Page 27 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

After two days of sipping Fusion Root tea and staying indoors, we both feel better. Not wanting to let too much time pass, we set up our schedules to have the next afternoon free. We’ve come up with excuses for the council, who keep demanding updates on what we’ve been doing at the training fields.

It’s not that we don’t trust them. We just don’t trust them to keep their mouths shut.

With a waterskin full of Alannah’s special tea, we head out to practice merging. Golden sunlight bathes the open field as Sterling and I walk through the west gate.

Out here, there’s no one to see us. The rural countryside stretches out in every direction, the tall grass swaying gently in the morning breeze.

Sterling extends his hands, brow furrowed in concentration. “Let me try directing it this time.”

“Works for me.” After a morning packed with paperwork and meetings, my mind is entirely too tired.

We get started. Once we get past the first couple unsuccessful attempts and really start to concentrate, the connection snaps into place.

A strange mist gathers, swirling around us.

At first, it looks like normal fog, but as it thickens, frost crackles across the grass and leaves a sheen of ice. Then the mist begins to drop, sizzling as it hits the ground in a rain of embers that smolder in the frozen grass.

“What’s happening?” Alarm rises in my voice as the frosty fire spreads, rapidly engulfing the entire hayfield. The mist both freezes and burns everything it touches. Tiny crystals form, and flames flicker underneath.

He shakes his head, eyes wide. “I…I don’t know how to stop it!”

I reach for his hand but jerk back with a hiss when the mist burns my skin. What in Ziva’s name have we created? Dread keeps me in place and seems to have imprisoned Sterling in the same way.

His body is rigid, his gaze fixed.

We can only watch helplessly as the fiery frost rages out of control, ruining the entire crop of hay before finally dissipating, leaving behind a field of charred and frozen devastation.

This is bad.

Really fucking bad.

I try to call the flames back, to snuff them out. But every time I reach for them, there’s nothing to catch. “Nothing’s happening. Can you try?”

“Working on it.” Sterling’s face twists in concentration. “Dammit. It’s like there’s no cold. No…hold on.”

“Be careful.” I shoot him a worried glance, but he’s too busy concentrating to pay me any attention.

Water bursts from the sky in a sudden downpour. The frost stops burning and melts.

The relief on his face is palpable. “That was scary. Let’s not do that again.”

I chew my lip. “We need to go somewhere else before we keep destroying shit.”

“Have somewhere in mind?” He motions for me to lead the way.

After a quick flight, we find a small collection of buildings for the craftsmen outside the palace walls.

It has exactly what we need.

The rubble field outside a stone mason’s shop. Large cubes of marble. Gravel pits of different-colored stones. Sand and salt pits. We don’t find anything too burnable, and no one’s currently working with any of the material.

With only a quick word to the craftsman, who’s happy to have the queen and her consort training near his shop, we resume our efforts.

We move a decent distance away to the uneven, unstable surface of the rock discard pile. Even through my boots, I can feel the sharp edges.

But at least we don’t have to worry about anything catching on fire here. “Let’s try again, with me directing the magic this time.”

Sterling takes my hands, callouses scraping against my own battle-roughened palms.

All our practice has not been for naught.

Our magic surges, mixes, and grows. The icy chill of his and the searing heat of mine swirl into one power.

Not as hot as that fire. Not as cold as the frost. We need to start off with something about half the strength of that frost fire.

I channel the magic, twisting it between my fingers the way I did when I first learned to conjure a fireball. Hopefully, this magic will prove as simple to wield.

A cloud of hot, humid mist streams out from my hands.

Once the vapor’s set free, the mist drapes around us. Within moments, we’re obscured from view. Despite the resemblance to fog, the water vapor isn’t cold.

Sweat prickles my skin as we cautiously approach. Water beads along my leather boots and breeches, soaking into my tunic.

Sterling holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers as if he’s trying to catch the mist. “This is nice. Like the steam from a shower. We may not have something that we can mold into a targeted weapon yet, but we’ll never have to worry about wrinkled clothes or stuffy head colds again.

