Page 11 of The Dragon Queen (Ember: Queen Of Dragons #6)

EMBER

Focus," Lord Rook admonishes, standing a dozen feet away.

"What do you think I'm doing?" I mutter.

We've been camped out in a clearing a few minutes' flight away from the castle all morning. On our third day of training, I'm not feeling much steadier or more in control of my powers.

Hell, I'm not even feeling like I have any powers at all.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my self-doubt at bay.

"We got this," Amy whispers.

We're standing back-to-back, practicing defensive magic. Rhiannon, in her dragon form, swoops around us, menacing us with snarls and flaps of her wings. Any minute now, she's going to swoop at us or throw another ball of shadows at our heads. She has expert control, and I know without a doubt that she'd never hurt us for real.

That's hard to remember when she arches back.

With a speed that belies her age--and her protectiveness--she charges at us, her razor-sharp talons coming right at our heads.

"Now," Rook shouts, and yeah, great, he's just full of helpful tips, isn't he?

I flick my hands out the way he and Rhiannon showed me, trying to summon one of the protection bubbles that I'd finally more or less mastered, back when I had the Shadow Bracer wrapped around my arm. Faint crackles of violet energy shiver along my fingertips, but as Rhiannon's dragon dives toward us, the magic fizzles and pops.

Amy doesn't fare much better, creating the barest hint of a shield in the air just above her face. Rhiannon's dragon's talons rip the barrier to shreds, but we're damn lucky she's on our side, or we'd be dead.

Rhiannon's dragon feints to the side, but then she's pivoting. Black clouds of malice hurtle through the air. My heart hammering against the inside of my chest, I struggle again to defend myself, and again the magic just isn't there. The shadow bolt dissipates an inch from my face, and my own dragon screams in frustration.

We feel neutered, helpless, useless, doomed...

My vision narrows, my dragon attempting to wrest control from me, but I refuse to yield--no matter how much I might like to.

In our first couple of days of training, we let her out. Rhiannon and Rook gave her and Amy's dragons a lesson on flying through tight corridors, on protecting their flanks and making sharp turns. They helped us kindle dark flames of magic--weak, compared with what I was able to do when Unity was under attack, but at least it was something.

My dragon isn't the problem, at this point. I am.

And Rook knows it.

He stalks toward me and Amy, black fire burning in his gaze. I brace myself for another lecture about focus, but instead, he beckons Rhiannon's dragon back our way.

"Deflect," he barks, a military bearing taking over his already imperious posture. As Rhiannon hurls vicious balls of shadows directly at him--not pulling her punches, the way she did with Amy and me--he extends his arm and twists his hand up and to the side. His fingertips glow, and the black smoke careens off to the side, landing on the grass and leaving it singed.

He nods at Rhiannon again.

This time, when she attacks, he grunts, "Evade."

In a blur of black, he slides to the side the second before Rhiannon's next blow would have hit him. It's supernaturally fast, making my eyes hurt as the space around him ripples.

"Shield," he instructs, flicking his hands forward. As Rhiannon's final volley hurtles toward him, he creates the shimmering, purple barrier of energy I was trying so hard to summon, and it's so easy for him. So effortless.

"Damn," Amy murmurs, impressed.

I'm not nearly so decorous.

"Gods fucking damn it all." I kick the ground, and the air in my lungs stirs with the promise of wrath, but my magic doesn't spark--not the way it did when Storm was here. When I had the bracer and I felt invincible.

There's an ache in my chest as I turn away. The irrefutable sense of my own inadequacy swamps me, and I clench my hands into fists. If saving the world is my destiny, then why don't I have the tools to do it with? Where's my path forward?

The Gods chose me.

But what if they chose wrong?

I suck in a breath, scarcely able to get enough air. I reach out instinctively, only there's nothing to reach out to. My mates are half a world away; my connections to each one of them are still vibrant, but the lines are all stretched thin.

