Page 24 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

My boots kick up dust as I rush toward the paddock clad in my dragonriding gear. Knox’s relentless training sessions and the undeniable attraction between us have frayed my nerves to their last threads, and I need an escape.

I’ve sent word to the prince through one of the guards that I’ll be late for the first training session of the day. I didn’t bother to wait for his response because I have a feeling he’d insist on accompanying me on my flight.

But I need space. Time alone to think and just breathe.

Is Sterling going to be pissed when he learns I’ve skipped training to fly solo? Probably.

Am I worried about that? Not one bit.

The arrogant prince could use a little lesson in patience.

With a soft giggle at the image that pops in my head, I reach the fire paddock. “Hello, Chirean.”

The male dragon lifts his head, his golden eyes assessing me before he returns to basking. A snort of steam escapes his nostrils. I’m not exactly an expert in dragon body language—not yet—but I get the impression he’s not interested in taking me flying.

Toying with the end of my braid, I concentrate on the connection between us. The nudge against my mental wall is instant.

Disinterest. Contentment to stay here and enjoy the sun.

I lift an eyebrow at the dragon and sigh. “All right. Can’t say I blame you.”

Maybe I’ll just take a walk. I could get my bow and practice some archery. I’m already sore. A little more training won’t make a difference.

As I turn, movement in my periphery catches my attention. Dame stirs from her spot against the far wall, her scales shimmering like dark fire. She approaches with a grace that contradicts her growing size, muscles rippling beneath her hide. Her mind brushes against mine, her emotions a stark contrast to Chirean’s reluctance.

Eagerness. A restlessness that matches mine.

I flash her a grateful smile and stride toward her, waiting for her to lower her front leg to allow me to mount.

The guard who accompanied me to the fire paddock stands watch as the dragon takes off. While neither Jasper nor Knox have relented on a guard accompanying me, I made a strong case for my safety while on the back of a dragon. Only the most foolish assassin would attempt to kill me while I’m mounted on a creature that could burn them to a crisp with a single sigh.

The ground falls away as we lift into the air, the wind whizzing past us and tugging at my braid and wings until I manage to get lower on her back and tuck them down.

Below, the training grounds sprawl out in a mosaic of moving figures. Soldiers drill in formation, their movements a synchronized choreographed dance of discipline and strength. Maybe I’m paranoid, but it seems like there’s more activity now than when I first arrived, and I wonder if that’s a product of rising tensions between Aclaris and Tirene.

I lean forward, pressing my hand against Dame’s neck, urging her lower. Underneath the massive shadow we cast, the chaos stills, if only for a moment.

This isn’t the direction we usually take, but Dame seems insistent, and who am I to argue with a dragon? But as I scan the landscape for more signs of unrest, I know we’ve strayed farther than intended. When the landmarks shift, cold recognition dawns in my stomach.

I’ve only been here once before. The day Sterling carried me to Tirene.

We’re not just well south of the capital, but seriously far south, and still going. The ocean separating Tirene from Aclaris looms ahead, its dark waters rippling with warning. A sudden burst of anxiety grips me.

“Too far, Dame. This could get me into trouble.”

I press my thighs tighter against Dame’s flanks, urging her to reverse course, but she remains resolute, her powerful wings beating a rhythm that defies my silent pleas. Subservience does not play a role in the bond between us. We are partners in the sky, and today, Dame controls the reins while I hold on for balance.

Below us, the deepening water grows darker.

Before the waters can return to shallows, Dame banks sharply, guiding us toward one of the unoccupied islands between the two kingdoms. As she begins to descend, her uneasiness floods our connection, and the wind rushing past carries a myriad of unintelligible whispers. Something about them strikes a familiar chord and prompts a slimy sensation to slither down my spine.

Telling myself I’m jumpy over nothing, I focus on our surroundings as we head for a sandy beach, where the unexpected sight of alicorns greets us.

The small herd dozes in the sun, taking naps with their legs comfortably tucked underneath. From this height, they’re serene, their bodies arranged in a flight grouping.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, even as my heart pings with longing over Zephyr, the alicorn I left behind at Flighthaven. How could I ever have feared these incredible creatures?

As we enter our final descent, the laughter dies in my throat. Every last one of the alicorns lies prone on the ground. While that behavior in and of itself isn’t uncommon, at least a few adults always remain standing to guard over a sleeping herd.

My lungs hollow. The herd’s stillness isn’t peaceful.

It’s final.

A dreadful silence greets us when we touch down, the alicorns’ majesty replaced by an eerie tableau of death. They sprawl before me, foal to stallion, each one a monument to some unseen, sudden evil.

I try to urge Dame closer, but the dragon resists, sidestepping uneasily and refusing to move forward. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “Not gonna lie, you’re not making me feel any less freaked out about this.”

Giving up on coaxing the stubborn dragon, I dismount instead. My boots hit dry sand with a soft thud while Dame remains rooted in the same spot. “What could have happened?” I whisper the words, as if my normal speaking voice might disturb the fallen creatures.

Ridiculous, of course. Because they’re dead, and nothing will ever disturb them again.

I weave among them, hunting for signs of life, but find only vacant, pitch-black eyes and the faint scent of sweet decay that wafts from their bodies.

Ice worms over my skin.

Memories of the three lifeless fawns in the palace’s gardens creep into my mind, darkening my thoughts.

Is there a connection? My heart seizes with distress at the possibility.

I extend a tentative hand toward the nearest alicorn, a middle-aged mare, and seek any hint of warmth. The chill covering her soft coat seeps into my fingertips.

Long dead.

Cold. Stiff.

And so very, very wrong.

Curiously, the beach around them is devoid of any scavengers. No crabs crawl from the waves. No seagulls circle overhead. This scene is missing all the natural elements that usually feast on such tragedy.

