Page 21 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IGNIS

Ignis leaned back in his stone chair, satisfaction rumbling through his chest as he watched Sora finish the last morsel on her plate. The dining hall buzzed with life around them—dragons in their dragoon forms conversing in low tones, casting furtive glances at their king and his Luna. The meal had sated his hunger, though the real pleasure came from watching her strength return with each bite.

She’d needed this—food, rest, healing. The poison had nearly claimed her. Even now, the memory of her blood spilling across his scales sent a surge of protective fury through him.

Their shared meal amongst the clan had proved more challenging than he’d anticipated. Despite their souls being tethered through the blood bond, his instincts remained hypervigilant. Each unmated dragon who lingered too long, whose gaze traced the silver scales adorning her skin, whose nostrils flared to capture her sweetening scent, tested his restraint.

“Ready?” Sora asked, setting down her goblet.

Ignis nodded, rising from his stone bench. The clan members nearest them bowed their heads in acknowledgment as he extended a wing behind her, not quite touching but clearly establishing his claim.

She was his .

She walked closer to his side than she had before the blood bond, her body instinctively seeking his. Whether it was her omega need to touch him, her alpha—or her own need to.

They left the dining hall, his arm settling around her shoulders, wing curving protectively at her back as they navigated the crystal-lined corridors toward the east guest chamber where Prince Markth was being held.

“Do you think he’ll talk?” Sora asked, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear.

“He’ll talk,” Ignis growled, tail flicking behind him. “The question is whether he’ll speak truth or lies.”

The corridors widened as they approached the eastern wing where crystal formations embedded in the walls glowed more softly than those in the main caverns. Glowstones hung in woven baskets, casting brighter light that spilled across the walls and floor in gentle waves.

Ember stood outside the prince’s door, trying to maintain a rigid stance despite the exhaustion that weighed down her wings. Dark circles shadowed her droopy eyes, and she hadn’t properly tended the wound on her shoulder—testament to her stubborn refusal to rest.

Her amber eyes lit at their approach, though the shadow of sadness behind them lingered, unwilling to fade.

“My king. Luna.” She straightened, offering a formal bow. “You’re looking stronger. I was worried, but was told you were recovering.”

“How is Coal?” Ignis asked, addressing the question that clearly haunted his guard.

Ember closed her eyes, emotion flickering across her scarred face. “He lives,” she whispered, one hand rising to press against her temple. “But I can feel him fading. The connection grows weaker as time continues to pass.”

The pain in her voice cut through Ignis’s chest. Coal had been with them since they were hatchlings—one of his oldest friends, his most loyal spies.

“We will save him,” Ignis promised, gripping Ember’s shoulder. “But first, we must recover our strength, meet with the council, and determine if our neighbors will stand with us.” He squeezed gently. “And you must see Asher. I need my guard at her best, not sacrificing herself to guilt.”

“I can still—”

“That’s an order, Ember.” His voice softened the command. “I can’t afford to have two of my people recovering—or captured—when we mount our rescue. Especially not my king’s guard.”

Ember’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “I’ll ask Blaze and Enixa for replacements.”

“How’s the prince’s temperament?” Ignis asked, changing the subject. “Do you think he will be willing to work with us?”

She shrugged, her bronze scales catching the light. “He doesn’t appreciate being kidnapped, but he seems to prefer our mountain to death.” A slight smile curved her scarred lip. “He’s been surprisingly cooperative. Almost too much so.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ignis muttered. “You’re dismissed. Get that shoulder tended.”

Ember bowed again, casting one last longing look at the door before departing. When her footsteps faded, Ignis pushed the door open without knocking.

The chamber beyond was modestly appointed by dragon standards—a bed carved from living stone, cushioned with furs, a washbasin, a small table with chairs. No treasures adorned the shelves, no precious metals gleamed from the corners.

It was comfortable without being welcoming—just the way he preferred it.

Prince Markth lay on the bed dressed in the same formal attire he’d worn at the northern pass, though his clothes were now wrinkled and stained. He bolted upright at their entrance, fear flashing across his features.

“Please,” he blurted, scrambling backward until he hit the headboard. “Don’t kill me.”

Ignis let his wings unfurl slightly, emphasizing his size as he advanced into the room with a toothy smirk. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” he growled, heat radiating from his scales. “Your family didn’t spare mine.”

The prince swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Sora and him. “I’m not like them.” The words slipped out low and urgent, barely holding back the plea beneath. “I never wanted this war.”

“Yet you stood beside your sister when she drove a poisoned blade into my Luna.”

The prince’s eyes widened. “I had no knowledge of her plan. I thought we were negotiating in good faith.”

“Honestly? Somehow I doubt that.” Sora stepped forward, hands on her hips, silver scales catching the light in a shimmer that echoed her defiance. “Why should we believe you?”

“Because I’ve been trying to change things from within,” the prince said, his words tight with desperation. “The shadow alchemists have my parents and sister in their grasp, and they’re blindly accepting anything they give them. These ‘enhancements’ they’re developing—corrupted essence weapons, potions that twist natural order—they’re abominations.”

Ignis paced around the bed, wings half-unfurled. Each step struck with silent fury, tension coiled tight beneath his scales. “Convenient words from a captive.”

