Page 27 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next morning, I vault onto Dame’s broad back, the heat of her scales a welcome contrast to the chill in the morning air. With a mighty leap, she unfurls her pale-yellow underwings, and we ascend from the fire paddock. A thrill races through me as I watch the world shrink below, joy from our freedom pulsing with every beat of Dame’s mighty wings.

Sterling had warned me earlier to take things easy and not risk trouble by flying the dragons again so soon after irritating the king. But King Jasper had insisted, his command veiled as encouragement.

My decision to fly was a concession to the king’s whims. Though I very well know the king doesn’t value my safety as Sterling does. He only cares about my talents and how he can use them to secure his crown.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m not even sure Jasper sees me as a real person rather than a means to elevate his standing and power, as if I’m some sort of prized broodmare.

Dame banks to the right, silently agreeing to our unspoken destination. Below, the landscape sprawls out, a tapestry of greens and browns quilted together by stone walls and winding roads. A part of me yearns to fly farther, to soar over the lands where the dead alicorns lie, their mystery calling to me like a siren song.

With my family’s safety in Jasper’s hands, though, I don’t dare push my luck.

My gaze lingers on the horizon. One day I’ll be free to forge my own path without worrying about destiny or keeping my loved ones safe.

Gliding on thermal currents, Dame and I survey the land below with a shared curiosity that’s become as natural as breathing. From this vantage point, every secret nestled within Tirene feels ripe for the taking, and I’m all too eager to pluck them from their hiding places. I have no idea how such information might be useful, but anything I learn has potential to help me plan for the future.

The town unfurls beneath us, a new mosaic of life that I haven’t yet committed to memory. We circle lower, discreet enough not to draw undue attention, but close enough for me to sketch mental maps and store the information away like the dragons in old storybooks hoarded gold.

Knowledge is power. Survival may ultimately depend on knowing the lay of the land.

I trace Dame’s scales, the reddish-brown hide warm beneath my touch. The bond between us hums, a silent conversation of trust and mutual respect.

Today, more than ever, I feel the symbiotic nature of our partnership is symbiotic.

Dame continues soaring until the rooftops and market stalls disappear. Before I can speculate on where she’s taking me, an image of a deserted beach materializes through our connection.

Okey dokey then. Far be it for me to argue with a dragon’s chosen destination.

Cruising over a blanket of green forest, Dame closes in on a segment of coast far from the harbor, one that appears unpopulated. The briny air hits my nose an instant before the dragon suddenly banks hard to the right, points her triangular head toward an opening in the trees, and dives.

My stomach swoops. What in the ever-loving hells?

Clinging to her spiny neck, I scan the terrain for threats and find nothing. Just trees and grass and… a godsdamned wild pig?

I squint and, yup. That’s a pig, all right. Even if I couldn’t tell for sure, Dame’s hunger floods our link and confirms it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You couldn’t give me a head’s up before deciding you needed a snack?”

Quickly concluding that I could happily live my entire life without witnessing a gruesome, unbalanced matchup between a squealing pig and a hungry dragon, I flap my wings and launch myself off Dame’s back. I’ll continue in the direction we were headed. Once I reach the beach, I should have long enough to take off my boots and wade into the waves. I’ll splash around and give Dame time to finish her impromptu meal before returning.

I wrinkle my nose and draft a mental note.

Next time, make sure Dame’s eats prior to leaving the palace grounds.

The sun beats a pleasant warmth on my wings as the trees begin to thin into sandier terrain, though thick clusters still hug sections near the shore. I’m tracking the scalloped coastline north when an odd flutter catches my eye.

“What’s that?”

I head in that direction, tracking the motion. The coastline there curves sharply and disappears into the trees, but as I fly closer, more oddities peek through gaps between the branches. Still, it’s not until I’m within touching distance of the leaves that my brain finally puzzles out what I’m seeing.

The top is carefully camouflaged by a canopy of woven branches that extend across both sides of the small cove. Anyone flying high overhead would easily mistake it for another cluster of trees, but I’m close enough to discover the truth.

A wooden hull. Scaffolding. Sails.

Someone—or more than likely, multiple someone—hid an entire ship.

The question is, why?

Curiosity grips me, along with a budding sense of unease. I have no idea why anyone would go to such lengths to disguise a ship, but they must have their reasons.None of which are on the up and up.

Curiosity battles caution, and caution loses. Even if the situation didn’t intrigue me, I can’t afford to look a gift boat in the mouth.

Not when a secret boat might be the answer to a sneaky escape if Leesa and I end up needing one.

