Tyrus pulled his gaze away from the slender silhouette of the girl standing on the parapet above him with her head in her hands. Unfortunately, he did this just in time to notice his opponent’s sword arcing toward his face—but not fast enough to react.

Thud. Pain burst open in his nose and exploded his vision into dancing, white sparkles. Tyrus let out a yelp and lowered his own wooden practice sword while stepping backward in surrender.

“Is that yield?” Halik, Tyrus’s opponent and closest friend amongst the other Ageon candidates asked, his voice casual, but not unkind.

“Mother of Magic,” Tyrus swore, bending over at the waist and blinking against the flashes in his vision. “Yes. I yield. I think you broke my nose.”

“Shouldn’t have dropped your guard,” Halik said. “You’ll be all right. I pulled my swing when I saw that you weren’t really focused on practice. Is Acten demanding your attention again?” He held out his hand and pointed at Tyrus’s practice sword, then flicked his fingers in a “give it to me” motion.

“He’s in class.” Tyrus handed off the sword, then dabbed below his nose to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. “I’m not sure which one, but whatever it is, he’s completely absorbed in the material.” He reached up and gingerly touched the bridge of his nose. It hurt, but it felt as straight as it always had. Maybe it wasn’t broken after all.

“So, what broke your concentration then? If it wasn’t your twin telepathically hounding you, what was it?”

“It’s not telepathy.” Tyrus sighed as he dropped his hands away from his face, shook his head, and focused on Halik. “I’ve told you that before. It’s just energy. Same as any other Ageon and Bellator.”

“Yeah, but you’re not an Ageon yet, and Acten is still just a student. No matter how clearly the two of you can feel each other’s emotions.” Out of long practice, Tyrus ignored the underlying note of envy in his friend’s voice. Like many Ageon candidates, Halik’s chances to improve his lot in life rested entirely on his ability to graduate from the Lyceum Belli and become an Ageon.

Which meant that not only must he train his martial skills to mastery levels, but he must also complete the difficult academic curriculum of mathematics, history, magical theory, and military arts and sciences. All of this in addition to earning the trust of and then bonding with a graduating Bellator or Bellatrix.

It was a lot to ask, but if he succeeded, Halik would elevate himself from the obscurity and ignominy of his illegitimate birth and secure his place as one of the empire’s elite warriors, entrusted with the safety and well-being of one of the empire’s precious battlemages. Plus, if Halik bonded with a Bellatrix from a noble house, he would become part of her family. Ageon bonds, when based on romantic attachment, were as legally and socially binding as a marriage.

Unlike Halik, though, Tyrus had no such pressures driving him forward. He had entered the Lyceum as an Ageon candidate at the same time that his identical twin brother, Acten, had started the course of study to be a Bellator. From the time they’d been inseparable small boys, Tyrus had known that protecting and caring for Acten would be his life’s work. Likewise, Acten had known that his ability to feel and manipulate energy flows meant he’d be a valuable addition to the Imperial Battlemage Corps one day. Just as their mother Erisa had been, before they’d been born.

Before his death four years ago, Tyrus’s father Laeo had pulled him aside and spoken to him, man-to-man, about the heavy responsibility of being an Ageon. It meant more than just protecting the mage in battle. Bellators were often so dedicated to their craft that they would neglect their own physical needs in pursuit of their study. It was sometimes up to their Ageons to ensure that they ate, drank, and slept. The Ageon must be best friend, sword and shield, counselor, and companion. That was why a mage must be bonded to an Ageon in order to serve in the Imperial Battlemage Corps. It was also why most Ageon bonds grew out of romantic attachments . . . although not all.

Tyrus had listened soberly as his father spoke of how his mother had been wounded in battle. She and several other battlemages had constructed a complex Working that failed at a critical time, allowing the energy to backlash wildly upon those wielding it. In order to save the others, Tyrus’s mother had chosen to pull the energy to herself. It had worked, but at a terrible price, for she had burned her mind’s magical receptors—his father had called them “synapses”—and destroyed Erisa’s ability to wield magic more complex than calling a small ball of light.

It had been Laeo’s task to nurse her through such a debilitating and tragic injury. Tyrus’s father had stayed by her side day and night, caring for her when she could not care for herself, reminding her that she had more worth than the ability to control complex magic.

