Page 11 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Nine

Ash and embers cling to my skin, itching and burning as I stand amid the ruins. Smoldering piles of destroyed houses claw at the hazy sky like skeletal fingers. Pillars of smoke reach up as if to beseech the gods for relief.

Or maybe just answers.

What in the name of all the gods happened here?

A small weight on my leg reminds me I’m not alone in this devastation. Rose, her little hands gripping the fabric of my breeches, is the picture of innocence against a backdrop of mayhem. Her blue eyes, wide and teary, search mine for some kind of reassurance.

Parting my lips to ask if she’s okay, I instead start coughing as my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth.

“Hey there, little warrior.” Agnar hops through the dying fires, leaving clods of earth to smother them as he passes. He scoops his niece up into his arms before tossing her into the air a few times. “I heard a good one earlier. What do dragons eat for snacks?”

Rose sniffles and shakes her head, her messy blond curls bouncing.

Agnar tosses her up again, holds her against his chest, and gives me a conspiratorial wink. “Firecrackers!”

She hiccups, her face twisting in confusion for a moment before laughter replaces her sobs. “That’s silly, Uncle Ag.”

“Well, so are little girls with ash all in their hair.” Agnar flips her over, and she squeals with excitement as he twists her back and forth to shake the gray flakes loose. “Someone get me a mop bucket so I can get her cleaned up.”

Holding her by her legging-clad ankles, he makes dunking motions, complete with sound effects.

Their tomfoolery is loud enough to catch the attention of everyone close by. Faces turn toward them, lighting up at the sight of the little girl swatting at the big burly man who’s holding her upside down.

“I’m not a mop, Uncle Ag. Don’t dunk me!”

I’m grateful for Agnar’s gift of levity in times like these. It’s so pure, so unexpected amid the ruin, that for a second, I let myself smile. “That’s too bad.” I brush the ash from my skin, though it’s a pointless attempt. “If you were a mop, I could get cleaned up too.”

“Perhaps she’s a feather duster?” Agnar flips Rose over, holding her horizontally with both hands. “Here, let’s see if she can be of help.”

Before he can pretend to drag her tangled blond locks over me, a voice rings out. “Agnar Kerrin!”

“Oops! I made your mama really mad. She used both my names.” Agnar sets Rose down next to him, vigorously wiping her head. “Well, hey there, sis. Didn’t see you.”

Quinn Lockwood raises an eyebrow. Her expressive brown eyes sparkle with worry, and her strong arms sport blisters from battling the blazing inferno. Nearly as tall as Agnar, his older sister shares the same coppery hair as her brother.

Rose, using both hands to push her hair out of her face, giggles up at her mother. Her tear-stained cheeks are plump and pink, and her eyes dance with laughter. “Mama, Uncle Agnar?—”

“Was using you as a mop again.” Quinn puts one hand on her hip, shaking a finger at Agnar with her other. “I’ve told you, if you want to borrow my mop, you need to ask me first.”

Agnar throws his hands wide. They all flounce off, though they don’t go far.

Bastian walks up carrying my now-soaked travel satchel. “Imagine my surprise when I found this flung against a nearby wall. Care to tell me where you were going?”

My chest tightens with anxiety and resolve. Might as well confess the truth because my brother will just figure it out anyway. “I was planning to go back to Flighthaven.”

His hazel eyes, so much like mine, narrow with disapproval. “Alone?”

I bristle, frustration simmering within me. “Yes, alone. Because nobody else seems ready to do anything.” The words come out harsher than intended, but I’m beyond caring.

“Charging off on your own is reckless, Lark. You know Knox is surrounded by enemies.” Bastian’s patient tone only grates on me, adding fuel to the fire of my exasperation.

“Look at what happened the last time. You had help and a plan, and we still almost died. And it’s so far away, no one would be able to reach you in time if something went wrong. ”

He’s right. That still doesn’t make staying here and doing nothing any easier. “I understand that. But what else can I do? Sit around and sip tea while the gods know what happens to him?” My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms.

“Your life isn’t yours alone anymore.” The disappointment in his eyes stings. “You have responsibilities to all of Tirene.”

“Responsibilities.” I spit the word out like it’s poison. “Is that all I am now? A vessel for everyone’s expectations?”

