They continued on with Alaric for several hours, moving through the castle grounds as he showed them the outer halls, courtyards, and paths. The hospitality was generous. Almost pointed.
By the time the tour wound down, Serena could feel the fatigue settling into her bones. She wanted to ask why they were being shown such careful consideration. But instinct told her to hold the question.
Just as they were turning to head back inside, Elara and Serena both gasped.
"Ah yes, Prince Dexmon will have my head if I let you close to them. But as you can see, those are the dragons —"
The largest dragon in the fleet took a rumbling breath and his eyes snapped on Serena immediately. He began moving towards her.
King Tiberon Drakenfell was on the field at that moment and followed the dragon's gaze.
He did not know her. Which meant only one thing.
That had to be the girl his son had brought back.
His attention sharpened as it settled on her, instinctively cataloging details the way a king did threats and assets alike. He had been hearing mindlinks about her all morning. Whispers. Fractured impressions. None of them sufficient.
Then he noticed the light.
Her hair. Was it gold? White?
He blinked once. Then again.
Her eyes were solid gold light. No pupil. No white. Just something vast and unbroken. Her hair glowed in answer, the same radiance bleeding through her skin.
In a lifetime as a king, he had never seen anything like it.
And he was not the only one. Every dragon and rider on the field went still.
"Serena!" Elara whispered, pulling the hood of Serena's cloak over her hair and face, not missed by anyone.
The largest dragon in the fleet drew in a low, rumbling breath. His massive head turned, eyes snapping onto Serena as if the rest of the field no longer existed.
Gasps rippled outward as his eyes began to glow gold.
The same gold that burned in hers.
Serena was only vaguely aware of what was happening, already crossing the field towards the dragon.
They met.
Her hand lifted and pressed gently to the space between his eyes.
Light detonated.
Gold flared outward in a blinding pulse. The shockwave followed instantly, vibrating through the field and the castle alike and knocking everyone to the ground.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved. No one breathed.
Then the dragon made a sound, almost a purr, and nuzzled into her palm.
Velkaris.
The name filled her mind in certainty. She knew this dragon. Somehow. He was hers.
The murmurs around the clearing turned to stunned silence.
Velkaris shifted and nudged her gently, insistently, toward his massive front leg.
There were shouts somewhere behind her. Voices raised in alarm. Serena did not hear them.
She climbed the dragon, in a swift motion, as if she had done it a thousand times.
Velkaris growled low, then shot straight into the air, wings slicing like blades.
Wind screamed past them as his wings cracked against the air, slicing upward in a powerful surge. Below, the field froze. Servants spilled from doorways. Riders stood rooted in place. The city beyond the castle went still.
All eyes lifted to the sky.
"Shit." The word slipped from Elara's mouth before she could stop it.
Several heads turned toward her. She went pale.
She had not sounded surprised.
That was the problem.
A ripple of tension passed through the crowd, whispers breaking out at the edges as understanding began to take shape. Elara shut her eyes for a brief moment, jaw tight, forcing herself to breathe through the surge of frustration.
The damage was done.
The moment Serena had touched that dragon, everything had changed.
Too much attention invited questions. Questions they were not prepared to answer.
They had only just escaped and would have to leave here immediately to avoid going back.
Velkaris folded his wings mid-fall, then exploded outward in a blinding surge—not to slow their descent, but to drive them faster.
The air screamed as they vanished into a streak of molten gold, so fast the eye couldn't track them.
Alarm rippled across the field.
Everyone was on their feet now. Dragon riders shouted in panic. Even King Tiberon had gone still, his color draining as he tracked the arc of gold through the sky.
"That's a Truebond Veil," someone whispered, voice shaking.
It was meant only for the purest bonds.
If either rider or dragon lost focus, even for a moment, they would die.
No one had attempted it in over a century.
King Tiberon had seen enough.
"Eron. Now."
A black-scaled dragon reared at the sound of his name, answering instantly. Tiberon vaulted onto his back in one practiced motion, crown abandoned, cloak snapping violently as they launched skyward.
"Block her if she falls," he commanded aloud. "Understand?"
Eron rumbled once and surged forward, wings tearing into the wind.
Below them, the field fell silent.
They could only watch as their king tore across the sky, reckless with speed, eyes locked on the streak of gold ahead.
He was not trying to save a woman.
His instincts had already named her and his instincts were never wrong.
Dex never brought anyone home.
This woman was his son's fated mate.
Dex had not admitted it yet. But he would.
As Tiberon climbed, the gold light reappeared.
Velkaris dropped cleanly back into the field and landed with effortless grace.
The fire vanished.
A successful Truebond Veil.
King Tiberon released a breath he had not realized he was holding.
Relief flickered. Brief. Foolish.
Velkaris took off again without warning.
He hurled her upward.
Fifty feet. Maybe more.
A collective gasp tore through the riders.
For one frozen heartbeat, it looked like she just got bucked off a dragon.
One rider broke formation, already moving to intercept her fall.
Then Velkaris dove.
He cut sharply beneath her, wings carving the air into a tightening spiral, and surged upward with brutal precision.
She landed standing, balanced and unshaken, upon the head of a flying dragon. Her hair flowed weightlessly around her.
No rider had ever done this, or witnessed it, or even imagined it as a concept.
It did not exist in theory.
And it did not exist in practice.
And of all dragons it could have been, that one.
Velkaris soared low across the field.
His wings stretched wide like a living stormcloud, casting a shadow that swallowed the grounds whole.
She rode the air as if gravity had surrendered to her will.