Page 1 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter One

Sunlight gleams on the ocean, painting the azure water gold as we soar high above the waves. Unfortunately, the current predicament I find myself in detracts from my ability to enjoy the scenery. As much as I’d love to knee the man serving as my personal air-transportation service in the family jewels, now is not the time. My life might be a huge disaster, but I’m not ready to end it just yet with a deadly plunge into the sea.

Oh, excuse me, did I say family jewels? I meant royal family jewels. Because as it turns out, the man hauling me across the ocean in his arms is actually a prince. And not just any prince. No, my flight instructor and former lover is the crown prince of Tirene.

Brother to King Jasper.

Enemy to my kingdom.

Never, and I mean never, in my wildest dreams did I predict that the man I knew as Sterling Thorne would snatch me from Flighthaven, reveal himself as an interloper by popping open a pair of wings, and haul my ass to an enemy kingdom with me clinging to him like a baby monkey.

Now, instead of finishing my first trial at the Aclarian flight academy, I’m caged by a cluster of winged Tirenese warriors in my own personal version of the three hells.

Is “cluster” the correct term for a group of winged Tirenese, or is the right word “swarm”? Or wait, maybe “flock” works best. With the way they swoop through the cloudless sky, their feathers gleaming in the late afternoon sun, flock does seem appropriate.

The wind ruffles my hair, and I spit out a strand that zips into my mouth while squeezing my eyes shut. Ziva save me, I must be losing my mind. Why else would I be debating the proper terminology for a group of flying soldiers when the important detail to focus on is that these feathered jerkoffs abducted me and are carting me off to Tirene?

When I open my eyes, the prince’s magnificent, metallic silver wings come into view as they glide us through the chilly air. During the first part of this voyage, I cycled through an array of emotions—betrayal, shock, grief, anger, hurt—but now I only feel numb.

I’m good with that. Numb beats drowning in pain over lost lives and heartbreak.

Numb beats worrying about my sister, Leesa, especially when none of my unwanted flying companions will answer my questions about her.

Numb beats fretting over whether Nick and Abel—friends and members of my flight unit at Flighthaven—survived the Tirenese attack. Or what happened to Zephyr, my alicorn, or all the other alicorns and dragons that were freed.

Numb definitely trumps succumbing to guilt over my best friend Olive’s senseless death.

Pain spears me in the heart. I shove the emotion into a hole and ice over the top, trapping the hurt like fish under a frozen pond.

Not yet. I can’t deal with any of that yet. If I do, I’ll lose it, and I’m not about to display that type of vulnerability in front of any of these fuckers.

The winged flock of Tirenese soldiers remains silent as we finish crossing the ocean. The air this high up proves a struggle to breathe. No matter how deeply I inhale, it’s as if I’ve just surfaced after spending too long under water. All I can do is cling to Sterling as I struggle to make sense of everything that’s happened since he kidnapped me.

The revelations of the past twenty-four hours keep cycling through my head.

Head Flight Instructor Sterling Thorne of Aclaris isn’t a flight instructor.

He’s a prince of the Royal House Barda.

Younger brother to His Royal Highness Jasper Barda, King of Tirene.

My betrayer.

And I’m his…what? Captive? Refugee? Not to give him any credit, but I suppose he did rescue me from the chaos that ensued after a rogue dragon attack wreaked havoc on our trial.

After hours of silent flying, I still haven’t come to any conclusions as to what’s going on. I’ve only produced more questions.

The biggest of which is, why ?

Why would a prince ingratiate himself to the king of an enemy kingdom under an alias just to pose as a flight instructor? Was he sent on some sort of mission to spy on Aclaris? On King Xenon? On me? Did he plan to kidnap me all along? If so, why didn’t he grab me weeks ago?

He could have snatched me and flown me to Tirene dozens of times over.

Despite my attempt to lock up my emotions, fear snakes down my spine as unanswered questions continue to parade through my mind. What could the Tirenese royal family want with a nineteen-year-old fire wielder from Aclaris who only had a handful of weeks to learn how to use magic, train with weapons, and ride an alicorn? As far-fetched as the idea seems, is it possible I’m not Aclarian at all, but Tirenese? And not just any old Tirenese citizen, but a dragoncaller?

Prior to being summoned to Flighthaven, I was a nobody who spent the majority of my life locked away under my mother’s watchful eye.

