Page 72 of Tempest Blazing
But I was beyond careful now. Beyond anything except the desperate need to prove myself worthy, to show them I was no longer the broken thing they thought they knew. The magic coursed through me like liquid lightning, precise and controlled and utterly, completely mine.
When the exercises finally ended, I stood breathing hard, my entire body humming with residual energy. Thalon's presence was proud but concerned, gently probing at the edges of my consciousness, checking for signs of magical exhaustion.
Around us, the other pairs were finishing with varying degrees of success. Mason and his earth dragon had achieved solid, steady connection that spoke of natural compatibility. Draven's partnership with the shadow dragon showed flashes of brilliance, though there were still rough edges.
Anya's dragon had finally given up, returning to its perch with obvious relief while Anya stood alone in the center of the arena, her shoulders shaking. The sight sent a stab of guilt through my chest, but I forced myself to look away. I'd made my choice. Strength meant standing alone when necessary.
My gaze traveled to the observation balcony, searching for some sign of approval. Headmaster Northfall was speaking quietlywith one of her assistants, her expression unreadable as she made notes.
Silvius stood motionless beside her, and as our eyes met across the distance, his lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. He leaned toward Northfall and whispered something that made her glance sharply in my direction, her expression tightening.
The dismissal was clear. Even my best performance—magic that had drawn murmurs of appreciation from dragons and riders alike—wasn't enough to change his fundamental assumptions about human limitations.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I'd pushed myself to the edge of my abilities, achieved synchronization that even some of the more experienced applicants hadn't managed, and it still wasn't enough.
It might never be enough.
Chapter 31
Kane
The formal attire felt like shackles tonight. Midnight blue fabric, perfectly tailored and perfectly suffocating. Tomorrow's written exam—the next phase of the Final Guild Trial—pressed against my skull like a migraine, but tonight my father had insisted on this meal together. A celebration, he'd called it.
I knew better. Nothing Silvius Ellesar did was celebration. Everything was calculation.
The secrets I carried felt heavier with each step toward the dining room. Tess. The bond stirring between us. The way my magic had responded to hers, wild and uncontrolled in ways that would horrify him. The growing certainty that everything he'd taught me about humans, about weakness, about power—all of it was lies.
I paused outside the dining room doors, forcing my breathing to steady. Heat prickled under my skin.
Not tonight. Whatever happens, not tonight.
The manor's formal dining hall stretched before me like a cathedral built to worship money. Enchanted chandeliers cast light across polished mahogany, their glow catching on crystal place settings that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. Everything gleamed with the kind of perfection that felt cold to the touch—legacy masquerading as warmth.
Silvius sat at the head of the table like a king holding court, every inch of his tall frame carved from ice and judgment. His silver hair pulled back severely, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face, the pale blue eyes that missed nothing. He wore formal robes in deep burgundy, the Guild's insignia gleaming at his throat like a collar of office.
I took my seat to his right without a word, spine straight, jaw locked. The familiar ritual of submission, performed a thousand times before.
"Kane." His voice carried the weight of centuries, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
"Father."
The doors opened again, and Mason entered with Kali at his side. The contrast hit me like a slap—Mason in his formal black suit, built like a fortress, and Kali beside him like a shadow given form. She wore a simple black hoodie beneath a tailored coat that someone had clearly chosen for her, the mismatched elements making her look even younger than her fifteen years.
Her expression was unreadable, but I caught the tension in her shoulders, the way her dark eyes swept the room once before fixing on a point somewhere past Silvius's shoulder. She'd learned not to make direct eye contact. The knowledge of that sat like acid in my stomach.
Mason guided her to seats across from me, his movements careful and protective. Kali settled into her chair with the kind of stillness that spoke of hard-won survival instincts.
Silvius raised his wine glass, the crystal catching the light like a prism. "To legacy," he said, his voice carrying across the room with ceremonial weight, "and the strength it demands."
His gaze lingered on me first—expectation and warning wrapped in paternal pride. Then it flicked to Mason, assessing and dismissive in the same breath. Finally, it settled on Kali, cold as winter stone.
I lifted my glass and sipped the bitter wine, suppressing the urge to throw it across the room and watch it shatter against the wall.Not tonight. Not in front of her.Kali didn't deserve to see another display of violence, another reminder that power and cruelty walked hand in hand in this house.
The first course arrived with the kind of fanfare reserved for state dinners—servers in pristine uniforms presenting dishes that were more art than sustenance. Steaming and overcomplicated, beautiful and soulless.
Silvius began to speak as we ate, his voice taking on the cadence of a lecture. Guild history. Bloodlines. The burden of leadership that fell to those strong enough to bear it.
"The Guild has stood for centuries," he said, cutting into his meat with surgical precision, "because we understand that strength must be cultivated, refined, passed down through worthy hands." His eyes found mine again. "Some are born to it. Others…" A pause, deliberate as a blade thrust. "Others merely survive it."