In the end, Laeo had convinced Erisa to deepen her study of herbalism, which did not require magical talent, although it was taught at the Lyceum because of its importance to magical healing methods. He also convinced her to bear his child—or children, as fate decreed. Most powerful Bellatrices did not dare conceive, because of the risk of a developing child’s consciousness interfering with their Workings in a dangerous way. But since Erisa could no longer Work complex magic, she’d agreed to give the man she loved the offspring he craved, and Tyrus and Acten had been the result.

“I put the swords away, but I could punch you in the nose if you want.”

Tyrus blinked and focused on Halik’s grin and raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re distracted again, man. What’s up with you?”

“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about my mother.”

“Sanva Erisa?” Halik’s expression softened. He liked her. Most of the Ageon candidates did. Probably because she still wore Laeo’s bonding bracelet, even four years after his death. “Is everything all right with her?”

“Yeah, though she’s still after me to get to know the mage students better.”

“She just doesn’t want you limiting your choices,” Halik said.

“There are no choices,” Tyrus muttered, though his mind flashed back to the reason for his earlier distraction during their fencing match. “My brother is the other half of my soul.”

“Yes, but Acten is powerful and handsome, and the fact that he’s open to male and female lovers both means he’ll never lack for company. Red Lady’s tits, I bet half our class would throw themselves naked at his feet for the chance to be his protector. Especially the girls.”

Tyrus snorted and gave a little smile. “They already do.”

“See? So, it’s not like you’d be abandoning him. You deserve to devote your life to someone who loves you, too. Someone you love.”

Tyrus paused for a moment and looked Halik up and down. “You’re a romantic,” he said.

Halik shrugged. “I just know I’ve spent enough of my life being not quite good enough. When I choose my Bellatrix, she’s going to put me above everyone else in the world. And I’ll do the same for her. As it should be.”

“Then that’s how it will be,” Tyrus said, letting his smile grow and clapping his friend on the shoulder. “For you. I’m a different man, my friend, and so is Acten. Lovers come and go, but we’ve been together since our first breaths. Born together, die together. That’s the way it’s always been. That’s the way it’s always going to be.”

A chime sounded, echoing off the stone walls encasing the practice yard. Tyrus squeezed Halik’s shoulder one more time and dropped his hand, rolling his head on his neck.

“Well,” he said, turning to approach the stone stairs cut into the far corner of the walls. “Practice time is over. We should wash up before dinner. Thank you for putting my sword away . . . and for teaching me not to get distracted.”

Halik laughed and fell into step with Tyrus, letting their heavy thoughts drift away on the rising evening wind.

***

Tyrus forgot all about the conversation with Halik and the events that prompted it until late the following evening.

He was walking down the long stone corridor that separated the mage students’s living tower from the tower barracks where the Ageon candidates had their quarters. Ordinarily, candidates weren’t allowed in the student tower after the third hour post-supper, but he had special permission to visit Acten until middle night on alternating nights. It had been necessary during their first year at the Lyceum, when neither of them could fall asleep without the other nearby. Since they’d slept in the same room since the time they shared a cradle, adjusting to having different living quarters in different parts of the Lyceum had been a process that required careful handling.

Even now, eight-odd years later, Acten still occasionally woke screaming in the night, calling out for his brother to protect him against the terrors that dogged his sleep. On those nights, Tyrus would also wake, and run down the long corridor until he could wrap his arms around his twin and reassure him that he was safe, he was whole, and nothing would tear them apart.

It had happened enough that Tyrus could find his way from his brother’s room to his own while blindfolded. He was well familiar with the sound of his own bootheels echoing along this stone corridor in the silence of the night.

This time, though, it wasn’t silent. This time, his footsteps accompanied a sniff and the muffled sound of weeping. Tyrus slowed his stride as he approached the next windowed alcove along the corridor. A young woman wearing the plain garb of a mage student knelt there, next to a pile of rags and a bucket holding gray, dirty water with a thin sheen of iridescence on the surface. Soap, perhaps? Was she cleaning?

Her long, white-blonde hair hung like a curtain in front of her face, but he could see that she covered her face with her hands, weeping into her fingers. Recognition shot through him with a jolt. It was the girl from the parapet the other day, and this time he knew exactly who she was.