Though I lived in a castle, she rarely permitted me to roam the grounds or leave the premises. After my fire magic set the stables ablaze and nearly killed someone when I was younger, my terrified mother refused to let me out of her sight. Even with the tablets I started taking to nullify my powers.

My occasional sneaky, late-night jaunts into town to help a friend stock a food pantry for those in need were my only glimpses of freedom.

Until my sister Leesa disappeared, and I was summoned to Flighthaven.

Now I’m a prisoner again.

“You good, Knox?”

The bronze-winged man glances at us while asking the question. The prince grunts out a reply. ‘Yes.”

From this angle beneath him, I don’t miss the way his bottom lip keeps tensing like something’s bothering him.

Not that I care. What I am curious about is why the man called him Prince Silver when he first captured me. At the time, I was too overwhelmed to fixate on it, but since then, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to think. The kingdoms know him as Prince Knox Barda, so I’m guessing Silver must be some kind of nickname or codename. But despite my curiosity, I refuse to ask.

I refuse to give the asshole the impression that I give a single damn about him.

The asshole-in-question’s wings, both marvelous and horrifying in their enormous expanse, beat the air with powerful thrusts as we descend through a rent in the clouds. I thought I knew him, trusted him, but as the ground draws near, so does the crushing weight of his betrayal.

He’s ripped me from the only homeland I know to deliver me to the people I trained to fight against.

Because he’s one of those people.

“Almost there, Lark.” He speaks in a flat, cold tone, as if the frigid air we’re flying through has extracted every ounce of warmth from his body.

I guess now that the jig is up, he no longer has to pretend.

Knox’s descent slows as we break through the final wisp of cloud cover and approach a courtyard unlike any I’ve ever experienced. The Tirenese soldiers surrounding us cup the air with their powerful wings to curb their descent too.

My gaze travels upward along the lines of an impossibly tall and majestic palace with long arcs of pale stone. Even from the air, I recognize the gardens are magnificent. Hedges cut into the shapes of dragons. Cobbled pathways laid out in intricate designs, and a riot of blooms in a rainbow of colors.

Inside the gardens, towers pierce the sky with an elegance that surpasses anything I’ve ever seen in Aclaris.

The masterpiece of this palace can only be fully appreciated from the air.

In a land where the citizens are just as likely to fly in as walk or use carriages, everything here seems to be created on a larger scale to accommodate wings.

Here, each tower boasts wide windows adorned with long balconies featuring short stone railings. Easily low enough to trip over. Their purpose mystifies me until one of the soldiers lands on a balcony, opens the window like a door, and rushes inside.

Clearly he’s running ahead to report our arrival. But to whom? The king himself?

As each soldier lands, they do a strange shrug, as if rotating their shoulders, and their wings disappear from sight.

My head swims.

My ears ring.

I’ve never been so far from home. Nor so confused or out of place before. Not even on my first day at Flighthaven Academy.

Around us, a thick curtain wall dotted with battlements wraps around the palace, keeping the massive structure protected from the outside.

“Welcome to the Royal Palace of Tirene. My…home.” Sterling releases me onto the cobbled stone of the courtyard. When his gaze sweeps over me, an odd emotion crosses his face before his features re-settle into an unreadable mask.

Stepping back, I stretch and work out the kinks after hours of being held in the same position. A hard glint enters Sterling’s dark brown eyes that wasn’t there before.

Despite the fact that he’d clearly rather be anywhere but here with me, he’s still so attractive it’s maddening. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, he’s honed his body into a seductive weapon thanks to years of training and fighting. A leather tie pulls most of his thick dark hair off his face, allowing one escaped lock to kiss the rich bronze skin of his high cheekbone. A day’s worth of stubble covers the lower half of his face, almost hiding the scar carving a path down his chiseled jawline.

All those features combined create a man of harsh and dangerous beauty. And while I wish I could say that his betrayal killed off my attraction to him, that would be a lie.

I blink, and his silvery wings vanish. He’s magicked them away just like the other Tirenese.

The casual display of magic serves as a swift kick to the gut. A reminder of how I trusted this man with my body and heart, all while he deceived me.

The time and intimate moments we shared together meant nothing to him. I was a mission. Nothing more.