Bastian’s mouth tightens and then parts, like he wants to say more, but Vicar Moise approaches with the rest of the council trailing behind him like a flock of ducklings.

Of course they’d come right back to me, like a cold I can’t shake.

“Your Highness, we must reconvene to discuss this tragedy.” Serle wrings his hands together, his mouth drooping with worry.

“Discuss and plan and discuss some more.” I already dread the stifling air of the Council Tower.

“Yes, discuss how this could’ve happened and continue planning your coronation.” Vicar Moise manages to look down his nose at me even as he nods. “The ceremony is tomorrow morning.”

“Great, just what I need. More pomp and circumstance while Sterling—” I stop myself, pressing my lips together. I can feel their judgment, their impatience.

Some are concerned, like Alannah, who steps closer and touches my cheek with a softness that nearly breaks me. “I know you’re upset, Lark. As you have every right to be. But you must pull yourself together to lead your people. It’s vital we understand what we’re dealing with.”

Her words echo the others, but the glint in her eyes fills me with suspicion that there’s more she’s not saying.

Rafe snorts in disgust as the council members leave me standing amid the smoldering ruins with Bastian.

My brother squeezes my shoulder, then turns to Leesa.

She leans on him, weariness carved in her face.

Though she never complains, I’m worried she still hasn’t quite recovered from her corruption.

Nearly freezing to death at Flighthaven afterward certainly didn’t help.

Without another word, my siblings move away to help with the cleanup effort.

Their departure feels like an accusation, a reminder of my solitude here. And yet, as they fade into the crowd, I’m sure that I’m right where I need to be.

I’m standing in the wreckage, the burden of what’s to come weighing down on my shoulders like the heat from an unforgiving sun, when Eldor approaches.

I release a heavy sigh. “Not you too.”

“Me too…what?” His gravelly voice offers a grounding calm in the storm.

I ignore his question as my gaze drifts over the charred landscape. “What do you think happened?”

Eldor follows my line of sight, his expression unreadable. “I have theories. But they need more thought.” He pauses. There’s something calculated in the way he studies me. “Tell me about the dream with Knox. What happened?”

The question catches me off guard. Xenon had asked the same thing. “Why do you ask?”

“Because,” he starts pacing, taking in the mess around us, “whatever transpired here might be linked to you two. Fire is your domain. Water and ice are Knox’s.”

Confusion mingles with the creeping sense of guilt that has shadowed me since dawn.

Could we somehow be responsible for this?

“How is that possible?” I glance away, my question more to myself than to him.

Then a memory suddenly surfaces. “When I woke after the dream, or whatever that was, the candles in my room were lit.”

“It’s just a theory.” Eldor stops pacing and meets my eyes. “I’ll do some research, see what I can find.”

As my grandfather leaves, Agnar reappears beside me, brows furrowed in concern.

“Did I hear something about you heading off somewhere? Alone?”

Ziva’s flames, I may as well just bugle my plans from the rooftops at this point. “Flighthaven.”

“That’s a shitty plan.” He scrubs a hand over his sooty face in exasperation. “Because then Xenon would kill you like he tried to before. Or worse, a drachen could corrupt you. Imagine a corrupted dragoncaller on the loose. And what would that do to the dragons you’ve bonded with?”

That thought alone sends shivers down my spine, and I nod, acknowledging the terrifying possibility. One I hadn’t even considered in my desperation to free Sterling.

I glance away, unable to face the truth in his words. “So you agree with the council.”

“Rarely. But I agree we cannot protect our lands without you.” His gaze remains fixed on the horizon. “Where would we be if you were taken? No you…no Sterling…no anyone to guide us. No one to keep the dragons from fleeing when the drachen next attack.”

His earnest, anger-tinged words aren’t meant to wound. They’re a plea, a call to reason that I know I can’t ignore.

I chew on my lip, staying silent.

“We need you, Lark.” He finally looks at me, his cerulean eyes searching mine. “If we’re going to save Sterling, if we’re going to do whatever crazy thing you have planned, we need you.”