I descend to get a better look. As I get closer, though, my skin starts to crawl. Either my imagination is running away with me, or something on that ship is giving off seriously bad vibes. The kind of bad vibes that scream at me to fly back the way I came without delay.

I should probably follow my gut, my do I? Of course not. Instead, I circle while debating my next move. That’s probably why I don’t notice I have company until a winged man bursts from the shelter of the trees.

The surprise is far less alarming than the nocked arrow aimed at me.

Whiz. I dive just in time to miss the projectile that sings over my head. Adrenaline explodes in my veins, and I power my wings as fast as I can, zigzagging to avoid getting hit. I zoom between two trees, tunneling through the branches and banking to the left to avoid the sudden downpour.

Shit. As if the arrows weren’t bad enough, this murderous dickbag had to go and add water magic to the mix.

My short sword is worthless in an air fight, and with my lack experience, flying requires all my concentration just to maneuver. That liability becomes even more obvious when another downpour drenches my wings and throws my balance off. I overcompensate in a desperate bid to remain in the sky and almost nosedive instead.

Getting my shit together right about now would be a good idea.

Ignoring my mounting fear, I summon the magic coursing through my veins and use the fire to send heat into my wings. The soaked feathers dry, allowing me to regain my lost control and speed.

Even harnessing that tiny bit of magic midflight proves to be a challenge. Still, when another arrow zooms by too close for comfort, I conjure a fireball and fling it behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops. Not only did I miss the target, but the asshole’s gaining on me. To make matters worse, a second flyer pops out of the forest to the left, causing my heart to buck against my ribs.

I toss another fireball in his direction before changing trajectories and flapping the hells out of my wings. The entire time, my mind keeps repeating the stupidest thing.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die because you were nosy about a godsdamned ship.

If only I could go back in time. I’d ignore the cove like it wasn’t even there and stick to my plan of wading in the ocean water instead.

A savage gust of wind snatches up my body, answering my unasked question about which element the second guy commands. The force somersaults me before chucking me downward. Dizziness swamps my head as I plunge into the trees, my arm stinging as a dry branch scrapes the skin.

By Ziva’s grace, I somehow manage to stop my plummet prior to going splat. Mocking laughter chases me.

“Give it up! You know you can’t outfly us!”

The worst part is? They’re right. Already, I’m tiring. The muscles powering my wings are fatiguing, and quickly. The town awaits somewhere up ahead, but it’s too far away. I won’t reach it in time to ask for help.

Emotions swell. Fear of what will happen to Leesa and my mother. Regret because I’ve only just tasted freedom.

And heartache, over Knox.

Gasping for breath, I burrow through the trees. I can’t die here. If I do, what will happen to my body? Will everyone realize I was murdered, or will they assume I escaped? The idea that Leesa might believe I left her behind fills me with horror.

I can’t even allow myself to think about Knox’s reaction.

No dying, then. Perfect. Now I just need to figure out how exactly to achieve that outcome.

My mind spins to fabricate a plan. Accessing my magic without worrying about crashing would go a long way toward keeping my blood pumping.

That settles it. I need to land.

I swoop toward the ground, rolling to avoid yet another arrow while mentally preparing to take my last stand.

The second attacker’s voice sounds entirely too close. “So much for the touted dragoncaller! Guess we’ll see if she bleeds the same as everyone else.”

I should have sucked it up and watched Dame eat the damn pig.

And then it hits me.

Oh my gods. Dragoncaller.

Dame.

Like a lightning strike, hope slams my chest, even though I’m afraid it’s too late. I hit the ground running and reach for our connection. The moment I do, a tsunami of pure wrath pummels me, wrenching the oxygen from my lungs. The deluge is so overpowering, it temporarily stuns me, almost knocking me to my knees and ripping away my sense of self. Only the sheer strength of my fear and battle to stay alive could have masked it up to this point.

Oblivious, my attackers land on either side of me, arrows nocked and ready to fly. I’m struggling to recover enough to blast them with fire when the loose tendrils of hair dangling down my neck begin to flutter, and around us, the leaves start to shake.

One of the men curses. I watch as their eyes widen, and their faces slacken with fear.

In the next heartbeat, an enraged roar reverberates through the forest. I peer behind me and sure enough, there’s Dame.

And boy, does she ever look pissed.

“Dame, wait?—”

The thought barely has time to form before Dame opens her mouth. Fire shoots out and cuts the attacker to my left off mid-scream. In the blink of an eye, his flesh and bones melt. They burn to a human silhouette of ash before the ashes lose shape and pepper the grass like dirty snow.

