Wren never expected her life to change the moment she set foot in the Riders Quadrant at Basgiath War College. But everything shifted when she met Liam Mairi. Loving him was effortless, bright, and full of promise. Losing him was shattering.
His dea...
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The air in the sparring gym crackled like static, endorphins buzzing in every chest, feet stamping, breath misting in short white bursts. Torchlight skittered over polished wood and sweating shoulders; the smell of leather and dragon musk braided with the metallic tang of adrenaline. Everywhere I looked someone was leaning forward, hungry for the next moment to tip in our favor.
There was an undercurrent to it all, the blunt, bright hunger of competition, a want to dominate, to win. That feeling thrummed through me. My gauntlet sky race time had been the fastest in the squad; I hadn't meant to brag, but the look on Cinna's face when I landed the final run was worth every bruised fingertip. Turns out I'd placed top three across all riders. A small, private victory that tasted like lightning.
When matches began again the noise rose into a living thing. People shoved and cheered, voices folding into one long, hoarse roar. Positions shifted as squads gathered round the mats. After two events we sat seventh of twenty-four on the leaderboard — respectable — but a Liam win would vault us into third. The math made our lungs feel thin with possibility.
Rhiannon's voice cut through the din, fierce and exactly the sort of thing you wanted on your side. "Tap, you bastard!" she screamed as the Second Wing rider dragged himself across the mat; his fingers splayed, nails gouging the wood while Liam held a merciless leg lock. Mikael howled, the sound a raw crack that made half the room wince. Liam didn't flinch; he tightened his hold instead, each breath a controlled instrument.
"Fuck me, that looks like it hurts," Violet muttered over the cheering first years.
"Yeah. He's not walking right for a while," Ridoc replied, face screwed up in something like sympathy and smirk. When the other rider slammed his palm on the mat three times, surrender, the crowd exploded. Ridoc gave me a look of mock disgust as I whistled. "Keep it in your pants, will ya."
I winked.
Liam and I met in the center as he rolled off the mat, muscles still coiled from exertion. I leapt into his arms like it was the only natural motion, his hands found the small of my back as if he had always known exactly where to hold me. My ankles locked at the small of his waist; one arm curled into the back of his neck, the other cupping his cheek. Our kiss cut the roar down to a single, ringing note. When he pulled back his smile split the room open. "We won," he breathed, voice raw with triumph.
"All because of you," I said, pride and something softer thick behind it.
Professor Emetterio's shout—"Your winner!"—carried like a bell. Liam stepped forward to accept the nod; sweat beaded on his forehead and streamed down his neck, but he raised both hands in mock surrender anyway, did a little triumphant spin, and then turned toward me to mouth the words I lived for: I love you. The crowd's cheering blurred into a warm halo. Seeing him lauded felt like being lit from the inside out. He deserved every second.
