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Terrea was coming for her. Aemyra had felt it through the Bond before it had gone silent again and she couldn’t let Aervor and Kolreath be ready when her dragon arrived. No matter how fierce her beathach was, the two male dragons would kill Terrea before she had the chance to rescue Aemyra.

“Fiorean, let me go,” she begged as she was hauled through the corridors.

But her new husband had gone temporarily deaf as he dragged her up the stairs, her knees knocking painfully against the stone when she stumbled. Sir Nairn clanked along behind.

Trying to calm herself, she mentally prepared for what might await her when Evander discovered she had a dragon. What he might order done to her if they found out Terrea was female.

Aemyra’s future children could spell the rise of the dragons. She had to escape before they could use her body against her will, or blackmail her into protecting the very people who sought to oppress Dùileach.

They entered the throne room to find Evander standing before the dais, evidently having escaped Elear’s clutches. He was deep in conversation with Athair Alfred, and Fiorean hesitated.

Despite her predicament, Aemyra turned to look upon the throne that she had never seen with her own eyes. A monstrosity of molten gold, it sat like an inert flame before the enormous stained-glass wall. The painted window cast streaks of crimson, amber, and copper across the room, as if anyone needed reminding of which clan ruled here.

Momentarily dazed by the refracting light, Aemyra landed heavily on her hands and knees when Fiorean flung her from him.

“My prince?” Athair Alfred asked, eyeing Aemyra like she was something dragged up from the gutters of the lower town.

Evander laughed.

“Bored of her already, Brother? I’ll turn a blind eye if you visit the pleasure dens now and again, but Mother says you must stay married to her.”

Fiorean clasped his hands behind his back, a muscle straining in his jaw.

“She has a dragon,” Sir Nairn clarified.

Threads of tension pulled taut within the room and Aemyra clambered to her feet, refusing to bow and scrape before her usurper.

“That cannot be true,” Athair Alfred said.

“She starved herself until the binding agent wore off,” Fiorean reported, his voice tense. “Her magic has grown significantly.”

“Are there unhatched eggs on the Sunset Isle?” Alfred asked.

Aemyra quickly moved Athair Alfred up the list of people she was going to kill, nestling his name in between Fiorean’s and Nairn’s. Her stomach gurgled and she swayed where she stood.

Evander marched up to her, his jade eyes lecherous. “How could someone as worthless as you find an egg when all other attempts have failed?”

Before Aemyra could open her mouth, Evander struck her with a stinging slap that whipped her head back.

Tears of fury sprang to her eyes and she resisted the urge to spit in his face.

Fiorean’s hand went to his sword.

“It will be a hatchling, nothing more. Easily captured,” Evander said, spittle flying from his lips.

At that moment, a quick pair of heels sounded on the tiles and Katherine hurried into the room, black skirts flying.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her eyes fixing on Aemyra’s reddened cheek.

“It appears as though the princess discovered a dragon egg and Bonded to it,” Alfred stated.

Katherine’s eyes widened in fear, and she looked up to the vaulted ceiling as if expecting to see fire pouring down from above. “Where is it?”

The Athair lifted his chin. “We do not yet know. The young princess was just in the process of telling us.”

“Queen,” Aemyra hissed.

Before the word was out of her mouth, Evander hit her again. There was a glint of madness in his eyes and the sharp bite of his ring split Aemyra’s lip.

“You have already killed one of my children. Was this the final step in your plan?” he cried, launching himself at her, wrapping his hands around her neck.

The unhinged look in his eyes suddenly made Aemyra believe what they said about his father.

“I am the king and you will tell me!”

Evander’s thumbs pressed down on her larynx and, weak with hunger, Aemyra scrabbled in vain against his grip.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around Evander and wrenched him off of her.

She stumbled away, choking and gasping for air.

“Boys,” Katherine warned.

Fiorean shoved Evander toward the throne and stood in front of Aemyra, his chest heaving.

“You might be the king, Brother, but she is my wife. If she needs to be disciplined, then I shall see her punishment carried out. But I will not tolerate your hands, or the hands of anyone else, being laid upon her.”

