Page 56 of Tempest Rising

The edge of his smirk made my jaw tighten.

Tess.

Her name coiled through me like a spell, potent and unavoidable.

“What’s the general sentiment?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

“Divided,” he said, slicing into a piece of spiced meat with casual precision. “Some see her as a sign of change, perhaps even progress. Others see her as an abomination. You can imagine which side is louder.”

I clenched my fist under the table, resisting the urge to snarl.

They will not touch her.

The growl rumbled in my chest, low and warning. My dragon side prowled at the edges of my control, restless and possessive.

“And the Elder Council?” I pressed.

“Those old dragons are playing their cards close to the chest,” Alarion replied with a dry chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. “As always. But it’s clear the leadership is rattled. A human bonded to a dragon? It’s unprecedented. They’re not sure whether to celebrate her as a miracle or lock her away as a threat.”

A low, protective rumble vibrated in my chest.Over our dead body.

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing myself to stay focused. Tess wasn’t just a pawn in this game—she was a spark that could ignite something far bigger than herself.

“And the Harbingers?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut.

Alarion’s opalescent eyes darkened to a faint, stormy gray—a subtle sign of unease. “No word among my contacts,” he admitted. “Too quiet. Which is never a good thing. I’ve heard whispers of activity, but nothing concrete. If they’re planning something, they’re keeping it well-hidden.”

The Harbingers hadn’t been active for a long time—at least, that’s what most believed. I never trusted that. For centuries, I’d kept ears to the ground, waiting for the moment they resurfaced. Their silence wasn’t a reprieve. It was a warning.

And I couldn’t stand not knowing. Not when Tess was involved. Anything that posed a threat to her—I needed to dismantle it before it could ever reach her. Every whisper, every shadow, every fleeting rumor about the Harbingers had to be uncovered, dissected, and destroyed if necessary. She was mine—my mate, my reason—and I wouldn’t allow anything to touch her. Nothing except me.

I nodded, my fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the table.

“And you?” Alarion’s voice softened, his gaze sharpening as he leaned forward. “What are you planning, Ciaran? You didn’t risk sneaking into Dracara just to share breakfast with me.”

I smirked, though the expression didn’t quite reach my eyes. “You always see through me, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” he said, his smile faint but genuine. “So? Out with it.”

“I need access to the Elder Council’s secret library,” I said, keeping my voice low. “There’s something I need to confirm.”

Alarion’s eyebrows lifted, his eyes flashing with surprise—and something else. Worry, perhaps. “The secret library? Are you serious?”

“I don’t have a choice. I have questions, and the answers might be there.”

His expression turned grim. “And if you’re caught?”

I met his gaze, unflinching. “Then they’ll learn exactly how far I’m willing to go for her.”

Alarion sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. Then Alarion leaned back in his chair, his expression softening just enough to reveal the edges of his exasperation. “You’re lucky I like you, Reaper.”

“Lucky,” I echoed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “That’s one word for it.”

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