Rain slicks the stone beneath your boots, thunder cracking over Xaden Riorson’s shoulder as the war games rage around you. Shouts echo in the distance, dragons circling above—but all you can hear is your own pulse, sharp with anger.

“You don’t get to make that call for me,” you snap, shoving at his chest. The leather is soaked, cold, but he doesn’t move an inch.

His jaw tightens, rain dripping from his lashes as he looks down at you. “I kept you alive.”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Your voice breaks despite yourself.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the tension in his face—the restraint, the war he’s fighting not out there, but right here.

“You think I care about orders?” he says, quieter now, stepping closer. “I broke formation because it was you.”