Page 26 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

My wings spread with a mind of their own, catching the breeze like sails. I stumble, grumbling under my breath. Despite days of having them constantly out, the sensation is still foreign and unwieldy. Knox’s voice slices through the wind, patient but unyielding.

Then again, the three air wielders are in front of him, directing their winds at me while he stands there giving instruction.

“Focus, Lark. Command them as you would your own limbs. Because they are your limbs, and you are not a child who doesn’t understand control.”

Concentrating, I nod. Muscles flex, wings retract, and I walk on solid land again, mastering the tempest’s attempt to claim me. With each step, I grow more confident, grounded despite the gusts that vie to upend me.

“Good.” He cocks his head, approval coating his tone. “Now, take off. No running start.”

Easier said than done with each person casting at a different speed. Combined, they mimic a summer’s storm.

I crouch, reaching for the power coiled in my legs and in the unfamiliar stretch of my wings. With a singular thrust, I launch into the heavens, leaving the safety of the courtyard behind.

“Use the thermals!” Agnar calls from beside Knox. Blair stands on the prince’s other side, no doubt gearing up to bark orders at me too.

“I’m trying!” That’s all I can manage without breaking my concentration and cascading to the ground in a heap.

The updrafts are tricky, invisible currents that can either hoist one higher or buffet one aimlessly. I find one, hook onto it with an instinct I didn’t know I possessed, and ride it, conserving my strength.

Flying is a dance. A game of trust with the air itself.

“Remember, momentum is strength!” Yet another helpful training nugget from Agnar.

I dive.

The ground rushes to meet me. At the last moment, I twist, using my speed to mimic the force of a blow. A phantom enemy falls beneath the might of my imagined strike. Pulling up, I level out just above the grass, heart pounding with exhilaration.

I touch down in front of the prince. “How was that?”

Knox merely grunts. “Again.”

Rolling my eyes, I address his friends. “I forgot what a sheer delight he is as an instructor. Truly inspirational.”

Blair coughs to hide a laugh while Agnar has no such compunction. Knox shoots them both dirty glares.

“Oh, come on.” Agnar wipes his eyes. “You have to admit, you can be a grumpy son of a bitch during training.”

My eyebrows raise. “Only sometimes?”

Knox crosses his arms over his chest, unamused. “If me being grumpy helps save your life, then I’m fine with that. Again .”

With an exaggerated sigh, I obey. I’m enjoying getting to know Agnar and Blair, even if I still sometimes suspect they aren’t sure what to make of me. They share tales from their childhoods with ease, usually to elicit a laugh. Unlike some people.

My own amusement fades, and a niggling doubt gnaws at the edge of my consciousness.

Knox’s relentless training isn’t just for mastery of flight, but for something more dire. After eight more climbs, dives, and strikes, I land before him, wings quivering in the aftermath of exertion.

“This isn’t just about flying, is it? You’re preparing me for battle.”

He doesn’t flinch as his brown eyes meet mine. “We’re Tirenese. We battle on the ground, sea, and sky. And last time I checked, you’re no sailor.”

“I’m no soldier either.”

His gaze flickers to the three men assisting our training with their air magic. “With the growing animosity between Tirene and Aclaris, and as Tirene’s only dragoncaller, you may find that changing soon enough.”

Wonderful. Apparently I escaped training to become part of one kingdom’s flight brigade only to get inducted as a soldier into another.

“Thank you for your help today. You’re dismissed.” At Knox’s words, the three air users depart. He turns to Agnar and Blair next and sends them off.

I wave, trading smiles with each of them before they saunter off. I sense Knox watching our exchange and growing steadily more tense.

Once they’re out of earshot, I face him with my hands on my hips. “Go ahead, say it. You’re about to choke on whatever’s pissing you off.”

His brow draws into a scowl. “What I’m about to choke on is the fact that you smile at them nonstop yet seem like you can barely stand to breathe the same air as me.” His voice lowers to a dangerous level. “If you’re getting any ideas about them, I suggest you quit now.”

Once I process his words, my fingers curl into my palms. “Are you kidding me? Do you really think I’d hop from you to one of your friends as easily as I change my clothes? No, don’t answer that,” I growl, holding up my hand, “because if you respond the wrong way, I can’t promise I won’t throat punch you.”

I’m so irked I can barely stand to look at him. Seriously, is that really what he thinks of me?

When I manage to get my temper in check, I address him again. “If I smile at them more, it’s because you’re treating me like just another soldier under your training. You’re closed off, and you act like your only interest in me is my ability to serve Tirene. Meanwhile, your friends tell me about themselves, their pasts. Their lives in Tirene and at the castle. I’m getting to know them. Yet you’re holding me at arm’s length.”

I tuck my chin, shielding my face so he can’t see the hurt I’m desperately trying to hide, but he grabs it between two fingers and lifts until our eyes meet. Whatever he sees causes his shoulders to sag.

In the next breath, he grabs my hand and tugs. “Come with me.”

He guides me through the labyrinthine halls of the palace. Each step takes us deeper into a wing I’ve never set foot in.

The older walls here speak the secrets of a bygone era, their stones untouched by time or the king’s renovations.

“Jasper never saw fit to change this place. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because of what we kept hidden.” His voice, laced with a hint of reverence for the untarnished history around us, echoes off the high ceilings.

I trail behind him, my fingertips grazing the cool surface of the ancient masonry. Here lies the heart of the kingdom, unaltered and authentic. A brief peek into the previous king’s style.

Knox turns a blind corner, and as if by magic, the prince is gone.

