Chapter 1
Chapter One
I stare at my father across a worn wooden table in the modest kitchen of a safehouse in Solari and chew the honeyed roll he placed on my plate. Damn, that's good. Really good.
Maybe it's just that I haven't eaten in three days, since I unleashed all five elements simultaneously and nearly burned myself alive from the inside out. It would have killed me if it hadn't been for Axel.
This might go down as the most surreal experience of my life. My father is alive. Dark Riders I'd thought were just Soraxis's distant threat attacked Dragonmoor. My father is alive. Sera—my closest friend—was a traitor all along. My father is alive. I didn't die. My father. Is. Alive.
"The rolls are good, right?" he asks, reaching for one himself. His hands are scarred—fighter's hands, not the soft academic hands I'd imagined from the single photograph I'd seen. "They remind me of the ones your mother used to make when we were stationed in the eastern territories. Do you remember?"
I stare and chew.
He's just so... real. And yet nothing like I'd imagined. There are deep lines around his eyes—eyes the same shade of brown as mine. But that smile? Tentative and hopeful and breaking at the edges? It's trying so hard to bridge eighteen years of absence.
And his one condition being that I eat something before he explains where he's been? It's such a parent move that I almost want to laugh. Or cry. I'm not sure which.
'The human is right,' Urrodon says. “You need to eat. And then you need to find me. I have been patient, but my patience has limits.”
“Where are you?”
“In the valley behind this pathetic human dwelling.”
I almost smile at that.
"You've barely said a word, you know," my father says, tilting his head in a painfully familiar gesture—I do the same thing when I'm trying to solve a problem. "It's... unsettling."
"Watching me eat is unsettling," I counter.
"And?" He shrugs. "Three days ago, I thought I'd lost you before I ever got the chance to know you." He takes a bite. "Consider the meal a very late Nineteenth birthday present. Along with, you know, not dying."
That’s right. I had been too busy with the fallout that I forgot about my birthday.
"Thank you." The words feel inadequate. Thank you for the roll. Thank you for whatever healing magic kept me alive. Thank you for existing when I thought you were dead.
Sage appears in the doorway, dressed in his usual black, though his shirt is rumpled and his hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. The shadows under his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Commander Sterling,” he says, offering my father a folded piece of paper. “This just came from Dragonmoor. The rider will wait until evening if you want to send a reply.” He glances at me. I should say something. I should ask if he’s all right, or tell him I’m sorry, or find some way to make the silence between us less unbearable. Sage hasn’t spoken to me since his sister died—since the battle at Dragonmoor—and I still don’t know how to make any of it right. He turns and leaves.
And there it is again. Dragonmoor. The name lands heavier now, tangled with Sage’s hollow eyes and everything neither of us has been brave enough to say. A spike of anxiety drives through my chest. The wards are broken. Sera betrayed us. How many died in the attack?
Questions pile up faster than I can voice them. "Wait. Commander? You're a commander?" I look at my father.
"I command the eastern resistance forces." He scans the letter, and his expression darkens. "Fuck."
I've never heard my father curse before. Then again, I've never heard my father do anything before.
"The Council wants to meet," he says, shoving the letter into his pocket. "They're calling an emergency session to discuss what happened at Dragonmoor." He stands, the chair scraping against the floor. "Finish your breakfast. I'll be back in an hour, and then we'll talk."
"But—"
"One hour, Aeris. I've waited nineteen years. I can wait one more hour."
Without waiting for me to respond, he strides out of the kitchen.
I stare at the space across from me. I swallow the remaining biscuit and lift my chin, determined not to sit and wait on my father.
I push up from the table and head after him, out of the kitchen and down the long hall. He must have been in a hurry, because I can’t see him anywhere.
The carpet muffles my footsteps along the wide, high-arched hallway as I come to— Whoa. The sweeping, polished double staircases rise four floors above me.
I gawk at the architecture of the enormous space. The morning light streams in from dozens of small windows. There's no perspective. No way to see the full picture from where I'm standing. Just like everything else right now.