Gross, yet effective.

I wince, even as relief floods me, and prop my hands on my hips. “Well. I guess we won’t be asking him any questions.”

Dame snorts. Satisfaction at the thought of punishing the offender penetrates her rage and ripples through me, so I can’t claim to be completely devastated when she cranes her neck toward the second archer only to find him gone. The forest seems to have swallowed him whole.

I sense her determination to hunt him down and raise my palms in the air. “Whoa. One barbecued person is about all I can stomach today. Let’s let him go and hope he learned his lesson.”

The dragon spears me with her glowing amber glare. Now that I’m safe, her rage dwindles and instead, our link floods with a bizarre combo of warm concern and sharp reproach.

“Yes, I realize I’m an idiot for not remembering to summon you sooner, but I’m guessing you felt my panic so it’s all good, right? And I’m fine. All except for the part where I’m so tired, I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

Lending credence to my theory that dragons understand our spoken language better than we think, Dame lands with a bone-rattling tremor and extends a leg toward me. Once I climb onto her back, she launches into the air and retraces our path back to the castle.

The trembling begins after we take to the air. After all the bloodshed and attacks I’ve witnessed lately, I’m surprised I’m not immune. The notion of returning to the castle in this condition holds about as much appeal as eating an eel-based diet for the rest of my days, so the chorus of youthful voices that rise from the village is a welcome distraction. The children below jump and wave, their excitement a stark contrast to the man’s hostility.

“Dragon! Dragon!”

Their gleeful shouts soften something within me.

Understanding my intention, Dame descends with a grace that belies her size, performing a full barrel roll where I manage not to fall from her back by the skin of my teeth.

“A little warning next time would be nice, you big show-off.”

Amusement trickles to me as she lands with a soft thud that sends dust swirling around the exuberant crowd of children.

I slide off her back.

The kids, nearly a dozen of them, lose some of their initial boldness now that we’re in front of them. Jaws gape and innocent eyes gawk in shock and wonder.

Dame shakes her sunny frills at them in a gesture that reminds me of a pet dog rather than a dragon.

“Come on over.” I gesture to the awestruck children. “Her name is Dame. She won’t bite.”

Right?

Dame must sense my hesitation. She swings her head around, fixing her unblinking golden gaze on me. Her mind brushes mine, projecting a tangle of emotions.

Reassurance. Curiosity. More amusement.

One by one, the wide-eyed children inch closer, not quite daring to touch but eager to be near the majestic creature. Their questions come rapid-fire. Inquisitiveness wins over any lingering trepidation.

“Does she breathe fire?”

“Has she ever roasted anyone?”

“How high can she fly?”

“Why is she called Dame?”

“How old is she?”

“Can I ride her too?”

As fast as I answer their eager questions, the children pepper me with more.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of two tall, familiar figures. Agnar and Blair approach, tentative yet curious. Agnar eyes Dame, a wary expression on his handsome, battle-scarred face. I haven’t quite figured him out yet. I don’t know if he actually likes me, but at least he acts friendly. For Sterling’s sake, I’m sure.

Blair nods his hello and shoots me a boyish grin. He runs a hand through his short sandy-brown hair, eyes sparkling with amusement as the children pelt with another round of questions.

When I raise an eyebrow at him, he shrugs, his smile widening.

I chat with the children as adults gather around, many stepping up to grab the shoulder or hand of one of their young ones. It seems I’ve interrupted some kind of gathering of families out here in this clearing. A celebration of sorts.

A picnic, perhaps.

The parents, a mix of townsfolk and several soldiers, edge closer, their expressions a blend of concern and fascination. They herd their own little ones back, though it’s clear they’re torn between caution and intrigue.

A blond-haired, blue-eyed girl no older than six or seven scurries over and stops a few feet in front of me. “Are you the dragoncaller everyone’s talking about?”

“I am.”

“Wow.” Her eyes widen as her face splits into a grin. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Someone snorts nearby, and I swirl around to find Agnar rolling his eyes. “Careful, Rose. Lady Lark’s head is big enough as it is.”

“What?”

“It’s all right.” Agnar’s lip tips up, and for once, he’s actually smiling at me. A little bit. “I don’t think anything I say could change my niece’s high opinion of you.” He dips his chin at me, then turns to the little girl.

Before I have time to ask him about his niece, Agnar disappears into the crowd, the child in tow.

Blair cautiously steps forward, bowing his head to Dame. “In case you’re wondering what all this is about,” he makes a sweeping gesture, “Knox gave us the day off. Said something about taking a break and spending time with our families outside of the palace.” A note of gratitude threads his words.

