Page 28 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Twenty-Four

A day later, the great hall buzzes with conversation, music threading through the hum of voices.

The vast space never ceases to amaze me, with its vaulted ceilings and vibrant murals of dragons hunting and warriors fighting.

But it’s the painting of the elemental gods and goddesses—Ziva, Rivlan, Terro, and Gallora—that takes my breath away today.

I feel as if the deities are looking down on me, judging my actions, and weighing my soul.

As I head to the dais, Sterling’s hand rests at the small of my back, a steadying touch I’m grateful for.

Rhiann, always aware of what I need even before I am, helped me dress in a midnight black gown shot through with silver thread. The back is open down to my waist, the fabric framing my wings.

We planned this gathering to show the nobles that Sterling and I are a solid team. To quell the strange rumors that he could seek to overthrow me and seize the throne for himself.

We even had to formally announce our betrothal. Because, somehow, the first one was allegedly nullified after my coronation.

As if any queen wouldn’t want to snatch Sterling up and claim him as her own.

My hand instinctively flexes on his arm.

He glances down, and his eyes light up. “That sort of entertainment will have to wait, love. For now, try to focus on what we have here and save those thoughts for later. That’s what I’ve been trying to do since the moment I laid eyes on you in that dress.”

His smooth words, that throaty tone. Desire flickers, then flares to life inside me as his breath tickles over my ear.

My body tightens, and I try to think about anything other than the way he’s gazing at me—like he’s starving and I’m his next meal. “Not helpful.”

He leans closer, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. “I know.”

Bastard.

Still, it’s good advice, and I peer around for a distraction.

A juggler performs off to my right, his baubles flashing in the firelight.

Courtiers cluster around him, their laughter rising and falling like the tide.

Across the great hall, a storyteller holds another group in thrall, her voice rising and falling with the cadence of her tale.

And there’s the council on the dais. They lounge in casual disarray, some perched on the edge of their seats, others sprawled out inelegantly as if they haven’t a care in the world. Breann and Fenton aren’t in attendance, sitting at tables with their families instead.

Rafe catches my eye as we approach, his mouth tightening. He leans toward Nira, murmuring something I can’t quite decipher.

But I can guess well enough. More reports of Xenon’s forces spreading like a killing fog.

“Your Highness.” Serle rises to greet me, his smile a touch too bright. “I trust you’re enjoying the festivities?”

I bare my teeth in what might charitably be called a smile. “Immensely.”

Sterling’s hand flexes against my spine in silent warning. I draw in a breath, forcing my shoulders to relax.

Diplomacy. I can do diplomacy.

But I’m so much better at burning things to the ground.

“It’s a lovely evening.” I search for something positive, my voice only slightly strangled. “The musicians are quite talented.”

Serle’s satisfied smile widens. As if I’m a child he’s successfully cajoled into good behavior.

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

“Yes, we’re very fortunate they were available to play.” He settles back into his seat. “Especially in such troubled times.”

Troubled times.

As if that even begins to cover it. I open my mouth, a scalding retort on the tip of my tongue.

“More wine, Your Highness?” Celeste appears at my elbow, a goblet extended. Her eyes sparkle with merriment.

I accept the goblet. “Thank you. This is just what I need.”

“Of course. Would you care to join us?” She curtsies, but something about the gesture strikes me as ingenuine.

I tip the glass to my lips and mimic taking a sip of the wine. With Celeste’s every action, I trust her less and less. The memory of Leesa handing Sterling the eyril-laced whiskey after a drachen attack is also still firm in my mind.

“Excuse us.” Sterling spins me away from the dais. “We should mingle.” He gives Celeste a nod before leaving the council behind.

He’s way too good at this.

I let him guide me off the dais. It was an excuse to get away, but he’s also right. We have a role to play here. We have to show we’re a couple and that no one should be worrying about a contender to the throne.

We make the rounds, exchanging pleasantries and empty compliments. All the while, my mind churns, bouncing from one worry to another until it settles on the merging issue.

There has to be a way. Some angle we haven’t considered, some key we’re missing.

But as the evening wears on, my frustration mounts. The council’s words reverberate in my head like an endless, taunting refrain.

Years. We don’t have years.

As the evening winds down and guests begin to disperse, Sterling and I find ourselves alone on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the crowded great hall.

I lean against the stone railing, my wings acting as a fan behind me. “We can still try merging magic. We just have to be sneakier about it. Do it someplace no one will notice. We can’t let them stop us.”

Hells, I’m the queen, and he’s about to be king.

Sterling sighs, his brow furrowed. “I know. But, Lark, they’re not entirely wrong. What we’re trying to do…it’s unprecedented. Dangerous, even.”

I whirl to face him, heart squeezing under the weight of his gentle rebuke. “So, what, we just abandon our people? Leave them to suffer under Xenon’s rule?”

“Of course not.” Sterling’s wings flare, silver glinting in the moonlight. “But we have to be smart about this. Rushing in blindly will only get us killed. And using an unknown weapon in battle could get a lot of people slaughtered. We can’t be rash.”

Deflating, I let the fight drain out of me as quickly as it came. He’s right, of course. He usually is. “I just feel so helpless. I know I’m not strong enough on my own to burn Narc’s body. And I can’t think of any other way to win this and fulfill my favor to Nyc.”

He pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. “We will find a way. I promise you that. But we have to be patient. We have to trust in each other and in our abilities.”

I nod, leaning into his touch. “I do trust you. More than anyone.”

His tender smile makes my heart ache. “And I, you. Always.”

We stay like this for several minutes, drawing strength from each other.

“You know, it’s a Tirenese tradition that the event can’t end until the monarch dances. At least once.” His gold-flecked eyes sparkle.

The moment over, I sigh. “We talk about how much we trust each other, and you have to go and ruin it by lying to me?” My tiny jab to his stomach hardly makes his rock-hard abs flex, but he still laughs and pulls away.

“It’s not a lie.” He ponders for a second. “It’s a…prediction?”

“A prediction. Then it’s going to become a tradition?”

Grabbing my wrist, he tugs me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m sure of it.” He dips his head, lips hovering just above mine. “You dance so well. Even better when it’s with me.”

Except moving with him isn’t merely dancing. It’s foreplay set to music with onlookers galore. And that was before, when we had to hide what we felt about each other.

A wicked thrill runs through my body just remembering the one and only time we danced together.

It was a night to remember.

I’d just finished dancing with Jasper, and I was angry with Sterling. For so many things. But once we started gliding across the ballroom in sync, that anger faded away as the ratcheting heat built up between us.

“I think you might be right.” Stretching up, I wrap my arms around his neck. Warmth pours along my hands, my arms, and across my body, drawing him closer.

“In that case…” His lips brush over mine, chilling, tantalizing. A hint of what’s to come. “May I have this dance, my queen?”

Anticipation settles low in my gut. “Yes.”

As far as predictions go, it’s a good one. And it’s way past time to start making some changes around here.