Page 38 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood (Dragons of Tirene #3)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Twenty minutes later, after parting ways with Agnar and Elijah outside the library so they can locate Helene and enlist her aid in searching for Sterling, I’ve crept across campus to the dragon aerie undetected. The fire started by Sterling’s men destroyed over half the alicorn stable, and the flammable portions of the aerie are gone, too, while black char covers part of the stone. No one stands guard outside, and that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

The dragon enclosure has always been guarded.

Taking a deep breath, I unbolt the bars over the massive iron door and ease it open.

The pungent stench of urine and putrid meat hits me like a solid wall as I enter the dimly lit enclosure, and I pause to suck slow breaths through my mouth in order not to retch. The acrid, smoky reek from the interior fire damage, which has yet to be repaired, doesn’t help.

I’ve been inside for less than ten seconds, and already, I can tell the dragons’ living conditions are exponentially worse than the last time I visited.

White-hot fury freezes my blood to ice.

Xenon will pay for his abuse of these magnificent creatures.

When I round the curving ramp that leads down to their enclosures, I can barely make out their massive forms through the gloom. My connection tells me they’re there, though, forced to live in this tomb-like prison. Numerous stalls—cells really—have iron bars on the front. Each dragon is crammed into a cage that’s barely wide enough for them to stretch their wings. My heart aches for these noble creatures reduced to mere husks of themselves.

Eyes burning from indignant tears, I move closer. Sneaking up on dragons—startling them—is a terrible idea, yet I also need to be quiet in case any humans lurk nearby.

But there are no signs of people. Only carts, buckets, barrels, and tools I recall from my time in the Tirene paddock that are used for hauling in food.

The coast is clear as I approach the first pen, purposefully dragging my feet to announce my presence. Even this close, I can barely touch the dragon’s mind.

There’s a low hum, like that of a fly stuck in a glass jar.

“Hey, there. I’m Lark.” I place my hand on one of the iron bars. “It’s going to be okay.”

The sand-colored dragon with dull, glazed over golden eyes doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I inspect the food left for them. Maggots wriggle in the slimy meat portion, but stalks and leaves from some type of plant comprise the majority of the meal.

That’s no kind of diet for a carnivore.

“What have they done to you?”

I concentrate on my fire magic, summoning a small flame to provide better light. The cloying reek of decay hits me just as the flickering glow illuminates the feed, and I gasp. I was so distracted by the other foul odors that I didn’t register the underlying scent, but now I see that the plant mixed in with the putrid meat is eyril. Crushed stalks and leaves, chopped and mixed with entrails and lesser cuts.

My chest tightens as I realize how Aclaris has managed to control these majestic beasts.

Starvation.

They’re so hungry that they’ll eat anything.

Anger and despair wrestle within me. Just as I’m certain it would in the dragons if they had any strength to do so.

Emboldened by the lack of an aggressive response, I unbolt the door to the cell and ease inside. I lean under the male’s drooping head to get a better view, to try to gauge this poor dragon’s health. The smell isn’t coming from any cart. It’s coming from the pen. Muck is churned up, some dried and some fresh, clinging to the dragon’s feet and caked along his tail which is twisted and folded with nearly no place to go.

He’s literally compacted himself into the smallest shape possible to fit in a pen he could knock over with a deep breath if the walls weren’t so sturdy.

“Fucking bastards.”

My anger flares like the flames in my hand, but I manage to restrain myself. There’s no time to dwell on their abusive caretakers. I need to help these dragons. And as much as I want to set this entire place ablaze, I have to focus on freeing their minds before anything else.

If connecting with them is even a possibility given the pitiful state they’re in.

Inhaling a deep breath, I push aside the rage boiling within me and concentrate on the task at hand. I concentrate on my dragoncaller abilities, reaching out and trying to link with the first dragon. Sweat beads along my brow as I struggle to pierce through the mental fog induced by eyril and starvation.

The dull, nearly silent mind is disoriented by the tentative connection.

The dragon’s head sways on his limp neck, confusion rippling through him.

I push harder, firmly but gently.

I focus on the feeling I experience when I engage with Chirean, Dame, Tanwen, Kaida, Mygist, Nailah, Ryu, and the others. Each one is different, yet also the same, the bonds built on respect and friendship, on a willingness to work together to better our lives.

Confusion, fear, and pain trickle into me, those debilitating emotions all that he feels.

