Page 10 of A Bond of Ice and Glass (Crowned By Wings #2)

KING ERAX

T he dragon doesn’t roar when she approaches the witch.

She breathes .

Frost creeps out from her mouth, and the heat in the air hisses in protest. Even Cyrsí stills beside me, and she does something I’ve never seen my dragon do. She bows.

Her head lowers in submission to the ice dragon. The air in my lungs catches, and it’s not from the cold. That dragon isn’t just a matriarch.

It’s a monarch!

How the fuck did we have the monarch hiding under the lake and not know it? I thought the last of them was still being kept in the mountains, bound by the witches. We tried to free her that day, but we were only able to take some of her eggs. Is this the same monarch? Or a different one?

My breath streams in front of me as I grip Cyrsí’s reins to steady myself.

“You never told me there was a monarch in the lake!”

“She did not want us to know,” Cyrsí replies to me. “When Maelena froze the waters, we dragons sensed something in the air, but I did not know it was our queen. She is the oldest of us all.”

The monarch fixes her eyes on Kymera. They blink slower than any dragon’s I’ve seen, and they glow like starlight and the dawn mixed together.

Kymera doesn’t cower from her. She meets the dragon’s gaze with a strange calmness that impresses me.

It’s not arrogant like I expected from a witch.

Something closer to acceptance, like the witch really has been waiting for this moment.

Cold mist pours through the dragon’s nose again. The gust blows Kymera’s hair and skirts behind her. My cloak snaps from up on Cyrsí’s back. The mist curls around the witch, but it doesn’t seem to bite her.

“I wondered when you would come for me,” Kymera calls out, her voice loud, unafraid.

The dragon’s pupils widen, slitted eyes glowing with a deep light that isn’t magic but something else. Something ancient that reminds me of Ciagid and his children. She exhales again, and this time, the air vibrates. I feel the pulse in my bones, in the scars etched into my skin.

Then Kymera screams.

Her body arches, seized by the dragon’s magic. She clutches her chest like her ribs are being clawed open by the dragon’s talons and her organs crushed. Silver-blue light bursts from her eyes and mouth. Her black hair floats around her.

“What’s happening to her?”

“She is accepting the bond,” Cyrsí answers with a growl.

“What bond?” I snap. “You don’t bond with witches anymore.”

I never thought one would bond to the witch, let alone a monarch. I never would’ve brought Kymera down here if I thought she’d leave with a dragon.

“We do not,” Cyrsí agrees. “It appears our gods are rewriting fate, and when fate is rewritten, we must listen.”

The witch slams to her knees with a high-pitched scream that doesn’t sound like it could come from a mortal.

My ears ring, and all the hairs on my body lift as the frost in the air turns colder.

Frost curls up Kymera’s arms, etching white runes into her skin.

They glow faintly, spirals of ancient letters I can’t read.

Her lips part in a silent scream, and her eyes roll back.

A dead witch on my hands is not how I wanted this to play out.

I let go of Cyrsí’s reins and move to slide off her back. She blocks me with her wing.

“The witch is not dying. She is bonding.”

I sit back in the saddle again, watching the witch burst with light. This isn’t an ordinary bonding.

It’s an ascension.

Having a dragon ascend you with power is one of the most painful things a rider can go through. Second only to losing your dragon. It can even kill you if you’re not strong enough. Damn near killed me when I did it for Maelena. My hair will always be a reminder of it now.

Kymera slams her hands to the stone, and a tremor shakes the ground. It isn’t violent. It’s deliberate, like something sacred is taking root beneath our feet. The dragon lowers her head and shuts her glowing eyes.

A crack splits across the ground, reaching towards the wall where Freyren rests. I glance over and see the dragon lift her head. She’s still so weak, barely thriving, but she watches the monarch transfer power into the witch.

When the monarch opens her eyes again, they’re pure gold.

And then I hear it. Her voice in my head where it shouldn’t be.

“By the flame of Nytar and the blood of Hekai, I have chosen this witch, not as rider but as the one who will light your way. The chains of old have been shattered so that frost can stand by fire once more. Let your queen be found so she can rise again.”

The ground trembles, but this time the crack in the ground widens, and something crawls out of it.

One of the bondless dragons I keep in the lower ground climbs out, roaring and breathing fire, its black scales veined with crimson. Even as a full-grown male, it’s a lot smaller than the monarch. But that only means it’s faster. The dragon flies around her, and then it lunges for Kymera.

“Move!” I shout, but my voice is drowned out by the blast of fire and frost.

The monarch shrieks in fury and lifts her wings, unfurling them like glaciers ripping apart.

