Page 14 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Fourteen

I enter the field, clucking my tongue at the three little fawns with my palm outstretched. “Here, I brought you some sugar cubes.”

As I stride closer, the birds stop singing and the wind stops rustling the leaves. I can only hear sinister, unintelligible whispers.

I don’t want to get any closer, but some unseen force compels my feet to move. As I creep forward and reach their sweet little faces, the ground melts beneath my boots and changes into dirt. All of a sudden, all three fawns open their eyes. Black blots out the white, and pure evil glares right at me.

With a scream, I lurch backward and sink into the dirt.

As I’m buried alive, the fawns hiss my name…

I gasp awake, the silence of my chamber pierced by a silent call. My heart races, but my room is empty, undisturbed. Though I listen, only silence greets me.

The loud clamor attacking my head originates within my own skull.

Sitting up, I press my fingers to my temples, trying to focus on and understand what I am feeling.

It’s them, the dragons.

Their minds brush mine, a torrent of emotions and flickers of images assaulting me as I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

Their collective mental voices overlap in my brain. I’m not yet familiar enough to sort through their individual tones to decipher who is who.

Ever since they accepted me as a dragoncaller, their existence has been an omnipresent buzz in the back of my mind. Sometimes if I concentrate on something else, I can tune out the noise. Mainly. But not this morning.

Whatever. I’m just happy for the distraction from that godsawful nightmare.

Is this the future I can expect from here on out? Part of me regrets ever reading that prophecy.

With a shaky sigh, I swing my legs over the bed. Any hope for a peaceful beginning to the day evaporates like mist under the morning sun. I slip into one of the dragonriding outfits Rhiann provided and again admiring its comfort and sleekness.

Am I becoming more Tirenese? Though I loathe the methods used to bring and keep me here, I can’t help the connection I’m developing with the dragons. With my heritage.

But that’s a thought for another time.

Despite my early rise, a breakfast tray waits by the door. No berries this time. Instead, there are biscuits, honey, cheese, and what appears to be a large bloodred fruit, cut into bite-size pieces. Strangely, there is also a slip of paper folded and set on the side of the tray.

I pop a piece of fruit into my mouth and unfold the note.

Dragon’s blood is the name of a fruit the dragons are especially fond of. That is what we use to make our dragon’s blood liqueurs, not dragons.

SB

He brought me breakfast. The prince of Tirene brought me breakfast.

My heart flutters at the sweet gesture, and just for a moment, I let my thoughts drift to last night. Something was different with him this time. Despite the lies and the deceit, the mystery of my past and the uncertainty of the future, things are changing between us.

Every time I’ve slept with him has been…well, incredible. But after this last time, something inside me shifted, thawing the ice block surrounding my heart. And that terrifies me.

Even if I were to ever drop my guard enough to trust him again, we can’t be together.

As a prince of Tirene, his place remains here, among his people.

And I still plan to escape the first chance I get. To Kamor, or maybe one of the Northern kingdoms.

I need to clear my head. I need to get out of this room and as far away as possible from the palace and the prince.

Leaving behind the rest of the food, I take the bowl of fruit with me.

The corridors are alive with the palace’s early morning bustle, with servants flitting about and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchens. It’s the perfect chaos to help distract my mind from the memories that note evoked.

Damn that man and his wicked mouth. Along with every other part of his freakishly gorgeous body.

The orange male dragon’s call thrums in my mind, a persistent beckoning that hastens my steps. Impatience radiates from his consciousness. The mental nudge he directs my way pushes me to stride double-time across the cobblestones.

In the fire paddock, the orange dragon waits. A sense of pride surges as I approach.

The Lark who once balked at flying atop an alicorn now rides a dragon. If someone had told me this would happen before I left for Flighthaven, I would have laughed my ass off and assumed they drank a little too much cooking sherry.

We launch skyward, the ground falling away as we climb into the embrace of the azure heavens. Every swoop and soar cements the bond forming between us, a melding of spirits that transcends words.

“Thank you, Knox.”

His lessons—both what he showed me yesterday and all the many things he taught during my alicorn training at Flighthaven—resonate within me, guiding my hands and instincts as my dragon companion and I navigate the boundless sky.