What I would give to fall into their arms right now. I need Jianyu's solidity, Rafe's fiery passion. Malik's cool calm and Storm's silver eyes that have always known how to see straight through me.

Daily video calls aren't enough. I know they're safe--thank the Gods. But I can't touch them, can't draw strength and support from them in moments of need.

I force myself to unclench my fists.

They left to gather allies, and they're doing precisely that. Each man has managed to sneak back into his home territory. They're working their connections, tapping people they know they can trust. Gathering the forces that will help us stop the Shadow King's plans.

And I'm learning to channel my magic. To be a stronger dragon, and to wield elemental power again in my human form.

I'm practicing how to stand on my own.

So--pissed off as I am right now--I'm going to do precisely that.

Exhaling deeply, I turn back around, bracing myself to get heckled by my uncle and beaten up by my best friend's mom some more. But to my surprise, Rhiannon has shifted back into her human form and come in for a landing.

Touching Amy's shoulder, she shoots a concerned glance in my direction. "Perhaps it's time for a break."

"I don't think--" Rook starts gruffly.

Rhiannon talks over him, an edge appearing in her tone. "I said, it's time for a break."

She and Rook share a look, both of them making complicated expressions with their brows. After a moment's stalemate, Rook heaves out a dramatic sigh and scrubs his face with his hands. "Very well."

Huh. Since when have the two of them been able to have nonverbal conversations like that? In the past, they've mostly just shouted at each other.

Whatever's going on with them, I'm grateful for the reprieve. Right up until Rhiannon darts another pointed look my way before taking Amy aside.

Rook drops his hands from his face and casts his gaze skyward. Then he approaches me. "Let's take a walk."

Uh. That is not what I had in mind when I thought I was going to get a chance to take a break. But the way he says it leaves no room for question or protest. Without so much as a backward glance, he starts off along a path that leads down toward the river.

My instincts tell me to follow, but I just gave myself that whole pep talk about learning to stand on my own. So I take a minute to grab a few sips of water and a handful of almonds from my bag.

By the time I've made a point of having my drink and my snack, Rook's gotten pretty far ahead. Grumbling to myself, I jog to catch up with him. As I pull up alongside him, he darts a glance in my direction.

"I'm pushing you," he states, and yeah, I'd noticed that.

"I asked you to."

I'm not enjoying it or anything. But I was the one to propose putting all of our energy into training up my Shadow Dragon skills this week.

He casts his gaze off into the distance. "I am not accustomed to being a teacher."

"Really," I say, and I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

His own tone grows chillier. "I was trained by a dragon who burned the hair off his trainees with his breath." His jaw flexes beneath his gray beard. "I'm pushing you, but not nearly as hard as you could be pushed."

"Maybe that's our mistake." All the times I accidentally summoned magic when I had the bracer, my life was basically on the line. Urgency is a hell of a motivator.

"You'll have enough chances to flirt with death soon enough," he warns. "It is my goal to keep you alive and intact until then."

"Thanks--I think."

"But you need to work harder. Put more of your soul into it." He curls his hands in front of his abdomen. "Embrace the Shadows within your heart."

Embrace, embrace, embrace.

It's all I can do just to swallow my growl of frustration.

"That's what I did," I explode, stopping where I am, throwing my hand out to the side.

We've reached the river's edge, and I glance around. We're alone, except for Amy and Rhiannon, but if they can hear us right now, they've at least decided to stay out of sight.

Rook stops, too, turning to stare at me appraisingly. His black gaze seems to peer right through me, but not in a good way. He's unimpressed, and that's fine. I didn't start this in some sort of a bid to win him over.

But does he have to be so fucking aloof all the time?

"The minute before the bracer rejected me and fell off my arm, I embraced the Shadow Dragon within me, and it was amazing."

I felt so powerful--like I could take on the Shadow King and his army all on my own.

And the next second, it was all slipping through my hands.

My eyes sting, and oh hell no. I am not going to go getting emotional and crying right now.

