Page 95 of The Reckoning of Starlight

“Kal taught him this,” Vesryn sent telepathically, meant for her alone. “How to hunt. How to survive.”

Serenna squeezed Vesryn’s hand and released him. She crossed the meadow, frost breaking under her boots, then knelt beside Fenn. The frozen grass dampened her knees as she pulled him close.

Fenn’s breath hitched. He folded into her, forehead pressed to her neck, arms winding tight around her waist.

Frost cracked behind Serenna, and Vesryn knelt on Fenn’s other side, his hand settling on Fenn’s shoulder. They closed around him, saying nothing as silent tremors shuddered through his body.

Across the meadow, the hatchlings stilled, all turning toward Fenn.

Then Vesryn spoke, his voice pitched low.

“When Kal was first assigned to the royal guard, I tested him. Constantly. I was a spoiled bastard and thought the rules didn’t apply to me.”

He gave a humorless grunt.

“Aesar and I were supposed to fly the dracovae one afternoon. I portaled us to a human village instead. Told him I wanted to try a drink the rangers kept talking about—something the farmers brewed and traded for shed dracovae scales. But Aesar refused to set foot in the tavern, saying he wouldn’t be ‘complicit in whatever idiocy’ I was planning. He returned to the capital, so I went in alone. Got drunk. Very drunk.”

Fenn lifted his forehead from Serenna’s neck, his attention settling on Vesryn.

“Apparently I told the humans I came from the stars. Started levitating their mugs to prove it, because naturally the best way to preserve elven secrecy is to perform miracles for drunk farmers.” His mouth twisted around the last word. “The next thing I remember, I was vomiting in a ditch with Aesar and Kal standing over me.”

An old ache pressed through the bond, tightening through Serenna’s ribs each time Vesryn spoke Kal’s name.

In the silence, the hatchlings edged closer. Frost softened under Vasharax and the Stormstrike. Around the Tidecrasher’s claws, it thickened into glittering crystals.

“Kal said nothing at first,” Vesryn continued, his focus on the dragons. “He hauled me up, portaled us out, and spent the next six hours tracking down every human in that tavern. He made sure they had enough coin to forget what they’d seen. Only then did he corner me and say, ‘If I report this, the king punishes you—and probably rewards me for it. You’re not exactly his favorite son. So we’re going to pretend this never happened. And you’re never pulling a stunt like this again.’”

Fenn released a huffed breath. “He never spoke about his life as an elf. I didn’t know he spent it dragging princelings out of ditches.” His voice roughened, but his gaze remained on Vasharax. “But that lecture—I heard versions of it often enough.”

Serenna pressed her cheek against Fenn’s shoulder and tightened her hold.

“I wish I could say that was the last time,” Vesryn murmured. “He chose to protect me when he could’ve advanced his position. Stars know Elashor would’ve turned me in without a thought. I expected Kal to hold it over my head.” His jaw worked. “But he never did.”

Serenna’s throat ached. The hatchlings gathered near them, wings folded close, and Vasharax crossed the final span to press her snout against Fenn’s knee. A low rumble stirred in her throat.

“He would be proud of you,” Vesryn said, his hand tightening on Fenn’s shoulder. “But I know he told you that himself. Kal didn’t leave the important things unsaid.”

Fenn’s lips parted, then closed. His gaze stayed on the hatchlings, on Vasharax’s small snout pressed to his knee.

“He was supposed to be here,” Fenn said, his voice worn hoarse. “My mother’s gone. Now him. Three of my sisters. Four left, and now the clan will look to me.” A laugh scraped out of him, brief and ruined. “A brilliant succession when I’m barely fit to command myself.”

Serenna’s denial struck the back of her throat. Fenn had pried truth from every silence she and Vesryn tried to hide inside. He’d held the three of them together by refusing to let either of them retreat.

His next breath caught before she could speak. His arm tightened around her, and his palm closed over Vesryn’s hand where it rested on his shoulder.

And he sobbed.

The restraint holding him together tore loose. Grief surged through the bond, whitening Serenna’s vision. The anguish bore the imprint of Kal’s hand—the steady warmth of it, remembered so deeply Fenn’s body still leaned toward where it should’ve been.

He shook in her arms, and Vesryn’s grip never left him. His jaw stayed clenched, every breath measured.

A fierce ache tightened in Serenna’s chest as she watched Vesryn—a male who guarded gentleness as though someone might tear it from his hands—hold steady so Fenn could fall.

They stayed with him as sunlight cleared the ridge and frost steamed from the grass around them.

CHAPTER 25

SERENNA