Page 220 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“Can’t have Headmaster Carth on our backs now,” Archer joked, glancing at her as though hoping for a smile.
As they rose and headed for the door, the weight of their conversation pressed heavily. Alaire inhaled deeply, her vow unshakable: she would bring down the vampires, restore her family’s legacy, and free the humans—so long as she had breath in her lungs and blood in her veins.
She wouldn’t stop.
Not until it was done.
Fifty
Life at Aeris Academy resumed as if nothing had happened—as if the entire world hadn’t shifted beneath her. To everyone else, perhaps it hadn’t.
The halls still thrummed with familiar energy, novices and vets gathered across the castle grounds celebrating the end of the year. She drew fewer glances now, as though the novelty of her existence had worn off. But she wasn’t the same.
The Astral Odyssey had completely, irrevocably changed Alaire.
Aether stirred beneath her skin, winding slowly and deliberately like a serpent waking from slumber. Her power.
Everyone had passed with high marks. Yet none of it seemed to matter now. Dawson and Caius both graduated from the academy.
The sky bled into dusk as the last of the ceremony guests filtered away from Eclat Castle’s main entrance. Alaire lingered at the stone balustrade, still wearing the gown Kaia had insisted upon: layers of sage-grey silk and intricate beadwork. It was beautiful. Kaia had teased that she’d better start getting used to gowns.
She’d made it. Against all odds, through trials that nearly killed her and revelations that shattered everything she thought she knew, she was no longer a novice. The weight of that achievement should’ve felt liberating, but all she could think of were the dangerous days ahead.
“Congratulations, Firework.”
She turned to find Dawson approaching, his ceremony attire rumpled, jacket slung over one arm. The half-smile tugging at his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Gods, that dimple.
“Take a walk with me?” His voice was soft, though his hands flexed at his sides, jaw taut. Something was bothering him, but for tonight, she wouldn’t press.
All evening she’d been surrounded by laughter and congratulations, yet her mind kept circling back to what awaited them.
The elaborate dress wasn’t made for walking, but she nodded anyway. Spring was inching toward summer, but the evening air still carried the fickle chill between seasons.
His fingers slipped through hers, tugging her deeper into the Serenity Gardens. His touch was gentle, but she felt a faint tremor in his grip. He led her past stone benches and Black Mondo grass with its haunting beauty until they reached a secluded alcove where black dahlias bloomed.
The exact spot from all those months ago.
“Feeling sentimental?” Alaire teased.
“With you, always.” His swallow was audible.
His gaze lingered on the dahlias, dark and alive. For so long she’d believed they were destined for opposite sides of this war: the prince bound by duty to Cielore, and the half-human queen who wanted freedom. But everything had changed in the Astral Odyssey.
Because she’d realized was falling for him. Had been for months, maybe longer.
For the first time, she dared to hope.
Dawson knelt, brushing his fingers over a bloom. “Strange, isn’t it?” he murmured. “How something so dark can still be alive?”
“Maybe it’s strongbecauseof its darkness,” she whispered.
His gaze lifted, pain flickering across his features before vanishing. The silence between them was electric.
He rose back to his full height, hand rubbing across his mouth. “You know the news will spread. That you intend to claim the throne, that you carry an artifact of the gods. They won’t stop hunting you until you’re either dead or under their control.”
Dawson folded his arms, fingers digging into his biceps until his knuckles whitened.
