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Reyla

S pinning, I snatched up the diary and rushed toward my bedroom, unstrapping the sheaths holding my twin blades from around my waist, my fingers feeling too slow and clumsy. They, my sword sheath, and the diary hit the bed with dull thuds while tension coiled around my ribs. My hands fumbled at the silly gown Calista had insisted I wear to the throne room. But I couldn’t reach the fastening in the back, and that made anger burn under my skin. Every wasted second felt like another life lost in the city.

My ladies followed me, wringing their hands and fluttering around me, their faces tracked with tears.

“Help me out of this wretched thing,” I shouted. “Now.”

Moira snapped into action, swiping away at her tears. She nodded and went to work on the back of the dress. While Calista unfastened my necklace and Faelith, my earrings, my dress peeled away at Moira’s touch. It stuck to my skin like I’d been pacing for hours in the heat. When the dress flopped down onto my hips, I stepped out of it and kicked it aside, only pausing to tug the velvet bag with the librarian’s gift from the pocket.

I strode to the closet and snatched a set of leathers from a hanger, pausing to tuck the book and the odd gift on the top shelf, sliding a box holding silky gloves I’d never wear in front to hide the objects.

Silence fell over the room as I turned. Even Farris only sat on the floor, staring at me with what I swore was a frown.

“Find my boots. Quickly,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut through the fog of terror clinging to the air.

Faelith sagged against the wall. “What are you going to do?” Her voice quavered as if she feared my answer more than the borgons attacking our people.

“Fight off the creatures.” The strength in my voice left no room for debate.

When I left the fortress, I thought I’d said goodbye to battling feral beasts, but they’d followed. Not dregs, but something equally petrifying.

Borgons.

I didn’t even know what they looked like other than Merrick’s vague description. Fierce creatures with wings and furry bodies. The size of a small shed. Fangs and vicious claws. Sounded enough like dregs to make my spine quake.

The deep gashes on Lord Ferlaern’s body was enough to strike terror into even the toughest heart.

“We can’t do this,” Moira whispered, her small voice cracking like a fragile shell. “I don’t even know how to hold a weapon, let alone wield it.”

“I do.” I ripped the dagger sheath from my bed and bound it at my waist. Each click as I secured it was like a countdown, ticking faster. “You need to stay here and protect Farris. I’ll deal with the borgons. My people need me.”

They were my people, even those who were trying to overthrow our rule. At our hearts, we needed to be one when facing a threat like this. If they couldn’t see that, they could step aside and let me take care of the problem for them.

Moira covered her mouth with shaking hands. Faelith’s brows drew together as she shifted her weight uneasily.

“You… my queen . You can’t,” Calista said. “Please reconsider. You?—”

“I’m going to the city, and I’m going to fight.” Striding to the bed again, I grabbed my sword and secured it to my spine, tightening the belts on my chest. “My boots, ladies? Where did you put them?”

Calista’s gaze shot to the closet, but she pinched her lips together. Truly, did she think if I couldn’t find them, I’d remain here while others died to protect me?

“My queen,” she groaned. “It’s…foolish.”

Merrick would be down in the village already, defending our people like I longed to do.

“Foolish would be cowering here,” I said.

“You’re the queen. You should to go to the throne room and remain there to direct those who will battle,” she said, as if this was the most practical thing for a woman in my position to do.

Erisandra would.

I would not.

“Not happening.” I finished securing the last buckle on my chest and stomped to the closet, finding my boots there and digging out my pack. After tugging out the rest of my blades from inside the pack, I strapped them to my thighs and calves. There were never enough weapons in battle, and I wouldn’t charge into this one unless I was fully armed.

After looking down at my weapons, making sure I had everything I would’ve worn during a raid, I strode from the bedroom and out into the hall, my ladies fluttering behind me, moaning about how I was going to die.

If my people were, so would I.

I swung around to face them. “Stay in the suite and keep Farris safe. Lock the door. And hide.” With that, I shut the panel in their faces.

“My queen.” Surren thrust himself in front of me. “I’m afraid the king is not…available right now for visits.” A pulse ticked in his temple, and he kept shooting his gaze toward the hallway behind him.

I knew in my soul where Merrick had gone. He was fighting for our people. Defending what was ours. How could I do less when he'd shown me what it meant to lead not through position but strength? His place was on the front lines, and so was mine.

I breezed past Surren. “I’ve talked enough. Time to put my training to good use.”

