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This Means War
by Melissa Olthoff

I still remember my first dragon flight.

I was all of three years old when my mother took me up on the back of her green dragon, Kerowyn.

That was the day I learned what it felt like to soar.

When I was older, my father took me flying all the time on his gray dragon, Dax, but the memory of that first flight stayed with me. A blurred impression of warm winds heavy with honeysuckle, limitless blue skies, and absolute freedom.

I dreamed of it.

That dream carried me all the way to the Tennessan Bonded Training Academy, where I was currently getting my ass kicked by academy instructors determined to weed out anyone not suitable to be a bonded rider.

“Down!”

My arms burned as I did my millionth pushup of the day, just one of hundreds of trainees lined up in neat rows on the grassy field.

“Down!”

I forced elbows to bend, back to stay straight, core to remain tight, and did another. The morning sun was already scorching, and sweat trickled down my face, stinging my eyes and plastering loose copper strands of hair to my skin.

“Halfway down and hold!” The instructor leisurely strolled down my row, sharp eyes catching the moment my elbows buckled. “If Trainee Harper Tavros falls on her face, we’ll have to start over from the beginning!”

Oh, you motherfucker.

My arms shook, but I held it…and held it…and if the instructor didn’t end this soon I was going to faceplant in the grass and then everyone would hate me.

“Down and recover!”

One last pushup and I staggered to my feet with everyone else, panting and doing my best to stand at attention for morning formation. A few announcements later, a quick water break, and they dismissed us for the next round of PT.

It was only midmorning. Everything hurt and I wanted to die. But I kept going. We all did, because every last one of us on that field wanted to be a rider.

The instructors knew damn well we were all physically suitable, and it had nothing to do with our fitness level. We’d all tested bond capable at sixteen when the Mavens came through our towns and villages on their yearly rounds. Even then we weren’t allowed to set foot on academy grounds until we’d finished primary schooling and turned eighteen, just like any other college or military academy in Tennessan. The difference was in order to attend this academy, an applicant’s blood needed to carry the necessary recessive gene that made bonding with a dragon or griffin possible.

So that wasn’t what the instructors were testing as they put us through the wringer.

They were weeding out anyone who didn’t want it badly enough.

Bonding wasn’t something done on a whim. It was an entanglement of souls, an unbreakable connection between bondmates. That bond also came with a requirement to serve in the Tennessan military and defend our borders from our more aggressive neighbors like Savinia. So, the instructors pushed us, did their best to grind us into the dirt, to break us down, because once bonded…there was no going back.

They could push as hard as they wanted. I didn’t mind a little dirt, and I wasn’t going to break. It was only ridiculous amounts of physical training in high heat and humidity.

At least, that’s what I told myself as my squad jogged in formation along the winding forest trails. For our second run of the day, they’d sent us out with the dreaded pipes of doom. Sweat soaked my PT shirt, my thighs burned with fatigue, and my arms ached from the weight of the metal pipe braced against our right shoulders.

“Step it up a little, Harper!” Bethany Sturman bellowed from her position as the anchor. The girl was built like a tank and had a good couple of inches of height on me, so I’d been stuck at the front while Brian Macklin braced the center. “We need momentum for that slope up ahead.”

“Copy faster!” I sucked in a deep breath and pushed harder. I’m not sure I actually managed to run all that faster, but Bethany started pushing the pace from the rear, and my legs had two choices: keep up or fall.

I kept up, but my shoulder informed me it needed a break.

“Switch!” I called out as our boots pounded out a new rhythm on the packed dirt of the trail.

In a coordinated move we’d perfected over the past month, we pushed the pipe over our heads and brought it down on the opposite shoulder. It didn’t matter which pipe your squad got stuck carrying. They were all equal in length, equal in weight, and equally hated by everyone. They were meant to be carried by squads of four, but my squad had been down to three trainees ever since Julie Pritchard had quit two weeks into indoc training.

It sucked, but it was doable.

Until Macklin decided to screw us over.

“Fuck this shit, I’m out,” he snarled halfway up the slope.

Just like that, he let go of the pipe, stepped to the side of the trail, and quit. The pipe dug into my shoulder and I stumbled under the unexpected additional weight.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Bethany snapped, grunting as she shifted her hold. “At least finish the run!”

Macklin just flipped us off and stalked back down the trail, heading back to the academy.

Unlike Savinia, service wasn’t mandatory for the bond capable. We could leave at any time before bonding. But we were only three days out from hell week. The last week of indoc training. All we had to do was get through that and we’d officially be cadets.

And he’d quit.

“What a dick,” Bethany muttered.

I was too busy panting for breath and forcing my legs up the slope to comment, but I grunted in agreement.

Irritated shouts rang out as the thud of multiple boots on the trail rapidly approached from behind, but this section was too narrow for another squad to get past us. Bethany growled, sounding remarkably like the academy commandant’s red dragon, and surged forward. The abrupt change in pace caught me off guard. I tried to keep my footing but went down to one knee hard, rolling my right ankle in the process.

“Shit!” Bethany immediately stopped. “Sorry, Harper!”

“It’s fine! It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” I ground out as pain shot up my abused legs.

Blowing out a sharp breath, I tried to get back up—and couldn’t. All the exhaustion and aches and pains washed over me, threatening to drown my resolve. Faltering, I tried again, but that stupid pipe pressed down on my shoulder, an insurmountable weight determined to keep me on the ground.

I felt myself break.

It was a tiny thing, a sharp snap deep inside. My next exhale was more sob than anything else. It would be so much easier to give in, to walk away, to quit.

And then a warm breeze heavy with honeysuckle snaked its way through the trees, rustling the leaves and whispering of absolute freedom.

I held onto the memory of my first flight and tried one more time. Teeth gritted and legs shaking, I finally got back up…even though I’d broken when I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t.

