Page 16 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)
Chapter Sixteen
Zale’s death and my failed abduction manage to put Knox and his brother into complete accord for once. The king instructs Knox and his men to hunt for our attacker, and when they return to the castle frustrated and empty-handed, both brothers form a unified front in the king’s War Council room and insist that a guard accompany me at all times.
When I protest the loss of my newfound freedom, the king offers me a commiserating glance. “I understand that reassigning you a full-time guard isn’t what you want, but your safety is of the upmost importance. I was remiss in letting that slide. It’s not far-fetched to think someone with a grudge related to the monarchy might try to use you against me.”
Knox’s reply is a lot less polite. “Don’t be pigheaded about this. We’re not about to put your life at risk just because you’re acting like a brat.”
He crosses his arms over his chest as if daring me to fight, which, game on. The man just called me pig-headed and a brat, for Ziva’s sake. How he expected any other outcome will remain an unsolved mystery.
Jasper’s eyebrows shoot up. “Knox,” he chides, “is that any way to speak to the first dragoncaller in generations? Lark is Tirene’s treasure.”
The warmth the king directs at me causes Knox to stiffen. The change is almost imperceptible but spending hours watching and getting up-close-and-personal with this man means I’m more in tune with him than most.
Usually, I side with him regarding the king.
Not tonight. Tonight, aggravation cranks up my evil side. “Yeah, Prince Knox. Is that any way to talk to Tirene’s treasure?”
From the frigid glare he aims my way, I’m lucky my body doesn’t freeze into an iceberg on the spot.
Jasper’s gaze travels back and forth between the two of us before pausing on me. “Did the two of you argue like this when he was your instructor at Flighthaven?”
We answer in unison. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” As the king cocks his head and rocks back on his heels, my stomach plummets and regret squeezes my throat.
Stupid. Why did I open my big mouth just to taunt Knox like that? The last thing I want is to give away our past relationship by treating my supposed instructor with too much familiarity.
Knox is right. I am acting like a brat.
I need to fix this. “We got off on the wrong foot at our very first meeting, when I first arrived on campus. I bumped into him, and he immediately started giving me crap about the fact that I was wearing a dress. He even told me we didn’t have time for tea parties.”
When Knox’s mouth twitches, I wonder if he’s remembering that first charged encounter too.
Jasper smiles. “And how did you respond to that?”
“She told me it was too bad about the tea parties, since I could use a little sugar to sweeten my foul disposition.”
The king barks a laugh, and even Knox smirks. A little bit more of the ice protecting my heart melts. That initial exchange with my grumpy new flight instructor has seared itself into my memory because I’d never experienced instant attraction like that before. Grumpy or not, Knox left a big impression on me and remains the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I never expected him to recall that meeting in such detail. The fact that he did stirs my hope that our very first encounter shook him just as much.
Jasper claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It sounds like the pair of you provided entertainment for the other students.”
Knox snorts. “Oh, I’m sure we did.”
The two brothers seem at ease together for once. I suppose if agreeing on saddling me with a guard brings out the best in their relationship, I can grin and bear it.
I still don’t trust the king one bit. I shouldn’t trust Knox either. But while I cling to my anger and attempt—though often fail—to hold him at arm’s length, I worry his persistence will eventually crack my willpower like an egg. And since one more betrayal will pulverize my heart into an even runnier mess, I refuse to take that risk and let him back in.
Voices approach us from the hallway. A wiry, older man with curly gray locks appears beside a woman with military bearing and short magenta hair who’s maybe a decade plus a couple years older than me.
The gray-haired man strokes his chin. “Are we borrowing trouble? Maybe they were just posturing.”
The woman shakes her head. “They’ve already tightened up on the trade embargo. The last shipment just showed up, and Captain Nees was in quite a mood. He said we got half, if that, of our usual haul.”
As they sweep inside, their hushed tones carry to our spot in the corner courtesy of the room’s acoustics.
The woman scrubs a hand over the top of her head. “No lost ships yet, but we could be looking at that soon enough if the raids continue?—”
King Jasper forcefully clears his throat. “Fenton. Dalya. I was just finishing up with Lark and will be with you in a moment.”
Their heads jerk up like startled rabbits, and Gray’s eyes widen in alarmed recognition. “My apologies, Your Highnesses. I didn’t realize the room was occupied.”
He coughs and averts his attention to the table, his flushed cheeks spelling out his chagrin at getting caught publicly discussing a sensitive topic.
Magenta’s bold, unflinching gaze never strays from my face, and I get the sense that nothing much rattles her. She studies me with open curiosity and dips her chin in a polite show of respect. “King. Prince. Dragoncaller.”