“But—”

I didn't give him time to finish. Whatever he planned to say wasn’t a solution to this nightmare. That much, I could tell from his tone. His words clanged uselessly against me like a jangle of dropped coins.

I stormed down the hall and took the stairs with my guard streaming behind me, muttering things I had no interest in hearing.

I should remain in my suite.

Escape into the forest.

Go to the tower and lock the door behind me.

Hide, in other words. What use was a queen if she didn’t stand in front of her people in their defense? Truly, I was not the type of queen they’d expected or were used to dealing with.

As I descended the stairs, the cacophony grew louder, swelling when I reached the foyer, where pandemonium greeted me. Staff rushed in every direction, their footsteps erratic and their arms full of paintings and ornate decorations. Their wide eyes darted around, their fear trailing behind them like shadows. They must worry the borgons would breach the castle walls and overrun us.

And Calista thought I should sit in the throne room and give direction? No way.

I stomped across the foyer in starts and stops to avoid being run into or slamming into one of them. When I reached the front door, I opened the one on the right before the guard could blink.

“You cannot go out there.” Surren thrust himself into the opening before I could step outside.

“Out of my way, Surren,” I growled, a hand on the hilt of a blade.

“Please.” His shoulders sagged but only for a moment before he stiffened them. “I can only protect you if you’re in a secure location, my queen. Please understand. This is my sworn duty.”

I pressed my face up close to his. “My sworn duty is to protect my people who are dying. Out of my way.”

“I can’t. The king?—”

“Where is Merrick?” I lifted one brow. He would not sit in the throne room in safety while his people battled to protect this court. He’d be in the thick of it with his blades slashing.

I belonged at his side no matter where that might be. The realization had been slow coming to me, but it had settled into my bones. I had no interest in thrusting it out again.

I was his. He was mine. And when this day was through, I was not only going to tell him, but I was also going to prove it to him.

“The king is…” His gaze darted away from mine. “I’m sure he’s in side his suite. Would you like me to escort you there, my queen?”

Delay me, he meant. Maybe lock me inside Merrick’s quarters.

“He’s not in his rooms. Besides, you said he wasn’t accepting visitors.”

“He…” Surren didn’t try to lie—even if he could, being fae—and I respected him even more for that fact. “Yes, well.”

“He’s fighting borgons. I’m joining him. Back off.” Since I knew Surren wouldn’t try to grab me, I rushed toward him. As expected, he stepped out of the way before I made contact. I continued across the wide-open stone platform and leaped down the many layers of stairs, only stopping when I reached the bottom.

Faint cries echoed from the city below, a chorus of misery, of flesh tearing and lives being wrenched apart. I suspected blood would soak the streets by the time I arrived. But I would arrive.

Merrick used to walk to the harbor, but he said it took a while. From the ride here, I knew it would take at least an hour for me to travel the distance on foot. Even now, I could hear the cries of my people dying, the snarls and roars of the borgons as they ripped them apart.

I whirled around to find Surren directly behind me, my guard spreading out to flank him. Each stared at me with grave concern. I didn’t want to worry them, but I couldn’t hide. Didn’t they see?

“Call for a zephyl,” I said. “Immediately.” My voice quaked as energy surged within me.

“They’re gone. All taken,” Surren said. “We only have a few serving the castle, and they’ve already left with defenders.”

I wanted to kick him for sounding so smug. Fury clawed at the back of my throat. He knew if I walked, the battle could be over before I could reach the city to help.

Dragging in power, I bunched it within me, and with the pier in my mind, I flitted. Except it didn’t work, and the power fizzled, sliding out of me to float around my legs in varying shades of purple mist.

I tried to coax in the silver-lavender power I’d used to cast the nullification spell, but the fine ribbons slithering around in the periphery of my vision wouldn’t come at my call.

Victory favors those who wield it like a well-honed blade, and if nothing else, I knew my blades.

And my dragons.

“Where’s the aerie?” I asked softly.

Surren’s gaze darted toward the castle. “Aerie? Why would my queen wish to go there?”

“Never mind.” Vaguely remembering someone mentioning where it was, I raced past him and kept going, taking the path weaving through the pretty gardens on the left side of the castle. I burst out into an open, grassy stretch and raced toward the sparse woods on the other side, following a maintained path that must lead to the cliffs and the aerie. This was why I should’ve visited the dragons right away. At least then, they’d know me.

