Page 6 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Five

Light filters through the windows as I head toward Queen Alannah’s quarters, the weight of delayed confessions pressing down on me. The palace is awake, the servants scuttling through the halls in a rush to perform their tasks.

“Your Highness.” A petite maid with chin-length blond hair catches my attention with a slight curtsy as I approach what should be the door to the queen’s rooms. I sigh, expecting to hear Alannah is not able to accept guests today. “The dowager queen is in her garden at this hour.”

“Thank you.” I offer her a nod, grateful for the direction and for one less barrier between me and my mission.

I follow the path she gave me, my steps echoing softly across the marble floors, until the scent of the earth leads me outside.

This garden, separate from all the other palace gardens, greets me with a flourish of colors and fragrant scents that would steal my breath on any other day.

Like the healer’s gardens, thick panels of fine, clear glass surround this space.

Outside, the summer is ending, but within these walls, the growing season never ends.

The warm sunlight gilds Alannah Barda’s nearly white hair as she putters among her beloved plants. Within the confines of her garden, Sterling’s mother almost resembles a wraith of mist.

Her hands delve deep into the soil filling the raised, stone-lined beds. She tends to life with a tenderness that suggests frailty has taken over her life in recent years. The sight evokes a pang of sorrow. She’s unaware of the storm brewing just beyond her tranquil haven.

Two maids, young and unfamiliar to me, sit on a bench nearby, waiting to assist with any issue that might arise.

The dark-haired one with a beauty mark on her cheek bows from her seat, her eyes never leaving her elderly charge.

The other one, with red hair peeking out from under her cap, also bows once she notices me.

The servants are always the first to know when the power shifts within the palace. Last week, they would’ve simply stared at me.

Stepping into the sun-dappled space, I steel myself for the conversation ahead. The garden’s vibrant, living tapestry is oblivious to human anguish. Dwarf trees are bent into stylish shapes with vines draped artistically to frame the myriad of colors growing underneath.

The dowager queen hums softly as she picks up a watering can and spritzes the plants.

As I approach her, guilt fills me for interrupting her peaceful moment with such terrible news. “Good morning, Queen Alannah. Could I have a few minutes of your time?”

She raises her head, squints in my direction, puts down her watering can, and wipes her hands on the apron that protects her pale blue dress. A soft smile graces her wrinkled face until she catches the gravity in my gaze.

“Lark, dear, what news do you bring?” Her voice quivers as if she’s already bracing for the impact.

Even though her maids already seem to be aware of my change in station with Sterling no longer here, no one has told the queen yet. They left that to me.

Awesome.

I draw a deep breath, my chest tight. “Knox is…still not with us. I wasn’t able to free him of the corruption or bring him home.”

Her hands falter, a small gasp escaping her lips as her eyes dim. “Oh.”

The flowers she was just admiring droop, as though they, too, suffer under the weight of her heartbreak.

But I can’t let despair have the final word.

“Wait, there’s more.” I rush to add something, anything, to lend her a bit of hope.

My mind jumps to the dream, and my mouth moves before my brain can stop it.

“Last night, something happened. I summoned him, or maybe he summoned me. I’m really not sure. ”

“Summoned him? What do you mean?” Alannah blinks, the creases in her white brows mirroring the tangle of emotions I’m trying to sort out myself as she processes the information. “He’s not lost then?”

“Still conscious, still alive. Deep inside, he’s still Knox.” The image of his presence from last night shines vividly in my mind. “We’re connected somehow. Maybe it’s my empathy, or our bond. I don’t know, but it’s real.”

“Empathy…” She brushes her hands on her apron while musing over the concept. “You’ve given me hope, Lark. To know he’s still fighting, still himself inside. Did he say anything?”

“Not much. He doesn’t seem to be very aware of what’s happening.

It’s like his subconscious is protecting him from reality.

” I’m intentionally vague because dream or not, there’s no way in the three hells I’m going to tell the queen what I was doing with her son.

“Knox was being careful. He was afraid Xenon or Narc might be eavesdropping. That if he learned something from me, they’d sense it through the corruption holding him captive. ”

Her lips tighten. “If you didn’t really talk, then what did you do?”

Ziva’s flames, she went there.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, a futile attempt to stop the blush I can feel creeping up my neck. “We, um, connected.”

Alannah searches my face, and a twinkle shines in her eyes. “Ah. I see.” I’m certain her soft laugh turns my face a blazing shade of red. “Good girl.”

Did the dowager queen just call me a “good girl” for having hot, sensual, intimate dream sex with her son? Dear gods. Yes. Yes, she did.

I half cough, half choke just trying to breathe. It’s all I can do not to bury myself under the foliage for cover. Time for a subject change.

Resisting the urge to fan myself, I clear my throat. “I’m going to bring him back to us.”

“I know.” Despite the situation, she stays calm and oddly peaceful.

