Page 33 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I spin, my heart leaping into my throat.

The king of Aclaris stands mere feet away, his shoulder-length gray hair framing his unreadable visage in the faint crystalline light.

How did he find this place? Did he follow me?

He’s dressed in a rich burgundy tunic, with a heavy golden torc hanging from his neck. He has his arms folded across his broad chest and his chin raised, showing his throat as he surveys the cave like it’s his own personal kingdom. Or something he’s built himself.

A thrill, mingled with terror, races beneath my skin. This could be the chance I’ve been waiting for.

The perfect opportunity to kill him.

Xenon is armed, a long sword at his waist and his dagger on the other hip.

This man might be in his sixties, but I have to remember that he’s still just as formidable as he was in his youth when he led the armies to fight off Kamor’s reign and establish his own.

But he seems distracted, his steely gaze caught up with the wonders of the cave. And I can’t blame him.

My fingers twitch toward the short sword at my own belt, every muscle coiling in anticipation. I won’t waste this chance. Can’t afford to, with the hordes gathered along the beach, ready to set sail.

But even as I prepare to lunge, to finally end the threat Xenon represents…something in his unnerving gray eyes gives me pause. A flicker of emotion.

Fear, perhaps.

Or desperation.

Indecision wars within me as we glare at each other from across the glittering expanse, the very air trembling with the expectation of violence.

“Why are you here, Xenon?” I demand through gritted teeth, my voice rough with the effort of holding back the fire that aches to burst from my palms.

One way or another, only one of us is walking out of here alive.

I keep my distance, searching the stone chamber for any sign of drachen lurking in the shadows.

“For you, of course.” Xenon’s laughter rings out, chilling me to the bone as he closes the distance between us with measured steps.

“And before you try to go full dragoncaller badass bitch on me again, you need to know that fighting me is useless. You may’ve noticed your power is greatly diminished in here.

” He points to my arm, and a narrow band starts to glow around my wrist. “One would think you’d know better than to underestimate me at this point. ”

Anger and panic war within me.

The bastard conjured some sort of cuff around my wrist to control my magic.

Is Xenon afraid of…me?

“You never know what we might achieve, Lark. Your ancestor, on her own, managed to kill Narc. Right here. Ending this cave as a meeting place of the gods and her lineage on the Tirene throne.” Xenon marches around the table, trailing a hand along the surface.

“Together, our power would be unrivaled.”

“Not likely.”

As if I would believe him. He must be speaking of Queen Aero, but I wouldn’t take his words at face value even if he declared the sky was blue.

Considering his recent attempt on my life, any efforts to convince me to join forces must be a trap. According to him, spilling the blood of a dragoncaller is the last step in resurrecting Narc.

Either he’s decided to break his alliance with the God of Nightmares in a desire for sole control over the drachen and the future of the world, or he’s telling me what he believes I want to hear so I’ll cooperate. He certainly still plans to kill me.

In short, this man’s utterly batshit.

“No convincing you, then?” He sighs, almost regretful.

“Not a chance in the three hells.” I edge back, keeping space between us as he continues his relentless advance. “You know, Narc keeps getting stronger every day.” I try to knock some sense into him. “What happens when he’s powerful enough to no longer need you?”

Xenon waves a dismissive hand, unconcerned. “I can handle Narc. And should he reanimate fully, he’ll be a mighty ally indeed.”

Mighty and utterly evil.

I want to scream at him for his hubris. Has Xenon truly gone mad?

Does he really believe he can control a dark god?

I keep retreating, mind racing for a way out of this stone prison as he matches me step for step with that unsettling smile.

All I can do is back away, maneuvering around tables and benches while keeping my eyes on his face.

He idly touches a golden goblet on a table he’s passing, his fingers trailing over the extravagant metalwork. “They left this palace when Queen Aero killed Narc. Never came back. Humans shouldn’t meddle with the gods, or the gods will meddle with them.”

You’re one to talk! And right after bragging about being allied with a dead deity.

Anger flares hot in my chest. “The gods already meddle with us. And I, for one, am getting real fucking tired of it.”

To my surprise, Xenon chuckles. “I agree.” He spreads his hands in a gesture of camaraderie.

“We need some recourse against the gods. It’s exhausting, always being at their beck and call.