With these words, he looked pointedly at Evander but also Sir Nairn and Athair Alfred.

Aemyra shot daggers toward her husband in response to his little speech. When Fiorean had the audacity to reach down and offer her his hand, she smacked it away.

“You steal my crown, and my magic, and still expect me to cooperate?” she hissed, wiping her bloody lip with the back of her hand.

Katherine’s gray eyes were uncertain, but Alfred had a dangerous expression on his face as Sir Nairn whispered in the priest’s ear. Perhaps she would cut off Nairn’s pouty lips instead of scalping him.

“Enough of this mess. I know how to make her talk,” Athair Alfred said, linking his fingers piously over his stomach. “Take the princess to the banks of the loch. She will summon her little dragon while the princes summon theirs. Either the beast will join our ranks, or he will die.”

So it was to be blackmail.

If Aemyra’s heart was still in her chest she could no longer feel it. She had no way to warn Terrea without access to the Bond. No way to tell her dragon to turn back from the city before Aervor and Kolreath launched their attack with claws and fangs and fire.

Alfred slipped from the room as if he couldn’t bear another moment in Aemyra’s presence, and she bitterly regretted that she couldn’t send a tongue of flame to set his black robes alight.

Several guards were summoned by Sir Nairn as Aemyra was dragged out of the throne room by Fiorean.

“Do not make me put you in chains,” he growled into her ear as she fought him with what little strength she still possessed.

“You will pay for every crime you have committed against me and my people,” Aemyra snarled right back.

The walk through the caisteal and down to the banks of the loch took longer than it should have thanks to Aemyra’s struggling. She had been struck twice more by an impatient Evander, each time resulting in a brotherly spat that Katherine had to break up.

The entire time, Aemyra was dreading whatever torture awaited her when they reached the water’s edge. She could see Cliodna’s half-drowned temple shrouded in mist on the opposite bank.

Knowing that the water Goddess had no affinity for her, Aemyra didn’t hold out hope for divine intervention.

Digging her heels into the small stones, she lost one of the velvet slippers and hissed in a breath as something sharp poked the sole of her foot.

“I will dunk you into the loch if you keep this up,” Fiorean growled into her ear.

Aemyra gave him a feral smile. “Fancy a dip, Prince?” she asked, aiming a swift kick at his shin.

Fiorean doubled over in pain as she made contact with enough force to nearly break it. Still, he held fast.

Aemyra felt the skin on the bottom of her foot rip open as they turned the corner. When she saw what awaited her, the pain in her heart completely eclipsed that of her body.

“No.”

The cry escaped her lips without conscious thought, and her knees gave out when she saw who was kneeling, hands bound and mouths gagged, in front of the leader of the Chosen.

Sorcha and Orlagh.

“ This cannot be, ” Aemyra whispered.

Orlagh was still alive.

Despite the danger, her chest suddenly felt less hollow. The profound relief of seeing her mother alive brought instant comfort. Aemyra had spent years dreaming of the day she could openly call Draevan Daercathian Father, but it was only after believing Orlagh dead that Aemyra understood which parent had truly been her protector.

Feeling Orlagh’s presence once more made Aemyra realize just how empty life had been without it, how utterly lonely.

Hope surged in Aemyra’s chest. She could have her mother back.

Her fingers tracked through the pebbles as if trying to inch closer despite her limbs trembling with shock. Her mother would help her fix this; Orlagh always knew what to do.

“Get up,” Fiorean said, strong hands pulling Aemyra to her feet.

“Peasants? This is the Athair’s plan?” Evander hissed, rounding on his mother.

Katherine ignored him as Alfred spoke, flanked by two guards and a cage that looked to have been used for one of Nael’s hounds.

“You care for these women, do you not? They will ensure the cooperation of both you and your dragon.”

Sorcha looked like she wished she was holding her meat cleaver, but Orlagh’s eyes were glassy.

“This is all my fault,” Aemyra whispered.