“Atta girl,” Bethany roared in encouragement. “Knew you could do it.”

“As if I’d quit on you,” I gasped as we staggered back into an agonizingly slow run. Pain shot up my calf every time I put weight on my right leg, but the ankle held. “You’re a beast…but even you…can’t carry this stupid thing…alone.”

She laughed. “Bet.”

Okay, fine. She probably could. As if to prove it, she shifted the pipe so she was shouldering more of the weight.

As we ran, a shadow passed overhead, momentarily blocking the sunlight shining down through the trees. My head snapped up just in time to catch a glimpse of a pair of green dragons gliding toward the dragon campus of the academy.

Huffing out a sharp breath, I picked up the pace again. I might have broken a little, but I wasn’t going to fail.

We made it to the top of the slope where the trail widened again and moved to the side so the other squad could pass. Resentment flashed through me when they did. Four big guys…okay, three big guys and one lean bastard carrying the same weight as us.

With only two of us, this was going to suck, but we could do it. Even though I was limping, even though Bethany sounded like a dying moose as she shouldered far too much of the weight, we could do it. I adjusted my grip so I was carrying my fair share, and we kept going.

And then one of the guys on the trail ahead of us glanced back, dark eyes passing over Bethany and lingering on me.

As if he thought I was weak.

He flashed us a confident grin before he turned back to his squad. “You guys got this, right?”

Between one stride and the next, he let go of the pipe and sidestepped out of the way of his anchor runner.

“Damn it, Thompson,” the big guy growled.

“You’re going to kill our time,” the lean bastard in the front snapped.

“This isn’t a timed event, Blackwood,” the last guy said, shifting to the middle of the pipe to cover the gap. “All we have to do is finish.”

“Fucking hell, Serrano. Do you always have to be such a know-it-all…”

I lost sight of them as they ran around a bend in the trail. The thick trees muted the sound of their squabbling, and even the synchronized thud of their boots quickly faded.

“Hey, ladies!” The first trainee jogged back to us. “Need an assist?”

I wanted to claw that charming smile off his stupid face. The fact that his stupid face was stupidly handsome was irrelevant. I wasn’t here for that.

“We’ve got it, asshole.”

He slid to the side when I would’ve run right over him and had the audacity to laugh at my mulish expression.

“My name’s Dimitri, not asshole.” He winked as he ran easily next to us. “Just in case you were wondering.”

“We weren’t,” I snapped, forcing my legs to go faster. We rounded the bend and regained sight of Dimitri’s squad, but the gap grew despite irritation pushing my steps. “And we don’t need your help.”

“Okay, hotshot,” he drawled before he glanced back at Bethany. “She always this stubborn?”

“You always this cocky?” Bethany shot back without missing a beat, and I huffed a breathless laugh. We’d only known each other a few weeks, but if I hadn’t already loved her like a sister that would’ve done it.

“Yes,” Dimitri said with an answering laugh.

My glare faltered and faded away. Because I was absolutely being stubborn and, despite Dimitri’s cocky attitude, there was nothing but earnest sincerity in his dark eyes.

“Okay, fine. I’m stubborn. You’re cocky. Bethany is a beast.” I freed one hand to wipe the burning sweat out of my eyes before grabbing onto the pipe again. “And Macklin is a dick. So, yeah. Help would be appreciated.”

“There, was that so hard, hotshot?” Dimitri crooned as he braced his shoulder under the pipe and matched our pace.

“It’s Harper, not hotshot,” I grumbled, even as my shoulders cried out in relief at the reduced weight. “And I’m rethinking my decision,”

“At least my view has improved,” Bethany called out with a grin in her voice.

“Hey, eyes up here,” Dimitri called back good-naturedly.

We finished the run together and ended up back in formation next to Dimitri’s squad. The instructor, a rugged ex-ranger, tortured us with several rounds of exercise involving the pipes of doom before dismissing us for lunch. There was a mad rush to stack the pipes at the edge of the field. Nobody wanted to be last for chow. The academy kitchen staff had a bad habit of combining leftovers into incredibly awful casseroles.

Before we could join the chaos, the instructor stabbed a finger at both our squads. “Not you. Pipes up!”

Groaning in misery, we pushed our pipes straight over our heads and held it. The ex-ranger stalked over, his scuffed and worn leathers barely containing the ridiculous amount of muscle packed onto his large frame. The man probably could’ve held both pipes over his head without struggling. Meanwhile, my arms were already trembling.

“I can’t help but notice that you trainees seem to have taken it upon yourselves to reorganize your squads. Anyone care to explain?” His hard stare landed on Dimitri. “And it better not be for the reasons I’m thinking.”

My eyes widened at the implication. As much as his cockiness had irritated me, Dimitri had genuinely been trying to help. I didn’t want him to get in trouble for it. Neither, apparently, did his squadmates.

Anger flashed over the lean bastard’s face and his mouth opened. Nothing good was going to come from that.

“Sir, we were down two,” I said hurriedly, staring straight ahead. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the lean bastard snap his mouth shut again. “Trainee…”

“Thompson,” Dimitri hissed from behind me.

“Trainee Thompson offered to assist like a good teammate, sir!”

The instructor pinned me with a hard stare. “And why were you down to two when you started that run with three, Trainee Tavros?”

If it was possible to stand any more at attention with a heavy pipe held over my head, I would have. Resentment welled up, because if Macklin hadn’t quit like a little bitch, we’d already be in line for chow instead of holding this stupid pipe over our heads. My arms were visibly shaking now, and every muscle I had and several I was sure I didn’t were on fire.

It made me less than cautious. Okay, fine. It made me stupid.

“Because Trainee Macklin is a—”

“Trainee Macklin fell out, sir,” Dimitri broke in smoothly. “After I verified he wasn’t injured, I offered to assist their squad to ensure we all made it to the finish line.”