It’s not just the practical skills Knox imparted, though, but understanding the mystical connection entwining dragoncaller with dragon. Orange and I share a silent conversation that flows between us, as natural as breathing and as vital as the blood coursing through my veins.

High above the kingdom that both cradles and confines us, I am remade.

Bound by earth no longer, I answer the call of the skies, along with the dragon underneath me.

Below us, the clouds block my view of the earth. Embracing the joyful moment, I summon the fire magic running through my veins and let it rip.

Flames arch ahead of us, forming a tunnel of fire. I squeal, and the orange dragon bugles. With a sigh of relief, I call my magic back and douse out the flames.

The dragon shoots out another ball of fire, then dips lower. His flames streak toward my face, and without time to flinch, I push them away with my magic.

He’s testing me.

Leaning forward, I pat the ridge of scales where his neck and shoulder meet.

“We make a good team. But let’s hope we never need to test just how well we can work together.”

A blur of motion streaks into my vision.

Out of instinct, I lurch back, muscles tensing. The world tilts without a backrest to steady against. I’m at least a mile high, suspended on trust and dragonhide.

And then I see her, and my heart slams against my ribs.

A vast figure emerges from the rush of air. The reddish-brown female dragon arcs out of her sideways maneuver, as sharp as a sword’s swing.

Her arrival was a near miss that sets the orange scales beneath me vibrating with alertness.

The female dragon circles in an impressive display of agility, given her size and thicker abdomen. After only a few wing strokes, she settles into our pace.

Beneath me, the male dragon opens his mind like a bloom to the sun. His mind, complex and still partially hidden, reminds me of a chirean, the slow-blossoming orange flower that resembles a mosaic when in bloom.

Chirean, a magnificent Aclaris flower.

My pulse gallops. I think I’ve just named my first dragon.

His vibrant collage of emotions, weave through my consciousness: curiosity, contentment, the simple joy of flight with companions he enjoys.

Yet, as this communion blossoms, the female keeps her distance. Amidst the clouds, she’s a fortress of solitude, her mental barriers firm and unyielding. It’s a caution I understand, one that resonates within the marrow of my bones.

Maybe we’ll eventually learn to trust each other.

Swooping in a graceful arc to lower my speed, I steer Chirean toward the fire paddock, the wind tugging my hair free from the simple tie binding it.

From this vantage point, the ground seems like a tapestry of activity, but one particular figure stands out.

My sister.

Even from the air, I recognize the terror painting her features.

Not that I can blame her. Her last encounter with dragons was when Chirean and his mate nearly scorched us in the arena.

With the slowing beats of the dragon’s wings, we descend and land.

Once his feet are on solid ground, Chirean bends his foreleg, and I climb off. My dismount, while nowhere near as graceful as Knox’s, is a vast improvement from last night.

The dragon lets out a puff of steam as he gives Leesa a leisurely inspection. He recognizes my love and admiration for the other human but is not yet comfortable enough with her to allow her to approach.

At least he’s not shooting streams of fire mere inches from her face.

Progress.

“Thank you for today.”

I pat Chirean on the leg, transmitting feelings of gratitude through our bond.

Leesa’s astonishment gives way to a hesitant smile, and I know this is just the beginning. I can sense power struggles, betrayals, and losses lurking on the horizon like ominous storm clouds.

For now, I live in the present moment and enjoy what I can.

The shock on Leesa’s face would be comical if her next words weren’t so grave and all big-sisterly. “Lark, you’re still learning. You should not have flown alone!”

I brush off bits of dust from my sleeves, feigning nonchalance as I meet her gaze. “It’s okay. We have an understanding…a bond. I know it probably sounds bizarre since just days ago, we could have become his breakfast, but I trust him.”

I bite back an ironic laugh. I trust an enormous, deadly dragon. Too bad I can’t say the same for the vast majority of people I’ve met.

I refrain from mentioning the she-dragon’s dive or my own heart-stopping jolt when I almost toppled off Chirean’s back. Leesa doesn’t need to know about the disaster I skirted. Her image of me as the sheltered, timid sibling is already cracking, sure, but no need to give her a heart attack.

We’ve been through so many changes already. This one can wait a bit longer. For now, I revel in the nagging way my sister shows her love for me.

I’ve missed her so damn much.

Movement in my peripheral breaks our reverie, and I pivot just as Zale strides straight toward me with a wary expression on his face.