Page 34 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sterling stalks in with a ferocious glare aimed at Xenon, but he’s furious with me, too, for a very different reason. I can tell by his body language.

Xenon glances from Sterling to me. “Well, well, back so soon?”

Sterling moves closer to me, his broad shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and an icy chill radiating off him.

Before I can say anything, a flicker of motion catches my eye.

Shadows swirl around the edges of the glowing cavern.

More drachen.

The soft blue luminescence casts eerie shadows, rendering it difficult to track the drachen as they circle us.

Anger churns in my gut.

I’ve had enough of these fuckers trying to attack me. Taking from me. Robbing me of people I love.

I reach for my magic, but the flames gutter out as quickly as they form.

Sterling frowns when he sees the glowing band on my wrist. I cut my eyes at Xenon in a silent explanation.

After understanding dawns, Sterling points at the cuff. “Hold still. This won’t be pleasant.”

Icy fire radiates up my arm, and I utilize every ounce of self-control not to cry out in pain. Each shallow inhalation fills me with agony.

Within seconds, the pain recedes to a dull ache. I peer down. The cuff is gone, an angry red mark in its place.

I massage the tender skin. “Thank you?—”

“No time, love.” Next to me, Sterling slides into a fighting stance, frost spreading from his feet. “You all right?”

I nod, relief flooding through me as the familiar hum of my magic returns in full force.

We stand back-to-back as the drachen inch closer, dark shapes twisting and morphing until they’re as large as dragons.

Xenon watches with a cruel smile, arms crossed almost as if he’s bored. Like we’re not even a threat to him.

My heart pounds, but I refuse to let terror overtake me. This time, it’s not me against Xenon and the horde of drachen he commands. I’ve got Sterling by my side.

I focus inward, trying to merge my fire magic with Sterling’s water, but it’s like grasping an oiled rope. The emotional connection we’ve been using every time is muddled, distant.

Xenon takes advantage of our struggle.

Uncrossing his arms, he lifts his hands to create a funnel of wind with his air magic. The vortex spins and spins, gaining speed and momentum. He lowers his hands and makes a come-hither motion.

The ground obeys him as hard-packed earth shifts under our feet. Stones rise from the soil, joining the swirling maelstrom. Xenon raises his hands again, palms up. In his right hand, he conjures a glittering gem as big as a grapefruit before hurling it into the wind funnel.

Then another. And another. And several more after that.

Dread sucker punches me in the gut. I drop my voice to a whisper. “Is that?—”

“Ice.” Disbelief laces Sterling’s tone. “He’s wielding ice.”

“How…” The question dies in my throat as I watch a ball of flame form in the king’s left palm.

He hurls the fireballs into the vortex, just as he did with the balls of ice.

Dear gods and all things holy, he’s manipulating all four elements.

Sterling shifts closer. “That’s not possible.”

Normally, I’d be inclined to agree that, no, this what-the-fuckery is absolutely not possible. But it is. Because, that night when I fought him at Flighthaven, he somehow channeled power from the drachen.

And he’s doing that same thing now.

Dozens of drachen circle above. Xenon lifts his head, gray eyes starting to glow in a way that causes my skin to crawl.

He opens his mouth, and his body goes rigid as a swirling black plume funnels into him. His eyes glow brighter. More essence gushes into him.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it stops.

Xenon’s eyes go back to their usual gray. His body relaxes. His lips tilt up in a smile that promises vengeance. He focuses on the orbiting drachen, chanting ancient, ritualistic words in an entirely different language.

While he’s occupied with that, I pivot toward Sterling. “We have to concentrate and merge somehow. It’s the only way to get out of here alive.”

His jaw tenses. “Agreed. Let’s do this.”

I blink, and the swirling drachen are gone. Whether they’re invisible or they’ve left or Xenon drained them of their power, I have no idea.

I’m not about to wait around and find out.

With the sinister creatures gone, Xenon refocuses his attention on us. “You said do my worst. I hope you’re ready, Dragoncaller. Prince.” He twirls a finger, and the wind vortex reaches a nauseating speed.

A barrage of stones, ice, and fire shoots out at us, and we have to shift our concentration to dodge the onslaught of projectiles.

I pop back up and unleash a torrent of flames. Xenon only needs to glance at me for my fire to die. It’s like he’s somehow controlling my magic with his mind.

I’m powerless.

Enough of this.

Just because I can’t fly out of here doesn’t mean I have to stay on the ground or be a stationary target. With a soft snap, my burgundy, gold-tipped wings unfurl. Sterling follows suit, releasing his magnificent silver-streaked plumage.