Chagrin washed over me along with a heaping dose of trepidation. I’d almost called Macklin out for being a dick and quitting on us, but that would’ve earned me pushups until the sun set. The fact that Macklin had absolutely been a dick who’d abandoned us in the middle of a punishing run was irrelevant. You didn’t throw fellow trainees under the rampaging dragon.

Our instructor glowered at me for a long moment, long enough I wondered if I would be doing pushups until sundown anyway.

And then he barked, “Recover.”

My arms screamed in relief as we lowered the pipes to our shoulders. The sun beat down from overhead, but the breeze that had barely made it through the trees gusted across the open field unopposed, cooling the sweat on my brow.

“Thompson, return to your squad. Dismissed.”

It was possible we tossed our pipes into the pile slightly harder than necessary, because we were definitely last for chow. As we took our places at the back of the line, I flexed sore shoulders and gingerly stretched out my ankle. Relief punched me in the gut. The joint was sore, but nothing I couldn’t power through. The last thing I wanted was to get sidelined until next year because of a bad injury.

Dimitri dragged a hand through his short hair, leaving it standing in sweaty spikes, and slid forward half a step so he was standing next to me.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” He dropped his voice low as an instructor marched past. “That’s twice I saved your ass, in case you weren’t counting.”

My eyes narrowed, but there was a teasing note underlying his smug words, and I found myself fighting back a grin. “I was going to say thank you, but now I don’t want to. See you on the obstacle course this afternoon, asshole.”

He smirked. “Looking forward to it, hotshot.”

#

Fortunately for my shaking arms, Bethany and I didn’t end up on the obstacle course with Dimitri’s squad that day. There were so many trainees they were cycling us through in groups, and ours had to wait until the next morning.

Only two days left until hell week, and I honestly couldn’t decide what was worse—the pipes of doom, the obstacle course obviously designed to make life suck so much more than it needed to, or the sun that was trying to kill us faster than the instructors could.

Neither the heat or the instructors let up all morning, and by afternoon formation, we were all sweaty, exhausted, and irritable. Instead of immediately dismissing us to chow, they announced they were reorganizing us so we’d be in four-man squads again.

I knew it was coming, but I still grimaced when they split Bethany and me up. They kicked her over to a squad led by a big guy with an impassive expression, and pointed me to my new squad.

My heart hit my toes. It was the guys from yesterday, minus the biggest trainee.

Dimitri smirked. “Hey there, hotshot.”

Perfect.

#

I didn’t taste lunch, which was probably for the best. The kitchen staff had outdone themselves recycling the academy cadets’ leftovers into something to fuel the academy hopefuls getting their asses kicked outside the academy walls.

Literally.

Whether we ended up on the back of a griffin on the ground or the back of a dragon in the skies, all cadets needed to learn the foundations of hand-to-hand combat. From the beginning of indoc, a portion of every day had been devoted to combatives. We’d learned defensive stances, strikes and blocking techniques, how to properly use leverage, and grappling basics. Last week, we’d graduated to pugil stick training, where we put everything we’d learned into beating each other with short, heavily padded staffs.

I blinked up at the sky, struggling to remember how to breathe, and reflected that not much had changed with my new squad. I was still getting my ass kicked, just by Callum Blackwood—AKA Lean Bastard—instead of Bethany.

Callum stared down at me and shook his head. “I still can’t believe we got stuck with her.”

“Be nice,” Zayne Serrano growled as he leaned over and offered me a hand up. I shook my head and rolled to my feet on my own.

“Why, because she’s a girl? That’s got nothing to do with it.” His narrowed gaze landed on my bruised knee. It was entirely possible I was still limping, but he didn’t have to glare at me like I’d hurt myself to spite him. “She’s going to slow us down. And before you can say anything, you freaking know-it-all, the next run is timed.”

My eyes narrowed. The instructor hadn’t ended the matches yet. And Callum was very much distracted.

I spun and swept my pugil stick into the back of his knees. He went down hard, but I underestimated him. Despite having the breath knocked out of him, he lunged to his feet and struck me in the ribs three times before I managed to block the fourth.

Then he executed the same strike to the back of my knees, and I went down harder. Ow.

Growling, I rolled to my feet and shook out my burning hands one at a time. They were already sore from the obstacle course, newly formed calluses irritated by the worn wood, but now they were tearing open on the pugil stick. Tiny dots of red stained the padding where I’d gripped tight, but that was a much more minor irritation than Callum freaking Blackwood.

Just like I’d taken advantage of his distraction, Callum took advantage of mine, striking at my face. I flinched back instinctively, but the strike never landed.

Dimitri blocked him.

“Switch,” Dimitri demanded in a low growl.

“But—”

“Now, Cal.”

The bigger trainee stared Callum down until he snapped his mouth shut and traded places with him. As Zayne engaged my former sparring partner in a lightning-fast series of strikes, Dimitri flexed his shoulders and swung his pugil stick in a quick warm-up pattern.

“You ran the obstacle course this morning, didn’t you?” he asked in a low rumble.

His pointed glance at my hands said he’d noticed the blood. He flipped one palm over to show me his own torn calluses, then started us on a basic strike and block pattern. He allowed me to set the pace, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath and ask the question that had been dancing around the back of my mind since I’d been assigned to their squad.

“What happened to your other squadmate?”

Dimitri grimaced, taking a quick beat to use one shoulder to wipe away the sweat rolling down his face. “You heard about the guy who broke his leg on the obstacle course yesterday?”

I winced and swung my pugil stick high to block the descending strike. “That was him?”

“Yeah.” He easily blocked my low return strike to his outer thigh. “Phillips will have to come back next year.”

