Dragon's Rise

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Rielle was doing this for the little girl who had been promised greatness, only to have it snatched away before she could even taste it. For the girl who had been cast aside, misunderstood and mistreated by the very family who should have loved her most, all because she was different. Rielle carried her memory, a silent vow, to honor the life that was stolen—a life that had been forsaken by the very ones meant to cherish it. She would see to it that this lost girl, forgotten by all but the stars, would be remembered for the greatness she was denied.

୨⎯ CLEO LUNARIS ⎯୧

The day of the Silver Army Ball had arrived, an event steeped in grandeur and anticipation. It marked not only the celebration of the kingdom's next generation of protectors but also the culmination of the Dragon Festival, a time of roaring skies and flickering lights. Yet, for Cleo, the day brought something far simpler, something she desperately needed—a reprieve.

The entire morning was hers, a rare gift. The  members of the Silver Army had been granted a day off to prepare for the evening, and while others no doubt used it to rest or indulge in preparations, Cleo found her sanctuary in the quiet company of books. The night before, she had wandered into the castle's grand library, where the Keeper had watched her pile book after book into her arms with no more than an arched brow and an amused wave toward the exit. She didn't care if it made her look ridiculous; there was comfort in carrying stories with her.

Now, nestled on the window seat of her chambers, the sun streaming through the glass and warming the cushion beneath her, Cleo was deep into an adventure novel.

It was a story of daring thieves and enchanted lands, brimming with laughter and clever escapes. Lighthearted and fast-paced, it was everything she needed after weeks of grueling dragon rides, bruises, and the sharp sting of magic training. For a few blissful hours, she wasn't Cleo Lunaris, Member of the Silver Army, Nieves's chosen, or the girl thrust into a life she was never prepared for. She was a rogue on the run, laughing at danger, slipping through moonlit forests. The stress faded with every turned page, replaced with something airy and sweet—freedom, if only within the story's ink-stained lines.

She devoured the book by lunch, snapping it shut with a satisfied sigh. Her smile lingered, reluctant to leave, as if the echoes of that fictional world still clung to her. But escapism, as much as she craved it, always had an end. She turned to the next novel in her pile, a romance this time—a bit different than her usual picks but recommended by the Keeper herself, who had slyly handed it over without explanation.

It began innocently enough, with charming banter and sweeping descriptions of blooming gardens and stolen glances. But soon, Cleo's face flushed, her eyes widening as she realized exactly what kind of book she'd fallen into. "Oh," she murmured, her voice barely audible, heat creeping up her neck as the words turned decidedly... spicy.

Her first instinct was to snap the book shut, to toss it aside and pretend she'd never seen it, but something stopped her. She glanced toward the door, ensuring it was locked, and hesitated for only a breath before cracking the book open again, just a little. After all, it wasn't her fault the author had chosen to write about love in such vivid detail. And maybe, just maybe, there was something to learn within these pages too.

Her cheeks burned red as she read on, torn between embarrassment and an odd, curious fascination. It was... different, certainly, from dragons and swords and politics. Yet there was something compelling about the way these characters found each other, even in a world that tried to tear them apart. Cleo could almost relate to that—the longing for connection, the pull toward someone that felt as inevitable as the rise of the sun.