift.
She pushed herself forward, careful not to stumble.
Alaric, who had gone utterly still, shook himself and moved at once.
"This way," he said quietly, ant only for them. But everyone heard.
He led them, posture composed but unmistakably protective.
Dozens of eyes tracked their every step.
None missed the glow bleeding through the edges of Serena’s cloak, nor the way Elara and Alaric positioned themselves deliberately, shielding her from view.
✦✦✦
On the eastern terrace, Agnes Viremont stood rigid.
Her fingers tightened on the railing until her knuckles went white.
Behind her, a door opened.
She didn’t turn around. "What. Is. She."
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