An instructor strolled down the line of sparring trainees, getting closer with every deceptively slow stride. Dimitri tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes bright with warning.

“Let’s step it up, hotshot.”

His next strike whipped out shockingly fast, but the pattern was the same and my arms automatically moved to block before my brain fully processed the blow. A grin tugged at my lips and I matched his new pace. Strike, block, step back, lunge forward, twist at the hips to put power into the blow, move the feet to stay balanced. Soon enough, my arms burned and my breath came in sharp pants, but Dimitri didn’t slow. If anything, he sped up, but I did my damndest to keep up. It was fun.

Sadly, the run that followed wasn’t.

A mile into it, I wasn’t sure what irritated me more—my bruised knee, my sore ankle, or Callum’s constant glares and muttered curses. If we didn’t have to finish the run as a squad, I had no doubt he would’ve left me behind in a heartbeat. We were running the same trail as yesterday, and the oppressive heat was sweltering beneath the thick trees, the green a solid blanket between us and the sky without the faintest breeze to stir the leaves. I almost struggled more to breathe than to keep up with Zayne in the lead.

The taller trainee glanced back before he fell in beside me with a friendly grin. “Don’t worry about Cal. He was born grumpy. Just try to match my stride.”

My gaze dropped to his ridiculously longer legs. “You’re…joking…right?”

Zayne huffed a laugh, not nearly as out of breath as me. “Just keep your shoulder even with mine, Harper. Trust me, it’ll help.”

He wasn’t wrong. Having someone running next to me, pushing the pace slightly faster than I would’ve managed alone, helped. It helped more when Dimitri managed to distract Callum so he finally shut up. We finished the run completely sweat-soaked and with a slightly below average time. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the instructors used our run times to assign the evening work details.

We pulled stall-cleaning duty.

I actually didn’t mind, but Callum’s glare was hot against the side of my face.

“See what I mean? She’s dead weight.” He aggressively jabbed the manure fork into the mixed pile of straw and horseshit. “A freaking anchor tied to our squad.”

My eyes narrowed as I worked in the stall next to him, the sweet scent of horse and hay nearly overwhelmed by the sour stench of manure baking in the summer heat. Stalls were cleaned out daily, but the punishing sun had kept the horses inside all day. The stable hands had just turned them out to graze in the relatively cooler evening air, and the occasional whicker of contented horses drifted inside on the breeze.

Zayne shrugged as he pushed a full wheelbarrow down the wide aisle. “It could’ve been worse. We could’ve pulled latrines. Again.”

“Yeah, Cal.” Dimitri dumped a forkload of manure into the wheelbarrow outside my stall and shot a pointed look at the grumpy trainee. “Remind me again whose fault it was the last time we had to clean them?”

Callum shifted his scowl to his messy stall and didn’t answer. A grin pulled at my lips.

“Let me guess,” I crooned. “That mouth of yours got your squad in trouble?”

My grin widened when he just kept shoveling out the stall. I was so filthy my skin itched, I probably smelled as bad as the barn, every last muscle I had burned, and my rolled ankle ached…but all of a sudden, I was having fun again.

So. Weird.

I shook my head at Zayne as he trundled past with an empty wheelbarrow. “You lied to me.”

The taller trainee actually looked outraged. “I did not!”

“Sure you did.” I tilted my head toward Callum. “You said he was born grumpy, but he’s really a born smartass, isn’t he?”

A growl was my only warning. I stepped back hurriedly, one boot sinking into a pile of manure, but I managed to get clear of the sneak attack. Brown chunks rained down on my stall floor, while pieces of straw floated in the air, shining almost gold in the last rays of sunlight.

Callum grinned nastily, his manure fork empty—because that bastard had flung horseshit at me. “Better a smartass than an anchor.”

Calmly, I pulled my boot free of the muck, shook as much of it loose as possible, and met Callum’s stare with a smile. I kept smiling, long after his grin faltered.

Dimitri stalked past with a full wheelbarrow, grumbling under his breath. “If either of you gets us stuck with latrine duty again, I’m going to ask them to make you use your own toothbrushes.”

#

Cadets at the Tennessan Bonded Training Academy rated actual barracks and dorm rooms. Trainees got Tent City, row after row of barrack-sized canvas tents set up outside the academy walls. There hadn’t been nearly as many in my parents’ day, but the academy had ramped up recruitment numbers in the past few years thanks to rising tensions along the border with Savinia.

The tents were patched and faded, leaked whenever it rained, and smelled nearly as bad as we did after a long day of PT. Latrines and showers were segregated by gender, but the tents weren’t. Not only were most of us far too exhausted by the end of the day to get up to any fun, unless you were an exhibitionist, being packed in together cut down on any urge to get to know a fellow trainee a little better.

The rickety old cots were arranged by squad, so I’d moved my meager possessions over to Phillip’s former cot before curfew. And then I waited for the boys to fall asleep. Zayne was out like a light and Dimitri wasn’t far behind him, but Callum tossed and turned for what seemed like forever before he finally started snoring. The rest of the trainees in the tent were either asleep or were too far from our cots to matter.

Time to put Operation Dead Weight into effect.

Phase one—acquire the target and execute my escape.

Escaping would be easy enough. The trick was to move normally. We were allowed to go to the latrines even after curfew, but if I acted suspicious I might wake the boys up. So, I tossed aside my thin blanket, sat up, and put my shoes on without trying to be quiet. Dimitri cracked one bleary eye open, but when he realized what I was presumably doing he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Perfect.

I rose to my feet and casually strolled toward the exit. As I passed by Callum’s cot, I leaned down and swiped his boots without breaking my stride.

Target acquired.

A smug grin curled my lips as I escaped the stuffy tent with them none the wiser. Drawing in a deep breath of humid air, I tilted my face up to the night sky. Directly above, the stars draped across the sky in a hazy, soft glow, but lightning lit up the western horizon in a semi-regular rhythm. Either heat lightning or another summer storm.

