Page 38 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Golden sunbeams stream through the tall palace windows, gently rousing me from slumber. I blink, orienting myself.

The last few days swirl hazily through my mind. The conflicts, the revelations, the heavy weight of the crown.

I roll my head on the plush pillow until I’m facing Sterling.

Sleeping on his back, with his dark lashes shut and his full lips slightly parted, he looks so peaceful.

The faint scar on his jawline is barely visible under a day’s worth of stubble.

Love swells in my chest as I ponder our journey together, from enemies to soulmates. We’ve come so far.

A kaleidoscope of memories from this tumultuous year flashes behind my eyes. Our first meeting when I smacked into him. The relentless training. Everything I saw and heard. The time I saw him comforting Celeste. That other time when I witnessed him flirting with her to evoke my jealousy.

Wait.

I shift onto my side to face Sterling fully, propping my head on my hand. I reach out with my other hand and skim my knuckles over his cheek. He doesn’t stir, so I gently shake him.

“What do you think of Celeste?”

Sterling grunts, face scrunching as he struggles to wake. “Mmph, I thought we talked about this a long time ago. I was never interested in her. You know that.” He drapes a muscular arm around my shoulders and tugs me down to his chest.

I laugh and brace myself, resisting his pull. “No, not that. I mean…her. As a person.”

His warm brown eyes finally open, the gold flecks quivering as he regards me with a small frown. “What do you mean? Why are you asking?”

There’s something about the woman that doesn’t sit right with me. An unsettling intuition that she’s not who or what she seems.

Hopefully this line of inquiry doesn’t paint me as a jealous bitch.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I can see how Celeste, under the guise of helpfulness, is always trying to stir up trouble. Everything she advocates for fails. Everything she counsels against seems like it could’ve succeeded. That kind of track record is suspicious.”

Sterling pushes himself up to lean against the ornate headboard, all traces of sleepiness gone. “What?”

“I mean, I hope I’m wrong. She was a good instructor at Flighthaven. But since her arrival, something about her has just been, I don’t know, off. Different from the Celeste Dawson who was my weapons instructor.”

For a beat, Sterling doesn’t say a word. Then he sighs. “Okay.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Okay as in you agree with me?”

He merely nods.

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing yet.” Sterling puts a finger to my lips when I open my mouth to protest. “Not without proof. But we’ll watch her closely.”

I swat his hand away, shooting him a glare that he knows I don’t mean. “But what if she really is up to something, and we’re just sitting back and allowing it?”

“Then we’ll catch her and deal with it.” He twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He gives my hair a gentle yank before releasing it. “Like you want to storm into her room and go full queen badass bitch on her, proof be damned.”

I can’t help but smile because Sterling knows me so well. “I kind of do want to go full queen badass bitch on her, but I guess you’re right. We should keep an eye on her.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“Cocky, are we?” I give his chest a playful shove.

He grins. “Violent, are we?”

“Don’t even try to pretend you don’t like it when I’m violent.”

The gleam in his eyes is downright wicked. “Why don’t you show me just how violent you can be?”

My pulse gallops, heat building in my core at his suggestion. “I hope you know what you’re asking for. Because?—”

“No more talking, love.” He yanks me to him and kisses me with ferocity. “We need to practice merging soon, and I don’t want to waste a single second on chatting when we could be doing plenty of other stuff.”

“Do you think things are getting too steamy?” I frown at the empty field that stretches for miles, at the bare dirt and scattered rocks baking under the midday sun.

No trees or grass in sight. Nothing to burn.

Far from the noise and bustle of the city and palace.

Just Sterling and me, away from the prying eyes of the council.

“Not nearly as steamy as things got this morning.” He laughs, and his smoldering glance sends heat pooling low in my body. “Anyway, no point worrying when there’s no one out here to see us.”

Wispy curls of steam roll along the barren ground, hissing up from fissures in the cracked earth. I point at them and chuckle. “Steamy…with our magic.”

I’m happy to claim a rare moment of privacy but also weary. Despite all our practicing, we’ve noticed little progress merging. At least our control is improving.

Sterling grins, hands on his trim hips as he surveys our handiwork. “Well, fire plus water makes steam. That’s to be expected.” His dark, unbound hair ruffles in the breeze.

I know he’s right, but I can’t help thinking there must be more to this than merely creating steam.