My heart fractures, and I shove the anguish that threatens to smother me into a box and lock it away. The horrible ache in my chest incapacitates me more than fear of an unknown fate. I need to remain sharp, but maintaining my wits proves an impossible task with the tangled mess of ugly emotions trying to suffocate me.

“I never really knew you at all,” I murmur.

Something resembling regret flashes across his face. The flicker vanishes so fast that I’m sure I imagined it. His brow furrows as a tall, lean man with short, sandy-brown hair and soft brown eyes joins the growing group of Tirenese soldiers. He’s not wearing a tabard like most of the troops filing out of the palace to meet us. He’s dressed like the soldiers we flew in with.

Sterling—no, Knox’s —eyes light up. His shoulders loosen as he reaches out to clasp the man’s forearms. “Blair Jameson, it’s good to see you.”

They clap each other on the back in the man-version of a hug.

“Good to have you back,” Blair casts me a wary glance and returns his attention to the prince, “Your Highness.”

Sterling waves his hand and scowls. “Quit with the formalities. We’re not in court.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t miss the title in your absence,” another voice chimes in from somewhere behind me. “How’d it feel being a regular person during your time in Aclaris?”

I half turn toward the speaker. On the flight here, I learned that the broad-shouldered man with the piercing blue eyes and red-brown hair tied back with a leather cord is Agnar Kerrin. Faint freckles dust his handsome, battle-scarred face.

Something about him strikes me as familiar, though I’m certain I’ve never met him before today.

All three men watch me with varying degrees of concern, but if they’re waiting for me to fall apart, they’d better prepare to stand there all day. I straighten my shoulders. No way will I cower or show them how rattled I am.

Sterling’s jaw flexes. “It was…different. Refreshing at times to be a flight instructor with no responsibilities beyond ensuring that barely competent Aclarians survived training.”

My eyes narrow. Barely competent ? What a jackass.

Gritting my teeth, I pivot away from the men before I say something stupid and study the architecture instead. The towers rise with a grace that defies their sturdiness, crowned with elegant spires. Intricate carvings depicting scenes of Tirene history decorate the windows and doors, their legends etched into the very stone.

I inch closer. The carvings tell a story. In one scene, a dragon and a magnificent bird with fiery wings fight in a battle side by side.

Callused fingers brush my arm. I jump to find Sterling standing beside me.

He nods at the scene. “Legend says phoenixes were the most powerful creatures ever to live. Other than the gods, of course.”

My blood boils over his unmitigated gall and cooks my common sense. “Let me get this straight. You lie to me, betray me, abduct me, and take me to an enemy kingdom, and you’re seriously going to stand there and give me a history lesson like nothing happened?”

Behind us, one of his friends coughs as if attempting to hide a laugh.

Sterling ignores my outburst and continues with his impromptu lesson. “Phoenixes were sacred. So revered that attempting to harm one was an offense punishable by death. The gods don’t always see eye to eye, but that was one thing they agreed on.”

I study the carvings, intrigued despite myself. The clatter of approaching boots interrupts my inspection and reminds me of my predicament. Ice freezes my veins.

What’s going to happen to me? To Leesa? Is my sister even here, or was that yet another lie to keep me in line?

In this strange city, everything is crafted for those with wings. Wide avenues, high rooflines, and very few external ground floor doors. Even the walls have an ethereal quality, despite their lack of escape routes. I would never get over them before getting caught again.

I have no hope of outrunning the winged Tirenese. No ready escape route…not that I’d know where to go if I found one. As long as King Xenon wants me, I’m not sure anywhere in Aclaris is safe. Flighthaven is definitely a no-go, and Castle Axton would be out of the question even if my mother hadn’t betrayed me.

I can’t stay here yet have nowhere to go. And even if I did, Tirene likely holds the answers to my mysterious past. If I flee too soon, I might squander my one and only chance to learn more about my biological family and heritage.

That reality sends dual waves of excitement and fear crashing over me.

A veritable mountain of a man with short tawny hair approaches, leading a gaggle of armored guards, each sporting the tabard embroidered with four dragons. That’s all I can make out as the group draws closer and Agnar and Blair step back.

The tabard-wearing guards circle us, forming a wall of flesh and muscle.

“The king has ordered she be brought to him immediately, Prince Knox.” The formidable man, presumably their leader, scowls at the prince. From the permanent furrows carved between his vibrant blue eyes, glaring appears to be his go-to expression.

