Page 177 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Behind them, Dawson focused entirely on his griffin, never once looking her way. She almost wished he’d be furious, that he’d blame her outright. His quiet disappointment was so much worse.
Beck let out another cry, and something cracked inside Alaire’s chest. This beautiful, innocent creature was suffering because of her choices.
Ignoring Kaia, Caius squared his shoulders, his stare drilling into her. “Your petty threats don’t scare me. I’ve faced monsters that make your phoenix look like a flaming parrot.”
“Oh,I’ll show him a flaming parrot.Let’s hear his opinion when he’s a pile of ash.” Solflara’s indignation flared hot down the bond.
Alaire’s lips twitched. “Careful, Caius. You’re dangerously close to becoming a cooked parrot.”
“I might have grown up with privilege, but you’re hardly the only person familiar with suffering or loss. Unlike you, though, I don’t use it as an excuse to lash out at those around me.”
The words sliced deep, slipping between her ribs like a blade. Her mouth parted slightly, doubt paralyzing her.
“Let’s not forget”—Caius leaned in, voice dripping with disdain—“that you’re probably using Dawson somehow to further your own goals. We all see it.”
Her throat tightened, shame crawling up her spine. There was truth in what Caius was saying.
“Careful, Caius,” Dawson warned.
His defense twisted something sharp in Alaire’s chest. She didn’t deserve it. Caius was wrong about many things, but not this. Shewasdetermined to dismantle the very system Dawson was sworn to protect.
Caius cocked his head toward Dawson. “I’m only saying what everyone else on campus thinks.”
But Caius wasn’t done trying to prove she was the monster he wanted her to be. “Let’s not ignore your prejudice against the fae. I saw you at the Celestial Cascade Ball, stepping in front of the humans instead of the fae. It’s clear where your loyalties lie—always ready to protect the humans, always willing to sacrificeus.”
Alaire’s eyes narrowed. “The fae had magic to protect themselves. The humans had nothing. You’re right—I stepped in front of them because I care, and I would do the same foranyoneelse. That’s called compassion, Caius.”
“Excuses, excuses, I see nothing but a scared little girl with no magic, no home. You have nothing because you arenothing,” Caius spat.
“Caius.” Dawson’s gaze lifted from Beck.
Caius opened his mouth, but before he could get another word in, Dawson said, “Say her name again. I dare you.”
Beck let out a pained screech. The silence that followed was thick with simmering resentment.
Alaire turned away from Caius, her chest twisting at the pain clouding the griffin’s eyes. The injury on his paw made her wince. Her gaze moved from Beck to Dawson’s careful hands, to Kaia’s worried face, to the heavy tension suffocating their group.
This atmosphere was tearing them apart when they needed each other most.
Every piece of Alaire felt utterly drained. Their confrontation had siphoned all her energy. Anger had been her shield, a survival mechanism she clung to, but maybe—for Dawson and Beck, for Kaia and Hadrian, for any chance they had of making it through this alive—she could try something different.
She thought about all the times she’d latched onto her rage, believing it the only thing that kept her strong. But holding onto it now wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t heal Beck. It wouldn’t help them work together.
She had to be the one to take the first step.
“I don’t like you, Caius,” Alaire said. “But I won’t let it stand in the way of completing the trial, and I definitely don’t want it leading to anyone else getting hurt.” She looked directly at Beck, then back to Caius. “We need to work together if we’re going to survive this.”
She hesitated before extending her hand. “Truce? Until we’re through the trial?”
Caius stared at it for several long seconds, eyes darting to Dawson, then to Beck’s injured form. Finally, reluctantly, he clasped hers in a firm but brief handshake.
“For the trial,” he said curtly. No apology, no admission of fault.
“Fair enough.”
He released her hand, expression still guarded but less hostile.
Dawson turned toward them, brows pinched with worry. “His pain’s getting worse. We’ll have to wrap up his paw and see if he can continue.”
