Page 48 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

A howl of fury and anguish rips through the air.

It’s mine.

Rage ignites in my veins, searing away the shock and grief. I spin toward Celeste, my vision tunneling until all I can see is her treacherous face.

She meets my gaze with a smirk, her blue eyes glinting with cold satisfaction. “Poor little bird. Only one biological family member left in the whole world now, and he’s merely a half-brother.”

Bitch! No wonder I didn’t really like her when she was my instructor. Should’ve trusted my instinct.

White-hot flames burst from my palms and lash out at her in a blistering torrent.

She laughs as she deflects them with a flick of her air magic, the fire dissipating harmlessly into the night. “You can’t win, Lark. One way or another, Xenon will have you.”

Her taunting words only fuel the inferno building inside me.

I unleash blast after blast, pouring every ounce of my pain and hatred into the flames. Dame protects Celeste, blocking each assault with her fire-resistant wings.

Agnar sprints to my side, bow in hand, quiver full of arrows slung over his muscular shoulder. He pulls a vial from his pocket.

The tears I gave him, imbued with curative magic.

He unstoppers the vial, tips a single drop onto an arrowhead, and presses it into my palm. “Use this on the dragons!”

I snatch up the arrow. “I could seriously kiss you right now.”

“No time.” He gives my cheek a quick pat. “And I don’t want Knox to kick my ass.”

Choking out a half laugh, half sob, I take the bow from Agnar, nock the arrow, and draw. I’m aiming for the thin scales between Kaida’s claws.

My hands tremble, but I steady my breath. I shove my grief aside, locking it in a dark corner in the back of my mind.

The arrow sings through the air and hits its mark.

Kaida rears back, roaring in rage and pain, then slumps as a ghostly black trail emerges from his form and dissipates into the air.

The essence of a drachen.

Heart in my throat, I hurry toward Kaida’s massive form sprawled across the scorched and torn earth.

Please, let him be okay.

He’s unconscious but alive.

Eldor’s body is still tied to Kaida’s back, blood blooming on his tunic just above his heart, his eyes wide and glassy.

A sob rips from my chest as I scale the enormous dragon and pull my grandfather into my arms, cradling his lifeless form. Tears run down my face, falling on his wound.

They do nothing.

No corruption leaves him. He doesn’t stir. He isn’t healed.

He’s simply dead.

“Lark, look out!” Sterling’s warning jerks my head up.

While I was distracted, Celeste switched her attention from Sterling to me. A cruel smile twists her pretty face. The earth shudders as she summons her magic, using the air to dislodge huge boulders from the ground and hurl them straight at me.

I brace myself for the impact.

But then, there it is…

A whisper of power, brushing against my mind like a gentle breeze, familiar yet foreign.

Air magic.

“Take it.” Alannah’s voice breaks through the panic in my mind. “Save our kingdom, Lark.”

Disbelief flits through me like a bird taking flight. Is this mental communication a result of merging? Can I do it when I merge with anyone?

I reach out with my magic, grasping at the power Sterling’s mother is offering me. Then, Alannah’s air merges with my fire in an exhilarating rush of heat and wind. My insides crackle as I summon a blast of superheated air so intense it melts the very rocks Celeste is wielding.

The boulders explode in midair, raining molten fragments down upon Celeste and her mount. She screams in rage and pain as she protects herself with a wall of wind.

Alannah whispers in my mind again. “Well done. Now finish this. Traitors cannot be allowed to live.”

The power builds inside me, fire and air swirling in a maelstrom of elemental fury. “You want to play with magic? Feeling strong with all that eyril bolstering you? Let’s play.”

Celeste tries to retaliate by using air to summon spears of roots to impale me.

But I merely waft them away. The roots wither to dust in the desert-hot winds I created with this new combined power.

Everything she hurls at me disintegrates under my direction, adding to the choking cloud that shrouds the battlefield.

Anguish thrums inside my heart. So does fury at those who’ve betrayed us and sorrow for those we’ve lost, along with a healthy dose of disgust.

I split the stream of my fire, preparing to rain destruction down on the traitors once and for all. But the air magic suddenly falters and stutters in my grasp. The power flickers like a guttering candle.

I drop the link and whirl around.

Alannah is barely breathing, her thin frame shaking with the effort. Her eyes meet mine, and in them, I see an awful, sorrowful understanding. An acceptance.

“This is what it means to be a queen and a mother. Take care of my son. And my plants, won’t you?” She crumples like a marionette with its strings cut.

I lunge to catch her before she hits the ground.

“Mother!” Sterling’s shriek is feral as he sprints toward us. “Hold on!”

He reaches us in moments but not soon enough. Pupils blown with grief and rage, Sterling eases Alannah from my arms as the last breath rattles from her frail chest.

Her body stills.

“No!” The heartbreak in his voice shatters my own heart into a million jagged pieces. “Lark, do something! Your tears…”

But we both know my tears cannot bring back the dead.

A sob hitches in my throat as a deeper realization hits me.

Alannah knew.

She knew using that much power would kill her, and with her last bit of strength, she reached out to me, offering her magic to bolster my own. A final, selfless act to protect the kingdom she loved. The people she loved.

Tears stream down Sterling’s sooty face as he kisses her cheek, whispers a prayer, and lowers her to the ground. When his eyes find mine, they’re hardened.

