>>Aelin
The wind carried the scent of char and sun-warmed stone.
I had only meant to take a quiet walk, to clear my head, to prepare for the meeting that would begin in less than an hour. But as I wandered into the outer corridor of the palace, the one that curved like an arc around the highest slope, I stopped in my tracks.
Below, in the vast, scorched training grounds, the world was on fire.
Not with destruction, but with power. Intention. Control.
Draegon was there, bare-chested and gleaming in the golden afternoon sun. A thin shimmer of hardened black scales lined his arms and shoulders like armor forged from his very skin, refracting violet in the light. His purple eyes were sharp, focused, completely locked onto his sparring partner.
Vesper.