Striding along the rows of tents as if I had every right to be there, I enacted phase two of Operation Dead Weight—enlist an accomplice.

But when I crept into Bethany’s new tent to get her help with my little revenge prank, I couldn’t find her, or her new squad. They weren’t the only squad missing from that tent, and a sinking feeling dropped through my stomach like a stone. Not because I was afraid they’d quit. Bethany would never. Which left only one option.

They’d been pulled for their escape and evade exercise.

We’d been warned from the beginning. At any time during the weeks of indoc training, our squad could be “kidnapped by enemy operatives” and dropped in the middle of one of the expansive training grounds surrounding the academy. We were expected to evade capture and make our way back to the academy. If we were captured, we were expected to escape if possible, and endure captivity if not.

Not that they would actually torture us. Except with pushups. All the pushups.

Silently, I wished Bethany and her new squad luck and continued on my mission alone. It had been a few days since the last thunderstorm, but I knew exactly where to find what I needed for phase three—frag Callum freaking Blackwood’s boots.

In the narrow space between the men’s and women’s showers, there was a generous mudhole leftover from the last storm. Even better, it was where the dirt was more clay than anything else, rather than the rich loam that characterized most of the area. It wasn’t quite as good as the clay back home, but it would do the job nicely.

A quick glance around to ensure there were no witnesses, and I slipped between the showers. Snickering under my breath, I knelt down and thoroughly coated Callum’s boots in a thick layer of muck. “We’ll see who’s the dead weight tomorrow.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess Cal.”

My head snapped up, a pair of mud-caked boots dangling from mud-caked hands and about as caught as I could get. “Um…it’s not what it looks like?”

Dimitri leaned against the wall of the men’s showers and smirked as he not so coincidentally blocked my escape. I had no phase four for Operation Dead Weight, no contingency plan if I was caught other than run. I snapped a quick glance toward the rear of the showers, expecting to see Zayne or Callum blocking my retreat, but the way was clear for now. Before I could run away in a panic—or throw a muddy boot at his smirking face—Dimitri let out a low laugh.

“Tomorrow should be interesting. But I swear to hell, Harper, if you or Cal get us latrine duty, I will not be happy.” Dimitri pushed off the wall as if he were about to walk away, when he paused. A grin spread across his face, and his dark eyes danced in amusement in the firelight. “If you leave them by one of the watchfires for a little bit, the mud will dry and be harder for him to get off.”

Surprise held me immobile for a long moment, and then the corner of my mouth slowly curled up into a smirk. “Thanks for the advice, asshole.”

“Anytime, hotshot.” He held my gaze for a heartbeat. “Don’t get caught.”

#

The next morning, I woke up to the beautiful sound of Callum cursing at his boots, at Dimitri and Zayne as they cracked up, and finally at me. I propped myself up on one elbow and grinned.

“Hmm, better clean those boots off, Cal. All that mud will slow you down.” I met his gaze in bright challenge. “You know, like an anchor.”

Callum tried to hold on to his glare, but his lips twitched once, twice—and then he grinned. That grin transformed his whole face, turning him from a smartass into someone I might actually want to be friends with.

“I’m going to get you back for this, brat,” he promised.

I smiled sweetly. “You can try.”

Thanks to Operation Dead Weight, we were the last squad to arrive to morning formation—because Dimitri had insisted we wait for Callum to unfuck his boots—but we beat the instructors, which was all that mattered. My first full day with the squad went slightly better. It helped that my ankle didn’t ache quite as bad, though the bruising on my knee had developed truly spectacular colors. It helped more that my prank had earned a little respect from Callum, though I caught him eyeing me more than once as we went through PT and combatives and another run, this time with our pugil sticks held over our heads. He was definitely planning to get me back, but at least he’d stopped calling me an anchor.

Small victories.

After evening formation, the instructor, a whipcord lean fighter with almost as many scars as muscles, ordered our squad to return to the stables for mucking duty. Callum bitched the entire time we trudged down the mile-long trail, but there was a good-natured edge lurking beneath his barbed words. We’d just emerged from the thick trees and into the open fields surrounding the horse complex when an echoing roar cut him off mid-complaint. Wings flared wide, and a green dragon landed between us and the nearest barn.

A green dragon with a carry net and a highly amused rider.

“Uh, are we getting kidnapped?” Zayne asked.

I sighed. “Yeah, Zayne, we’re getting kidnapped.”

“The night before hell week starts,” Cal growled, and we all swore under our breath. Judging by the broad grin on the rider’s face, not under our breath enough.

“Come on guys,” Dimitri said, rolling his shoulders back and marching to the dragon as if to his own execution. “Let’s get this over with.”

Blowing out a sharp breath, I followed Dimitri across the field. No matter what happened tonight, tomorrow was going to suck. But the longer I stared at that beautiful green dragon, the wider my smile grew and the faster my heart raced. I wasn’t looking forward to the escape and evade portion of tonight, but the kidnapping part?

Oh, hells yes.

#

The setting sun painted the sky in streaks of vibrant color, all oranges and purples and reds. It was the kind of sky that made you want to fly. The carry net wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’d ever endured, but it was reinforced so we weren’t crammed together in a pile of smelly trainees, and we were flying. Despite the mild discomfort, this part of the exercise was absolutely a reward—a free flight with no instructors yelling at us or making us do pushups until we vomited. The warm wind caressed my skin, whispering of freedom and adventure, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Dimitri’s dark eyes met mine and his grim expression melted away, replaced by a growing smile of his own. Callum’s sarcastic complaints and Zayne’s excited chatter faded into the background. Shoulder to shoulder, we pressed our faces into gaps between the netting, watching the forest roll by beneath our boots.