“Is that so?” My heart flutters at the mention of the prince, but I quickly quell it. Here, surrounded by innocent laughter and happy families, thoughts of what could have been if our situations were different come a little more freely.

I wonder what our babies…no. Don’t even finish that thought.

King Jasper would never allow me to forget where my loyalties must lie—away from personal desires and squarely within his grasp.

And trust? Trust is a luxury I can’t afford. Not even with Sterling, despite the glimpses he’s shown me of his true self.

Speaking of loyalties. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I need to get back to the palace now.”

The crowd shuffles back, a sea of faces marked by awe and respect as they watch Dame unfurl her wings.

“Bye, Dame! Bye, lady dragoncaller!” Voices tinged with disappointment, the children wave us off.

“Until next time.” I return the wave, my smile bittersweet.

With a powerful thrust of her wings, Dame lifts us into the air, soaring skyward.

She gives no warning before she releases a white-hot stream of fire into the air. The wind rushes past, snatching away the shrieks and cheers that erupt from the children.

As their voices fade, so does the temporary reprieve from my worries.

The good news is Aclaris and Tirene share something in common after all. The bad news? That commonality involves assassins with their sights set on me.

Upon my return, I track down Sterling and inform him of the attempt on my life. He sets out with Blair and Agner to investigate.

They return empty handed.

The following morning, with an expression of grim determination, Sterling squires me back to the training field, where he proceeds to force me to use my fire magic while avoiding hits from other elements.

That afternoon, during yet another training session, I catch Sterling staring at my eyes. Wonder flickers across his face.

“Something on your mind?”

He turns away, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks. “Your eyes. They’re a brilliant gold color at the moment.”

I laugh softly. The notion that my secondary characteristics could hold such allure for him is both flattering and ironic. After all, it’s not his wings that drew me to him in the first place, despite their impressive span.

This freaking beautiful man stole my breath away the first time I saw him. Well, maybe that had more to do with my smacking into him while running full force.

Focus, Lark. Don’t go there. Now is not the time for ? —

“We’re working on stamina today.” Sterling’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “We’ll be doing long flights to strengthen what we’ve built in mobility. Think of it like a run. Your legs need to be strong. So do your wings.”

“Just a run?” I swing to the side, giving the slower birds a wide berth. The animals keep to their courses, unconcerned by our presence. “No weights or projectiles? I’m not going to be dodging wind users?” I scour the trees around us, half-expecting to spot one of his soldiers hiding among the boughs, ready to throw obstacles in my path.

“Not today. Though you’re giving me some great ideas.” His tone has become businesslike, all traces of distraction smoothed away. But there’s a hint of a mischievous smile at the corners of his lips.

He’d better be joking. I’m bad enough at obstacle courses on my feet, and I’ve been using those for nearly two decades. I’ve only been using my wings for mere days.

Sterling’s shadow flickers across my vision, a brief eclipse against the sun-drenched clouds. His wing brushes mine, a featherlight touch that pulses thrills through me.

“Tag.” His expression remains sober as he assesses me. Then he flies away, as swiftly as a shooting star.

Flustered for a second by the childish taunt, I don’t follow. He can’t be serious. Tag in the sky? We’re supposed to be training, not playing children’s games. “Is this a joke?”

“Not at all. If you can catch me, this training flight will be over and you can spend the rest of the day however you’d like.” He winks. “Not that I really expect you to catch me.”

Challenge accepted.

My wings pound the air with determination as I chase after him. The world below us becomes a blur of verdant forests and sapphire ponds, all distant and inconsequential compared to the exhilaration of the chase.

Heightened clarity of sight isn’t my only new advantage. The wind whipping past doesn’t dry my eyes, and when I narrow them, I can discern the fine wrinkles around his mouth.

He’s trying not to smile, but I can see the strain of holding it at bay as I start to gain on him. The skin tightens along his neck, and I’m certain he’s plotting some move.

My instinct proves right. The leading edge of his wings dip, and he plummets away from me, spiraling with his wings tucked around his body.

“You’re never going to catch me if you navigate like this is a chessboard!” Sterling taunts over his shoulder. “The sky opens up more avenues of movement than the land does.”

I should have known better. He’s been training me on upward and downward motions this whole time. Yet here I am, acting like those directions don’t matter. With his greater weight, he can dodge downward faster than I can.

But I can climb faster.

Not yet, though. That’s a move I’ll have to table until the time is right. His spiraling dive has given him quite a bit of distance between us.

