Page 36

Raelan

I WAIT. I BIDE MY time. Alina needs to be far, far away. She needs to be safe.

As I’m jostled along in the back of the wagon, each bump rougher than the last, I think about the decisions I’ve made, the choices that have been laid out before me.

When the king first called me into his study to assign me the duty of being Alina’s knight, I could’ve told him no. I had every opportunity to tell him the truth. But I was terrified of how he’d react—perhaps unnecessarily so. Since picking me up off the streets of Wysteria when I was just a boy, he’s shown me nothing but kindness and understanding. My time training in his guard hasn’t always been easy, and I had to struggle at first to catch up to the other boys in my group, the ones who’d been training since they were seven, but he was always there, always watching, always encouraging me to do my best .

And I realize now that he was instrumental in molding me into the man I’ve become.

Maybe part of my secrecy was not wanting to disappoint him. I felt almost ashamed for having discovered my bond with Alina, some voice deep inside telling me I’d never be good enough for her. She’s a princess, and I’m just a man who has to fight day in and day out to keep a beast locked inside.

My dragon snarls at that thought. It wants to be free. It yearns for it, like any caged thing. And rightly so. We all want freedom.

In my lap, my fingers curl into tight fists.

When first presented with the Veiled Hand’s letter, the king seemed hesitant to acquiesce to their demand, though I could see the pain in his eyes. At the end of the day, Alina will always be more important to him, should always be more important to him, yet I knew it pained him to think he’d have to trade me for her.

And seeing that, I knew that I’d misunderstood him all along.

I recall what he said in the study just before the letter arrived.

Son, I don’t go back on my promises.

He ensured me my family will be safe. And with that final chain having been snapped, I feel I am finally free to do what I must.

And I must fight back.

We have been traveling for some time now. And with Alina traveling in the opposite direction, putting twice the amount of distance between us, I am no longer in danger of hurting her.

Which means it’s time.

All the rage I’ve been fighting to keep locked inside, all the yearning and heartbreak and terrible anger, is finally allowed to flood through my body.

Immediately, my skin warms, my heart starting to pound. The chain about my neck burns.

But this time, I don’t try to clamp down on my magic, don’t attempt to force it into submission. This time, I will fight to break free. It’s my only chance.

My dragon coils. I call to it, trying to pull it through my bones. It snarls and writhes. It wants to tear through me, to shatter these chains into a million pieces, to deliver justice upon those who dared touch my princess.

My mate.

The chain burns hotter. It scalds me, sending the scent of charred flesh up my nostrils, undoing all the careful work Alina did in trying to heal me.

Still, I draw on my magic. I imagine bursting free, unfurling my wings, screaming my anger into the sky.

Faster, faster. My heart is galloping now.

The sizzle of magic against my throat makes me scream. It’s excruciating.

Somewhere outside the enclosed wagon, someone asks, “What was that?”

“Should we check on him?” another voice says.

“No!” It’s the woman this time, their leader. “Don’t open that door. Keep walking. ”

Her voice is like a thorn in my boot, a finger pressing into a wound.

They took Alina from me. They dared threaten her. And now they’ll pay.

I scream again, the pain mounting until I’m slumped forward, the chains the only thing holding me upright as agony rips through my body.

And then, all at once, it’s over.

The chain around my neck snaps, its magic having finally given way. The broken links fall into my lap and around my boots, clinking against the wooden floorboards. Behind my blindfold, my eyes flash open. A smile curls across my lips.

The transformation is quick; my dragon is ready.

My bones shift, my skin pulls. Scales form across my arms and legs. My gums split to make way for my fangs.

As my body writhes, the chains attempting to hold me put up a final protest. Then they, too, succumb to me, snapping and snaking into heavy piles upon the floorboards. The shackles they clasped around my ankles break free, the blindfold tears.

Then the wagon is suddenly too small. It can no longer hold me. The wood creaks as my scaled spine presses against it. With a cacophony of snapping, the wood splinters.

And those standing closest to me scream.

My body tears free of the wagon, leaving it a crumpled mess of wood and metal. My weight crushes it down, breaking the yoke holding the horses to the wagon. Immediately, they flee, leaving the humans stranded and entirely at my mercy .

As the transformation completes, I unfurl my inky wings and stretch them toward the night sky. It feels like a breath of clean air, a glass of water after a long hard journey. For a brief moment, the relief distracts me.

Until an arrow attempts to puncture my scaled hide.

My gaze snaps to the stupid human who thought it wise to attempt such a thing. I surge forward, and he has but a second to scream before he’s nothing more than a mess beneath my clawed paw, flattened into the earth.

The others level their weapons at me and loose their arrows all at once. Each sharpened arrowhead glances harmlessly off my scales, doing nothing but angering me further.

But this anger feels good . It feels right .

These men and women are kidnappers, assassins, spies. They threatened my king. They threatened my mate. And they won’t ever do it again. Not to me, and not to anyone I love.

I scream my rage to the sky, a burst of blue flames burning through my chest before shooting toward the clouds overhead, lighting up the blackness stretching across the land. Then I turn my slitted gaze toward the mass of panicking humans.

And the justice I dole out is swift.

The unbridled power coiling though my body is why they killed my ancestors, hunted us until we were very nearly a thing only of legend. But they don’t understand that they made us this way. They gave us a reason to fight, to defend ourselves and our loved ones.

It didn’t have to be this way. But humans rarely learn from their mistakes .

Instead, they lean on pride and arrogance, wrapping themselves in it as though it will protect them.

Tonight, the Veiled Hand learns. And I will be their teacher.

WHEN THE SCREAMING STOPS AND the forest falls silent, I take a moment to assess the damage. A few trees fell victim to my rage, and they lie about the forest floor, their pine needles blanketing the rich earth. The animals all fled, leaving the night quiet and still save for the far-off rumble of thunder. The humans are dead. All except for one. I search the trees for him. And my gaze homes in on his familiar face.

Tristan.

He’s attempting to hide behind a tree I felled with a single swoop of my tail. His hair is matted and tangled with leaves and pine needles, his eyes wide, blood dripping from a cut on his temple. He at least has the good sense to look terrified.

Aware he’s been spotted, he pushes to his feet and attempts to flee into the dark woods.

Stupid human.

I surge forward, and with one swipe of my claws, I scoop him up, relishing the scent of his fear as he writhes and struggles to escape my hold. I lift him to my eye level.

“No!” he screams, trying to kick his feet. “I’m sorry! Please! Don’t hurt me! Please! ”

A growl rumbles through my chest, fire building in my throat .

I could scorch him, leave him as nothing but ash to feed the forest floor.

But when I look into his tearstained eyes, I think of Alina.

Would she want me to do this?

My dragon screams yes , but the tiny human part of my brain says no . And apart from the connection Alina once had with this pathetic excuse for a human, Tristan also has information the king needs—information regarding the Hand and who hired them to try to obtain me. I’ve not left any of the others alive; he is our last chance to learn of the shady workings behind the organization.

And therefore, he must live—even if every scale on my body tingles with the desire to crush him in my paw.

“Please!” he screams again. “I have a family.”

I tighten my claws around him, and he finally ceases his useless struggling, as if only now realizing how fucked he really is.

I swallow down the flames burning in my throat.

Without sparing a last look at the humans left to be claimed by the earth, I spread my wings and turn my gaze to the sky. It opens its arms to me, beckoning for me to come home.

And I wait no longer.

I fly.