Page 15 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Thirteen

My heart pounds, and I forget to breathe.

Opening my mouth, I try to yell, to warn the people, but no sound comes out.

No one has seen the creatures yet. They’re all too busy staring at me. Did Xenon plan this just for that reason?

It’s the perfect opportunity. I’m unarmed, as are the majority of the people. Only the guards have their weapons. And everyone would already be drinking and celebrating if I hadn’t been late to the party.

My breath catches in my throat. For a moment, I’m a statue, horror rooting me in place. My hands itch for my elemental magic, my mind races with strategies, and my body aches to defend Tirene. Reaching deep, I summon the flames from my very core, ready to burn them all to protect my kingdom.

The world blurs, and the cheers of my people fade to a ghostly silence.

When I blink, I’m not in Tirene anymore.

My gaze locks on Xenon, who’s perched upon a stone throne high in the mountains of a kingdom I’m not familiar with. He’s a black smudge against the snow, with thousands prostrating themselves before him in the meadow below.

It’s like some twisted coronation mirroring my own.

Armies plunge into the valley. Tirenese, Kamorians, Tír Ríogaians, Aclarians, and people from other lands, all united in their desperation.

They swarm against an endless sea of corrupted and drachen. Battle cries pierce the air, along with the clash of steel and roar of elemental magic.

A golden-haired woman wields a sword with a fury that belies her size. No, not a woman. A young girl. The dance of death swirls around her. Warriors with hair like night, fire, and sun spill blood upon the earth.

Suddenly, everything shifts.

I’m in the bowels of the earth now, where the cave walls pulse with the terror of the entrapped. The stench of decay invades my nose and mouth. Shrieks echo in the distance. People? Animals? I can’t tell.

The chaos of fighting and the final gasps of the dying reverberate off the cavernous walls.

The scene changes once more.

I’m outside, in the midst of a confusing battle, surrounded by the screams of the wounded and dying. Bodies bounce off mine. My heart races as I try to comprehend what’s happening.

Fiery arrows arc toward the heavens as if they’d pierce the sun above. Swords catch the moonlight, scattering light across the dark night.

How is it day and night at once?

This can’t be real.

Eons seem to pass before warmth spreads through my arm.

With a gasp, I peer down at the touch. Eldor’s hand rests there, solid and reassuring.

I blink away the waking dream and find myself kneeling, gasping for air. My people gape, their faces etched with fear and confusion. How long have I been here on the ground?

This has to be a glimpse of what’s to come.

Or a warning that the battle has already begun.

“Grandfather?” I stagger to my feet, the vision of war still burning in my mind’s eye.

The crowd starts to mutter and whisper. The council’s collective gasp is a distant echo as I search for something grounding, something real. My gaze locks on a small figure beside a too pale Agnar.

Rose. Her presence tethers me back to the here and now.

“Are you okay?” Eldor uses a firm grip on my arm to help me stand. “You’re dehydrated.”

I sway a little, my legs still unsteady. “I drank plenty.”

“A moment of prayer, nothing more. Look to the dragons. They aren’t worried.” Eldor’s words are meant for the approaching council members, but when he turns back to face me, he levels me with a meaningful look.

What does he know? Or what does he think I know?

At least he’s right about the dragons. While they’re not worried or trying to get close to me, they’re not brimming with excitement either. Still, I take the excuse the high priest has offered and bow my head as if I have just finished a blessing.

Alannah comes forward, her nearly white hair glinting in the firelight.

“Your Highness, let’s get you inside. Your body hasn’t recovered from…

everything. You need refreshments. Would you like some assistance walking?

There are several strong men here.” Her voice is so low, I’m sure only Eldor and I can hear her.

The high priest tries to offer me his arm again, but I shake my head.

Did those visions come from him? Is that even possible?

Serle stands his ground, holding back the tide of council curiosity with a glare that could freeze the sun.

“Allow me, as brother to the queen.” Bastian steps up, Leesa at his side. He holds his arm out, and I gladly grasp it.

