A dragon shifter novel Chapter 29

Thornhill Academy

Let Fate Deem It So

Evander

The infirmary doors sigh shut behind us, and the world narrows to antiseptic light and the steady clack of tools. Healers move with the kind of efficient calm that comes from having seen too many broken things to panie over any single one. Kael lays her on the bed and steps back to stand beside me. We

watch without crowding as they roll her over and peel away the shirt. “What did this?” one of the healers asks, voice flat with business, eyes already

scanning the damage. I swallow, the taste of river and iron thick on my tongue. My mind slides past the question to the thing in the trees, the wraith–beast,

and for a second, the right answer feels dangerous to speak aloud. “I’m not sure,” I say before I think twice about it. It isn’t a lie exactly… It’s careful. The

healer hums under her breath and bends to work. Kael and I take seats a short step away from the bed, close enough to be useful, far enough to give the

healers space. He leans his elbows on his knees and studies Allison. Then, soft and low enough that only I can hear, he asks, “Want to tell me what was up with your dragon back there?” I look at him, and of everyone in the world, it’s Kael who can say those things and not have them land like accusations. We’ve been best friends since we were born. He knows me. I know him. I let out a breath and say the only thing true and small enougir to hold. “He says she’s his.” Kael’s fingers tighten on his knees, and a faint sound leaves him, half a laugh, half a curse. “He says what?” “He said…” I try to shape the animal’s words into something less absurd. “He said she’s his. As in…” I hate how my voice drops to explain the impossible. “As in mine. As in he claimed her.” Kael’s eyes slide to the healers and back to me. He’s careful with his expression. “Ev,” he says, “you sure you’re not losing it?” I want to bristle, but instead, I tell the

other truth. “I’ve felt… something since the first time I saw her.” Kael’s head tips, curiosity raw. “Something? Like interest?”

“Curiosity,” I correct. “At first.” Saying it feels like spitting a shard of glass into the room. “She walks differently. She looks like she’s been dragged through everything and kept breathing. That kind of stubbornness gets my attention.” I give a humourless half–smile. “I’ve been telling myself that’s all it is.” Kael

listen’s, every line in his face attentive. “And then?”

“And then when I saw her on the ground…” There it is, the knot behind my throat I’ve been carrying all night. “When I had her in my talons, when he had

her in his, something snapped.” The word feels poor and violent. “It isn’t just curiosity. My dragon recognises her, and the feeling in me isn’t a human

thing. It’s… absolute. No question about it.” Kael stays quiet long enough that a heater in the room clicks like a metronome. “You think she’s your mate?” he

asks finally, soft and incredulous. “Not the Moonlight Festival kind of mate,” I say fast. “Not official. That’s the law. Fates are revealed at the Moonlight

Festival, with wards, witnesses, and ritual. I know that. We grew up on those rules… But something in my chest, my dragon… that’s what he says.” Kael lets

out a low whistle and arranges his face into careful neutrality. “So the dragon decided, not you,” he summarises. “And the dragon isn’t one to be argued

with.”

“It’s not… I don’t… fuck, man…” I scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t know what to do with that.” His hand lands on my back, steady as ever. “Then you

wait until the festival. Easy. If it’s true, you’ll be called to each other.”

The head healer pulls her gloves off with a snap, murmurs one last ward over the stitched skin, and steps back. “That’s it,” she says, voice crisp. “She just

needs rest now. We keep her warm and let the healing draught do its work. You can leave or stay. Either way, she’ll be fine.” Fine. My chest loosens just a

fraction at the word. Kael nods, thanks her, and leans back in his chair, all restless limbs folded into false calm. I don’t move. My feet feel welded to the floor, every part of me tethered to the pale rise and fall of her chest. When the healers file out, the room grows quiet. Kael shoots me a look but doesn’t

press. He stays, the stubborn bastard, and I’m grateful for it even if I’ll never say it. I shift closer. My chair scrapes low against the floor until I’m at her bedside. Up close, without the mud and blood, her face looks… softer. Not fragile, she’s fought too hard for that word ever to fif. Just… softer. Strands of

black hair cling damp to her skin. Lashes fan against her cheeks. Her lips part just enough for her breath to whisper through. I don’t realise I’ve reached out

until my fingers brush her hand. It’s small and cold in mine. My dragon stirs instantly, a low purr rolling under my sternum, urging me closer, encouraging

me to keep hold. So I do. I slip her hand into mine, my thumb tracing across knuckles still streaked faintly with dirt. The fit is… wrong and right all at once.

My hand dwarfs hers, calloused and clumsy against the delicate lines of her fingers. When I curl my palm around hers, my dragon goes utterly still. It feels

like the world has been waiting for this to fall into place.

“Mine.” The word rumbles through me again, certain as stone. I close my eyes, trying to breathe past the heat of it. How could he know? How could he claim

this before the Moonlight Festival, before the wards and ritual and council law? Fate isn’t supposed to trip early. Bonds aren’t supposed to break rules. My

dragon doesn’t care what’s supposed to happen. He only cares that she’s here, that she’s breathing and that her hand is in ours. “Are you going to tell her?”

Kael asks softly from the other side of the bed, watching me. “No,” I say, even though the word tastes bitter. “I’ll wait for the festival to confirm it.” He nods

once. An unspoken vow that he won’t tell her either. We will wait, and if fate deems it so, then I’ll let my dragon claim her properly.