To Serena’s surprise, Fin was standing at the edge of the training field in full combat gear, arms folded, watching the regiment like he owned it.

Her face lit up, but she caught herself, fixing her expression.

Xeon: Fix that. She should be able to be affectionate with you.

Fin: She’s in front of her Captain and Colonel.

Dexmon entered the field a moment later. Serena looked up, surprised he was there too. She made eye contact with Elara, who seemed to be equally surprised to see Hale.

Realization dawned on both of their faces at the same time.

Morholt rounded on them.

"Eight laps then combat drills. Both of you. No shifting or magic. No talking. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Colonel," they answered in unison.

Fin’s brows knitted for a split second, but he stayed silent.

The difference in treatment was noticed immediately by both girls.

Fin was an Alpha King. Commander of Shadowclaw’s army. A man who had led men into battle, held territory, and buried soldiers. Morholt addressed him as an equal, saluted, and integrated him into the senior combat rotation alongside Dex and Hale without ceremony.

Aeron received similar deference. Mages generally didn’t fly, wolves did. Morholt put him with the tactical unit, where his strategic mind would be most useful.

The pecking order was clear. And neither of them argued.

Onyx had been assigned to the juvenile dragon training group. A cluster of half-grown dragons at the far end of the field, supervised by two dragon handlers and one very tired-looking senior rider named Thornton who had clearly drawn the short straw.

The juvenile dragons were not small. They ranged from the size of a large horse to slightly larger than a carriage, snapping at each other and testing boundaries with the casual violence of teenagers who hadn’t yet learned consequences.

Onyx was the size of a medium dog.

He sat at the edge of the group, black scales gleaming, head tilted, watching the larger dragons with enormous golden eyes. His tail was curled around his own feet. His wings were folded tight against his body.

Serena’s chest ached at the sight.

Elara: He’s so small.

Serena: I know. Poor baby.

Elara: He’s surrounded by dragons that could eat him.

Serena: Elara.

Serena: I’m going to watch him the entire time.

Elara: I can run and worry simultaneously. I’m a woman. We do that.

They started their laps. Eight. No shifting. No alpha speed.

Every time they rounded the eastern curve of the field, both of their heads turned toward the juvenile dragon group like they were on synchronized swivels.

Onyx was doing fine. Better than fine, actually.

Thornton had the juveniles running basic formation drills on the ground that would be used in flight, going in sequence and stopping on marked triangles on the field.

They’d hold still for three-count intervals. The larger dragons fumbled through it with the grace of adolescents who resented being told what to do.

Onyx, by contrast, executed every command perfectly.

He held position without fidgeting. When Thornton called halt, Onyx halted.

But he looked a little depressed, and he gave a big sigh. Normally, he’d be making his rounds around Shadowclaw right now with Aeron and instead, he was stuck doing this. But he did it.

When Thornton called formation, Onyx snapped into line, tiny body slotting between two dragons five times his size with the precision of a dragon who understood the assignment.

One of the larger juveniles snorted a plume of smoke in Onyx’s direction, a clear dominance display. Onyx looked at the smoke, then at the dragon, tilted his head, and went right back to holding his position.

The dragon tried again, this time nudging Onyx with its snout.

Onyx didn’t move. He looked up at the larger dragon with an expression of such patient, unblinking confusion that the bigger dragon actually backed off.

"He’s doing it," Elara breathed, mid-stride. "He’s actually doing it."

Serena was grinning so hard her face hurt.

The next time they saw Onyx, he was standing on the ledge with a foam pit built in the ground. It was usually covered, but today they opened it.

Serena and Elara got to see first hand why.

Onyx took his mark, waited for the signal, and ran. His tiny wings beat furiously and he made it across to the other side without falling into the pit.

Serena and Elara both stopped running.

"Did he—"

"He did—"

They started to clap. Full, uninhibited, enthusiastic applause, the kind reserved for a child’s first recital performance.

"Good job, Onyx!" Serena called.

"That was perfect!" Elara added.

Onyx heard them. His head whipped around, eyes locking on two of his favorite people in the world. His entire body wiggled with delight. His tail wagged.

He basked. Visibly, shamelessly basked, puffing his little chest out and spreading his wings in the dragon equivalent of a bow.

The juvenile dragons stared at him. Thornton stared at him. Two senior riders across the field lowered their weapons to stare.

"FROSTBORNE. VAELOR."

Morholt’s voice cracked across the training field like a whip.

Both women went rigid. They glanced at each other with a ’whoops.’

He crossed the distance with the controlled fury of a man whose training regiment had just been interrupted by a standing ovation for a baby dragon.

"Did I give you permission to stop?"

"No, Colonel."

"Did I give you permission to talk?"

"No, Colonel."

"I said no talking. You both just earned another four laps. Twelve. Keep going and I’ll have you doing laps until sundown."

"Yes, Colonel."

They ran.

Elara: Worth it.

Serena: Completely worth it.

Gav: You still aren’t making these private.

The girls exchanged another whoops look and continued running.

From the senior combat rotation, Fin watched the exchange. Then he looked at Dex who met his gaze.

For the second time today, they had a cease fire.

As soon as they were out of earshot, moving toward the far end of the field with the regiment, Dex spoke first.

"Colonel."

Morholt turned, saluting. "Commander."

"A word."