If nothing else, I was going to see if one of them would give me a ride.

Finally, I spied the low building ahead, built much like those back where I came from. I wretched open the outer door, grimacing when the hinges shrieked. With my guard a rippling stream behind me, I ran down the passage with secured gates on my right.

Pausing, I listened, finally hearing the unmistakable sound of a beast shifting beyond one of the doors. Striding over to it, I unlatched it, though I left it closed for now.

I spun and nearly ran into Surren.

“What do you intend, my queen?” he asked, and I was grateful he didn’t sound patronizing. “The dragons are resting. We should leave them be. ”

I rushed back down the hall, finding the tack room. Inside, I grabbed a saddle and flung it over my shoulder, turning to find Surren blocking the open doorway with his palms braced on the frame.

“You cannot do this,” he said. “The king will have my head if I allow you to leave.”

“Back away, Surren,” I growled.

He did, only to shut the door in my face. The click of the lock rang out as I slammed myself into it.

“Let me out of here,” I bellowed.

“I’m sorry, my queen. I’ll take your punishment later, when you’re still alive.”

Well fuck him. If there was ever a time to make power work for me, it was now. Closing my eyes, I sorted through the various strands of energy floating along the edges of the room, coaxing in a dark purple ribbon. After bunching it up, I sent it back out, begging my flitting ability to work.

I remained inside the tack room.

With a huff, I tried again, using a lighter purple strand of power. An almost white one. That didn’t work either. I wanted to snarl, but I was better than that. Merrick had proven this in all aspects of our life. He believed in me. Lorant believed in me.

It was time I started believing in myself.

Spying the silver and lavender one I’d used to nullify Erisandra’s spell on the diary scooting into view before darting away, I held out my mind’s hand.

“Want to play?” I whispered. This power was only supposed to work with nullification spells, but there was no harm in trying. If I didn’t take chances, I’d never find a better path to follow. “Come closer, little one. Aren’t you pretty? So beautiful.”

It paused, lifting one end, a shy creature tasting the air.

“I have a nice little task for you,” I said .

With a jerk, it drifted my way, coming near enough I could reach out and stroke my fingertip along it’s “spine”.

“You are gorgeous . I don’t believe I’ve ever seen power as beautiful or amazing as you. But it’s more than just the way your bits of lavender infuse your lovely silver shape; it’s what shines from inside you that I adore the most.”

It coiled around my wrist and lifted its tip, gliding it near enough to touch my nose.

“Would you help me flit? I seem to have—” Yeah, I wasn’t telling it the damn spell worked less than half the time I tried. “I want to ride a dragon and a mean fae man is trying to pen me inside this dusty tack room. You understand what it’s like to have someone hold you back, don’t you? Like me, all you want to do is shine.”

Its “body” sucked in a breath, expanding, before it darted at my face in a strike.

When I gasped, it flung itself down my throat.

Coughing and gagging, I tried to retch it back out. But it kept going, seeping through me, warming me.

With a shiver, I commanded a flit.

And my body moved .

A blink, and I stood outside the dragon’s pen I’d almost opened. Surren and my full guard stood farther down the hall, leaning against the tack room door, ringed by guards who whispered to each other, none noticing me watching them yet.

My shaky laugh broke free, though I kept it low. By some miracle—or sheer stubbornness—I was able to flit.

I wasn’t going to think about the power forcing itself inside me.

Not wasting precious time, I cracked open the gate and slipped into the pen, moving quietly despite the excitement thrumming under my skin. Leather and metal creaked as I adjusted the saddle still slung over my arm, my muscles burning from the care it took to move without making a sound.

Despite my worry about what swallowing power might mean, I’d flitted myself free. Time to do something about it.

Should I try again to flit to the pier?

No, I’d battled on dragonback from the time I’d received my first real sword, and if I was going to fight creatures the size of a shed, I’d do so from the back of a beast of equal size.

After carefully shutting the gate, I turned.

The air crackled with heat. A dragon shifted in the shadows, its massive tail scraping against the stone wall as it adjusted its body. The faint ripple in my chest grew stronger, matching the tempo of its breathing.

My inhalations went shallow.

The dragon’s head snapped toward me, its molten amber eyes locking onto mine. Its gaze carried an ancient intelligence, and it pinned me in place as if testing whether I was worthy to stand in its presence.

It must’ve decided I wasn’t.

It sucked in a deep breath and blasted fire my way.