Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter 54

I sparred for hours, rotating between the boys. Liam was the only one who managed to keep up for more than a few rounds. The rest—Bohid, Garrick, even Xaden—took turns wearing me down, their strikes relentless, their grins mocking. By the end of the day, I felt like a ragdoll—bruised, bloodied, and beyond exhausted. My skin stung from the cuts, my muscles screamed in protest, and the constant ache in my joints made every step feel like I was dragging myself through molasses.

But Bohid? Bohid was a nightmare. He insisted we spar with swords, and while I didn't mind the challenge, the pain from his relentless blows left me with more cuts than I cared to count. The bruises were already forming, dark and ugly, but it was the scabies that had me gritting my teeth. His swordsmanship was impressive, and I couldn't avoid his strikes no matter how fast I moved. My arms were sore, my back aching from hours of combat.

All I wanted was a damn bath.

So, I ran the water hot, the steam filling the room as the soothing heat calmed the bruises and soothed my tired body. I sank into the tub, letting the warmth envelop me. I stayed there for what felt like hours, my mind drifting in and out, too exhausted to even care. The clear water started to change color, turning a soft pink as the blood seeped from my open wounds. I didn't care. I just wanted to forget everything—the fight, the ache, the pull that had been gnawing at me ever since last night.

But then it came again.

That undeniable pull. The same one that had dragged me out of bed last night, the one that I could never seem to escape.

"Fireheart."

The voice was like a low, rasping command, pulling me out of the haze of warmth and exhaustion. My eyes shot open, and I let out an irritated sigh, though part of me felt the pull coil tighter.

"Oh, look who decided to make their appearance," I muttered back, voice thick with sarcasm. Arrax, always so insistent, always so present when I least wanted him to be.

"Get out of the bath, Fireheart," he said again, his tone unyielding, though there was no emotion in it—just that damn command.

I rolled my eyes, staring at the water as it slowly cooled, the steam fading into nothingness. "Go to the field?" He said I was so tired, so drained. Every inch of my body felt heavy with exhaustion, and all I wanted was the peace of my bath.

"Why?" I questioned, sinking deeper into the water, just to get away from the growing tension that wrapped around my chest. "Will you be there?" I was almost half hoping he wouldn't show—just so I could finally get some rest.

There was silence for a moment, the water lapping against the sides of the tub as I tried to ignore the pulse of that damn pull in my chest.

"No, Fireheart," he replied quietly, almost dismissively. And for a second, I could hear something else in his voice, something unfamiliar.

I raised an eyebrow, still not moving. "Then why?"

But before I could even finish the question, his voice was back, cutting me off with that sharp, commanding edge I'd come to both resent and crave.

"Go."

The word landed like a weight, heavy and unyielding. There was no room for argument. He wasn't asking. He was telling me. And somehow, I knew there was no ignoring him.

I gritted my teeth, my heart racing despite the exhaustion clouding my mind. I hated this—hated the way he pulled me like this, the way I had no choice but to obey.

With one last frustrated breath, I forced myself out of the tub, the warm water leaving my skin in cold shivers. I wrapped a towel around me, knowing that somehow, no matter how much I wanted to resist, I was going to the field. I didn't know why.

—-

With my clothes on, I followed the same path I had taken last night. The cool night air bit at my skin as I stepped into the tall grass, the blades brushing against my legs. My mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spiraling uncontrollably, but somehow, I walked toward the field, the familiar place that had drawn me out last night, pulling me again like an invisible tether.

Tonight, though, I was alone.

Arrax had his wall up, impenetrable as always, leaving me to fend for myself. I'd tried to speak to him, to break through, but I received nothing in return—just cold silence. The absence of his presence was deafening, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling the tug of that pull deep within me.

I stood in the middle of the field, staring up at the sky, feeling a mixture of loss and helplessness. The stars above were so far away, twinkling like tiny, indifferent pinpricks of light. I felt like one of them—small, insignificant, lost.

And, like a crazy person, I began to speak to the sky, hoping someone, anything, would listen.

"Why? Why must I be in this position?" I whispered to no one in particular. My voice cracked as I continued. "I'm lost. I have no family to help me carry this burden. All I have is my best friend, and I'm in love with him. But the moment he finds out, I'll lose him, too. I'm a broken girl from Tyrrendor. I lost my mother when I took my first breath, and my father when I needed him most." My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I don't deserve this. I don't want this. Let them come and kill me—I am not meant to play queen. I am—"

Before I could finish the thought, I felt a sudden, sharp breath at my back, hot air washing over me, so intense it made my skin prickle.

A huff.

I froze, the blood draining from my face. I knew exactly what it was.

A dragon.

The heat from its breath seemed to scorch the air around me, sending a shiver of terror down my spine. I didn't need to turn around to know what stood there, but I couldn't stop myself from slowly, hesitantly, turning my head.

And there, just beyond the tall grass, its massive form half-concealed in the moonlight, was the dragon. Its scales shimmered darkly like the night sky, eyes glowing with an otherworldly light, locking onto mine. Its presence was so overwhelming, so powerful, that it felt like the entire world had gone still, holding its breath.

Codagh