Her words were so quiet that she thought no one had heard her, but Fiorean dipped his head until she felt his breath tickle the back of her neck.

“Do as Alfred says. We won’t hurt your dragon, I promise you,” he said, voice whisper soft.

Aemyra couldn’t find the energy to be ashamed that she was quaking with fear. She couldn’t let them die.

Katherine and Alfred wouldn’t stop their scheming here. They would continue blackmailing Aemyra until she had leashed Terrea to Evander’s cause and accepted her shackles of marriage. Then the last hope for Tìr Teine returning to the ways of the Goddess would truly be lost, along with the biggest advantage her army had.

Alfred gave an exaggerated sigh and nodded to Sir Nairn.

The captain stepped forward, his boots drawing level with Orlagh’s knees as he ripped the gag out of her mouth.

Orlagh fell forward, gasping in lungfuls of air, a trio of golden necklaces peeking from beneath her filthy shirt.

“No, stop! Tell me what to do,” Aemyra asked, her voice breaking.

Orlagh’s dark eyes were lined with exhaustion, the face of a mother who had endured too much. Seen too much.

“It’s okay, baby,” Orlagh said quietly. “This is bigger than my life.”

Aemyra began to struggle in Fiorean’s grip again. “No. Don’t you dare give up,” she shouted. “You taught me better than this.”

Orlagh raised her face to the gray sky and began to pray.

“Brigid, bringer of light, I command myself into your embrace. May your fire cleanse my soul, may your cross protect those I leave behind.”

Fiorean was struggling to restrain Aemyra as she fought with all of her might to get to her mother.

“No!” Aemyra screamed loudly enough that she felt something rip in her throat. “Think of Adarian, he needs you too. We both need you.”

Orlagh continued praying as Fiorean’s fingers dug into Aemyra’s skin.

Katherine cleared her throat. “Now is the time to swear your loyalty, and that of your hatchling, into our service if you wish for her to live.”

Furious tears streaked down Aemyra’s cheeks as she speared the dowager queen with a look of pure hatred. She couldn’t be responsible for Orlagh’s death.

“I swear it,” Aemyra finally said, sagging in Fiorean’s hold. She would find another way to win her throne.

Katherine exchanged a delighted smile with Evander and suddenly Fiorean’s grip was no longer restraining her but holding her up.

Aemyra called out through her tears, “Mama?”

Orlagh stopped praying and met her daughter’s eyes.

“You are the light,” she said.

Fiorean loosened his hold, but before Aemyra could reach her mother, Sir Nairn unsheathed a knife and cut through Orlagh’s throat in one horrific swipe.

“No!” Aemyra’s scream rent the air as blood sprayed across the shingle.

Surging forward, she lunged for her mother.

But it was too late.

The scream that tore through Aemyra’s throat was loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees as Orlagh’s body slumped to the ground. Sorcha was scrambling to get away, sobbing through the gag.

This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t have learned that her mother was alive only to lose her all over again…

“I still do not see a dragon,” Alfred mused aloud, fingering his pendant and scanning the skies. “Although perhaps his small wings are struggling with the distance?”

Aemyra pulled her gaze from Orlagh’s corpse to see Sorcha fling her head backward. The satisfying sound of Sir Nairn’s nose breaking reached her.

In a blind rage, Aemyra sprinted for Sir Nairn, aiming for the knife in his hand before he could hurt Sorcha too.

A feral scream tore from Aemyra’s throat, and she barreled into the captain, sending them both flying. Sorcha dove out of the way just in time, trying to work the gag loose with her teeth.

Aemyra scrabbled for the knife but Sir Nairn was fast.

She barely saw the blade before he slashed up and sliced through the skin of her exposed chest. So far gone in her grief, the sting of the cut only enraged her further. Aemyra grappled with the captain, both turning over the other on the ground until she ended up straddling his breastplate and fielding off his left hand as he swung at her with the knife in his right.

Crimson blood was streaming from her chest, staining the front of her dress a deeper red.

Evander was giggling as Fiorean held him in a chokehold while Katherine hovered anxiously behind them, her pale gray eyes fixed on Orlagh’s body.