I have to catch up to him first.

Gritting my teeth, I set my course as he shows off by coasting along below me.

I pour every ounce of strength into my flight, muscles burning, heart hammering. The rush of wind deafens, but it’s the silence of our unspoken words that echoes loudest. Smiling and laughing, we weave through the heavens, an intricate dance of predator and prey where neither of us truly wishes to win or lose.

He doesn’t know I have a secret. One I haven’t shared with anyone.

Sterling’s not my only teacher. Dame, Chirean, and all the dragons with whom I connect have taught me as well.

The Tirenese may be winged people, but the dragons are the true masters of the sky. And I have been with them, not just on their backs but also in their minds as they traverse their terrain. Scaled wings don’t move quite like feathered ones do. Still, the same air carries us all, and I know how to use it.

The distance between us shortens. As I’m above him in the sky, he has to rely on tracking my shadow.

A predator prefers to attack from above.

We leave behind the forests and farms of Tirene’s heartland. In the distance, I catch the gleam of sunlight on water and know we’re nearing the East Coast. The winds, stronger here, have fewer thermals. Slipping side to side, my shadow plays over him as I advance.

Now.

Bending at the waist, I slash at the air one last time, pushing myself down. Then I tuck my wings tight, making an arrow out of my body. My shadow, which I’ve made certain lays along his body, shrinks as I close in.

A memory overtakes me.

Chirean diving on an unsuspecting sheep in the mountains. The thrill as both prey and ground barrel closer. One is life, the other death. And living is the line drawn between them. The line that must be followed in order to dominate.

Just like the sheep, Knox startles and tries to dodge to the side.

I shoot past him, and I swear he almost laughs, almost tries to say something to taunt me. I can see it in his eyes as he opens his mouth while I streak past. However, Knox is not a land-bound sheep. The ground, and death, are still far away.

Once past, I twist to the side and snap open my wings. I pour heat into my legs and feet in the areas not insulated by fire feathers, creating a thermal uprush around my lower body. The rushing wind spins me, and I arc upward again.

Too close for Sterling to dodge.

Snapping a hand out, I grab the front of his tunic. My nails scratch against his chest.

Instinctively, I pull him closer, claiming my prey. “You’re mine.”

My speed is such that I drag him along with me back to the heights I’ve just left.

His jaw drops, surprise etched on his face for a split second before his expression becomes something…dangerous.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him in a victorious embrace. I reach the peak of my momentum. For a fleeting heartbeat, we hang suspended. My mouth goes dry, and I wonder what in the gods’ names I’m doing. Suspended momentarily, even gravity loosens its grip on us.

The world disappears until there’s nothing but the two of us. His eyes meet mine, those deep pools reflecting a storm of emotions. Admiration. Desire. Conflict.

And hunger. A deep, unsatiable hunger.

My throat works on a swallow as I wet my lips. His sparkling brown eyes track the movement, like prey watching a predator, waiting for the killing blow.

This moment is a perilous precipice, the edge of a chasm stuffed with potential heartbreak. Gritting my teeth, I shove those thoughts aside.

Yet, as we start our descent back to earth, I can’t help the swell of joy that blooms in my chest. This day, this perfect slice of time, soars above the world’s chaos. With my future teetering on the whims of so many people, this is a rare treasure I’ll tuck away in the vault of my memories.

Gravity takes us, and I pull Sterling with me as I lean into it. My grip loosens, and his greater weight drags him farther away, my hand sliding across his chest to his arm.

Right before we separate, his hand takes mine.

Twirling, we both extend our wings. He pulls up ever so slightly, flying with wings overlapped on one side. Our hands remain joined.

“That was…” I struggle for words that won’t betray the depth of my feelings.

“Incredible.” Wrapping me closer, he moves over top of me. “You’re incredible.”

Our wings match beats seamlessly. Even with the wind slicing between us, the heat from his body soaks into my skin, injecting me with life.

He’s right. This is incredible. And despite the tangle of loyalties and the ever-looming shadow of betrayal, today I’ve tasted freedom. And I want more.

Gripping his wrist, I twist in his hold, folding my wings out of the way. He freezes when I wrap both hands in his collar. My pale fingers stand out in stark contrast against his dark uniform and bronze skin.

His eyes lock onto mine, burning bright with desire, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s waiting for me to act.

Time to stop holding back.

The thought snaps me into motion.

Lifting my chin so it’s even with his, I run my tongue along his bottom lip.

His pupils dilate, and then it’s game on as his mouth crashes onto mine.