“Are you all right?” he asked, speaking softly so as not to startle her. It didn’t work. She jumped and stared up at him, the red rimming her eyes making her blue irises blaze in contrast.

“Oh! F-forgive me. I didn’t think anyone would be here this l-late. I’m just finishing up.” She grabbed jerkily for the bucket’s handle but only succeeded in tipping it over as she tried to rise from her slumped, kneeling posture. The contents poured out in a wave, pooling on the stone floor. She let out a cry that was something between despair and pain, and wilted back down to her knees in the dirty water.

“Oh no,” she breathed, her words broken by more tears. “Oh, I’m so stupid. I can’t even scrub a floor without mucking it all up.”

“It’s all right, Aelys, it’s just an accident.” Tyrus chuckled. “Fortunately, you’ve got some rags right there. Let’s just wipe it up, I’ll help you.” He bent and took several of the rags from the top of the pile and began strategically placing them to contain the spread of water.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” Aelys said, her voice meek. “I-I’m so sorry to have gotten in your way.”

“You’re not in my way at all,” Tyrus said. “It is I who should apologize to you for walking through your newly cleaned hallway with my boots on. I don’t normally encounter anyone here so late.”

Aelys shrugged and looked back down at her hands before reaching to grab another rag from the pile. She followed his lead, mopping up the water and wringing the rag out into her bucket before meeting his eyes again.

“We haven’t met, have we?” she asked, tentatively. “Only . . . how did you know my name?”

“We haven’t,” Tyrus said, looking up from his work with a tiny smile. “My name is Tyrus. I’m an Ageon candidate here. I just recognized you because of your resemblance to Sanva Aerivinne. You are her niece, right? Aelys of Brionne?”

Aelys nodded shyly. “I am,” she said. Then she let out a little laugh. “Though I doubt she’d be proud to claim the family connection just now.” She waved a hand at the hallway, at the bucket of dirty water, and the pile of rags.

Tyrus chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not the first mage student to be assigned extra chores. What did you do, fail an exam?” 

“Something like that,” Aelys whispered. Her shoulders slumped forward, her ghost of a smile disappeared, and her head dropped as she looked back down at the puddle.

“Oh?” Tyrus asked, his tone light. “That sounds like a story.”

“No story,” Aelys sighed. “I’m just not . . . living up to my potential. I need to work harder. So Sanvar Gilbain assigned me to scrub this corridor in hopes that it might motivate me.”

“Ah,” Tyrus said softly. “I get it. My brother once had to muck the stables for two weeks because he wasn’t focusing in his herbalism classes. He’s still angry at my mother for that one.”

“Your mother?” She looked back up at him, and a bolt of joy shot through him.

“Sanva Erisa,” Tyrus said, his smile growing.

“Oh! You’re that Tyrus. Acten’s twin! I’ve heard of you two.”

“And you’re that Aelys.” He dried his right hand on his breeches and held it out to her. “So, since we’re both famous—or notorious—shall we be friends?”

Her smile grew, lighting up her face and eyes and for just a fraction of a moment, Tyrus wondered what it would be like if his destiny wasn’t already set. What if he could choose Aelys of Brionne as his Bellatrix? What if he could make her smile like that every day, just for him?

“I would like that very much,” she said shyly. She reached out and clasped his hand lightly. “If you’re sure.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He held on to her fingers until she shrugged and made a wrinkle-nosed face.

“Eh, I’m not very popular,” she said, picking up her rag again and continuing to mop up the dirty water. “People are jealous of my family name, or annoyed that I’m not more powerful—not living up to my potential again.”

“Would you choose to be? Popular?”

She paused then, tilting her head to the side as she considered his question. “Not really?” she said after a moment, but her tone held a definite question. As if she were just figuring it out as they spoke. “I—I won’t lie, I would love to not be the butt of people’s jokes and stupid pranks, but I have no desire to be like Tasri Courlyn with her court of sycophants. But I suppose I prefer fewer, deeper friendships. Like the one I have with Myara, my roommate. She’s become the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister. We will be friends until we die, I think.” Aelys’s smile deepened just a little as she spoke of her friend, and gladness surged through Tyrus at the sight.

“It’s good to have friends like that,” he said. He took his own rag and wrung it out and then moved to collect some of the other rags. “They’re rare and precious. I’m lucky, I was born with my best friend, but some people go their whole lives without that kind of connection with someone. Someone to watch their back.”