” His smile is goofy as he regards me, wet droplets forming on his thick lashes.

I can’t help but laugh. “It’s working! We’re finally getting it. This won’t burn bones, but it’s a start.”

Elation sings along my nerves. I’m so happy that I momentarily debate offering Nyc a sacrifice in thanks.

That’s when panicked shouts ring out.

“Oh, gods. Did we set something on fire that we can’t see this time?” Sterling pulls back his power, lessening our merged strength.

My head snaps up as four alicorn-riding soldiers on patrol approach. Seeing this strange occurrence has spurred them toward us, their bows raised and aimed at the bizarre steaming apparition slithering across the ground.

To complicate matters even more, these are the new recruits we stationed near the capital so we could properly train them before moving them farther out. The private’s insignias on their tabards are still stiff, and their nervous stances identify them as inexperienced.

Because that’s exactly what we need.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” I release Sterling’s hands and move away from the heated fog, trying to catch their attention. “I’m your queen.”

The thick veil of mist dissipates just as the closest soldier releases an arrow. It whizzes by my head, too close for comfort.

Narrowing my eyes, I shoot a glare back, flashing my wings. He’s lucky I don’t have my bow. Or throwing knives.

He pales when he sees me and quickly glances toward the others. They’re not willing to help. Instead, they drop their weapons and pull up their mounts, all while attempting to bow from their saddles.

The archer’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Forgive me, Your Highness. We didn’t realize…I never would’ve?—”

I hold up a hand to silence the tawny-haired man who can’t be much older than I am. “Since you’ve managed not to kill either of us, we no longer seem to be in danger. Go about your normal patrol.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The young man, who’s still high enough that I can’t quite identify him, snaps the reins on his mount, taking back to the sky.

Still riding the adrenaline coursing through my body, I release a heavy sigh. That was a dangerously close encounter.

I spin back toward Sterling and attempt a wry smile. “Apparently, a mysterious moving cloud of steam is quite alarming to people. Perhaps not the most inconspicuous way to travel.”

“I’ll mark it off as a way to sneak through the palace then.” He returns my smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll need to try creating something different. More useful.”

Shaking my arms out, I mentally prepare myself. Surely, things can’t keep going wrong. “Let’s do it. I’m not about to quit now. We’re getting better every time.”

“That’s the spirit. Though I never thought you’d be the one asking for more training.” Sterling calls up his magic and funnels it to me.

Summoning my own, I take hold of his and merge them together. This time, I focus on something that would be useful against the drachen. My nose wrinkles as I concentrate. I imagine the raging inferno inside me banking to smoldering embers.

Beside me, Sterling’s breathing slows as he tempers his usually icy magic. I do the same, keeping things balanced. Once again, heated mist begins to swirl around us, but gentler this time.

In the fog, embers flicker like dancing fireflies.

The nearly ethereal sight of the tiny dancing sparks mesmerizes me until one ember lands on my thigh and the fabric starts smoking.

Sterling’s eyes snap open, widening at the sight. “Lark…”

Hastily flexing my power, I snuff out the ember, but others still drift in the magically charged air. Ignoring that one stray spark, hope blooms.

This is something we can use.

If we can form this, we can use it as a distraction. Send it through Flighthaven, wait for the drachen to chase after the mist, then sneak in and find Narc’s body to burn.

The breeze picks up, and to my horror, carries the sparks across the street to the thatched roof of the apothecary. A wisp of smoke curls up from the dried reeds.

“No, no, no…” I try to move the sparking mist, but it’s akin to herding cats.

In a matter of seconds, flames lick at the roof, spreading to the wooden walls. I stop channeling the magic and sprint toward the burning buildings.

People shout in alarm as the fire starts to spread. Sterling skids to a stop beside me, hands already raised, water shooting from his fingertips. Still connected, we use his water magic to douse the fire.

But the damage is done.

