The assassination attempt came three weeks later.
Seraphina had settled into a routine—dawn training with Kestrel, afternoon studies in the Archives, evening meditation with Pyre. The bond between them grew stronger every day, until she could barely remember what it had felt like to be alone in her own mind. It should have been disconcerting, having another consciousness so intimately entwined with her own, but instead it felt... right. Like finding a piece she hadn't known was missing.
On this particular evening, she was returning from the Archives when she heard footsteps behind her.
The Citadel was never truly silent—there were always servants moving through the corridors, riders returning from patrols, the distant sounds of dragons calling to each other across the valley. But these footsteps were different. Deliberate. Following.
She rounded a corner and pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding. Through the bond, she felt Pyre's alarm, the dragon's consciousness sharpening with sudden attention.
What's wrong? Pyre's thought came through clear, tinged with concern.
Someone's following me. Seraphina reached for the knife she had started carrying after Kestrel's insistence—keep it hidden, he'd said, and pray you never need it. I'm going to find out who.
Be careful. I'm coming.
Seraphina didn't wait. She moved silently along the corridor, using the skills Kestrel had drilled into her over weeks of brutal training. When the footsteps rounded the corner, she was ready.
The figure was hooded, cloaked in dark fabric that seemed to absorb the light from the torches on the walls. Seraphina couldn't see their face, but she could see the blade in their hand—a curved dagger that glinted with an oily sheen suggesting poison.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her own knife held ready. "Why are you following me?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, they lunged.
Seraphina had been trained for this. She sidestepped the attack, her body moving with the fluid grace Pyre had taught her, and brought her knife up in a defensive arc. The assassin adjusted, their blade flashing toward her throat—
And then Pyre was there.
The dragon crashed through the wall—literally, stone exploding outward as she burst into the corridor—and the assassin barely had time to turn before a gout of dragon fire consumed them. The scream was brief, terrible, and then there was only ash.
Seraphina stood frozen, her knife still raised, her heart hammering against her ribs. The corridor was filled with smoke and the acrid smell of burning, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear shouts and the sound of running feet.
Pyre lowered her massive head until her golden eyes were level with Seraphina's. Are you hurt?
No. Seraphina reached out and touched the dragon's snout, needing the contact, needing to feel the reality of the bond between them. No, I'm fine. But...
I know. Pyre's consciousness brushed against hers, warm and reassuring. Someone wanted you dead. The question is who.
"Seraphina!" Kestrel's voice came from down the corridor, sharp with concern. He appeared moments later, flanked by two other riders, and took in the scene with a single glance—the destroyed wall, the scattered ash, Pyre's aggressive stance. "What happened?"
"Assassin." Seraphina's voice came out steadier than she expected. "They came out of nowhere. I would have been dead if Pyre hadn't—"
"The bond." Kestrel's eyes widened slightly. "You called her through the bond."
"I... I suppose I did. I didn't think about it. I just knew I needed her, and she came."
"That's advanced dragonriding technique. Something that usually takes years to develop." He studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. "Your connection to Pyre is stronger than I anticipated."
"Is that good or bad?"
"It's both." He turned to the riders behind him. "Search the Citadel. I want to know how an assassin got in, who sent them, and how many more there might be. And send word to the Queen—the Dragonbound has been targeted."
The riders departed at a run, leaving Seraphina alone with Kestrel and Pyre. The corridor was a mess of broken stone and scorch marks, and the smell of smoke was beginning to fade.
"Who would want to kill me?" Seraphina asked. "I'm nobody. I've been here less than three months."
"You're not nobody. You're the Dragonbound, the only one who can maintain the barrier when the Conjunction comes." Kestrel's voice was grim. "There are those who would benefit from your death. Those who serve the Voidwalkers, or who believe the barrier should fall."
"Why would anyone want that?"
"Because chaos brings opportunity. Because some believe the old world must be destroyed to make way for the new. Because power is the only god some people worship." He met her eyes, and there was something like warning in his gaze. "From this moment on, you are never to be alone. Pyre will stay with you at all times, and I will assign guards to watch your quarters."
"I don't need guards." The words came out sharper than she intended. "I handled myself just fine."
"You survived because of Pyre. Next time, you might not be so lucky." His voice hardened. "This isn't a game, Seraphina. This is war. And in war, the enemy strikes at the weakest link."
"And I'm the weakest link."
"You're the most valuable target. And until you're strong enough to protect yourself, you're also the most vulnerable." He turned and began walking back toward the main part of the Citadel. "Come. We need to report to the Queen."
Seraphina followed, Pyre's bulk moving silently behind her. Through the bond, she could feel the dragon's vigilance, her readiness to defend against any threat. It was comforting, having another consciousness so intimately connected to her own. But it was also a reminder of how much had changed.
She had come to the Citadel seeking answers about what she was. Now she was discovering that the answers came with a price—and that there were those who would kill her before she could pay it.
The Court of Dragons was assembled when they arrived, the same semicircle of Dragon Lords and their mounts that had assessed her weeks before. The Queen sat on her throne, her red-eyed dragon coiled beside her, and her expression was unreadable.
"An assassination attempt," she said, her voice cool. "On the Dragonbound, in the heart of our Citadel. Explain."
"The assassin was a professional," Kestrel reported. "Well-trained, well-equipped. They knew the patrol routes and timing. This was not a spontaneous attack—it was planned, possibly for weeks."
"And the assassin?"
"Dead. Burned by Pyre when she responded to Seraphina's call through the bond."
The Queen's gaze shifted to Seraphina. "You called your dragon through the bond. After only three months."
"It wasn't intentional. I just... needed her."
"And she came. As any bonded dragon would for their rider." The Queen leaned forward, her red eyes burning. "The bond between you grows quickly. Faster than any I've seen in my three centuries of life. This is both a blessing and a danger."
"I don't understand."
"The stronger the bond, the more powerful the Dragonbound. But the stronger the bond, the more devastating the loss if the dragon dies." The Queen's voice was cold, clinical. "Pyre is ancient—she has lived for five hundred years. But she is not immortal. If she falls in battle, the shock of her death through the bond could destroy you."
Seraphina felt Pyre's presence in her mind, warm and steady. We will not fall, the dragon said silently. Not until our purpose is fulfilled.
"We will be careful," Seraphina said aloud, and the Queen raised an eyebrow.
"Careful." The word hung in the air. "An interesting choice. I would have expected you to say 'strong' or 'victorious.' But careful... perhaps you're wiser than I thought." She rose from her throne. "Double the guard on the Dragonbound. And begin the advanced training—she needs to be able to defend herself without relying on her dragon."
"That training is dangerous for someone so newly bonded," Kestrel said. "It could damage the connection—"
"It could. But a dead Dragonbound helps no one." The Queen's gaze was relentless. "Begin the training. And find out who sent the assassin. I want names."
She swept from the room, her dragon following behind her like a shadow made of scales and fire. The other Dragon Lords exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
Seraphina stood in the center of the Court, her mind racing. Someone had tried to kill her. The Queen was pushing for more dangerous training. And somewhere, in the darkness beyond the barrier, an ancient enemy was waiting for the Conjunction to arrive.
Nine months. She had thought that was plenty of time.
Now she wasn't so sure.