“Is it true that you intend to become your brother’s Ageon?” Aelys asked. Then her face flamed crimson and she covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh! I’m so sorry. How rude of me, that’s such a terribly personal question!”

Tyrus chuckled. “It’s all right, didn’t we just decide to be friends? Friends can ask personal questions. I just won’t answer if I don’t want to. And yes, it’s true. Sibling Ageon bonds aren’t unheard of.”

“Oh, I know!” Aelys said, her eyes lighting up in enthusiasm. “In fact, I read that they used to be much more common than they are today. The Bellene mages made Ageons out of their siblings, their friends, their lovers—”

“—random warriors they forced into service.” Tyrus grinned at her as he spoke. “I’ve read History of Bellenic Magic too. Not many have.”

“I like to read,” she said. “It’s one of the few things I’m good at. And, yes, before the Bellenes were conquered and absorbed into the empire, I suppose they did force bonds sometimes. But that was a really long time ago, and no one today would impose a geas on an Ageon candidate. That would be monstrous!”

“It would.” He nodded and then took the last of the wet rags and wrung it into her bucket. “Which is part of the reason why the Lyceum exists. And why we train side by side with mage students, so we can form emotional ties that make the Ageon bond less . . . non-consensual.”

“But you already have a deep emotional tie,” Aelys said, an edge of wistfulness in her tone.

“I do,” Tyrus said. “I have. All my life. We . . . we already feel each other’s energy. I can tell his mood, if he’s hurt, vaguely where he is. I’m told that will intensify once we graduate and seal the binding.”

“Really?” Aelys’s eyes went wide. “That’s fascinating. Are you mage-talented too, then? Can you sense other energies?”

Tyrus shook his head. “No, just Acten’s. He can, though. Which is why he’s a mage student and I’m an Ageon candidate.”

“Well, that makes sense.” Aelys smiled up at him.

“You should meet him. My brother. I think he’d like you.”

Aelys’s smile vanished and she let out a small, bitter laugh. “We’ve met,” she said shortly. “And he doesn’t.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, broken only by the swish of the last rag as Aelys finished mopping up the water.

“There,” she said a moment later, exhaustion tangling with satisfaction in her voice. “Good as new. Thank you so much for helping me clean this up, Tyrus. It would have taken so much longer without you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Careful getting up. In fact, let me help you.” He stood and took the bucket by its handle, lifting it well clear of where she sat.

Aelys let out another bitter chuckle and grabbed the pile of wrung-out rags before using the wall to lever herself up. From the hiss of air through her teeth and the grimace on her face, Tyrus surmised her legs had gone to sleep while she knelt on the cold, wet stone.

“Are you all right?” he asked again.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just need a moment for the circulation to get going.”

“Do you want me to help you to your room?”

“No, thank you.” She reached out and took the bucket from his hands. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble on my account.”

“I have special permission—”

“I am fine, Tyrus,” she said, with the first hint of an edge in her voice he’d yet heard from her. “Thank you for helping me clean this up. I can manage the rest by myself.”

“All right,” he said, stepping back slowly. “It—it was nice to meet you, Aelys.”

“You, too.” She didn’t meet his eyes. She just looked down at the floor, hefted the bucket and the bundle of rags, and then stepped past him toward the mage students’s quarters.

***

The following day, Tyrus struggled to keep his mind from going back to that interaction in the corridor. After breakfast and the morning’s usual physical training, he looked for Aelys as he and the other Ageon candidates filed into their various classrooms in the interior part of the keep.

“You’re distracted again,” Halik said at one point, his voice sour. “Did you even hear what I said?”

Tyrus focused his eyes on his friend as he gathered up his books and shoved them into his knapsack.

“I heard,” Tyrus said. “Sanva Torreni didn’t like your essay again?”

Halik’s shoulders slumped, and frustrated weariness crumpled his expression. “That’s putting it mildly. She’s making me do it over, and she said if I can’t make a coherent argument of my own instead of just restating what the book says, I’ll fail the class. I can’t fail another one, Ty. I’ll be disenrolled.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

“You’ve been helping me,” Halik snapped. He fastened the catch on his knapsack and slung it in quick, angry motions. “She warned me about that, too. ‘You need to write this yourself, Candidate Halik. I’ve read enough of Candidate Tyrus’s work to be able to spot the difference!’”