Under their dominion. They have their own matters that don’t concern us, yet they keep involving us.

Preying on us.” He moves closer, his voice low and earnest. “Perhaps, we could change that. You and I.”

I stare at him, aghast. Is he suggesting what I think he is?

An alliance against the gods.

The thought is so ludicrous, so unthinkable, that I nearly laugh. Nearly. Because beneath the incredulity, a treacherous part of me whispers that he’s right. That the gods have toyed with mortal lives for far too long.

But to challenge them directly…

Suicide.

Utter madness.

And yet, as I meet Xenon’s gaze, I see the spark of ambition, of hunger, that mirrors my own. For one brief, dizzying moment, I allow myself to imagine it. A world where mortals are not playthings for divine whims. A world where we forge our own destinies.

The crazed, impossible dream shatters as quickly as it forms.

This is Xenon.

The man who liberated and then betrayed his own people. Who allied with a dark god and even now seeks to resurrect that same malevolent entity. He is not to be trusted, no matter how honeyed his words or tempting his offer.

I step back once more. “You’re insane. I’ll never help you. Never join you. I’d rather die.”

Xenon’s face changes, the mask of genial reason slipping to reveal something colder and crueler beneath. “Oh, Lark, I had so hoped you’d see reason. But if death is what you desire…” He raises his hand.

I brace myself for the impending magical attack.

The battle is about to begin anew, and this time, there will be no escape.

Xenon’s magic swirls around him, an aura of malicious energy. The very ground lifts to become his weapon. “Last chance. Join me willingly, or suffer the consequences.”

I bare my teeth in a defiant snarl, refusing to go down without a fight. “Get fucked.”

“So be it.” He lashes out with his power, and a concentrated blast of air slams into me like a battering ram.

I stagger back, the breath knocked from my lungs, but I manage to keep my feet beneath me. Retaliating on instinct, I hurl a fireball at his sneering face.

Which sizzles out as soon as it leaves my hand.

He smirks as my harmless counterattack dissipates. “Come now, Lark. Surely, you can do better than that. An Aclarian child can produce better fire, and they barely have any magic at all. Would you like some eyril to boost you? I have plenty.”

Oh yeah, right.

I’m going to drink the very stuff that allows corruption to occur.

Gritting my teeth, I summon my flames, pouring the dark liquid within them to create a blistering vortex.

It’s like something straight out of the Impassible Desert of Tirene where only the dragons and firefeather birds can survive. My mouth and nose instantly dry.

Xenon’s eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, I savor the flicker of fear that crosses his face.

But my advantage is short-lived. Before I can send this hellish tornado crashing forward, it sputters out, and I’m left gasping for breath.

“Foolish girl, you cannot hope to match me. I have the power of a god at my command.” As if to punctuate his words, the shadows in the room begin to writhe and twist, coalescing into nightmarish shapes. “And there is no open sky here for you to flee into.”

The drachen.

With a surge of horror, I watch Xenon summon Narc’s foul minions to aid him.

The evil creatures swoop in from all sides—materializing from dark crevices above, slithering across the ground below, emerging from crags ahead and behind. Their fluid bodies seep through cracks before they take on larger forms.

The dark creatures creep closer. Their eerie faces fix on me with predatory intent as their bodies grow to a size and shape somewhere between an alicorn and dragon, only with membranous, leathery wings instead of feathers.

I back away, my heart pounding, my mind racing desperately for a plan. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I’m trapped, alone and outmatched, facing an enemy far beyond my power to defeat.

Xenon advances, his laughter cold and mocking. “Poor little Lark. So brave, so defiant. But in the end, you’re just another pawn in the gods’ game. And now, you’ll pay the price for your insolence.”

Drawing on the last of my strength, I lift my chin and meet Xenon’s gaze squarely. “Do your worst.”

He sneers. “Oh, I intend?—”

“I’ve told you before that your smart mouth was going to get you into trouble.” A strong, fierce, throaty voice cuts through the chaos. “Lucky for you, I’m here to help get you out of this mess.”

It can’t be…

But it is.

Silhouetted in the doorway, his sword drawn and his face set in lines of grim determination, stands the one person I never wanted to spot anywhere near Xenon again.

But here he is. And I’ve never been happier to see him.