The graceful green hugged the tree line, staying low so we couldn’t see any convenient landmarks, carrying us until the sun set and we were flying through soft twilight skies. As long as we’d been in the air, I knew we weren’t actually all that far from the academy. The green hadn’t flown in a straight line. She’d banked and turned at random intervals, probably trying to confuse us, but also likely just having fun hauling us around.

My mother’s dragon had always loved carry net sorties.

A bright flash of light drew my gaze to the southwest, and a frisson of apprehension cut through the joy. That definitely hadn’t been heat lightning. Towering clouds built on the horizon, their dark interiors briefly turning purple as lightning flashed between them.

Hopefully the storm would pass to the south like the last one.

Long before I was ready for the flight to end, the green dragon circled a small clearing and pulled into a hover. While any dragon could hover, the greens were far and away the best at it. Combined with their ability to camouflage, they were ideal for search and rescue missions. They saved people. That’s what I was going to do, no matter how hard I had to fight to earn a dragon rider slot.

Carefully, she lowered us to the ground. As soon as the net hit dirt, the rider dropped the right side, allowing us to step free. We shielded our eyes from the dirt and leaves kicked up by beating dragon wings and scurried out from beneath the hovering green. Her rider quickly rolled the net back up, secured it to his dragon’s side, and tossed us a jaunty salute.

And then they flew away, leaving us alone.

In the middle of the woods.

As night was falling.

Something howled nearby, and we all drew closer together as we stared into the dark forest. A branch snapped, and a deer bounded through the brush. It wasn’t the deer that sent a bolt of fear though my belly—it was the shadowy beast that chased after it.

Definitely just a wolf. Not a Savinian broken beast. Not this far from the border…

The panicked crashing faded away, but none of us moved, pressed back-to-back and shoulder-to-shoulder in a comforting huddle. Dimitri abruptly shook himself, as if shaking off the fear.

“We’ve got to move.” His dark gaze landed on mine. “Fast as you can, okay, hotshot?”

“Copy fast.” I flexed my sore ankle and sighed. “This is going to be fun.”

“What if we just left her behind?” Cal stared a challenge at me, and I honestly wasn’t sure if he was poking at me to see what I’d do, or if he was serious.

Before I could answer, the brush rustled, and a sharp beak snapped once to gain our attention. A tawny griffin rose up from concealment, tufted ears pinned flat and beautiful blue eyes narrowed in irritation.

I wasn’t the only one who startled. We’d been standing right next to a horse-sized creature and hadn’t had a clue he was there. His sneakiness was impressive and rather terrifying—and then his rider sauntered out of the brush and rested a casual hand on his griffin’s shoulder.

We’d had no idea he was there either.

Maybe a decade our senior, the griffin rider was blonde, ruggedly handsome, and wore leathers that looked comfortable and lived-in. He had a short recurve bow slung over one shoulder, a long-knife strapped to one hip, and a quiver of padded arrows strapped to the other. His brilliant blue eyes were an exact match to his bondmate’s.

“You pass this exercise together or not at all,” he said sternly. “If you leave any of your squadmates behind, we’ll be forced to fail you and bring you in early.” His eyes narrowed until his stare was as irritated as his griffin’s. “Tucker thinks we should do that anyway.”

We couldn’t hear his griffin—only his bondmate could—but Tucker made his opinion clear with a low growl and another sharp snap of his beak.

His rider smirked. “Fortunately for you, I’m feeling lazy.”

We stared and shifted our weight, none of us certain what we were supposed to do.

“That means run, newbies.” He flicked his fingers dismissively. “Now.”

We ran.

The forest was thick beyond the little clearing, but a faint deer trail broke up the undergrowth. Even so, low branches and brush whipped against our skin as we ran, and I quickly learned to keep one arm raised to protect my face. I wasn’t sure how long we ran, but a stitch burrowed in my side and each breath burned like fire by the time Dimitri raised a hand to slow our headlong rush. His head panned back and forth as we trotted along until he spotted a dense thicket. He gestured sharply before he dove inside.

One by one, we followed and worked our way to the center, welcome concealment if not cover. Our harsh gasps competed with the summer song of crickets as we all fought to catch our breath. There was a small break in the canopy overhead, letting a little starlight through the branches. My eyes caught on something dark on Dimitri’s face. Without stopping to think about it, I caught his jaw in one hand. He was bleeding.

“Harper, it’s fine—”

“Hold still, asshole.” Frowning, I tilted his face to the sky, examining the narrow cut on his cheek. My lips twitched when I realized it wasn’t bad. “I think a branch bit you.”

He pulled away with a quiet snort. “I could’ve told you that.”

“Why did we stop?” Callum growled, his voice slightly louder than our hushed whispers had been. Zayne held one hand out and lowered it sharply, a nonverbal signal for silence. Callum didn’t shut up, but he did lower his voice. “We need to keep moving.”

“Yes,” Dimitri growled back, motioning us to huddle closer. “But we were running like panicked deer and leaving a trail a child could’ve followed. We need to slow down or we’re going to get caught.”

“Again,” Zayne muttered, giving Callum a little side eye before he knelt and ripped away the greenery to clear a small patch of ground. He carefully placed a handful of pebbles in the cleared space, the pale-colored stones standing out against the rich loam, but it wasn’t until he marked an “X” that I realized what he was doing. He was drawing a map. “This is where we are, near as I can figure, and the academy is here. I tried to keep track of our flight path, but we weren’t keeping a straight line while we were running, so this is a wild ass guess at best.”

“A WAG is better than nothing,” Dimitri murmured in approval.

I scanned the tiny section of sky visible through the branches for the navigational stars to orient myself. None were visible, but part of the warrior constellation was, and I was able to find the line of stars that always ran east to west.