Unperturbed, Knox dips his chin in acknowledgment. “Of course, Hyde.”

Two men search me for weapons before grabbing my upper arms and marching me up the path to the palace without another word. Trying not to stumble, I manage to move my feet quickly enough to keep up with the sudden rush.

Flying to this strange new place in Knox’s arms proved humiliating enough, but least I know him. I’m even less thrilled about these strangers—with their faces hidden under their helmets—dragging me along like a rag doll.

Instead of stepping in on my behalf or even explaining anything, the prince saunters ahead of us in silence. Still wearing his Flighthaven Academy garb, he stands out almost as much as I do.

With a heart torn by betrayal and a mind teeming with unanswered questions, I follow Prince Knox of Tirene into the enemy’s lair.

The grips on my arms are unyielding as the guards usher me through the throng of onlookers. “Who are all these people?” Maybe even just one answer would help quell the acid rising up in my stomach.

“Subjects of the realm.” Knox’s posture remains relaxed as he practically glides forward, surrounded by his own retinue of guards. Is he putting on a performance for the people around us, or he truly this at ease? “They’re not used to outsiders.”

Outsiders.

The word rings in my ears. As of right now, I’m an outsider no matter which kingdom I’m in.

“I can walk on my own, if you’ll let my feet touch the ground.” I try to rip my arm free as we ascend the polished black steps, but the press of bodies makes it hard to move. “Is this really?—”

I freeze at the top of the stairs.

Beside me, the soldiers halt while still maintaining their grips on my arms. My gaze rivets to the shapes of what I thought were two guards on either side of the palace doors.

Acid scalds my throat. Maybe once upon a time they were guards. Hells, I can’t even tell if they’re Tirenese. That’s not important.

What matters is two men are dead, their bare chests skewered on the spikes protruding from the palace wall like pigs on a spit.

Sucking down a deep breath, I swallow the bile threatening to spew from my mouth. “Why?”

At my whispered question, Knox glances my way, his impassive expression giving nothing away. As if nude men impaled on spikes, their heads forever bent toward the dried blood pooled below their feet, are an everyday occurrence. “I haven’t been home in quite a while. But if I had to guess, they displeased the king.”

Displeased the king? How can he say that in such an offhand way, as if he’s commenting on the weather?

More important question…what kind of ruler murders people and leaves them on full display for all of court to see? And what could they possibly have done to displease him? Commit treason? Or simply disagree with him? Look at him the wrong way? Sneeze?

No one else offers an explanation, and the guards’ hands tighten on me as they drag me across the marble floor. Once we reach a set of ornately carved, oversized wooden doors, they swing open, and they tug me across the threshold.

My heart races, and unfamiliar faces blur together. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t?—

Pull yourself together.

Though I didn’t expect a welcoming party, I’m not at all prepared to confront a ruthless king who has people killed for displeasing him.

But I need to get ready. I need to put my best foot forward and bury my fear so deep that no one will know I’m terrified.

If there’s one lesson I learned at Flighthaven, it’s that showing weakness is a mistake. Far too many people in this world get off on crushing those with less strength or power, if only to feel better about themselves.

Then again, some of them do it just because they’re sadistic dickheads.

I try my best not to gape as we stride through the great hall, where colorful frescoes of sky battles and dragon hunts adorn the vaulted ceilings, but it’s a challenge. The inside of the palace is basically a big labyrinth practically bursting with grandeur and opulence.

Two immense salons open on either side of the great hall, each capable of hosting feasts for hundreds. Music echoes from the minstrel’s gallery where lutes and flutes weave sweet harmonies, a stark contrast to the grisly scene just outside the palace walls.

But it’s the king’s private chamber that steals my breath. The space soars above us, the two-story high ceiling supported by carved ivory pillars. Tapestries depicting the lineage of Tirene nobility drape the walls, and sunlight pours through stained glass, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the marble floor.

My two escorts jerk to a halt, releasing me and causing me to stumble before I catch myself.

Blood roars in my ears. Everything is happening too fast, and the fear I’ve been valiantly suppressing escapes and spreads frost inside my veins.

The guard Knox referred to as Hyde sweeps into a low bow. “His Majesty, King Jasper of House Barda, First of His Name, Leader of the Tirenese People.”

Knox follows suit, leaving me the only person in the chamber who’s still standing as I find myself face-to-face with the king of Tirene.