Tyrus snorted at the exaggeratedly high-pitched voice Halik affected and looked around to make sure the Sanva wasn’t within earshot.

“I can still help you and . . . I might have another idea,” Tyrus said. “We’ve got an hour before midday meal. Come with me real quick.”

“Where are we going?”

“To find my brother.”

“Acten’s just going to laugh at me like he always does,” Halik grumbled. “He’s too used to being brilliant. He’s got no idea how to teach.”

“No, but he might know where to find someone who does.”

Tyrus led Halik from the classroom, out onto an external walkway, and turned for the stairs that led down into a galleried courtyard where mage students mingled with Ageon candidates during their free hours. A quick scan of the courtyard showed him that Acten sat under one of the large, flowering trees while several other mage students clustered around.

“Your brother’s holding court again,” Halik said quietly as the two of them descended the stone stairs. Tyrus snorted softly in agreement. Acten’s good looks and natural charisma made him popular with men and women both . . . a circumstance in which Acten absolutely reveled.

Tyrus didn’t miss the assessing looks that the mage students threw their way as he and Halik crossed the courtyard. The dynamic between mage students and Ageon candidates was an interesting one. From their fifth year on, the Lyceum encouraged students and candidates to get to know one another, to form relationships that would become the basis for Ageon bonds. But because of the nature of the Ageon bond, and because it was always the Ageon’s choice . . . mage students often ended up competing to draw the attention of the Ageon candidates they found most interesting.

And while everyone knew Tyrus had already chosen his brother, Halik was strong, and handsome, and incredibly good at the martial aspect of his training. In fact, Tyrus suspected that it was only doubt about his academic future that kept Halik from having female students throwing themselves at him day and night.

No student wanted to waste time and effort cultivating a relationship—or even a quick dalliance—with a candidate who might not graduate.

“Tyrus!” Acten called out as they approached. As always, a frisson of energy shot through Tyrus as he met his brother’s eyes. Tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in his shoulders and neck slipped away, and a smile came easily to his lips. “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” Tyrus responded. He strode up to where Acten stood to greet them and wrapped his brother up in a tight, back-thumping hug. “Well, you and someone else,” he added as he let go and watched Acten grip Halik’s hand in greeting.

“Oh, sounds intriguing,” Acten said. He turned back to the other mage students with whom he’d been talking and flipped his hands in their direction. “Shoo. I’m talking with my brother and his friend. You aren’t wanted here right now.”

Tyrus raised his eyebrows at his brother’s rudeness, but the gathered students seemed to take it in stride. They rose and left without a single quip in reply, and Acten turned back to him with a smirk.

“That was rude,” Tyrus said, keeping his voice mild.

“They’re sheep, the lot of them,” Acten said, rolling his eyes. “Not a single one of them has anything interesting to say, and they only want to be close to me because they think it gives them social standing. So, what’s going on? Who’s this other person you’re looking for?”

“Aelys of Brionne,” Tyrus said. “Do you know anything about her?”

Acten made a face like he’d just bitten into a grape to find it rotted. “Ugh. A little. Why do you want to know about her?”

“I ran into her last night. She seemed nice. I think she might be able to do us a favor.”

“Doubtful,” Acten said. “Oh, her family is powerful, of course. But she’s so . . . nothing. Barely any power at all, from what I’ve heard. And she’s so meek everyone walks right over her. No backbone at all.”

“Tyrus, what—” Halik started, but Tyrus held up a hand to silence him.

“But she’s smart, right? She does well in her classes? And she’s a kind person?” Tyrus pressed.

Acten shrugged. “I guess so. Why?”

Tyrus exhaled slowly. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need your word that you won’t be an ass about it, Acten.”

Acten shot him an irritated look. “When am I ever an ass—”

“I’m serious, Acten. This means a lot to me.”

Acten sighed. “Fine,” he said, touching his fingers to his chest. “Best behavior, I promise.”

Tyrus gestured for Halik to come closer, so that the three of them stood in a tight circle that excluded any other ears.