"I have been working my ass off," I remind him.

He shakes his head. "It's not enough."

I'm not enough.

"What do you want me to do?"

He's suddenly on me, moving so fast I scarcely see him do it. He stares down at me with hard, black eyes. "I want you to be the Queen of Dragons."

I won't quiver. I won't back down or show him how weak and pathetic and scared I am inside. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"I honestly don't know." He chuckles, half laughter and half sneer, and oh, boiling rage bubbles within me.

"It's easy for you," I spit. I flail a hand toward the pocket of his stupid suit jacket. "I lost the bracer, but you still have whatever trinket it is you keep so close to your chest--"

If it's possible, his eyes glow even darker. "Trinket?"

Oh, damn, I've struck a nerve.

But the same stupid instinct that always had me running my mouth when I was being taunted by bullies back in Wynrath Crest rears its head now. "Oh, I'm sorry, I meant 'dark magical artifact'."

It's the air quotes that really put it over the top.

Rook's nostrils flare, and he digs into his pocket. And I'm not sure exactly what it is that I'm expecting, but I'm still taken aback when he pulls his hand back out with...nothing.

I scrunch my brows together.

But then he opens his fist. And there, sitting in the open palm of his hand is a gleaming, deep ebony ring.

"This trinket," he growls, "belonged to my father." His throat bobs. "Your grandfather."

Oh.

Some of the wind goes out of my sails.

Rook can tell, too. He exhales deeply as he shifts the ring onto his index finger. As he presses it down to the knuckle, the dark metal pulses with magic, an invisible, purple halo of power emanating from it.

"How much did your father tell you? About our family?"

I try to keep the sourness out of my voice, but I don't succeed. "Literally nothing."

It didn't seem weird at the time. My mother didn't like to talk about her family much, either, but that's because most of them were assholes. In hindsight, though, my father's silence had a different, more guarded quality to it.

"A pity." Rook flexes his fingers, and the ring's aura seems to dance along with the motions. "Our parents were great dragons. Powerful." His jaw flexes as he darts his gaze to meet mine. "Faithful servants of the Shadow Dragon King."

"Nice," I quip, suppressing the urge to shudder.

So my grandparents were monsters. Super.

"The previous Shadow Dragon King. The one before Erembour." Rook lets his gaze drift off into the distance. "He was just as ruthless. A rotten, conniving old bastard. When Erembour killed him and took his throne, we all thought life might get better."

"How did that work out?"

His answer is a sharp glare before he looks away once more. "In the coup, my father was one of the ones defending the old king. He died in the slaughter, and I thought..."

When my father went missing, I thought the world was ending. In a way, maybe it was.

Rook's throat bobs, and the corner of his mouth wavers. "I thought life might get better, too."

Oh.

My stomach sinks, the reaction visceral.

"He was a right bastard," Rook confides. "Cruel. He used dark magic freely. Once, when Pitch and I misbehaved as children, he locked us in a room he'd removed all the light from." He flexes his jaw against a shudder. "I had nightmares for weeks."

"That's awful."

"That was life." Rook shakes his head, as if willing away the memory. "It made me--and your father--the men we would become."

Again, I feel robbed by the fact that my father never told me any of this. Grief and gratitude swirl together within me. As glad as I am to be soaking in all of this information now, I wish I'd known more about his life and his past, back then. When he was alive, and we could have actually talked about it.

I blink hard, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

Maybe my father was sparing me. Maybe he was waiting until I was older.

Either way, he overcame the sins of his father. Where he was treated with cruelty, he chose to parent with kindness. Everything about his presence felt like safety to me, and I never once doubted his love.

Slowly, Rook removes the ring from his finger. "My father inherited this ring from his father, who inherited it from his, and so on for who knows how many generations. It is infused with a deep magic." He darts a glance my way. "But also, with centuries of cruelty and a thirst for power that transcended all attachment. Putting it on has a cost."