Two guards watch every step I take but make no move to stop me. At least that means I’m not a prisoner.
I continue to stride through the main hall of the house, and voices drift from somewhere deeper in the house. I pause outside a partially open door. Through the gap, I can see a long table surrounded by chairs.
"—can't keep her here indefinitely," someone is saying. A woman says from the far end of the table. She leans back in her chair. "Dragonmoor is compromised. The wards are down. Soraxis knows exactly where to find us now."
Five people sit along one side, all dressed in the dark leathers of dragon riders. My father paces in front of them, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
And leaning against the far wall is Axel.
He looks good, even with the shadows under his storm-grey eyes from lack of sleep. The sharp angles of his face, the scar that cuts through his left eyebrow, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead—all of it adds up to make him physically devastating to me.
My traitorous heart clenches.
Because Axel may be gorgeous, and powerful, and terrifyingly lethal—which shouldn’t be the turn-on it is—but I can’t trust him to tell me the truth about anything that matters. He knew my father was alive. He knew, and he said nothing while I grieved a man I thought was dead. While I ached for answers about who I was and where I came from.
He kept that from me.
Just like he kept his suspicions about Sera from me.
And it hurts. God, it hurts, because I’m pathetically in love with him.
"Which is why we need to decide our next move carefully. Sending the students back could be a death sentence. But keeping them here makes them targets.” The woman continues.
“Someone needs to state the obvious," an older man with a scarred face says from the end of the table.
“And what is the obvious thing you need to state, Major Tom?” Axel asks, his tone completely, utterly bored.
"We can't protect them all. Not with our forces spread as thin as they are."
"We're not abandoning students," a petite woman with dark skin snaps back. "That's not who we are."
"I'm not suggesting we abandon them, Lyra," Scarface replies. "I'm suggesting we make hard choices. Send most of them back to Dragonmoor with a cover story. Keep only the ones who are essential."
Essential. The word makes my stomach turn.
"And who decides who's essential?" my father asks. "Who decides which students are worth protecting and which ones we throw back into danger?"
"The ones who can fight," Tom says. "The ones who have combat experience. The ones who survived the attack."
"You're talking about children," Lyra says, her voice rising. "First-years who've barely finished their training."
"I'm talking about dragon riders," he counters. "Age doesn't matter when Soraxis's forces are at our gates. We don't have gates anymore. The wards are gone. Dragonmoor is exposed."
My father stops pacing. "We need to rebuild the wards. That's the priority."
"With what?" Lyra demands. "The ward stones were shattered in the attack. It would take months to craft new ones, and we don't have a Keeper to—" She stops, her gaze cutting to Axel.
Oh.
They're talking about me.
Axel steps around the arm of the massive chair facing them and settles into it, stretching his long legs and resting his arms on the velvet armrests—like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
The quiet that falls on the room is telling. Axel commands as much respect from this council as he does at Dragonmoor. I don’t recognize any of the other riders besides my father, but I’d bet Axel is the most powerful in the room, given their silence.
"She's not ready," Axel says. "She nearly died three days ago. Asking her to rebuild wards that took a dozen Keepers to create in the first place is suicide."
"We're not asking her to do it alone," my father says. "But she's the only Keeper we have. The only one who can access all five elements."
"She's also Seraphina's daughter," a woman I hadn't noticed before says. "How do we know she won't follow in her mother's footsteps? Seraphina was corrupted by Soraxis. She was his spy."
"That's enough, Mira," my father says, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet.
"Is it?" Mira leans forward. "Seraphina betrayed us all. She fed information to Soraxis for years before she defected. And now her daughter shows up with the same red lightning, the same power signature, and we're supposed to trust her?"
"She fought against Soraxis's forces," Axel says, and there's an edge to his voice I've never heard before. Pure, cold fury. "She nearly died protecting her friends. She's nothing like—"
"She's exactly like her mother," Mira interrupts. "Powerful. Dangerous. And potentially compromised."
