Page 6 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)
Benevolence
Now
I carelessly fling myself into the open sky, departing the council chamber while still in my human form. Wind and sun are all that greet me as I tumble into free fall.
Careening head over heels, I watch the Aerie unfurl all around me with its sky-scraping spires and floating islands. The Sky Garden I built in Aurelia’s name hangs suspended in the near distance.
The garden she will never see.
The wind whips by, slicking back my hair. Tugging at my clothes.
A bronze-scaled dragoness—Lady Constance—roars a question from the opposite side of the windcourt: “Are you well, Your Highness?”
But I pretend as if I do not hear her.
My eyes flutter closed. The world around me dims. Quiets.
And for a single blissful moment, I can almost pretend I am back in Briarhold, soaring through the air with Na’therya on my back. I can almost pretend that I am… happy.
But then the moment passes.
My eyes flash back open, and I shift in the next moment, my wings flinging wide to slow my descent before I am ever in danger of falling to my death.
Brisa flutters into my peripheral vision, scowling. “I hate when you do that!”
I bare my fangs in my best approximation of a dry smile in this form. “I know.”
My wings cleave through the air, carrying me back into the heavens until Drakara sprawls beneath me like an ancient tapestry. In the distance to the west glimmers the Living Waters—the original source of all magic and the birthplace of the Corona Ignis. Beyond that lies the fairy circle.
And beyond that… the Door.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Velda asks aloud, “Do you truly mean to don the Corona Ignis, Bene? Even without a Therya’kai to help you bear the burden? Even with the curse still upon you?”
“I do,” I rasp, reluctant. I am not yet ready to give up all hope.
But what other choice do I have?
For seventeen years, I’ve fought to break my curse—ever since the day I first realized there was something worth fighting for.
I’ve prayed to the Great Weaver. I’ve pleaded. I’ve tried everything I could think to do.
And what has come of all of it? Nothing . Nothing but heartbreak.
And death.
An irritated snarl rips from my throat. If I refuse to don the Corona Ignis, my uncle will invade the Aerie. He will bend all of Drakara to his will. He will win .
If I do don the Corona Ignis, I will have the strength to defeat my uncle. But for how long? How long will I have before I succumb to the madness I am cursed with? Even in defeat, he will still win.
Even from the grave, he will still mock me.
“I am left with no other choice,” I growl. “If I wish to stop Malice, I will need the power of the Corona. You all know this.”
My pride smarts, but it is the truth. I am no prodigy with the elements like my uncle. Compared to him, I might as well still be a hatchling. I am a mere Master of Earth.
According to Lady Prudence’s latest reports, he is a Master of Air, Fire, Water, Spirit, and Mind.
Velda glides toward me until her silvery form fills my vision on my right side. “We all have more than one choice, Bene.”
She shares a brief look with her sisters and parts her lips, clearly having more to say.
Before she can speak further, Brisa bites out, “Have you considered that instead of asking the Great Weaver for permission to kill yourself, you might beg Him again to take away the curse instead?”
Another growl escapes from me as I surge away from my godmothers, making for the gleam of the Living Waters in the distance.
How many times have I begged the Great Weaver for that very thing? How many times has He ignored my cries for aid?
Too many to count.
My aunties follow me, flying in my wake. Shadows I will never be able to shake.
“Is this not what you have been preparing me for? Is this not what you have always wanted from me?” I ask, snarling the words. “To take up the Corona? To be king?”
Velda calls out to me over the rush of the wind, “What we want is for you to be happy, Bene! The Corona is a heavy burden. The decision to don it should not be made lightly.”
Glorana agrees, “Even without the threat of Malice’s curse hanging over you, there will still be a seventy-three percent chance of you going mad from the power of the Corona alone and succumbing to your Shade without a Therya’kai to help you bear the burden.”
Brisa shoots her green-clad sister a withering look. “That is not helpful.”
“How can he make an informed decision if he doesn’t have all the facts?” Glorana asks, always matter-of-fact. “Never in the history of Drakara has any king donned the Corona Ignis without a Therya’kai at his side.”
“Then I will be the first.”
Three sets of eyes bore into me with that declaration, but I ignore them.
Aurelia, daughter of Liora, is the only Queen of Drakara I will ever recognize. If I cannot have her for my Therya’kai , I will have no one.
I will bear the burden of the Corona alone.
I will finally accept my cursed fate.
This is what I have decided.
I will save my people. I will protect Aurelia. This is what must be done.
And once I receive the Great Weaver’s blessing, it will be done.
Off to my left, I spy a flash of bronze swiftly approaching—Lady Constance. One of my many subjects who longs for the day I will finally claim a drakira , a bonded mate. The day I will raise up that drakira and make her my Therya’kai .
That day will never come.
But true to her name, Lady Constance is a terribly persistent woman.
Before she can reach me, I slick my wings against my ribs and dive through the clouds like a dolphin through seafoam, plummeting back toward the earth. I am in no mood for the distraction she wishes to provide.
“Na’theryni?” Lady Constance calls after me, confusion tinging the words.
Ever the diplomat, Velda hastily apologizes, “Do excuse us, Lady Constance,” on my behalf as my aunties scramble to follow me in my latest free fall.
Brisa reaches me first, carried on threads of Air. “That was rude, even for you,” she buzzes in my ear, trying to sound stern. But I still clearly hear the amusement in her voice.
Glorana immediately disagrees, “Calling efficiency ‘rude’ is a blatant misuse of the word. Bene has no time to squander on such trifles.”
“Thank you, Glorana,” I whisper to her on a thread of Mind before I rumble aloud, “Brisa, if you please? We are in a hurry.”
Purple strands of Air shimmer before me, weaving into a current we ride all the way over the mist-touched mountains ringing my home and down into the forested valley that protects the Living Waters at its center like the rib cage protects the heart.
The closer we draw to the source of all magic, the greater the dread writhing in my stomach grows.
For twelve years, I have avoided this holy site. I would happily avoid it for another twelve more. But I am a boy no longer. I cannot continue to ignore my responsibilities to Drakara. The time has finally come for me to do something .
Even if it means yielding my soul to the Shade already clawing at my heart, eager to lead me down the dark path.
Even if it means finally burying the dream that I might one day see Aurelia again.