After all, during the fight with Xenon, we managed to summon a full-blown tornado, the swirling vortex crackling with power.

But that was only because I deliberately kept our magics from fully fusing, allowing them to interact violently.

Is that what we’re doing wrong?

Before I can contemplate the implications, a surge of intense emotions slams into me, pulling a gasp from my lips. In my distraction, I must’ve let my mental dampening slip.

Fear, anger, violence. I stumble back from the force of the emotions.

The dragons! Tanwen, Nailah, Kaida, they’re all fighting!

“Lark?” Sterling reaches out to steady me, brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

I shake my head, heart pounding as I struggle to sort through the mental maelstrom and decipher what’s got the dragons in such an uproar. Something bad is happening. Something terrible. And we’re needed back at the palace immediately.

“It’s the drachen,” I manage to choke out, my voice rough with dread. “They’re attacking the palace! The dragons are fighting.”

“Shit.” Sterling’s eyes widen in alarm. “Let’s go.”

I nod grimly, already unfurling my wings in a snap of urgency. Sterling’s own silvery feathers catch the sunlight.

Reaching out through the bond, I try to connect more specifically with the dragons amid the psychic chaos.

Chirean’s presence barrels to the forefront, his rage palpable and tinged with fierce protectiveness for his unhatched offspring.

I feel his trumpeting challenge to the invaders, a rallying cry echoed by the other dragons of Tirene.

“The dragons are frantic. Chirean and Dame, especially. They fear for their eggs.”

Without another word, I launch myself skyward. Sterling matches me stroke for stroke. The wind whips my braid back as we arrow toward the palace at breakneck speed. Below, the patchwork landscape of fields, forests, and towns blurs by unnoticed.

My blood freezes from the thought of our friends, our family, in mortal danger.

I keep attempting to glean more details from the dragons as we fly, but it’s near impossible to untangle the specifics from the hurricane of their emotions, and the impressions I do get are fragmented and blood-soaked.

Drachen oozing over the battlements. Dragons flaming and tearing at their foe. Screams and smoke and chaos.

Infusing every ounce of speed and hope into my flight, I try to steady my thundering heart.

Hold on. We’re coming. Just hold on.

The dragons and the palace loom into view.

A scene of madness and mayhem.

Hundreds if not thousands of drachen ooze, undulate, and flap in the air above the spires. Their putrid forms pulse like grotesque black hearts as they dive down to attack.

Bursts of fire and smoke paint lurid streaks in the sky.

“Aim for the ones in the air!” I shout to Sterling over the wind. “Keep them away from the palace!”

“No shit!” His hands are already wreathed in icy magic.

We unleash a barrage of ice and fire as we streak toward the battle, attempting to draw the drachen’s attention so that they turn their backs on the palace and the people gathered in the courtyard below.

It works.

Several dozen wheel around on us.

Stygian maws gape with hunger.

I risk a glance downward. Agnar’s perched on the tiled roof, his coppery wings flared wide for balance. He rips the stone balustrades loose with his magic and flings them like missiles at the drachen.

They smash into the fiends with bone-crushing force, sending them plummeting to the ground.

Stunned. Disoriented. But not for long.

On a balcony below him, Rhiann swings her arms in sharp, slashing gestures, tearing chunks of masonry from the palace walls.

A little girl—too young to have magic or wings—hides in Rhiann’s skirts with her arms over her head.

Rhiann wears a mask of determination. Silver-streaked hair whips around her face, her body moving to shield the child at her feet.

Rubble hurtles through the air to bludgeon the few drachen close to the land, pinning them down with growing piles of stone. Others are caught in globes of water, edged over in ice to keep them encased no matter what shape the creatures take.

Everyone remembered what I told them about how to use magic to fight the drachen.

A stray thought pierces through my battle focus.

Why aren’t there more of these monsters on the ground?

Agnar and Rhiann seem to be holding them at bay with relative ease. But up here?

I barrel roll just in time to avoid a grasping set of jagged claws. No time to puzzle it out. No time for fear or doubt.

We have to end this. Fast. I can only pray we’re not too late.

Sterling snaps my attention back to the aerial battlefield. “Lark, look!” I track his pointed finger to the ground below.

In the middle of the courtyard, Alannah stands at the center of a tight knot of people. All air wielders. Nobles, guards, and servants alike. Their arms are raised, faces taut with concentration.