Page 237 of Elemental Becoming

Thane chuckles. His eyes meet Rian’s as he takes a step back from me. Rian grins, his blue eyes bright with amusement.

“It’s nice to see you finally let go, brother.”

Midstep, Thane falters. Just for a heartbeat.

Then he recovers.

Rian has no idea how many meanings his words hold.

For a moment, I expect Thane to retreat behind his usual mask of control. Instead, he looks at me and smiles. Not the practiced smile he gives the court or the guarded one he wears around strangers.

A real smile.

My heart squeezes. Maybe, finally, he’s beginning to embrace all of himself.

Valen exhales hard through his nose. “By all the Elemental gods, grant me patience.”

I glance up toward the ridge where Calryx still sits, her tail thudding against the ground with slow, pointed annoyance.

She looks downright indignant.

Her wings are half-flared, her head tilted just enough toradiate judgment. If a dragon could cross her arms, she would.

But she can’t say anything. Not yet. The shield is still in place. I offer a sheepish smile and warily lower the block. The moment it’s gone, her voice snaps into my mind like a whip of wind and ice.

“I see your Warlord taught you how to block. How convenient. It would have been helpful to inform your dragon.”

She huffs a stream of hot air through her nostrils. The gust reaches all the way to the training field, stirring both mine and Thane’s hair.

Thane squints into the blast and grimaces.

“I think she’s upset with you,” he says. “Good luck.”

Rian laughs while Valen looks skyward again.

“That was supposed to be a sparring match, Virelya, not a mating display.”

I wince, barely suppressing a laugh. “Noted.”

“Next time you intend to surrender during a spar, do not pretend it’s about training,”she huffs.

EIGHT CHAIRS

THIRTY-TWO

“After speaking with Thane, we agreed Amara needed to be at the table. She will be essential. The attack patterns by the Shadow Forces are changing. They appear to be growing more intelligent. What were once mindless drone-type fighters are now more skilled. Moredangerous.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

The council chamber is built for war.

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows as I take my place at the table, and despite the fact that less than a day has passed since the attack, it feels as though Ihave lived an entire year in those hours.

Everything about the room—the cold stone walls, the unyielding obsidian table, the torches burning low—feels designed to command fealty and remind anyone who steps inside that power carries consequences.

The room is circular, its walls carved from the same black volcanic rock as the rest of the fortress. A massive obsidian war table dominates the center, its surface veined with crimson ore that catches the torchlight like veins of fire.