Vanished.

I blink in disbelief. The Tirenese are known for many things, but spontaneous invisibility isn’t one of them. At least, I don’t think so.

My heart skips a beat. Is this part of the training? A test? Am I about to get kidnapped again?

“Knox?”

No answer.

I scowl as I examine the stones, pressing and tapping, seeking the mechanism that spirited him away. A draft teases my hair. I lift my gaze just as a slab of ceiling shifts and an arm drops down.

Yelping, I jump back a step. Knox’s impatient voice follows. “Grab my hand.”

He hauls me into the cramped darkness of the passage. “Watch your footing.”

“I’ll give us some light.” Channeling a tiny part of my magic, I form a ball of light that hovers in the palm of my hand.

Knox guides me along the uneven floor. We shuffle forward, our heads bowed against the low ceiling of this strange attic space.

“Here.” Thick air nearly swallows the click following his whisper in the dark.

Another door grinds open, protesting its disturbance after years of neglect. From there, we step into a realm forgotten by time. A concealed nursery designed for regal heirs now shrouded in dust and shadows.

I survey the small beds and empty hearth, wondering what I’ve been pulled into. “Gods.”

“Indeed.” Knox performs a sweep of our surroundings, his gaze laced with a nostalgia akin to sorrow.

The walls are plastered with aged drawings. One catches my eye, and I creep over the exposed joists to inspect it.

It’s a child’s depiction of a stick figure king upon a dragon, the words beneath written with innocent pride.

Father flying to save us

Each image below reveals a chapter of a childhood steeped in legend and legacy, all of them labeled.

Father chasing away the bad dragon

Father saving Mother

Father and me flying

Jasper and me waving at Father in the sky

Jasper helping me hide

Jasper with his sword protecting me

It’s all here, captured in childhood’s caricatures. However, it’s the illustrations of both boys that grip my heart the hardest. Those drawings clearly convey how much young Knox revered his brother. How much he relied on him to keep him safe.

Instead, Jasper sent him away.

My gaze wanders to another set of drawings. These depict two boys accompanied by a smaller, long-haired figure, and when I figure out who it’s supposed to represent, the knowledge nearly destroys me.

Knox’s little sister. Yet another casualty of the attacks that stole me from Tirene and killed my father.

“He was a good older brother, when we were younger. He played with me and rarely got annoyed when I followed him around. And everyone doted on Serena.” Knox’s words come haltingly, as if they’ve been locked up for so long, he’s forgotten how to say them. “Even before the attacks, though, Father insisted on drills. The trumpets would blare, and we,” he gestures to the small beds, a pained smile flickering across his face, “were to grab Serena and sprint here without hesitation.”

His gaze drifts around the room, touching on each relic of the past. For a moment, I see the young princes and princess in his eyes, scrambling for safety, their hearts pounding with urgency, their little faces alight as they achieved the goal of reaching this hidden room.

“Jasper tried to make it into a game.” He continues to rotate, soaking it all in. “Serena’s and Father’s deaths changed all of us. We were never the same afterward. My mother completely cracked and refused to leave her bedchamber, and Jasper had to grow up overnight. After that, hiding was no longer our role. We were expected to stand and fight. I miss my sister and father, but what’s almost worse? Missing my brother and mother when they’re still here.”

The echo of pain coating his words causes my chest to burn. He tracks the patterns of the worn rug beneath us. His fists clench the belt cinched at his waist, keeping his hands from reaching out to these markers of his past. Even now, in this hidden space, he holds himself tight.

I close the distance between us, my hand gentle but firm under his chin, lifting it so I can convey my deep, genuine gratitude for this glimpse into his past. Into him. “Thank you. For trusting me with your memories.”

His throat works on a swallow as he grunts an unintelligible answer.

My fingers tighten ever so slightly, ensuring his full attention. “But you should know, I won’t run. I refuse to hide when danger comes.”

Resignation passes over him, a nod to the inevitability of my words. He understands my spirit too well by now, yet he shows a rare and precious vulnerability.

He ducks away as if to conceal the emotion brimming in his gaze.

I reach out, unable to let this moment go. “Knox. Sterling.”

At the sound of the name I called him back at Flighthaven, he shudders.

This is the first peek he’s given me of Knox the boy. Lost. Broken. Unsure. He wears so many masks, and I’ve yet to discover which one is the real him. The hard, unrelenting man I met at Flighthaven. The teasing, sarcastic friend who likes to argue just to see me riled. The passionate, attentive lover who worships every inch of my body.

Perhaps they’re all him. Parts of the whole.

Here in this secret place, we’re stripped away of everything. No pretense. No responsibilities. We’re not a dragoncaller and a prince. We’re just two people, two souls, with an undeniable connection.

I lean in and press a soft, tender kiss to his lips.

At first, he seems caught off guard. His mouth moves tentatively against mine. The sensation that blossoms inside me goes beyond the blind lust that’s always simmering between us. He opens up to me, and my tongue explores his mouth. Fiercely sweet, we learn each other as if it is our first time.

And in some ways, it is. The first time I kissed him, he was Sterling Thorne, my flight instructor. A man who didn’t exist, acting on orders from a king he didn’t necessarily trust but never stopped loving. The man I am kissing now is Prince Knox Barda, current heir to the throne of Tirene.

Just as I am no longer Lark Axton, Flighthaven recruit and hidden daughter of the Axton family. I am Lady Lark Axton Drago, dragoncaller and prophesied martyr.

Though I pray with all I am that the martyr part is wrong and I don’t have to die.