“East,” I whispered before I grimaced. “I think.”

Callum studied the sky before he nodded agreement. He knelt next to Zayne and drew a wavy line in the dirt between us and the academy. “If we’re where you think, we should run into this creek sooner or later.”

Both young men stood up and looked to Dimitri. He studied the rough map for a moment longer before he scuffed the ground clean with his boot. “Zayne, you’re on point. Then me, Harper, and Cal last. We move fast, silent, and don’t leave a trail. Objections?”

There were none.

Silently, we all followed him out of the thicket. Zayne immediately set off at a steady pace, not quite running but not walking either. My ankle twinged a few times, but I had no trouble keeping up. A few times branches snapped and underbrush rattled suspiciously, but Zayne always veered away from the potential threats, and we continued on undisturbed.

A faint burble cut through the night dark forest. Not directly in front of us, but off to the right. Zayne adjust our course, but he held up a fist and brought us to a halt before we broke free of the concealing underbrush. We froze and listened intently, but heard nothing more sinister than the nightly chorus of insects. After a short eternity, Zayne swept his hand forward and led us to the creek. It was more mud than water this time of year, and we easily kept our boots dry stepping from rock to rock.

We’d just reached the far bank when Callum hip checked me straight into the thick mud. My boots instantly sank deep into the muck, and I flailed wildly before latching onto Zayne to keep my balance. I snapped a glare at Callum, but he just smirked, white teeth flashing into a razor-sharp grin.

“Better clean off those boots, brat.”

“Gods, you’re such a dick,” I whisper-shouted as I tried to haul myself free.

“Told you I’d get you back,” he said smugly.

Wet mud slurped disgustingly as I managed to pull one boot loose, and I wrinkled my nose at the sharp stench of rotten eggs. “Is this really the time?”

I turned to Zayne to ask him to help pull my other boot free, but he already had one hand extended. I smiled gratefully and reached for him, but he whipped his hand up at the last second and smeared a handful of stinking mud across my cheek.

I scraped the mud off my face and stared at him. “Seriously?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I wanted in on the game too.”

Oh, you adorable motherfucker.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said sweetly.

Chuckling quietly, he wrapped his muddy hand around my wrist and tugged me free. Dimitri rolled his eyes and leaped onto the bank above the mudline.

“Keep moving—”

A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the night. I snapped my head up, but the sky directly overhead was still clear. As thunder echoed in a rolling boom, a heavy gust of wind cut through the forest, sending the treetops tossing and carrying the heavy scent of ozone and moisture. That storm had definitely not stayed south. More lightning flashed, and the thunder followed a little closer on its heels.

“Storm’s moving toward us,” Zayne muttered uneasily, his own head tilted back as he studied the thin strip of sky over the creek.

“We need to move faster,” Callum snapped, shoving Zayne up the bank to get him moving. Both faltered as lightning struck a tree in the distance, the crack of thunder sending my heart into my throat.

“Or we need to find shelter,” I countered.

Callum spun on me. “If we move fast, we can get back before it gets too bad.”

I stepped into his personal space and jabbed a finger at the flickering flames in the distance, the top of the lightning-struck tree burning merrily. “How is that not bad?”

“What’s the matter, Harper?” He smirked down at me, and even though he was only a few inches taller, he managed to loom convincingly. Neat trick. Another flash of lightning turned the night bright as day and thunder boomed, the storm closer still. I flinched, and Callum’s smile turned mean. “Afraid of a little thunderstorm?”

Dimitri grabbed Callum’s arm and yanked him back. “Knock it off.”

The last echo of thunder faded away, leaving an uneasy silence behind. The gentle burbling of the creek and the rustle of wind through the trees seemed unnaturally loud in that silence. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The boys felt it too, everyone going still, hard eyes scanning the surrounding foliage.

When had the crickets stopped singing?

“Run,” Dimitri barked.

Too late.

Padded arrows flew out of the trees from three directions.

Fun fact—just because an arrow was padded didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Not one but two thudded into my upper chest, puffs of dye marking the impact sites. My ragged cry of pain was lost beneath the pained curses of the boys as they were all hit in the torso. Technically, we were all “dead,” but the exercise rules stated any arrow mark counted as a capture not a kill.

Men wearing the leathers of rangers ghosted out of the trees, bows raised and padded arrows nocked. One by one, we raised our hands over our heads, though I caught Callum slipping something under his shirt before he raised his hands high.

We were officially prisoners.

#

“Great job, guys,” Zayne muttered as we knelt in a dejected line, hands bound behind our backs and torrential rain pounding down on our heads. On our forced march to the “enemy” camp, the storm had rolled overhead and the skies opened up. Within seconds, we were all soaked to the skin. Our captors hadn’t even seemed to notice.

“Yeah, okay that could’ve gone better,” I mumbled.

Callum just glowered at the ground and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Zayne grumbled. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“My bad,” Callum said, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Mine too,” I admitted. We’d argued while we were out in the open. That had been monumentally stupid and our capture was at least half my fault.

I flinched at the white bolt of lightning that struck a nearby tree, fire eating at the top branches before the downpour drowned the flames. The thunder was so loud I felt it in my bones, a roaring rumble that punched straight through my chest. Before it faded away, a warm weight pressed against my side, and I snapped a startled glance at Dimitri. He was staring straight ahead, but he’d caught my flinch and was offering…comfort.

After a moment, I leaned against him in silent thanks. I hated thunderstorms. Or rather, I loved them when I was safely inside curled up with a good book. Caught out in the open without shelter, not so much.

We weren’t the only ones enduring the storm.

Another squad knelt on the other side of the rudimentary camp, hands bound behind their backs and shoulders hunched in misery. They’d been there when were brought in, so at least we hadn’t been the first to fail tonight. The “enemy” rangers had slipped out of camp the second we were secured, presumably to hunt more trainees.