The apothecary’s stores are safe, but the flames have devoured the roof. Next door, half the tailor’s roof is a smoking, gaping hole. And a dozen angry, soot-streaked faces glare at us.

My stomach churns with guilt and frustration. I open my mouth to apologize, but what can I say? That in our attempt to save the kingdom, we just set two people’s livelihoods ablaze?

Sterling’s jaw clenches as he surveys the destruction. I can practically taste the waves of self-recrimination rolling off him, mirroring my own.

No matter how hard we try, we just can’t seem to control this volatile merging of our powers. Our concentration wavers, our intentions misalign, and chaos erupts.

Literally.

If we can’t even prevent a few embers from causing such destruction, how can we possibly defeat a madman bent on conquest with a horde of drachen and an ever-growing army of corrupted at his back?

The smoke stings my eyes. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I blink away the moisture gathering in them.

Sighing, I turn to Sterling, noting my own helplessness in the lines of his face. “We should go. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Nothing except leave a hefty bag of coin to cover the repairs. And pray to the gods that, next time, our merged magic doesn’t incinerate the whole damn city.

In silence, we take to the skies and head back to the palace. My mouth is dry, and my lips are chafed. We’ve already finished one tea-filled waterskin, but I could easily down another.

The palace looms ahead, its spires piercing the twilight sky. Normally, the sight fills me with a sense of homecoming, but today, dread sits heavy in my gut.

Sterling and I land in the courtyard, tucking our wings tight against our backs. Hushed whispers and pointed looks from the guards and servants reveal that word of our latest magical mishap has already spread.

Fantastic. We should’ve told those soldiers to keep news of the mist to themselves. The council’s probably chomping at the bit to hand us our asses.

We stride into the Council Tower, and the dread morphs into full-blown anxiety as numerous stern faces swivel toward us. Their expressions range from concern to outright disapproval.

Duchess Breann breaks the tense silence. “Your Highnesses, we’ve received disturbing reports. Destroyed crops, panicked soldiers, a burned apothecary? What in the three hells is going on?”

I lift my chin, trying to project a confidence I don’t have. “As I explained before, we’re working on merging our magic. It’s a process?—”

“A process?” Vicar Moise scoffs, his well-groomed brows furrowing. “Sounds more like a disaster. We’re on the brink of war, and you two are out there playing with fire. Literally.”

Anger flares in my chest. I open my mouth to retort, but Sterling’s hand on my arm stops me.

He steps forward, his voice calm but firm. “I understand your concerns, and we take full responsibility for the damage caused. But what we’re attempting could give us a powerful weapon against Xenon?—”

“ Could , Your Highness. Could .” Serle shakes his head. “But right now, it’s a liability we can’t afford. Xenon’s forces are closing in, and we need you focused on the immediate threat, not some far-fetched magical experiment.”

I can’t hold back any longer. “It’s not far-fetched. If we can just master it?—”

“And how long will that take?” Dalya fixes me with her unflinching gaze. “Weeks? Months? Years? We don’t have that kind of time, Your Highness.”

I’m getting damn sick of being cut off and open my mouth to put every member of this council back in their place. But I can’t afford to show weakness. Though I may be brand new to this, I’m still the queen.

The Ash Queen.

That thought alone is enough to calm me down. I drag in a shuddering breath, my nails biting into my palms. Prioritize. As if it’s that simple.

Sterling’s fingers tighten on my arm. “They have a point.”

Okay but what choice do I have?

The council’s right. Sterling’s right. We’re flying blind here, fumbling in the dark with forces we barely understand. And all the while, Xenon, an evil we know all too well, marches closer.

When I pivot back to Sterling, I see my own bitter resignation reflected in his eyes. “Fine. We’ll focus on the war. On Xenon.”

For now. But I’ll be damned if I give up on this. One way or another, we will figure out how to successfully merge our magic.

“Don’t forget, we also still need to finish preparations for tomorrow’s ball.” Sterling smirks at my groan, then lowers his voice as he leans in. “Isn’t being queen delightful?”