A Kiss of Air & Fire (Darkstone Academy)

D ragon Kingdom of Kappadokia

“This is it?” Lady Alondra asked in dismay the next afternoon, her voice echoing in the vast, warehouse-like space of what the Kappadokian border guards had called a guest house. “We have to stay here? For how long?”

The huge, crumbling stone building standing next to the highway that connected Espola and Kappadokia had clearly been built to house Wind-Walkers. It was the most unwelcoming place I’d ever seen… and I’d visited the Imperial Prison back in my court healer days.

The dim, musty-smelling interior was vast and echoing, clearly meant for Dragon occupants, not humans like us. The floor was hard-packed dirt, dotted with piles of dirty hay here and there. Crumbling plastered walls revealed crude stone blocks beneath.

There were windows and no human furnishings. Just the bare expanse of dirt and hay. It reinforced that humans weren’t wanted or welcomed here.

Boreas heaved a loud sigh. “Until Lady Aeolia gives her permission for us to enter the kingdom.”

“Were the guards right about you getting in trouble for adopting me into your aerie?” Jacinthe asked, voicing the question I’d been itching to ask the young Wind-Walker.

Boreas had sworn to Jacinthe and me we’d be welcomed with open wings in his homeland. Yet the two border guards had been openly hostile to us.

Even worse, they’d refused to allow us to continue our journey until someone named Lady Aeolia decided whether we’d be allowed to see Menelaus.

A Dragon bureaucrat. How delightful , I thought sourly.

“They’re full of shit. My clutch-mother will understand it was necessary,” Boreas declared, sounding as confident as ever.

“I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding, and everything is going to be all right,” I said in my most soothing tone.

For the record, I didn’t actually believe either of those things.

I hadn’t missed how Boreas had flattened his green-and-gold feathers defensively at his mother’s name. What else had the brash young Wind-Walker failed to tell us about the situation in his homeland?

But at this moment, my daughter and her courageous but painfully young companions all needed reassurance. They didn’t need to hear that I thought we’d just made a gargantuan error in coming to Kappadokia.

I traded a wry glance with Mage Armand. The old man was looking weary after a day spent in the saddle.

To be honest, I wasn’t feeling my best, either. My legs were stiff and my lower back ached, and I longed to loosen the corset I wore beneath the formal gown I’d donned this morning for my expected meeting with King Menelaus.

I looked around the group of unhappy-looking young people and squared my shoulders. “In any case,” I announced, “we won’t know anything until morning. There’s still food left in the saddlebags from the luncheon that the duke and duchess’ servants packed for us. Let’s have a bite to eat and try to get some rest.”

* * *

Will we even be allowed to see King Menelaus?

Later, I lay on the hard dirt floor, rolled in my travel cloak and wide awake as an avalanche of worries roiled in my mind. All around me, Mage Armand, Jacinthe, and her companions slept fitfully.

I couldn’t quiet my thoughts, no matter how many times I told myself that it was foolish to fret about things I had no power over.

Last night, I’d tossed and turned for hours in the ducal palace’s comfortable guest suite, wondering if Menelaus could look past the marks time had left on me and see the young, passionate princess he once loved.

I remembered the way he’d looked at me when we first became lovers. His golden eyes had been filled with fierce love and possessiveness. He hadn’t cared that I was the daughter of his enemies, a human girl in a world that feared his kind.

I remembered our whispered plans, our belief that we could defy the world. That our love would conquer all, and heal the centuries-old conflict between humans and Dragons.

Instead, my parents had punished him harshly for loving me.

He’d once declared Wind-Walkers were loyal to the death when they took a mate. But how could I expect Menelaus to welcome me with open arms after all these years?

The long years separating us had left their marks.

My belly was stretched and scarred by three pregnancies, especially the last one, with the twins. My hair, once as black as a raven’s feather, now shimmered with silver threads. My waist had thickened, and lines bracketed my mouth and radiated from the corners of my eyes.

Would Menelaus feel disappointment when he saw how old and careworn I was?

And then, of course, there were my children.

Menelaus might welcome Jacinthe, since she was only half-human and his daughter.

But how would he react to the news that I’d married Baldwin of Bernswick and borne three more daughters?

Would Menelaus understand how powerless I’d been?

My parents’ law, the one that forbade human-Dragon unions, had made our love a capital crime. The mages of Papa’s court had locked Menelaus in human form and exiled him to the prison island of Darkstone. How could Menelaus ever forgive that?

Under arrest and confined to my apartments at the imperial palace, I’d done the only thing I could think of to save the baby growing inside me. With Mage Armand’s help, I had faked my suicide and fled Neapolis Capitola.

As a fugitive from my parents’ harsh imperial justice, I’d done whatever I had to do to survive and create a safe home for Jacinthe in the Dominion’s most isolated province.

A fresh spring of rage bubbled to the surface and made my stomach churn as I remembered how vilely Baldwin had betrayed my trust in him.

I took a deep breath and forced it down. Baldwin is dead and gone. Don’t waste precious energy on regrets.

And don’t think about Duke Beltrán, either, or what he did to me.

