Page 9 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Nine

I soar, the wind a symphony in my ears, the world below a tapestry of emerald and gold. Sterling glides beside me, his dragon a shimmering specter against the azure sky. Our laughter weaves through the air, a melody of freedom unfettered by courtly chains.

I spur my dragon with a thrill in my heart. “Race you to the horizon!”

“Challenge accepted.” His grin is as radiant as the sun.

Beneath us, the fields and forests are a blur of motion, the scattered lakes mirroring our exuberance. This is the epitome of living, untamed and unrestrained. The sun bathes us in its fiery glory, anointing us the creatures of light and air.

When my dragon bucks, I begin to fall, plummeting with nothing but the cold rush of air as my companion.

Sterling’s dragon circles above, his figure an aloof statue carved from indifference. He watches me plummet without moving to save me. The gravity of his betrayal pulls me down faster.

The warmth vanishes. A chill seeps into my bones, and the sun snuffs out like a candle in the wind.

My breath hitches as the ground surges up to meet me.

Terror floods me, and I brace for impact.

Before I hit the ground, the scene shifts.

Now, I’m inside a cage, and beneath me is a bed fit for a queen. Other luxuries surround me too. Colorful silk gowns, elaborate feasts, all the books I could ever want. But the bars leave no doubt that I’m a captive.

Leaping to my feet, I race for the door.

I try to turn the handle, but it refuses to yield.

Locked. Then I pound on the metal, but no one answers.

Trapped.

Panic bursts inside me.

“Hello? I need out. Someone open the door.”

Only the oppressive quiet answers.

My building frustration crescendos into impotent fury. I pound on the door, harder, louder, my pleas for a walk morphing into a chant of willful defiance.

Where is the guard? Is he there and just ignoring me?

“Open this door. Now!”

I hammer on to the drumbeat of my mounting anger with aching fists.

Silence.

As I batter the door in vain, numbness creeps up my arms.

From outside the cage, I hear my mother’s voice.

“It’s for your own good, Lark. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Mocking laughter echoes on all sides. A familiar voice whispers in my ear. “Did you really believe you’d ever be free?”

I whirl. “Sterling? Sterling, help me!”

He shakes his head. “When will you learn? Sterling isn’t my name.”

As I grab for his arm, he steps back and vanishes.

“Sterling?” I sob. “Knox? Don’t leave me here!”

Someone giggles. “Buried alive, unearthed to die.”

“O-Olive?” I spin and scream. Olive’s body is covered in black char and oozing, raw flesh. Dirt fills her mouth, choking her.

Before I can get to her, she disappears.

Suddenly, the walls start to press in. They steal the air from the room, suffocating me.

Energy hums beneath my skin as my magic blazes to life like a phoenix rising. “Never again.”

With a surge of will, I unleash my anger. Flames erupt from my fingertips. Bright tongues of fire dance to the rhythm of my pulse.

Flames rage up the walls like starving beasts. The fire obeys my every thought, a living entity summoned by my wrath. It climbs higher and higher, devouring everything in its path with ravenous delight. Smoke thickens and curls.

My breath comes in short bursts.

Half from the smoke swirling in the air, half from the exhilarating sense of control.

I marvel at the effortlessness with which I bend the flames to my will, tracing paths dictated by mere flicks of my fingers.

Regrets shrivel to ash, joining the roaring inferno surrounding me.

How dare anyone try to incarcerate me. I’m a dragoncaller. The first of generations.

No one will trap me ever again. I’d rather be dead then live without freedom.

And if I die, they’ll all die with me. I’ll incinerate every last one of them.

The roasting wood around me groans and blackens in a testament to my defiance. If smoke claims my lungs, so be it. At least this damned prison will collapse with me. While I may be a bird in a gilded cage, this bird has grown talons and wings.

As the flames answer my call, the anger that helped me start the blaze fades away. This feels…good. Natural. Like stretching a hand kept in a glove for too long. A contented sigh escapes me.

I flex my fingers and relax. Like a trained pet, the fire dances along with my every movement. This is a song and dance I know in my bones.

A release.

In the background, someone shouts my name. Sterling again.

Funny. He sounds scared.

A loud banging follows.

I start coughing and jolt awake to oppressive heat.

Black smoke billows around me, almost cloaking the bright orange flames and distorting my vision. Tears stream from the corners of my eyes.

I gasp, only to start choking as heat sears my lungs.

Panic claws at my chest.

Air. I need fresh, cool air.

Coughing and sputtering, I suck in a short breath that scorches my throat and fails reach my lungs.

“Lark! Hang on!”

Around me, the room shimmers and bends. Much like what’s happening in my head, the haze thickens. Sweat beads and rolls down my face. My back. Between my breasts.

Black dots speckle the edges of my vision, blurring together. I start to sway. Then cold, stark realization dawns. Despite the overwhelming heat, I shudder.

I’m going to die.

Outside these walls, commotion rings out, but it sounds so far away.

Shouts.

The clash of steel.

Battering into the door.

The door shatters inward under a deluge of ice. The sudden frost devours the searing heat engulfing my chamber. A torrent of swirling water announces Prince Knox’s entrance, his magic smothering the flames with hisses and clouds of steam.

I sink to the floor.

“Lark, open your eyes!” That deep, desperate voice…familiar yet distorted. Like I’m listening underwater. He scoops me in his arms and flees into the hallway. “Look at me!”

My eyes flutter open. “Sterling?” Coughs wrack my body, and my throat burns. “I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t try to talk, love.” He presses a lingering kiss to my temple, his lips cool and soothing against my feverish skin. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Disoriented and shaking, I give in to temporary weakness and lean my head against his chest.

Despite my fragile state, I don’t believe him.

I’m not safe here.

Maybe I’m not safe anywhere.