Leesa beckons me with a tilt of her head, and we begin the long walk back inside, Eldor close behind. Alannah was right. With everything I’ve been through, my body is suffering. I need to eat and drink and rest, though sleep will have to wait until after the celebrations are?—

Horns blare.

My body tightens. I start to turn, to ask if the horns are part of the festivities, when Bastian’s arm tenses. The sudden flurry of wings taking flight fills the air.

Dragons bugle, challenging unseen foes.

I drop my dampening, allowing their emotions to wash over me.

Anger, retribution, readiness to fight.

“The guards have seen people approaching. But they’re not certain they’re enemies.” Agnar’s at my side, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

At least he’s armed like always, as is Eldor.

I release Bastian’s arm, then reach for his shoulder. “Let me lean on you while I take these damned shoes off. I can’t fight if I can’t?—”

“Wait.” Leesa raises her eyebrows. “It might be visiting dignitaries. Not everything is a battle, Lark. You don’t want to be barefoot for visitors.” Despite her words, she moves in front of Alannah, shielding the frail older woman.

Several guards approach both on foot and from the air, surrounding us.

One who just landed gives a slight bow before words tumble from his mouth. “Three Aclarian alicorns and their riders are approaching under a white flag of truce.”

That must’ve been what the second set of horns meant. Another thing I have to learn in order to rule here.

Even the dragons seem to be aware of Tirenese and Aclarian customs.

A burst of shock ripples through me, from Chirean, the first dragon I bonded to and one I cemented my connection with through shared highs and lows. Overhead, his orange scales gleam in the moonlight as he gazes down at me. Sorrow trickles in, as well as a tiny bit of hope.

Does he recognize our visitors?

Three large alicorn silhouettes cut through the darkness, flanked by Tirenese guards with drawn weapons. The riders raise their arms, showing empty hands. If I hadn’t left my wings out to enhance my vision, I wouldn’t have recognized them.

I release a relieved breath. “They’re from Flighthaven. Allow them to land.”

Helene Mortimer and Elijah Durand—two fledglings who helped us at Flighthaven only days ago when we attempted to rescue Sterling—are accompanied by Instructor Celeste Dawson.

When we dropped Helene and Elijah off at their families’ estates a few days ago, I didn’t expect to see them again so soon. And I haven’t seen Celeste since, well, since I was a student. Before Sterling kidnapped me.

Relief floods through me that yet another person I know managed to escape the drachen’s corruption and Xenon’s rule.

The guard, whose name I really do need to learn, gestures to another one, who meets our visitors in the air.

The crowd parts for them, their whispers building into a crescendo of awe. With the guard alongside them, the trio lands, sliding off the alicorns with practiced ease.

Seeing them again feels like a sliver of hope piercing the veil of fear that shrouds us. “What are you doing here?”

Elijah just shrugs, muscles rippling in his massive arms as he shoves his hands in his pockets. His cold brown eyes scrutinize his new setting, and the action takes me back to my own arrival in Tirene.

Helene, her shiny black hair tightly braided and wrapped around her head in her usual style, has a similar expression of awe on her face as she nods to the willowy blond who taught my former weapons combat class at the flight academy.

Celeste steps away from her alicorn and gestures to the limp form on the back of her saddle.

Who else came with them? Are they dead?

She pulls the bindings loose as Helene and Elijah shift uncomfortably. Their eyes are locked on something behind me. When I turn my head, I find Leesa staring back at them, eyes wide. Her ex-girlfriend. And the man she turned down.

And Leesa’s standing next to Bastian, the man she’s in love with. What a joy this is going to be.

But my sister’s love life isn’t something I have time to dwell on.

Celeste grunts, and I return my attention to her. She’s grabbing the person by the waist of the pants and pulling him down. He’s enormous, yet she lifts him with relative ease. The woman is strong, I’ll give her that.

She catches his head, her body blocking the view of his face as she lowers him to the ground.

The guards on the other side stiffen.

I’m prepared for the worst. A corpse. Maybe one of my friends. What I’m not prepared for is the sight of his face as Celeste backs away.

My heart skips, then beats in double time.

Sterling.