Later, I could scream and cry and rage all I wanted. But right now, I had to stay strong and do what needed to be done to keep my daughter safe.

To keep everyone safe. Even Mother.

I turned and curled on my side, willing myself to be strong, willing sleep to grant me a few hours of oblivion. Dawn seemed as far away as my youth, and almost as unreachable.

But each time I closed my eyes, I remembered my last sight of Menelaus, bound and rendered helpless by a spell as the imperial guards dragged him away. His golden eyes had blazed with murderous rage and betrayal.

What if he looks at me tomorrow and sees a coward instead of his lost love? What if he’s found another mate, and happiness?

I knew I should want that for him. But every part of my soul screamed in denial.

* * *

The stark light of early morning found us huddled around an unappetizing breakfast. The remaining border guard, Pylios, had delivered a pile of raw meat at dawn.

Jacinthe used a Fire magic spell to cook it, and all of us did our best to choke in down, along with the last of the provisions we’d brought with us from Baleares.

A sudden commotion outside had Jacinthe and the others all scrambling to their feet. I rose more slowly, every joint aching from a chilly night spent on a dirt floor, and gave Mage Armand a hand up.

I offered my old mentor my arm and together we hobbled through the Dragon-sized doorway of the guest house.

A Wind-Walker, easily twice Boreas’ already impressive size, came in for a landing. Her gleaming green and gold plumage matched his, and her burning gaze was fixed on Boreas.

He groaned, and his huge, curving talons dug deep furrows in the dirt.

“Boreas?” Jacinthe asked in a shaking voice. “Who is that?”

His head drooped. “That’s…that’s my clutch-mother. Lady Aeolia,” he muttered, confirming my guess. “She came to see for herself.”

The newcomer landed in front of us. Her blazing golden gaze locked onto Boreas.

She opened her muzzle, revealing rows of deadly fangs as long as my forearm, and roared in fury. The sound echoed off the stone building behind us and washed over and through me, shaking my very bones.

Boreas shrank down on his belly and lowered his head to the ground.

It didn’t seem to appease Aeolia. She continued roaring at him, her volume deafening.

She halted occasionally to let Boreas reply in the screeching, whistling Wind-Walker language before resuming her tongue-lashing.

This went on for some time. I watched with concern as Boreas continued to flatten himself against the ground after each exchange.

Jacinthe’s mouth thinned, and a frown drew her auburn brows together. Her hand remained resolutely buried in Boreas’ neck feathers as she stared up at Aeolia, apparently unintimidated by the huge Wind-Walker.

At last, Aeolia turned her burning golden gaze on us.

I reflexively tried to brush some of the dirt clinging to my once-grand gown. Then I straightened and prepared to present my request to be allowed to travel on to the Royal Aerie of Hierapolis.

But Aeolia wasn’t interested in anyone other than Jacinthe.

“You, human,” Aeolia said in perfect Capitolan to my daughter. The Wind-Walker’s voice was curiously high and fluting. “I am the High Lady Aeolia, Royal Vizier to King Menelaus of the Anemodareis and clutch-mother of the Argestes Aerie.” Her lips curled into a sneer as she added, “An aerie that has never accepted humans into its ranks.”

I saw Jacinthe gasp, and her eyes widen. All around me, Jacinthe’s companions seemed rooted to the spot.

Oh, no, you don’t! I was not simply going to stand here and allow this creature to threaten my daughter!

Before I dwell on the foolishness of confronting a full-grown Wind-Walker, I strode to Jacinthe’s side.

I summoned the memory of Mother’s haughtiest tones and let her spirit flow through me. “And I am the Princess-Royal Jonquil di Severieri, heir to the throne of the Imperial Dominion of Human Lands,” I announced. “I wish to speak with King Menelaus regarding an important matter, and—” I rested my hand on Jacinthe’s shoulder reassuringly. “I wish to introduce him to his daughter.”

“You want me to believe that fool actually took a human as his mate instead of just fucking around with you?” Aeolia scoffed.

How dare you!

I crossed my arms defiantly and glared up at the feathered beast as I bit back my first angry retort and tried to rephrase it to something that wouldn’t get us all roasted on the spot.

Slowly, Aeolia lowered her gigantic head until it almost touched Jacinthe and I. My fingers dug into my daughter’s shoulders as I fought the urge to flinch and cower.

Aeolia had only to open her jaws, and she’d be able to gobble up both of us in a single snap of her gargantuan jaws.

Hot breath reeking of brimstone washed over us. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled.

And now we die. My heart pounded in a heavy, panicked drumbeat that echoed through my head. But I held my ground.

So did Jacinthe, my brave daughter. I was so proud of her.

Then, something pale and silver streaked past us at inhuman speed. Tama, the merman, suddenly appeared between Aeolia and Jacinthe.

He flung out his arms in a protective gesture, clearly ready to die in Jacinthe’s defense.

But Aeolia didn’t attack. She didn’t move at all for what felt like endless moments.

“Well,” she said at last, her voice oddly soft. “So, it’s true. These two humans really are Menelaus’ mate and hatchling.”

She sounded disappointed.