“You murdering coward!” Aemyra screamed down at the captain.

An enraged roar sounded. For a moment Aemyra thought it had come from her lips, until the surface of the loch began to ripple.

Everyone on the shingly beach froze, and Aemyra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that her dragon had finally come.

And she was no hatchling.

The enormous black dragon speared through the thick clouds, her serpentine neck outstretched and wings clamped to her sides as she dove.

“Take cover!” Sir Nairn shouted, flinging himself away from Aemyra.

Terrea landed on the banks of the loch with a thunderous crash that sprayed everyone with frigid water. Before anyone could react, the dragon clamped her jaws down on the guard standing beside Alfred, cracking him in two with a sickening crunch.

Evander was gaping at the massive dragon and Katherine looked ready to faint.

“The Terror,” Fiorean said in awe as he stared up at the dark creature, lowering his sword.

Terrea sent a warning blast of fire streaming across the beach, the heat searing Aemyra’s cheeks and melting the cage until it was nothing but an oozing lump of metal.

Alfred was mouthing prayers of his own as he held out his pendant toward the dragon like it would protect him.

If the Bond had still been open, Aemyra would have asked Terrea to eat him next.

Terrea’s nostrils flared, scenting Aemyra’s blood, and she opened her mouth, letting forth a bone-shaking roar that had flecks of spittle flying from her razor-sharp teeth.

Getting unsteadily to her feet, Aemyra staggered toward her dragon, who was poised with her black wings held aloft, her amethyst eyes scanning the air above them.

Terrea knew two male dragons lingered close by.

Aemyra all but collapsed against her warm scales, her head swimming. All she had to do was climb onto her back and fly to her father. Draevan would know what to do.

“Leaving so soon?”

Turning at the sound of Alfred’s voice, Aemyra sagged beside her dragon’s violet Starfire eyes at the sight of Evander holding his sword up to Sorcha’s neck, Alfred looking on smugly.

No.

“Tether your dragon to our cause, and Sorcha will live,” he said.

Orlagh had seemed ready to die for Aemyra’s reign, but Sorcha’s olive complexion was drained of color, terror marking every line of her face.

Orlagh’s body was lying between them, blood seeping out of her neck in a final offering, and Aemyra had to fight to keep her legs from buckling at the sight.

Draevan had tutored her in politics from a young age, but she was now playing a game that she didn’t understand. This was no petty grievance between minor lairds. She was gambling with people’s lives.

Lifting her chin, Aemyra resolved that the only life she would gamble with was her own.

“ Sgiath, ” Aemyra said to Terrea in the Seann.

The dragon bristled, letting forth another roar, but Aemyra put both of her hands on her dragon’s face, willing her to understand what was in her heart.

Aemyra would find another way to get out of àird Lasair. If she had to bring them all down from the inside, then that was what she would do, even if it meant weeks or months of having to live alongside these monsters. But she would not let any more innocent lives be lost because of her.

Warm dragon-breath skimmed her face.

“Fly,” Aemyra repeated softly.

After a hesitation that felt much longer than it was, the enormous dragon took one step forward and wrapped her claws around Orlagh’s body. Aemyra’s vision swam as Terrea spread her wings and launched herself into the air, her mother finally freed from the clutches of the Chosen.

Aemyra swayed where she stood, praying that her dragon would give Orlagh the final burning she deserved.

“My dragon will come when called,” Aemyra said, utterly exhausted.

Alfred pointed at Sorcha.

“Escort this woman back to her cell. We may yet have need of her.”

Evander snapped his fingers at Sir Nairn. As Sorcha was dragged to her feet, she stood a few inches taller than the captain and met Aemyra’s eyes. There was nothing but hatred lingering in Sorcha’s eyes.

Feeling strange, Aemyra put one hand to her chest and looked down.

The front of her dress was completely soaked with blood, the red satin ruined, and she swayed on her feet.

The last thing she felt before she lost consciousness was a strong pair of arms catching her and the sweet scent of orange blossom.