“The thing is, Halik’s in danger of failing some of his classes,” Tyrus said quickly, ignoring the way Halik stiffened beside him. If Acten promised he’d be on his best behavior, he would be. “And the Sanvari are wary of you and me helping him. But they can’t fault a candidate for getting to know a student he might bond with, right? And I’ve never seen anyone who needs a protector as much as Aelys seems to. So, I figured, what if we ask her to help Halik with his studies?”

“I’m not going to get into a relationship with a girl just because—” Halik started, but Tyrus shook his head.

“No one is suggesting that,” he said. “Just that the Sanvari can’t object to you spending time together. And if she’s seen with you, the bullying should taper off. No one wants to piss you off, especially since you’re friends with us.”

“She’s pretty enough,” Acten threw in with a shrug. “You might like her, Halik. And you can’t argue with her family’s social position. Imagine if you did bond with a daughter of House Brionne. Your social-climbing bitch of a mother would break a hip in her haste to kiss your ass!”

Halik snorted a laugh, while Tyrus just shook his head at Acten’s vulgarity.

“Look, I’m just saying, let’s ask her. Worst case, she says no, and we figure out another way to help you pass, Halik.”

“Okay,” Halik said. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Wait, I have more questions,” Acten said, his eyes flicking back to Tyrus’s. “Namely, why under the two moons do you give a shit about whether or not some mouse of a mage student is getting bullied, Tyrus? Do you like this girl?”

“I do like her,” Tyrus said slowly. “She’s kind, and intelligent, and sort of funny. I can’t . . . if we were anywhere else, I’d pay court to her, but you of all people know why I can’t do that, Acten.”

“Because of me?” Something dark and troubled flitted through Acten’s eyes. Tyrus swallowed hard and reached out to grip his twin by the back of the neck. He leaned forward, putting their foreheads together as they’d done since they were tiny boys. Energy surged between them, bringing a feeling of safety, of completeness. Of home.

“Because of us,” he said. “Because you’re my brother, the other half of my soul, and no one will ever come between us. But yes, it means that it’s not fair of me to lead some poor girl on when I’m never going to be free to choose her.”

“So, you’re offering me up in your stead?” Halik asked. Tyrus shot him a look, but Halik laughed. “I’m only joking. I know you don’t mean it like that.”

“I just think you two might be able to help each other, that’s all,” Tyrus said, letting his hand drop and straightening up.

“Tyrus is right,” Acten said then. “Magic Herself knows the girl could use a defender. And, who knows, you might like her. Like I said, she’s pretty enough. And a Brionne, to boot.”

“All right, fine,” Halik said with a grin. “Where’s this girl?”

Acten leaned back, then pointed behind Halik, over to the far corner of the courtyard, where a knot of mage students stood around a coruscating, iridescent column of many-hued fire. “Right over there.”

“Stop!”

Another young woman emerged from beneath the colonnaded walkway that bordered the courtyard. Her auburn hair streamed behind her as she ran furiously toward the group Acten indicated. She held up a hand ahead of her as she ran, blasting force outward from her palm. The flames wavered for a moment, giving the watching trio a glimpse of a white-blonde girl inside. She stood encased in cerulean light that flowed from her raised palms and wrapped around her, forming an energy shield that kept the flames from crisping her skin and blackening all that platinum hair.

As one, Tyrus, Acten, and Halik started over there, arriving just in time to see the auburn-haired girl—presumably the roommate and friend Aelys had mentioned—shove the dark-haired, sneering young woman standing at the head of the group.

“Leave Aelys alone, Tasri! She hasn’t done anything to you!”

“I haven’t done anything to her,” the dark-haired girl—Tasri, apparently—shot back, arching an aristocratic eyebrow at Myara. “She’s shielding against the fire, I’m just helping her get stronger.”

“Are you?” Acten asked, his voice a low, dangerous drawl. Tyrus felt a surge of dark glee rock through him as Tasri and her friends turned to stare at the three of them.

“Acten,” Tasri breathed, a note of fear underlying the word. Tyrus abruptly realized that these girls were a year or two behind his brother in their studies and therefore subordinate to him in the student hierarchy. “We were just—”

“Release her, now.” Acten snapped, and the column of fire vanished as if it had never existed. Where it had stood, an exhausted Aelys of Brionne slowly slumped to the floor. The auburn-haired girl let out a cry and fell to her knees beside Aelys. Halik, too, surged forward.

“Here,” he said, bending to gather Aelys up in his arms. “I’ve got her. Let’s take her to her room. Do you know where it is?”