‘Do not hide,’ Urrodon says. ‘They are cowards debating whether you are worth saving.’
I push the door open and step inside.
Every head turns toward me.
"She is standing right here," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "So stop talking about me and try talking to me."
My father's eyes widen. Axel straightens, something that might be pride flashing across his face.
"What do you want from me?" I ask, looking at each of them in turn. "Want me to prove I'm not corrupted? I've been doing that since the day I arrived at Dragonmoor. Want me to risk my life fighting Soraxis? Done. I nearly died in that forest. Want me to keep secrets and follow orders without question?" I look at Axel. "I've been doing that too. And look where it got us."
"You were eavesdropping," Mira says, her tone accusatory.
"You left the door open," I counter. "If you wanted privacy, you should have closed it."
Lyra makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh.
"The girl has a point," Scarface says, leaning back in his chair.
"She's not a girl," Axel says. "She's a dragon rider. She's bonded to one of the oldest war dragons in existence. And she's a Keeper—the first one in a generation." He pushes off the wall and moves to stand beside me. Not in front of me. Beside me. "She deserves to be part of this conversation, not the subject of it."
"She's a security risk," Mira insists. "Sera was her closest friend. How do we know the girl—the rider—wasn't compromised as well?"
"Because I'm the one who killed her," I say. "Sera betrayed me. She used our friendship to get close, to learn our defenses, to break the wards from the inside. And when I refused to join Soraxis, she tried to murder me. So no, I'm not compromised. I'm pissed off."
The room is silent.
My father moves to stand on my other side. "My daughter fought at Dragonmoor. She survived an attack that killed dozens of riders. She's bonded to Urrodon, who has vouched for her integrity. And she's my child." His voice breaks slightly on the last word. "I've spent nineteen years searching for her. I'm not going to let you treat her like a threat."
"Daniel—" Mira starts.
"Commander Sterling," he corrects. "And this discussion is over. Aeris stays. She trains. And when she's ready—when she decides she's ready—we'll discuss the wards. Not before."
"The Council has the authority to—"
"The Council can vote," my father interrupts.
Mira's face flushes with anger, but she says nothing.
"Then we're done here," my father says. "Lyra, coordinate with the Dragonmoor survivors. Find out who wants to return and who wants to stay and fight. Marcus—Scarface—work with the scouts to map Soraxis's troop movements. We need to know if he's planning another attack."
The Council members stand, filing out of the room one by one. Mira is the last to leave, and she pauses in the doorway to look back at me.
"Your mother was my friend once," she says quietly. "Before Soraxis got to her. I hope you're stronger than she was."
Then she's gone.
I stand there, my heart pounding, my hands shaking with adrenaline.
"You did well," Axel says.
"I'm terrified," I admit.
My father turns to face me fully, and I see tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Aeris. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to grow up thinking I was dead. I'm sorry for all of it."
"Why? Why did you let me think you were dead? Why didn't you come for us?"
"Because Soraxis was hunting you," he says. "Your mother and I made a choice. She would take you to Earth and hide you with a concealment ward. I would stay here and fight, drawing Soraxis's attention away from you both. We thought..." He swallows hard. "We thought if he believed you were dead, he'd stop looking."
"But he didn't stop."
"No. He didn't." My father reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, he rests his hand on my shoulder. "Your mother was the bravest person I've ever known. She gave up everything—her home, her dragon, her life here—to keep you safe. And it worked. For eighteen years, it worked."
Until it didn't.
“We’ll head up to the valley,” Axel says. “Meet us when you’re done.”
“I’ll go with you now.” This is the last place I want to be left behind.
“Stay and talk to your father,” Axel says. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance.”
My father, whom I’ve missed for nineteen years without even knowing I was missing him. My father, who fought a war to keep me safe. My father, whom I’ve only just found.
“Go,” Axel urges. “We won’t leave without you.” He gives me a long look that makes my traitorous heart clench, and then he walks away.
Which leaves me to turn toward my father, armed with nineteen years of questions.
