Page 20 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Twenty

My gaze darts to my wings, an extension of my very self, yet still so alien. They blend with the hues of my hair, but the dark brown feathers also gleam with strokes of burgundy and gold under the burgeoning sun.

I’m a smaller, more chaotic version of the mighty creature who—coincidentally?—shares my new palette. Dame’s, as I’ve dubbed her, red-brown scales shimmer with the same colors that now grace my back.

I wish I had even a tiny bit of Dame’s flying skills to go with the matching shades. My wings don’t want to work together. My flapping, rather than smooth and natural, is choppy. And when I focus even harder on recruiting the correct muscles and balancing, my left side drops and I start tipping in that direction like I drank too much whiskey.

Oh, and there’s the little issue of my legs. As in, what in the three hells am I supposed to do with them?

They’re supposed to trail behind, graceful and still, but they keep tangling with my wings, creating a cacophony of motion.

Dame glides alongside me, her powerful wings cutting through the air with breathtaking precision that leaves me green with envy.

“Show off,” I mutter.

Through it all, her emotions pulse down our connection.

Pride. Anticipation. Even a bit of…amusement.

She probably finds me as entertaining as a hatchling chasing its own tail—all energy and no direction.

Her mind brushes against mine, and I glance at her, trying to mirror her movements.

I draw in a breath and allow instinct to take over. For a moment, I find a rhythm, a grace I didn’t know I possessed. My wings beat in sync with my heart, and the wind cradles me in its invisible arms.

“Hey, look! I think I’m getting the hang of—oh shit!”

My left wing drops again, and I list to that side. While I’m working to straighten out, a trio of loons coasts by. I swear the smug bastards are laughing at me.

Dame snorts, a plume of smoke escaping her nostrils as the air vibrates around her. Dragon laughter, if such a thing exists.

“Tough crowd.”

And just like that, within the struggle and pain, a fragile freedom blooms.

It’s a start. A promise.

An inkling that perhaps one day, these wings will carry me not only across the skies but closer to the power and purpose that have long eluded me in the tangled web of politics between kingdoms.

For now, I’m content with surviving my maiden flight without getting flattened into a human pancake.

The initial panic subsides as I settle into a more leisurely pace, the tips of my wings grazing the currents like tentative fingers testing bathwater. With each stroke, I gain buoyancy, and the sky cradles my form with surprising warmth.

Sort of like swimming, only in the sky.

My lungs greedily gobble up the crisp, thinner air. The heady sensation leaves me light and dizzy.

Before long, fatigue nudges at my muscles, a gentle reminder they’re unused to such exertion. Just when I need respite, Dame swoops beneath me, her massive form a resting spot that I accept with gratitude.

My wings catch the wind like sails unfurled at the worst possible moment. “Oof. Sorry.”

She exhales in an exaggerated huff that I swear is the dragon version of a beleaguered sigh.

After several embarrassing fails, I fold my wings close to my body, aligning them along the curves of my spine and ribs.

Dame approves with a low rumble, a vibration that promises smoother travel as we soar back to the palace.

The dewy early morning air dampens my cheeks as Dame and I spiral downward toward the palace courtyard. A throng of people spectate, as does Chirean, who unfurls his wings and bugles a welcome that echoes off the stone walls.

I slide off her back with a newfound empathy for baby chicks booted from the mother’s nest.

The crowd displays a range of facial expressions. Overall, I’d say the reactions trend more toward the positive, especially with those who dress in simple clothing that mark them as lower classes. Even the watchers clad in fine, expensive fabrics seem less negative, though there are definitely little clusters eyeing me with everything from suspicion to greed.

Not long ago, that knowledge would have upset me. Thankfully, my time at Flighthaven helped push me toward a path where I worry less about whether other people like me.

The dragons accept me. For now, that’s more than enough.

My heart skips when I catch sight of my mother and sister. In my excitement to reach Leesa, my wings spread wide, catching the wind like defiant sails. They snap me back as I strive forward. I wiggle my shoulders in a futile attempt to mimic the Tirenese wing-disappearing act.

Finally, after multiple attempts to magic them out of existence, I give up the fight and saunter over as if I mean to keep them on display.

Mother’s face conveys a tapestry of expressions. Shock. Regret. Guilt. Joy. Her features are also etched with an apology for years past. For keeping me caged. For lying about my identity. For so many things.

Resentment bubbles up, hot and acrid, but I push it down. Since the time I banished her from my room, I’ve managed to avoid seeing her. I remind myself that she tried to explain, and I’m the one who cut her off. Once I’m calm enough to listen to her without losing my shit, we’ll sit down and talk.

Maybe that makes me soft, but I can’t help it. No matter what she did, the woman raised me from age four on. I at least owe her the chance to rectify things.

Besides, harboring resentment will only hold me back. After years of stagnancy behind Castle Axton’s walls, it’s time to move forward.

I stand there, wings unfurled, basking in the moment of triumph and tumultuous feelings.

Today is about new heights. New strengths. And while the past may claw at my heels, I am determined to soar beyond its reach.

“Look at you.” A note of wonder threads through my mother’s voice as she lifts a hand to my cheek. “Your wings are stunning. You’re stunning.”

“And your eyes!” Leesa’s own eyes widen while she studies my face. “You look like a goddess.”

A laugh tumbles from my lips. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s right. They’re…different.” Mother drops her hand from my face and fishes out a small mirror from the folds of her dress before offering it to me.

A stranger’s reflection stares back at me. Mussed hair frames my flushed cheeks, but it’s my eyes that steal my breath. Pure gold has replaced the familiar hazel, the color an echo of the shimmering streaks that decorate my wings.

“How?” I turn my head this way and that, fascinated by the way the new color catches the light.

The color isn’t the only change in my eyes. I simply hadn’t noticed before, but the clarity with which I see the world now is almost unnerving. Details, once blurred by distance, stand stark against the landscape. Each leaf on the far-off trees is a crisp silhouette.

Even the very threads in my mother’s dress are discernible.

Leesa clears her throat. “I…I don’t know.”

My fingers trace the outline of my eyes in the mirror. Will they stay like this? I lower the glass, pondering the implications. If my eyes signal the presence of my wings, then what else about me has changed?

What other secrets lie dormant, just waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves?

A familiar voice booms through the crowd. “Lady Lark Axton, please come here.”

King Jasper has summoned me.