“Dammit. I hate it when you’re right.” I still can’t help but bristle a little. “And I have no idea what to do to end this war. Anytime I bring this up to the council, they brush me off and start planning for the coronation.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The hint of a smile in his voice quickly fades. “Is that really all they want to talk about?”

I stare into Agnar’s determined eyes. It was foolish of me to think I had to do this by myself. He loves Sterling as much as I do, and I know this man would do anything for me.

“That’s pretty much all. They don’t want to hear anything about saving Sterling. They either chat about the coronation or other trivial shit.”

“Then fuck them.” His scrutiny intensifies, as if he’s trying to see right through me. “But we can’t go barging into Flighthaven again. Not without a strategy. What other mad, unformed idea are you going to spring on me?”

Drawing in a deep breath, I let it out slowly.

Leesa’s voice slices through the smoke-laden air before I can answer. “What mad, unformed idea is she going to spring on us?”

I turn to find my sister and brother approaching again, Bastian’s arm around her waist. My heart clenches at the affectionate gesture. Not because I disapprove of their relationship, but because the person I long for isn’t here to hold me.

“Hopefully, it’s going to the council meeting.” Bastian keeps his tone gentle, like he’s addressing a skittish alicorn rather than his future queen. “I’m sure there’s much to discuss. Contractors need to be hired. Healing supplies need to be ordered.”

A heavy silence settles over the castle grounds. The smoldering remains of homes cast long shadows as twilight takes hold. We stand still, wrapped in our own thoughts until the muted blues and purples of dusk bleed into the fiery hues of sunset.

“Eldor said something.” Eventually, the words spill out of me. “He mentioned Sterling. And me. Our powers.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What about your powers?” Leesa’s brow knits together with concern.

Anxiety glides over me, and I shift my weight, the memory of last night’s intense connection surfacing in vivid flashes.

“Sterling and I, we connected somehow, in a dream, or…maybe something more. It was almost like a surge of power. Of magic. My fire. His water. When I woke, my candles were lit, even though I’m certain they weren’t when I went to bed. ”

Bastian raises an eyebrow and glances at the others. “Sounds like you think it wasn’t just a dream.”

“Maybe. But it’s more than that.” I trace the patterns of ash on my arm, a physical reminder of the intangible forces at play. “Eldor suggested our powers might’ve merged…gotten interwoven somehow. And now,” I sweep my arm, “this mess has happened.”

Leesa’s eyes widen in understanding. “You mean your magic could’ve caused this?”

“It’s possible.” Could the dream have triggered my loss of control? “But how? Why?”

“All valid questions. But until we have answers, try to refrain from summoning powers in your sleep.” Bastian is his typical, practical self. “For now, we should focus on what comes next.”

“Right.” I nod, forcing my shoulders to square against the weight of uncertainty. The truth scratches at the back of my throat. “Is that even possible? Merging powers?”

Agnar and Bastian exchange a glance, some silent conversation passing between them.

A laugh tumbles from Leesa. “With you, anything’s possible.”

She has a point. “True. Trouble is, I’m not sure that these things that happen to me, or maybe because of me, are always good things.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Leesa puts a hand on her hip, reminding me so much of our late mother. “Tirene is lucky to have you. You need to remember that.”

Leesa and Bastian resume helping with the cleanup, leaving me alone with Agnar. Numbness settles in my chest as I survey the destruction. I tell him how the council received intelligence that an army of corrupted was spotted near the borders of Tír Ríoga.

He takes this new development well, his face unreadable. “Worried about it?”

I shrug, trying to maintain composure despite the gnawing anxiety. “I don’t like what Nyc said about the large armies getting even bigger.” I chew on my lower lip. “What if she’s talking about Xenon invading and corrupting another kingdom? He could use all those people against us.”

Agnar grunts. “Would be good to know something about it, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.” It’s not just about the immediate threat. It’s about the lurking, unseen dangers we haven’t even begun to comprehend.

For a long moment, the only sound is the distant crackle of dying flames.

Then Agnar breaks the stillness. “So, are you going to the Council Tower to talk, or are we going to actually do something?”

His words linger in the air like an unspoken challenge. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching for action, for a chance to make a difference beyond the confines of stone walls and stifling chambers.

Another gilded cage.

“Let’s do something.”

Without waiting for his response, I head for the fire paddock.