Page 25

His father’s motto was to take no prisoners.

Arrik had lived his life by those words. He’d made a career out of it.

Prisoners made things complicated. Prisoners made things messy. Unless someone was the literal heir to the throne, there was little point in taking them hostage. Verlanti had enough slaves to last eons.

“Commander!” another one of his men shouted. “Dragons!”

Arrik pushed his wet braid from his face and tilted his face toward the sky. “Why were they not shut down upon impact?” he demanded. The Riders were supposed to have already been dealt with. “What are the crossbows for, if not to shoot down dragons?” It pained him to take down the dragons, but he had to do what was necessary.

The soldier pointed at something in the sky.

Another flash of red.

“That Rider kept the crew of the ship distracted,” Shane called from the bow. “The dragon is too fast; every bolt thrown into the sky misses them.”

Impressive.

Maybe he needed to rethink the policy of taking prisoners. A skilled Rider and dragon would be an asset. Learning the dragon’s language, as well as controlling them, wouldn’t be easy without an ambassador of some sort.

“The Vengeanceis burning!” one of his men shouted, his voice barely carrying over the chaos of sounds.

Arrik gritted his teeth and glared at one of his burning ships.The Vengeancecontained double the number of soldiers as their other ships. He’d already taken far more losses than anticipated. Verlanti would win, yes, but the losses were heavier than his father would accept.

He would not go unscathed for this.

But there was nothing to be done about it now. He’d dispatch their dragons and the Riders as swiftly as possible, then obliterate the rest of the Lorne navy.

Though it had cost them one of his larger ships and a considerable number of men, the dragons all being in one location for their attack was now to Arrik’s advantage. He caught Shane’s eye and, via hand signals, passed a quick series of orders along.

His second nodded and sent along the message.

All crossbows were to be aimed at the ship of dragons.

Arrik held his hand high and then dropped it, and a dozen bolts were sent flying simultaneously, sharply whistling through the air.

There was a certain amount of sadness as he watched the dragons try—and fail—to escape the deadly metal bolts by flying upward, only to be pierced in the wing, the chest, or the leg before inevitably crashing down into the sea. They were majestic beasts without greed, deception, or ambition. They didn’t deserve their fate.

May the waters receive you.

A piercing shriek cut the air, and his attention was drawn back to that flash of red in the sky. It was almost as if the beast could vanish in thin air. The only way he could discern the dragon’s location was when he caught sight of its Rider’s blazing red hair.

“Shoot it down!” he bellowed.

He watched as the dragon and its rider came hurtling down at a frightening speed and, instead of diving back up, crashed onto the deck of the ship next to Arrik’s. The dragon was smaller than most of its kin, and now, observing it against the wooden planks of a ship, he realized that its scales were an impossibly beautiful, pearlescent white, that seemed to reflect almost any color of its environment.

A stunning creature.

His gaze moved to the Rider.

All sounds ceased.

It was a woman.

Emotion rushed to the surface for the first time.

Her wild mane of red hair whipped around her in a frenzy as she released arrow after arrow. Not a single one flew false. Something about this took Arrik firmly aback. Female warriors were uncommon in his land and looked down upon. He should have loathed the sight of her, but there was something frightening and exciting about the woman. She seemed to be as untamed as the beast she rode upon.

“Bring her down!” his second commanded.