This was the part where we were supposed to attempt to escape, but no matter how I twisted my hands, I couldn’t loosen the coarse rope. All I succeeded in doing was irritating the thin skin around my wrists.

The lone girl in the other squad caught my attention. Tiny and delicate, she was utterly dwarfed by her larger squadmates. She was also wriggling her shoulders, a dogged expression on her elfin face. A few seconds later, I had to suppress a gasp as her arms jerked free. Without pausing to celebrate her freedom, she slid over to the squadmate next to her and worked on his bindings.

Soon enough, all of them were free. Her eyes met mine from across the rain-swept camp and she mouthed “sorry.” Per the exercise rules, we weren’t supposed to help other squads. She took a step toward us anyway.

Lightning tore across the sky, casting everything into sharp relief. Just before the thunder hit, there was a rustle in the undergrowth. Whether it was an instructor or not, it was a reminder that we were all running out of time to escape.

One of her squadmates, a tall lanky guy, tugged on her arm to get her moving, but she hesitated and looked at something clenched in her hand. Determined eyes snapped up to mine, and she whipped her arm back and threw whatever it was across the camp. I ducked reflexively because I couldn’t catch a damn thing with my arms bound, but she had a strong arm and good aim. Whatever it was landed in the brush behind me with a soft rustle.

When I looked up, the other squad was gone.

No matter how I wriggled, I couldn’t reach whatever it was, but Zayne, with his longer legs, might be able to get it. With a little contorting of the ropes binding us all together, he managed to kick it toward Dimitri.

Callum looked less than impressed. “Oh boy, it’s a rock. We’re saved.”

Dimitri strained his arms until he was able to grasp it, and he winced even as he grinned. “It’s a rock with a really sharp edge. Hold tight, guys.”

In short order, he had us all free, and we wasted no time in running from the camp. We only slowed when we were as sure as we could be that nobody had followed us, though with at least one griffin rider around, we couldn’t make any assumptions.

Griffins were sneaky.

This time around, we didn’t waste time arguing. Dimitri kept the lead, and we followed him, jogging along at the relentless pace he set. My ankle twinged with every step and threatened to roll more than once, but then Callum surged forward and ran with his shoulder against my weak side.

I shot him a shocked glance, but he just smirked again. “You heard that griffin rider—together or not at all, brat.”

Dimitri glanced back, his dark eyes steady on mine and that confident grin on his face. “Together.”

“Oh, now everyone wants to work together,” Zayne said sourly from behind us. “Next time, let’s do that faster.”

A grin tugged at my lips. “Copy faster.”

#

We made it back to the academy with the rising sun. Just before morning formation on the first day of hell week. We had barely enough time for morning chow before we fell in, wet and muddy and exhausted.

So of course, the first exercise of the day was the pipes of doom.

“You ready for this?” Dimitri asked me casually as he marched back with the pipe. He’d volunteered to get it with Callum while Zayne and I stretched out.

“No.” I couldn’t stop my smile though as I took my place at the front. “Let’s do it anyway.”

I gripped the pipe tight and lifted in tandem with the boys—and then blinked in shock as something soft burst beneath my hands. Purple dye puffed out and dusted my hair and PT shirt. Some of it landed on my tongue, and I spat to the side until the nasty taste of arrow dye faded. I remembered Callum tucking something under his shirt when we’d been hit by those arrows. A shirt that was also stained with purple splotches.

I twisted around and glared at him. “You’re such a dick.”

He grinned that same smile from when I’d fragged his boots, wide and happy. “It wasn’t me.”

Dimitri leaned around Callum and winked. “Looks like you’re out of regs, hotshot.”

Laughter bubbled up, washing away exhaustion. All three boys looked so proud of themselves for the prank, and I had to admit it was a really good one.

I gave them all an impish smile. “You know this means war, right?”

#

We got through hell week the same way we’d started it—together.

We enrolled in the Tennessan Bonded Training Academy together, became cadets together, began training together.

It wasn’t all work and no play. We pranked each other mercilessly at every opportunity and even dragged Bethany into our prank war. Pink hair looked good on her, but she nearly killed me for the punishment detail she earned for being out of regs.

Worth it.

The camaraderie during those first two weeks at the academy was everything I’d ever wanted, my first dragon flight everything I’d ever dreamed of.

And then Savinia invaded.

It wasn’t a raid, or a border clash, or even one of the minor skirmishes that had become the norm over the past decade—it was a full-scale offensive. We were officially at war, and it took everything our country had to hold the line. Lives were lost, reserves were called up, and training at the academy became so much more real.

Cadets who’d survived hell week with us dropped out, but we stayed. Even when things got hard, even when the war grew worse, even when we were exhausted and angry and scared, we stayed. Because we wanted to be riders, because it was the right thing to do…because we had each other and we were going to do this together or not at all.

We still pranked one another every chance we got, but somewhere along the way, the pranks became something else altogether. A reminder that there was more to life than training to fight and die in defense of our home, that there was still joy and friendship and hope.

A light in the darkness.

Melissa Olthoff is a science fiction and fantasy author who delights in sneaking in romance wherever she can. She is a lifelong geek and a veteran of the United States Air Force, both of which are incredibly useful when writing. Her degrees in meteorology and accounting are slightly less applicable to writing but absolutely useful when it comes to supporting her family. In 2023, she took second place in the annual Baen Fantasy Adventure Award Contest with her story “Fall from Grace” and won the Imadjinn Award Best Short Story in 2023 and 2024. She is published by Baen, Chris Kennedy Publishing, Hit World Press, and Three Ravens Publishing, and is best known for her novels in the Four Horsemen Universe, the Blood & Armor Series, the Salvage Title Universe, and Hit World Valkyries, as well as numerous short stories.

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