The warmth should encourage carrion-eaters to swarm, yet nothing stirs. The scene is…unsettling. Sterile. What force could slaughter an entire herd and deter every type of scavenger?

Trudging through the sea of once-vibrant bodies, each step feels heavier than the last as I return to Dame. “Did you bring me here for this?”

She blinks in what appears to be a silent yes . A fresh wave of her discontent swamps me, and my skin crawls as if covered in ants. The very sand sticking to my boots feels dangerous and unwelcoming, and one word cycles repeatedly to the beat of my pulse.

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

We need to return to the palace. With a heavy heart, I mount, the usual thrill of flight dissolving into the somber air around us.

It’s going to be a silent, sober ride back.

The dragontenders hover when we land in the paddock, but I wave them off. Their assistance, while well-intentioned, is a crutch I don’t need.

What I need is time to think. Or someone to talk to about this problem. Though the list of people I can trust in this kingdom is short.

Dame’s unease floods my senses again and mingles with mine. She’s just as concerned as I am about the dead alicorns.

“Where the hell have you been?” Anger rolls off Knox in waves as he storms toward me.

I refuse to flinch at his tone. I’ve dealt with his grumpy ass since that first day at Flighthaven, and this is no different.

Finishing with Dame, I spin around to fully face the prince. “Well hello, Your Highness. It’s nice to see you too.”

He emits a growl-like sound as he invades my space. “You missed training.”

“I sent word that I would be late. Didn’t you get the message?”

“I did.” A muscle in his jaw tics. “But this isn’t just late. You’ve been gone all fucking day. Explain.”

A dragontender shoots a curious glance our way. Before I grant Knox’s request and “explain,” we have to get away from prying eyes.

“I will,” I lower my voice, “but not here. Care to take a walk?”

Wordlessly, Knox nods, waving off my guard before leading me away. We walk in silence for several minutes as we put distance between us and the fire paddock.

Once we’re out of hearing range, he stops and gives me a flat look. “Start talking.”

If I didn’t have such serious news, I’d tell him where he could stick his attitude. “I found an island filled with dead alicorns.”

“Dead alicorns?” Knox’s voice breaks, horror etched into his features. “Where?”

I am grateful he believes me, even as I try to ignore the way his full lips thin with worry. “The first island south of Tirene. I don’t know if it has a name. It’s just a sandy little thing with hardly any life at all and no trees.”

I hold up a hand as his face contorts with anger and dread. “Let me tell you.”

I describe the morning’s events, starting with Dame’s insistence on the route and the fact that she definitely wanted me to see the carnage.

“But how? If something attacked them, even something as large as a dragon, once the first one was attacked, the rest would have fled.” His question hangs between us, unanswered. For who or what could wield enough power to silence an entire herd of the majestic creatures?

“And there were no other tracks except their own. It’s like they landed there together, then laid down and died.” I continue recounting what I saw, though none of it makes sense. “There weren’t even signs of a fight. Not even thrashing limbs as they died. It was so…clean.”

Clean has never before felt like such a dirty word.

Knox rakes a hand through his shiny black hair, pushing it away from his face. “You walked next to them and saw nothing? No blood?”

“Nothing. It was an ordinary beach…some grasses, plants…nothing sharp enough to even scratch the skin. Whatever killed them was long gone. Nothing natural could be responsible for what I saw. They were cold. Dead for hours. And there was no sign of predation on the bodies either. Not a single peck from a vulture or seagull. Not even a bug.” My hands flutter in a useless effort to convey the scene’s unnatural nature.

Knox reaches out and stills my hands. “Or the cause couldn’t be seen. You wouldn’t see a disease, just its effects.” He tugs on my wrist, a resolute expression hardening his face. “Show me.”

Though returning to that awful site is the last thing I want to do, I nod my assent. Together, we return to the fire paddock. I remount Dame, and Knox climbs onto Tanwen.

This time, I stand back with Dame while Knox approaches the dead herd. My throat burns when he kneels beside the smallest foal, strokes the baby’s shoulder, and bows his head.

His pain saturates the air, forcing me to turn away before it chokes me.

Minutes pass. Finally, he rises and continues his inspection in silence. Once he finishes, he stalks across the sand to me. “Let’s go.”

The familiar blank expression covers his face, erasing any sign of emotion. I hate that mask, especially now, under these terrible circumstances. Plus, I don’t understand. That dead herd hit him hard. I know it. I know he’s hurting. So why does he act so completely unfazed?

The truth slams me in the chest. That blank expression of his doesn’t indicate—has never indicated—his cold heart or inability to feel, but the exact opposite. Knox dons that disguise whenever he feels too much. because life’s taught him it’s safer to hide such strong emotions.

As he starts to brush past me, I step into his path and cup his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

His shield cracks, offering me a glimpse of his devastation, followed by a softening in his eyes. He bends down until his forehead rests against mine. “I know.”

After riding back to the fire paddock, we wander the palace grounds, our boots kicking up the scent of fresh earth and crushed leaves. The silence between us pulses like a living thing, and Knox’s gaze, heavy with the same questions swimming through my mind, weighs on me.

We walk on until I can no longer stand the silence or the accompanying dread that coils low in my gut. “Should we tell the king?”

He hesitates and then shakes his head. Before he can verbalize a reply, though, thundering hooves interrupt us.

A squadron of the king’s guard storms into view, their faces set in grim lines. Hyde reins in his steed before us, flanked by soldiers whose hands rest ominously on the hilts of their swords.

“His Majesty requires your presence immediately,” he barks. The command brooks no argument.

A chill sweeps through me as I exchange a glance with Knox. The air tastes of steel and tension. Are they escorting us to an audience, or to our doom?