Sudden hope exploded inside me like Victory Day fireworks. Maybe Aeolia wouldn’t eat us, after all.

The Wind-Walker exhaled a gusty breath that billowed our garments and sent Tama’s long silver hair streaming like a banner. “Very well. I will take you to the royal aerie at Hierapolis.”

* * *

Once more airborne, Boreas followed Lady Aeolia. Seated on his back along with Jacinthe and the others, I eagerly craned my neck as the two Wind-Walkers flew south along a rugged coastline.

Gradually, the landscape below us changed, the jagged volcanic peaks giving way to a pale, undulating landscape of buff-colored hills, spires, and mesas, their sides riddled with dark holes and openings. Lush canyons sparkling with streams threaded between the hills, vibrant green ribbons against the pale stone.

“There it is!” Boreas shouted at last. “The royal aerie of Hierapolis!”

The royal aerie itself was nestled in a breathtaking natural amphitheater shaped by eons of wind and water.

As he descended, I realized the sky was crowded with Wind-Walkers of every color—crimson, emerald, sapphire, gold—arriving from all directions. There were hundreds of them already gathered on the cliff ledges around the amphitheater, like a living tapestry draped over the cream-colored rock.

“Word of your arrival has spread,” Boreas called over his shoulder. “Everyone wants to witness your audience with King Menelaus. Half the kingdom is probably here.”

My heart began pounding again. I raised my hands and smoothed my braided hair—for all the good it would do—acutely aware of all the wind-whipped strands that had come loose during the long, uncomfortable night and two days of travel on Dragon-back.

Is it too much to hope that Aeolia will allow us to wash up and change our clothes before we meet with her king?

My green silk gown was a disgrace, and Jacinthe’s gold dress looked no better after two days of travel and a night spent sleeping on a dirt floor.

“But we only just got here. How could they possibly know already?” Jacinthe shouted.

“News travels fast among Wind-Walkers,” Boreas replied. “Especially juicy gossip. And a human visitor claiming to be the king’s long-lost mate returned from the dead? That’s the juiciest gossip to hit this kingdom in twenty years. Mark my words, the wagers are already flying about whether it’s really true.”

I wonder if any of them are betting he’ll roast us in Dragon-fire? The dark thought intruded as Boreas started his descent.

Jacinthe bowed her head, as if in prayer. Not a bad idea.

I bowed my head and sent a brief, desperate plea heaven-ward.

Divine Mother, let Menelaus not punish Jacinthe for my sins. And please let him not be too angry at me.

That seemed the best I could hope for, even from the Mother of All.

Moments later, Boreas landed with surprising grace on the grassy floor of the massive canyon.

We unbuckled our safety harnesses and slid down from the saddle. Lord Ilhan, ever the gentleman, helped me down, then did the same for his sister and Mage Armand.

My knees were shaking with nerves as I settled my rumpled skirts into place. Jacinthe turned to me and reached for my hand, squeezing hard.

“Mama, it’s going to be all right,” she said.

I laughed shakily. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

Meanwhile, Aeolia was marching away with giant strides, clearly expecting us to follow.

We half-walked, half-ran in her wake across the surprisingly lush canyon floor. I noticed dozens of caves and tunnels dotting the cliff faces, their entrances decorated with elaborate carvings and pillars and curtained by colorful painted leather hangings.

What seemed like hundreds of Wind-Walkers perched shoulder to shoulder on wide ledges, watching our procession with avid interest.

And ahead, lounging on a wide, cushioned bench in the center of a vast meadow, sat a giant of a man, watching us approach.

Menelaus.

He was not in his Dragon form as I had expected, but in human shape.

My breath caught and my throat went dry.

Like me, he’d changed in the twenty years we’d been apart. Unlike me, he’d filled out and only grown more magnificent.

Towering and broad-shouldered, with rich brown skin and a wild mane of red hair the same shade as Jacinthe’s, he looked every inch a virile and mature warrior.

His short black velvet tunic was trimmed with gold and revealed heavily muscled arms and legs thick as tree trunks. A thick golden torc circled his neck, and he wore a golden diadem set with polished topazes and rubies.

He was so alive with magnetic vitality that it made my heart ache. How could he be anything but disappointed when he saw me up close?

Those last few steps seemed to take an eternity. I felt as if I were wading through knee-deep water while an inexorable tide tugged at my legs.

Menelaus watched our approach with an intensity that made my knees weaken. His gaze was fixed on me, and his eyes blazed with intense emotion and single-minded, predatory focus.

I swallowed hard as a new thought struck me. Maybe Aeolia had spared us only so that Menelaus could take his long-delayed vengeance on me.

Divine Mother, let him spare our daughter and her friends. And Mage Armand.

Less charitably, I added, But you can do whatever you like with Fernan de Norhas.

The youth had been on his best behavior during our journey, but I would never trust the spawn of Beltrán de Norhas’ loins.

Then I saw Menelaus throw back his head and inhale deeply. An instant later, he was on his feet, his arms flung wide.

“Jonquil,” he shouted. “My love! My mate! You’re alive! You’ve come back to me at last!”