A wind howls through the pit as she collides with the fire dragon midair.

Frost slams into ash, and the air shatters around them.

The lava in the cave walls flares and glows.

Stone rains down from above, cracking some of the columns.

One of them falls towards Kymera, but the witch lifts her hand and blasts it out of the way.

I grab Cyrsí’s reins. “Pin the smaller one down,” I command.

But my dragon doesn’t move.

“ I cannot intervene. The monarch is our queen. She must win this fight or she is unworthy .”

While I understand the logic behind it, it’s not worth losing a dragon over. Even the bondless one could one day be useful. Any lost dragon life is a loss too many.

The fire dragon claws and slashes at the monarch’s back. With a swipe of her tail, she sends huge pillars of ice shooting at him. One of them catches his wing and rips through the membrane. He’s too outmatched. He won’t last long. They tangle midair, claws locking, jaws snapping.

I shake my head. “He’ll never win. Why is he even trying?”

“He heard her claim over the witch. We all did. He does not agree with it. He challenges her. It is the way of dragons.”

True. That’s how I got my crown, too. I killed Maelena’s father and ripped it off his bleeding skull.

Then I let Cyrsí eat his corpse while he begged me for mercy.

Another dragon calling out pulls me back to the waterfall.

Freyren.

She lifts her wings weakly, shaky from the loss of her rider, and lets out a cry for her mother.

The sound pierces me, and frost-fire blazes down over my head.

It barely reaches the fire dragon, but it distracts him, and that’s all the monarch needed.

She lunges again, slamming the other dragon away, with a roar so loud stone crumbles from the ceiling.

Her body glows with runes, and she releases a shattering wave of cold that freezes the lava in jagged streaks.

Then she pins him down between her talons with another roar right into his face.

He shrieks and tries to twist, but one of her ice-blue talons pierces his body.

“Don’t kill him!” The monarch tilts her head at me, her gold eyes glowing. “Let me tame him. Zepheira will help. She’s the best dragonmeyer there is. Too much dragon blood has been wasted already.”

For a moment, the monarch’s talons move, as if she’s about to kill him. But she lets him go.

He crawls to his feet, his wing torn, bleeding, and retreats back into the ground. Zepheira is already down there. I’ll interrogate her later about how he managed to escape in the first place. But first I need her to heal him.

“The witch,” Cyrsí says, lowering so I can climb off her.

I slide down and run over to Kymera. She’s lying on the ground next to a crushed ice-pillar. I crouch down and check the pulse in her wrist. Her eyes open, no longer glowing, but rimmed with frost.

“Still alive in there?”

“Yeah,” she answers hoarsely.

“Good. Now why the fuck didn’t you tell me about the monarch?”

She slowly sits up and looks over to where the monarch watches, silent and ethereal.

“I didn’t know she was a monarch. I only heard her voice in my head sometimes, guiding me here. She said you needed my help and that I must go to you.”

The monarch blinks, staring at her. They’re talking through their bond.

“So, what does this mean now?” I demand.

“I know where she is.” My pulse spikes. “I saw a forest covered in snow. A castle with blue spires. Something dark was watching Maelena. I couldn’t see its face.” She looks up at her dragon again. “Let him see.”

And she does.

The vision plays in my head as clear as day.

Maelena, chained in the snow, her mouth moving, breath fogging up the air.

What is she saying? I can’t hear her, but I feel her pain, ripping through me like a blade of ice.

Behind her, something dark moves, stirring the shadows around it.

They cloak Maelena as the vision suddenly shifts, and the castle with blue spires appears.

I recognise Noble’s crest on the flags. He never told me on which mountain his home was hidden. But now we have the key to finding it.

I stagger back, freed from the vision. Part of me wants to climb back into it just so I can see my wife again.

It won’t be much longer, Mist. Hold on.

I walk over to Freyren, my steps unsteady. She’s curled up by the waterfall again, fallen back into her deep slumber. I press my hand to her face and rest my forehead against her.

“I’m coming for you,” I vow, not to her.

To my queen.

Kymera’s footsteps echo behind me.

“You think you can find her?” I ask, without turning to look at her.

She nods. “If I follow the current of ether through the dragon magic… I can find the gate.”

“Then we leave at dawn,” I say. “But we don’t ride out alone.”

Cyrsí lifts her head. “ You plan to gather the rest? ”

“ The ones loyal to me. The ones who still believe in my queen. ”

A low growl rumbles through the pit as more dragons begin to stir in the lower caves. Their hunger isn’t for food anymore. It’s for blood.