I keep sending him the plethora of warm emotions I’ve shared with other dragons, and how much I would like to share those feelings with him as well.

Second by precious second, I channel every ounce of concentration into creating a connection.

Minutes tick by, and more sweat drips down my back and check. Just when I’m starting to despair, I finally break through.

The moment the bond smacks in place, the fog evaporates. No time to celebrate, though, because now I have a bigger problem on my hands.

An angry dragon crammed into a pen that’s far too small.

The dragon roars, eyes blazing with newfound awareness. He thrashes in the cell, furious and still disoriented. After slamming his head against the stone walls repeatedly, the metal muzzle locking his massive jaw shut breaks open and hits the ground with a thud.

My heart races as I quickly realize this dragon I am faced with doesn’t understand that I’m here to help.

Ziva save me.

I dive out of the way as a massive tail swings toward me.

The dragon curls its lips.

His only warning.

Lunging forward, he snaps his powerful jaws. I dart to the side.

Inches. I’m only inches away from being skewered by razor-sharp teeth.

Adrenaline surges as I scramble to find a safe position. At the same time, I try to maintain our tenuous mental link, hoping to calm the terrified creature.

“Easy. I’m here to help you.”

I think of the other dragons I’ve freed, my joy at seeing them fly away, free.

Freedom is waiting.

I channel those emotions through the tentative bond.

The dragon hesitates for a moment, bewilderment flickering across his triangular face. His frills fluff and relax.

I seize the opportunity, strengthening our connection and allowing him to feel the sincerity of my emotions.

“Trust me.” I lift my head, careful not to look him directly in the eye. “You’re going to be free.”

Slowly, the heat of his anger subsides. The dragon begins to relax.

He chuffs.

And then I feel it.

Overwhelming gratitude flowing through the bond.

The dragon’s eyes, once pained and distant, now lock onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel the depth of his loneliness, a crushing weight he has carried for far too long. My heart clenches, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Hey there.” I reach out a hand, palm up, much like I’ve seen Sterling do with a spooked alicorn.

He hesitates, then lowers his massive head.

I stroke his scaly face as a plume of steam rises from his nostrils.

Extreme hunger cramps my stomach.

Not my hunger. His.

“I’m so sorry. I’m going to free the others, and then you can eat something other than the shit they’ve been feeding you.”

Cautiously, I unbolt the door to the next cell.

The female dragon lies sprawled on the ground, her eyes glazed over with that unnatural docility.

My heart aches for her, knowing she’s been trapped within her own mind, isolated from her kind while only a few feet away.

Close enough to touch.

Too weak to care.

Reaching out to touch the female dragon’s mind, I hesitate, then grasp the link for the male’s as well. He meets me halfway, and as soon as I ask for help with the female, he bolsters my connection.

“We’re here. Wake up. Feel us,” I whisper into her mind, willing my magic to break through the eyril-induced haze. It takes more effort this time, but finally, I sense her spirit stirring, awakening from its long slumber.

She roars and thrashes, fire igniting around her in a wild display of power.

Before I can react, the ground rumbles as the first dragon enters the cell. He moves between us, letting out a low growl that reverberates through the air.

As if sensing his presence, the female dragon stills, her breathing heavy, her gaze shifting between us.

Confusion and loneliness slam into me.

My chest aches for her. For all of these majestic creatures forced to live in the worst sort of prison. A prison for both the body and the mind.

I keep my distance, not wanting another close call with a snapping dragon.

Finally, much like with the first dragon, the bond solidifies. This time, there’s no resistance. No furious roar. Only relief and tentative hope.

That’s when I spot the lines of scars all up and down their legs.

No, not lines.

Trails.

That’s where the main vein runs down their legs. Leesa’s and my suspicions and what Elijah told us are true. Xenon is bleeding these dragons to fertilize the eyril.

But then they turn around and feed the eyril stalks to the dragons? What in the name of all the gods is happening here?

Time passes, though I work as fast as I can to free the remaining dragons. My body aches, and my own stomach pangs are exacerbated by the dragons, but I can’t rush the process. I have to remain calm at all costs, because channeling stress or negative emotions is the last thing these enslaved dragons need.

And I don’t want to get torched.

Once I’ve freed the last dragon, both mentally and physically, screams rend the air. Goose bumps pimple my flesh as every cell in my body goes on high alert.

Without looking to see if the dragons are following, I make my way to the outer door, prop it open, and sprint toward the sound.