We launch upward in unison, leaving the treacherous ground behind.

For a moment, we soar free.

Then the chaos pursues us. A dizzying spiral of fire, ice, earth, and air assaults us as Xenon’s magical vortex rises. More drachen burst from the shadows in pursuit, their membranous wings churning the air. The nightmarish beasts lunge forward with glinting talons and glowing red eyes.

Sterling and I dance through the air, leading the drachen on a wild chase around glittering stalactites and over luminous pools. All the while, we spin and whirl, attacking and defending, our fire and ice flashing.

They seem more focused on capturing us than killing us, which gives us an edge.

I dodge a set of slashing talons and fling a fistful of white-hot embers at a drachen’s leathery wings.

And still, our magic remains frustratingly separate.

Why isn’t it working? Sterling and I fight in perfect sync, understanding each other’s intentions without hesitation, yet our powers refuse to unite.

As I swoop beneath a crystal outcropping, realization splashes me like icy water.

Sterling is mad at me. Furious, even. And beneath that, hurt pulses like a bruised and bloody wound. The bitter sting of betrayal.

The wind funnel runs out of projectiles.

Below us, Xenon snaps, and the air settles. His crazed, unhinged eyes rove over the space, like he’s searching for a weapon. Unfortunately, this cavern is full of sharp objects. As if he read my mind, the Aclarian king considers the unlimited supply of stalagmites and stalactites.

Nature’s daggers.

A volley of the wicked-sharp weapons hurtles past, and I barrel roll to evade them. We can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, one of us will trip up. Slow a fraction too much. Dodge a hairsbreadth too little.

I need to do something, before it’s too late.

Desperation claws at my insides as I swing around to face Sterling. His wings beat in powerful strokes, keeping pace with mine, but his unyielding eyes are hard as flint.

“Sterling, please.” The words emerge ragged, threaded with urgency. “Your anger is keeping us from connecting.”

For a sickening moment, I think he’ll ignore me. That he’ll keep flying and fighting while lost to me in every way that matters.

So quick I almost miss it, his gaze flicks to mine. “Sorry.” His throat bobs as if he’s trying to choke down a piece of dragon fruit whole.

One word, but I have to trust him.

This time, when I stretch my awareness toward Sterling, his power rises to meet mine. Water and fire. Frost and flame. They twine together, two halves of a whole, and the resulting surge of energy steals the air from my lungs.

Yes. This is how it’s meant to be.

Sterling’s eyes widen, and I know he feels it too.

This rightness.

This unstoppable force birthed from our combined strength.

Now, the question is, what in Ziva’s name do we do with it?

The drachen twist and swoop through the jagged, translucent formations. Another group tracks us from the ground, ready to catch us if we fall. Only the random placements of the natural crystals keep them at bay, their large forms requiring more time to traverse the obstacle course.

My mind races, unfurling and discarding strategies in the space of a heartbeat. First things first, we need cover so they can’t follow us so closely.

And somewhere below, Xenon still waits.

“Fog.” I duck to avoid a drachen ambush as I fly beneath another tilted crystal pillar. “Thick as you can make it so we can hide from these assholes.”

Sterling doesn’t hesitate.

He slashes a hand through the air and silvery mist explodes outward, billowing and swirling until it fills the cavern. The drachen hiss in frustration, their eerie red eyes dulling to a faint pink glow.

“This way.” I dart left, trusting Sterling to follow.

We need a place to regroup. Somewhere defensible, where we can find a precious few seconds to breathe. To plan.

But the drachen have other ideas.

A sinuous shadow detaches from the fog, obsidian skin glistening with malice. Faster than a striking cobra, it lunges. Only the barest flicker of movement saves Sterling from having his throat torn out.

A drachen reaches out with a gnarly black talon. Thick claws rake across Sterling’s chest, drawing rivulets of crimson.

“ Fuck !” He grunts in pain but doesn’t falter as he seizes the creature’s appendage, freezes it solid with ice, and wrenches it sideways with a sickening crack.

The writhing bastard screeches. I coat the oozy tendril in blue-white fire, and it falls away before dissolving back into the mist.

“Sterling!” I start toward him, but he waves me off.

“I’m fine.” He scans the fog, searching for another hidden foe. “Don’t lose focus.”

Easier said than done.

The fog swirls around us, alive with unseen threats. I strain my ears, attempting to pinpoint Xenon’s location, but I can only hear the wet slide of drachen against stone.

They’re circling again.

Hunting us.