I swallow mechanically. Now that he's removed the band, its crackling violet glow fades. It reflects the golden light of the sun, gleaming so brightly it's almost blinding.

But then that light disappears. As if absorbed by the metal itself.

No--not absorbed. Consumed.

"This trinket, as you say, has gotten me out of a tight spot or two. If you think it will allow you to become the queen you are destined to be, then..." He hesitates, but with a slight quiver to his palm, he holds out his hand toward me. "It is yours."

My eyes fly wide, disbelief striking me. "But--"

"Do not make me repeat my offer." Lines of strain appear between his brows. It's costing him something, to give this up.

I start to reach for it, but I pause. Really, I'm not trying to test him, but I can't help asking. "Why are you only suggesting this now?"

Why not earlier, when he found out I'd lost the bracer? He was pretty doom and gloom, then, but he focused immediately on trying to retrieve the crown.

"Because I am a selfish, old man who's already given up my home, my king, and my brother. Now take it," he commands.

I pluck the band from his palm, and I feel...

Nothing.

My forehead crinkles. The ring's power was obvious while Rook was wielding it. But there's none of the magnetic pull I felt when I first encountered the bracer. It doesn't even whisper the way Rhiannon's locket did.

I look at Rook to find him hunched over slightly, but he recovers quickly, rising to his full height again. There's something just a tiny bit less regal to his bearing, though. Less imposing.

I keep the ring in my palm. "It's...silent."

"Put it on."

My throat constricts, nerves fluttering in my midsection. He already warned me that the ring exacts a cost. If I'm stuck with a chunk of metal on my finger, I guess that's better than having my entire forearm trapped in a mysterious magical artifact's grasp, but I can't shake my wariness.

Still. I breathe in deeply before exhaling. The ring seems far too large, but I slide it on my right index finger, exactly where Rook wore it just a few moments ago.

My heart skips a beat as the metal shifts and morphs, molding to my dimensions. It glides easily over my knuckle before settling at the base of my finger with a secure but comfortable fit.

It's still silent, though, the metal gleaming subtly in the sun. If I hadn't already witnessed its power, I'd have no idea it was anything special.

"It's fickle," Rook offers. "Just like most of your ancestors have been."

"Great." Itching beneath my skin, I take the ring off, just to prove I can. I breathe a sigh of relief when it slides off easily, but I also can't help feeling a twinge of disappointment. "That'll really help me fulfill my destiny."

Something passes over Rook's gaze. "It may yet." He reaches out and closes my fingers around the ring, tucking it away in my palm. "Keep it. Our family's power may yet find its way to you--when you need it most."

An unconscious shiver makes its way through me.

Rook steps back, releasing me and glancing back up toward the clearing where we were practicing earlier. "Take your rest," he urges me. "And when you return, there will be no more temper tantrums."

"I make no promises."

Sighing, he rolls his eyes, but leaves me in peace.

As he wanders away, I inspect the ring again, holding it up to the light. Other than its size-changing magic, it still seems unremarkable, but at this point I know better than to write anything off, based solely on appearances.

A thought occurs to me. "Lord Rook?"

He turns back, raising an imperious brow.

"You said my grandparents were great Shadow Dragons--plural." I choose my words carefully. "But then you only talked about my grandfather."

"True."

"So?" Is he really making me ask? "What about my grandmother?"

And yes, that's heteronormative, but if my other grandparent had been another grandfather, he probably would have mentioned that.

A dark cloud crosses over his face, and it might be just me, but there's a sudden chill in the air. "She died in one of his rages. Protecting me and your father."

There's a sharp, stabbing pang of loss in my midsection. I clutch the ring closer, even though it's still silent in my hand. I blink a couple of times.

"What was she like?"

Rook's mouth tilts upward at the edges before wobbling and returning to its usual grim line. "She was a great Shadow Dragon. But within her darkness?" Clearing his throat, he turns away. "She was pure light."