“Y-yes,” the auburn-haired girl said. “I’m Myara, her roommate. I-it’s just this way.”

“Go,” Tyrus said, jerking his head at Halik. “I’ll stay with Acten and sort this out.”

Halik gave him a short nod and then turned to follow Myara back the way she’d come. Tyrus turned back to see his brother smiling unpleasantly at the leader of the group as her lackeys slowly backed away.

“You’re a bully, aren’t you, Tasri of Courlyn?” Acten said. The girl stiffened, drawing herself up in a manner that was probably supposed to be haughty, but just looked stiff. “Oh yes, I know very well who your family is. Just as you know that that won’t help you in the slightest if Sanva Aerivinne finds out that you torched her niece.”

“That girl is an embarrassment,” Tasri spat. “She can barely access any power at all. She shouldn’t be here, wasting everyone’s time.”

“That’s as may be,” Acten said. “But it’s not for you to decide, is it?”

“But—”

“No. Understand me, Tasri of Courlyn, Aelys of Brionne is off limits.” He stabbed a finger at her chest. “You will leave her in peace, or you will face me.” As Acten said it, Tyrus felt a slight pull through him and black flames appeared, flickering around Acten’s hand and making Tasri’s eyes go wide in terror. Acten lifted his fingers in front of her eyes and snapped them, letting the flames go. His smile widened.

“Do we understand one another?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what, Tasri?”

“Yes, I understand you. I will leave Aelys alone.”

“Good girl. Run along now. Spread the word to your little friends. I will hold you responsible for their actions too, you know.”

Tasri pressed her lips together, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. But she nodded, then backed away before turning and walking swiftly after her friends. Tyrus watched her go for a moment before turning to his brother.

“You’re a right ass, you know that?” he said lowly.

“Did you want your little girl protected or not?” Acten shot back.

“She’s not my little girl,” Tyrus said.

“Bullies like Tasri of Courlyn only understand one thing: fear. I’ve just made sure she understands the situation.”

“And what happens when we graduate in a few years and she and Aelys are still here?”

“I’d say that’s up to Aelys and Halik, wouldn’t you?” Acten grinned at his brother. “You know she’s going to fall in love with him, right?”

“I kinda hope it’s mutual.”

“If he’s smart, it will be. Sure, she’s not very powerful right now, but she’s what, fifteen, sixteen? She’s a Brionne, there’s no way she’s not got powerful reserves. In fact, from the way she held that shield against Tasri’s fire, I’d say she’ll be having a breakthrough any day now. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, she’s going to see Halik as her rescuer, which means she’ll be happy to help him with his classes. And she’ll be so grateful for his attention and protection that she’ll fall madly in love with him, giving him the perfect opportunity to realize his dream and elevate his status by bonding with a Brionne Bellatrix. I’m impressed, Ty. This is a manipulation worthy of . . . well . . . me.”

“Shut up,” Tyrus said, rolling his eyes. He turned and started walking back toward the stairwell and the classrooms. “I didn’t manipulate anyone.”

“You did,” Acten said with a grin. He fell into step beside Tyrus. “When you present a choice to a person, you’ve already narrowed the options for them. That’s manipulation, pure and simple. Just because you did it out of kindness doesn’t mean that it’s anything else. It just means that, as always, you’re a better man than me.”

Tyrus shoved his brother lightly, making him stumble. “You’re an ass,” he repeated.

“But I’m your ass,” Acten insisted. “And you love me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m your brother,” Acten continued, his voice full of smug confidence. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Fair enough,” Tyrus laughed, reaching out to pull his twin into a walking hug. In the back of his mind, he buried the image of a smiling Aelys under the oceans of love he felt for the other half of his soul. “You’re right. I do love you, Acten. And I don’t have another choice.”

Although that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Tyrus had a choice, it was just one he’d already made.

And he absolutely refused to regret it.

Copyright © 2025 by Kacey Ezell

Kacey Ezell is a retired USAF helicopter pilot who writes emotionally charged adventure fantasy and science fiction. She is a two-time Dragon Award Finalist for Best Alternate History and has written multiple bestselling novels published with Chris Kennedy Publishing, Baen Books, and Blackstone Publishing. Find out more and join her community at https://kaceyezell.net/the-dragons-horde.