Despite the sudden death of another loved one, the battle still rages. We don’t have time to dwell on our distress.

Magic clashes in a dizzying maelstrom. Fire and earth and water and wind.

Gritting my teeth against the ache in my chest, I sweep up another arrow, breathing flames along its tip. But my arm trembles with exhaustion, and my fire sputters weakly. Across the courtyard, Vicar Moise, Lord Serle, and Celeste rain down destruction, their magics amplified to terrifying levels.

How much longer can we hold out against them?

“I think not!” Bastian charges forward with a bow raised in one hand and a tiny vial of my tears clutched in the other.

He’s so determined to bring down our enemies, he misses the stone careening through the air. The danger is nearly invisible in the dance of firelight and shadows.

“Bast—” The rock slams into the side of his head and knocks him off his feet, causing his arrow to fly off target.

Time slows.

My brother smashes into the ground so hard, his body bounces from the impact.

With a thought, I set Bastian’s loosened arrow shaft alight. Once the flame catches, I grab hold of it and use that tiny flicker to direct the arrow carrying the faint traces of my tears.

It twists at my command, dodging rocks and slipping through hurricane-strong winds. It finds the soft spot next to Dame’s frill and pierces her flesh.

She collapses, pinning Celeste under her.

Two dragons subdued. Two still corrupted.

A fierce gust of wind whips through the battlefield, coalescing into an ashy shield above Tanwen and Chirean. Rafe drops to the ground beside me, hands raised and face lined with concentration as he pours everything he has into the air barrier.

He trembles from the strain. “I can’t hold this for long.”

Sterling rushes to help Rafe. Our eyes lock as he crosses the courtyard, and I see my own determination reflected back at me. We have to merge. Though I know he must be nearly depleted as I am, we have to try.

The now familiar crackle of our bond surges through me, igniting my blood, my magic. Impossibly, miraculously, we find untapped reserves as Sterling’s essence intertwines with mine, two powers knitting together and multiplying in magnitude.

“Mist,” I hear Sterling whisper inside my mind. Or maybe my heart.

Holy Ziva, Terro, and Rivlan. Is Sterling in my head? Just like I heard his mother only minutes ago?

“Yes, love,” comes his reply. “We’ll talk about this later. Kinda busy now.”

Weary muscles protesting, I lift my hands and coordinate my movements with his.

Around us, steam rises in a scorching veil fed by Sterling’s water and my fire. The billowing cloud grows thicker and thicker, obscuring everything beyond.

Mist can move through Rafe’s shield.

I have a sudden, better understanding of how to work with the air magic encasing us, and Sterling catches my intention, no explanation needed.

He directs the mist with me, both of us straining as we force it through the faltering air barrier. The mist curls in wisps and tendrils and begins to surround our enemies in a trap they cannot escape.

Will. Not. Escape.

“Now, burn. Nice and slow!” Sterling growls in my mind, his voice rough with rage and sorrow.

I obey, stoking my inner fire hotter and hotter until the world takes on a shimmering red haze that blooms into the mist.

The area beyond the shield flares white-hot in an instant. All the hidden sparks of our merged magic catch on anything and everything solid.

Inside the deadly cloud, Celeste writhes and screams. Clothes and hair ignite.

“Now, from below.” Sterling guides my focus downward.

“Got it.” I follow his lead, reaching out with my senses until I find the tainted well on the other side, that poisonous fount that spawned so much suffering.

Ah, I understand.

Two birds with one stone.

With a burst of fury, I tunnel my power.

The ground rumbles, and with a mighty roar, jets of scalding water explode from the well, searing Moise and Serle. Their skin blisters as they shriek in pain. The evil, traitorous trio are a chorus of anguish.

Rafe staggers and drops to his knees as his air barrier flickers and vanishes, his reserves totally spent.

Leesa and Agnar are ready, tear-tipped arrowheads flashing as they let their shafts fly. The arrows find their marks, sinking deep into Tanwen’s and Chirean’s flesh. The dragons convulse and thrash in pain as they fling Moise and Serle from their backs.

Elijah, Helene, and the others charge forward, weapons glinting.

The traitors’ skin bubbles and oozes as they die. It’s over in moments.

I stare at the blackened, distorted remains of Celeste, Serle, and Moise.

We won. But the cost.

Gods, the cost.

So many people gone way too soon. How can we possibly heal from this? How can anything ever be right again?

A heavy silence blankets the courtyard, broken only by the ragged gasps of the wounded and the soft sobs of the grieving.

I lean against Sterling, his arm strong around my waist as we survey the devastation.

Scorch marks decorate the palace walls, and the once-lush gardens are reduced to ashes.

Even the air is thick and oppressive, weighed down by the stench of death.

“Well, that was fun,” Agnar quips from his perch on the well’s edge, but there’s no humor in his voice, only a bone-deep weariness.

“We won,” someone else murmurs.

The words trickle through the crowd like a collective sigh of relief. A few ragged cheers go up, but they quickly peter out.

I should feel victorious. Triumphant, even.

We defeated the traitors and saved our kingdom from their vile machinations. But I’m simply hollow, emptied out by grief and loss.

How many more will we lose before this is truly over? How much more blood will stain these ancient stones?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, the clash of metal on metal erupts from within the palace walls.

My heart seizes as adrenaline pulses through my veins.

“The well,” I breathe out in horror. “Others have been corrupted too.”