The title unsettles me. In keeping with king and prince, the address I expected to follow was lady. Her casual use of dragoncaller throws me for a loop, a fact she probably notices based on the twitch of her lips.
“Nice to meet you.”
Several more people enter, including Agnar, Hyde, and a curvy, middle-aged woman with the shiniest brown hair I’ve ever seen dressed in an exquisite sapphire gown.
Jasper lifts my hand and air-kisses my knuckles, though Knox may have missed the lack of contact because he looks about two seconds away from a bad decision. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. In case I don’t see you again this evening, I’ll bid you goodnight. Knox, did you task someone with guard duty yet tonight?”
Knox gestures toward Blair, who hurries into the room. “Yes, there he is now,” he all but barks.
I elbow him in the ribs because, hells, that snapping turtle imitation of his is about as discreet as strutting naked into the middle of a coronation. Lucky for him, the king seems too distracted to notice. In lieu of a spoken reply, His Majesty graces us with a royal grunt, and suddenly, I’m the one who’s annoyed again.
Done with them both, along with the rest of the unwanted attention, I address Blair. “I’m out. If I don’t remove myself from this room now, I’ll be risking imprisonment for shoving my foot up a certain member of the royal family’s ass.”
Oh shit, how loud did I say that? I check the sea of faces and thank the gods above that apart from Blair performing a double take and Knox’s frown, no one else has reacted to my cranky threat.
Blair widens his eyes at Knox as if silently calling him out for stranding him all night with the grumpy-ass woman then shifts his focus to me. “In that case, I suggest we hustle.”
His wary expression would probably earn him a chuckle if the day’s events hadn’t sucked up all my energy. I grunt a reply, realize I’m beginning to sound a lot like both the king and a broody prince we all know, and sweep from the room before I really land myself in trouble.
The air shimmers with the mustiness of old parchment as I weave through the towering aisles of the Royal Archives. My fingers trail along the spines of leather-bound tomes, feeling the thrum of ancient knowledge locked within their pages. The prophecy beckons me from its elusive hiding place.
I navigate the labyrinth of shelving, the dreamscape warping reality with each step. Books blur and titles shift in a confusing dance, but I press on. There, misfiled between Tales of the Enchanted and a title that seems to flicker out of existence, rests a book I’ve never seen. The Chronicles of the Mother Wurm. It’s not listed in any catalog or whispered in hushed reverence by scholars.
The book draws me like a moth to the fire. It wants me to pick it up.
The hairs on my arms stand on end. The book is almost in my reach, yet I can’t seem to close my fingers around it. I stretch my arms and focus on my hands. I have to grasp my future. I’m so close now…just a little bit more and?—
Inky blackness descends, as if an immense shadow swallowed the light. I wrench my gaze upward, yet all I see above me is an empty void. Movement crawls along the edge of the darkness.
I shift my gaze, only to witness the south wall, once so solid and reassuring, begin its ruinous collapse. Groaning stones surrender to gravity, igniting panic within me. Dust blooms, clogging the air even as the darkness spreads, enveloping all.
Though the world disappears from sight, I can still feel it crumble around me, burying me beneath an avalanche. Rubble slams into the space between my shoulder blades, zapping my with pain.
Each breath is a strained agony that crushes my spine, stealing the light and extinguishing hope. The pressure stunts my breath and ability to move.
“Help me!” I scream myself hoarse, thrashing against the imprisoning debris.
In the periphery of this nightmare, I sense the presence of those I love. Knox, with his expressive eyes. Leesa, with her unwavering loyalty. Mother, despite the hurt feelings I nurse. Olive. And the faces of classmates who’ve shared the skies with me, like Nick and Abel from my flight unit and Zephyr, my alicorn. Yet, their forms are mere wraiths in the dust, oblivious to my plight.
“Please.” I whisper.
I’m alone, abandoned in the dark. None come to my aid. No one frees me from this earthen tomb.
As the archives continue their relentless descent into ruin, the pain in my back grows. Despair settles on my chest, heavier than the stone and lumber that pin me.
“Knox…” His name is a talisman, a fading spark of hope in the all-encompassing gloom. But even he cannot penetrate the silence that has become my prison.
The dream’s phantoms fade, but the agony in my back is a cruel anchor to reality. Tears streak down my cheeks as I claw at the sheets, each twitch setting off fresh, rippling spasms.
Between sobs, I struggle to sit upright, attempting to summon the strength that carried me skyward just hours ago. As my hands search the small of my back, seeking assurance that I am indeed free from the crushing weight of that nightmare, the door to my chamber bursts open with enough force to herald an invasion.