“I’ve been opposed to the omega harvesting for years,” Markth insisted. “But speaking against it openly would have meant my death. The shadow alchemists have too much influence, and ears everywhere.” He leaned forward, eyes pleading. “I can help you save your spy—Coal, was it? I know where they’re keeping him, which guards are loyal to me rather than my sister.”

Ignis exchanged a glance with Sora, sensing her skepticism mirroring his own. “And in return? What do you want?”

“Help me dethrone my family.” The prince’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though the stone walls themselves might betray his treason. “My father is merely a figurehead now. My mother and sister control everything, and they’re destroying our kingdom with their obsession with power without a care about what happens to our people—or our neighbors.”

“How could we possibly trust you?” Ignis demanded, tail lashing behind him in a rhythmic snap that betrayed the tension coiling beneath his control.

“Because,” Sora interjected, her eyes narrowing as she studied the prince with a shrug, “how else will he become king? He may be the eldest, but his sister clearly holds the control.” She stepped closer to the bed, chin lifted, her confidence shining through the quiet gleam in her sapphire eyes. “We take out his family, purge their followers and dark enchantments—he rules. This is the best path to save Coal and end this madness.”

The prince nodded eagerly. “Exactly. I’ve been powerless to stop them, but with your help—”

“If you betray us,” Ignis cut in, leaning close enough that the prince could feel his breath, “I will personally cook you alive. Slowly. Understood?”

Fear flashed across the prince’s face, but he held Ignis’s gaze. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Ignis lifted a hand, letting a poof of his flame dance between his talons before he closed his fist, snuffing it out in silence. “Because I’ve lived long enough to recognize the stench of opportunism. Give me one reason to suspect you’re playing both sides, and I’ll show you why dragons were once the most feared creatures in Artania.”

“I swear on my honor—”

“Your honor means nothing,” Ignis sneered. “Your bloodline forsook honor generations ago.”

The prince’s shoulders slumped. “Then I swear on something more concrete. Help me take the throne, and I’ll declare all dragon territories sovereign and protected. No human force will be permitted to cross your borders without express permission—for they are your land and kingdom. You’re permitted to live in peace—if you will it.”

Ignis considered the offer, sensing Sora’s thoughtful attention through their bond. She, too, wanted to hope for peace… wanted to believe in his sweet words. “And the omegas? The harvesting?”

“Ended immediately,” Markth promised. “Those responsible brought to justice.”

“Including your sister?” Sora asked, her voice steady. “And your parents?”

The prince hesitated, then nodded. “Including my family.”

Ignis studied him for several heartbeats, searching for deception. The human smelled of fear, but not of lies—although humans were notoriously skilled at self-deception.

“For now, we have an arrangement,” Ignis decided, extending his hand. “But know this—my patience extends exactly as far as your usefulness.”

The prince clasped his hand, wincing slightly at the heat of Ignis’s scales but maintaining his grip. “Understood.”

As they left the chamber, Ignis signaled the replacement guards to resume their post. Once they were alone in the corridor, he turned to Sora.

“Your thoughts?”

“He’s desperate,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But desperation can drive men to unexpected acts of courage—or betrayal.”

Through their bond, he sensed her unspoken question: was this alliance worth the risk?

“We’ll use him,” Ignis decided, wrapping his wing around her as they walked. “But we’ll verify everything he tells us before we act.”

The mountain trembled slightly beneath their feet—a reminder of the deep geothermal forces that kept the caverns warm. It matched the simmering rage Ignis still carried, the promise of vengeance burning just beneath his scales.

It was as if his own land demanded justice. Or perhaps a sign that the magic was indeed slowly returning now that he had an omega… now that his Luna’s soul was tied to his own.

“Tell me,” Sora said suddenly, her hand finding his. “What happens now? With Coal, with the prince, with... us?”

The question held layers—political, tactical, personal. He squeezed her hand gently, marveling at how naturally their fingers intertwined despite their different forms—and how his engulfed hers.

Ruby and silver—bold and bright—struck a perfect balance, fierce and elegant all at once.

“Now,” he said, “we prepare. Late this afternoon we’ll meet with the council, including going over any news about our allies from neighboring territories. We formulate a plan to rescue Coal and end the Celestorian threat.” His voice deepened. “And as for us—”

A scout rushed around the corner, interrupting whatever he’d been about to say. The young beta dragon skidded to a halt, bowing hastily.

“My king! A message has arrived—carried by enchanted falcon from the castle.”

“From Coal?” Ember had materialized at their side, her shoulder freshly bandaged, eyes bright with desperate hope.

The scout shook his head. “From the royal family.” He extended a sealed parchment, the royal crest gleaming in the crystal light.

Ignis took the message, breaking the seal with a talon. As he read, his scales darkened with fury, heat radiating from him in waves that made the air shimmer.

“What is it?” Sora asked, stepping closer.

Without a word, he handed her the parchment. The elegant script carried a simple message:

For the return of your spy, deliver the twice-born Luna to the southern waterfall at midnight three days hence —when the white moon is at its fullest . Come alone, or watch as we extract every drop of essence from his body. The choice is yours, Dragon King.

Sora’s fingers tightened on the parchment, causing it to crumple at the edges. “It’s another trap,” she said quietly.

“Of course it is,” Ignis growled, smoke curling from his nostrils. “But this time, we’re not going to play by their rules.”