Whether it’s because she has faith in my words or because she’s disconnecting from reality again, I can’t tell. She drifts toward a particularly striking plant, its vines adorned with velvet black petals streaked with bloodred.

I pace the length of the garden path, my boots leaving shallow prints in the soft earth. “I’ll go back to Flighthaven as soon as I can. Even though the council didn’t like the idea when I brought it up.”

“They don’t like many things. That’s their job.” Alannah’s voice is as dry as the rustle of leaves. And she’s right. “They nitpick and fuss over every little detail because that’s what they do best. You must do your job. You are going to be queen.”

“Queen.” I repeat the word like it’s foreign on my tongue, a title heavy with a burden I’m still learning to carry.

Alannah has moved on to another plant, bending close to inspect its leaves with a scrutiny that suggests her mind has wandered off somewhere else entirely. “Do you think these are mites?”

I close my eyes for a moment, summoning patience from somewhere deep within. “I’m not really a plant person.”

“Of course not, dear. You’re like a dragon.” She gifts me with a soft smile, and for a moment I see Sterling in her face. “How is fire going to grow such delicate plants?”

Her words match my humbling thoughts. I shuffle my feet, struggling with the morning’s revelations. “I’ve bothered you long enough. I’ll let you get back to tending the plants.”

As I start to turn, her voice, soft but firm, stops me cold. “A leader’s first responsibility is to define reality.” Her words slice the air with precision.

Whipping around, I find her gaze fixed on a leaf, her fingers tracing the velvety surface as if imparting some ancient wisdom upon it.

“Define what?” My voice crackles with a mix of confusion and frustration. How can I define reality when it shifts beneath my feet like sand in a storm?

“Define what you want done and then sell the people on it.” She picks up the watering can and resumes spritzing.

The trickle of liquid hitting the soil provides a soothing counterpoint to my churning thoughts.

“But to do that, you must know what you’re dealing with and have a plan to achieve your goals. ”

Her advice is more like a puzzle, each word a piece that doesn’t quite fit into the chaotic picture of my rule. Yet, somewhere within her cryptic guidance lies the truth, a truth I need to unravel if I’m to lead and protect this kingdom from the shadows that seek to devour it.

I pace in a semicircle, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots relaying my frustration. “Well, I don’t know what I’m dealing with, and I have no plan.”

Alannah straightens and faces me. “Get one.”

“How?” I toss my hands up, the urge to scream at the heavens almost overpowering.

She puts down her watering can once more and glides closer. Her fingers wrap around my hand. Like the roots of the ancient trees in the royal gardens, they’re firm and unyielding. Her touch grounds me, and for a moment, the chaos inside me stills.

“You’re focusing far too much on temporal human problems and solutions, Lark. Our issues right now are directly related to the gods, which means you must enlist them for a solution.”

“Enlist the gods?” Every fiber of my being wants to rebel against such an idea.

Surely, it’s not that simple. Is it? Nyc, the Goddess of Night, has already answered my prayers and chastised me for my failure.

My mind races through every story, every lesson on our pantheon.

I’ve felt their presence, seen their influence, but to ask for direct intervention?

“Who am I to petition gods? How could I even do that?”

“Nicely?” She smiles, a brief flash of mirth in her watery eyes. “There are ways to draw their attention. Ways that a queen-to-be, the only dragoncaller in generations, might muster.”

“Gods,” I mutter under my breath, the word a prayer and a curse all at once. Fire, dreams, and war all hold sway over the elements within me, over the power that crackles at my fingertips, eager for release.

I need to figure out which of these deities will bother to listen. Valk for strength, Aletheia for clarity, or maybe one of the Chron gods would help me. Chronira, Goddess of the Future?

Nope. I rule out the Chronimūrti without another thought. Petitioning any of those three is too risky. From what I’ve read, they love to test mortals who seek their guidance. And their tests can be lethal.

“Start with one who aligns with your strengths.” Alannah releases my hand to pluck a dead leaf from her beloved plant. “And find a way to make them an offer they can’t ignore.”

“An offer.” Somewhere deep within, a spark ignites. Not a plea, but a trade. That was how I first got Nyc’s attention. I sacrificed a feather of a harbinger owl, one of her sacred beasts.

I no longer have any feathers, but surely, I can find a worthy offering.

That’s something I can work with, something that’s real in a world where reality keeps shifting. “Thank you.” I may not have a plan yet, but I’ve got the beginnings of an idea, and sometimes, that’s all the foothold one needs to climb a mountain.

“Remember, Lark,” Alannah calls out as I stride away, “the gods respect those who dare greatly. Be daring.”

Daring.

Yeah, I can do that.

With a nod to the dowager queen, a woman who’s seen more of life and its cruel twists than I can imagine, I set out to do exactly that. Because if enlisting the gods is what it takes to save Sterling and torch the tainted eyril field above Narc’s body, then so be it.

I’ll call down the heavens if I must.