Page 31 of The Dragon Queen (Ember: Queen Of Dragons #6)

EMBER

Everything is silent and still, shock echoing across me, my mates--everyone.

My dragon beats her wings in triumph, but she's gently pushing me to the forefront. The magic that had fueled me recedes, flowing back toward my mates; a greedy part of me wants to keep it, but it was only mine to borrow, not to have.

Cautiously, I let my dragon slip away, returning to human form. My mates follow my lead, each landing on the rock on two legs. Rafe and Jianyu alight behind me, while Malik and Storm take their places to my left and my right.

Together, we face the remains of our enemy. It's hard to believe the Shadow King is really gone, but there's a hole in the fabric of the magic around us. A gap in the power of the very world.

We still have to be sure.

The pile of fabric and bones reeks of decay and burnt flesh, but I stride toward it anyway. No hand reaches out of the torn earth. I exhale deeply and prod what's left of Erembour with my toe.

It crumbles to ash.

"Holy shit," Rafe mutters from behind me.

Storm laughs, and part of me wants to, too.

The Shadow King is defeated.

But one sneering growl from above me is a stark, immediate reminder: we're not quite done.

I look up at the kings and queen of the dragon world. They're frozen in their dragon forms by my magic, but they're hardly harmless.

King Zephyr hisses again, his serpentine mouth a grimace of disdain, but his gray eyes flash with fear.

That strange, otherworldly power infuses me once more, a voice that is not my own speaking with my tongue.

"You have been corrupted," I intone. My chest burns with the righteous fury of the mother of dragons; the Crown of Cinders glows with the heat of pure Dragonfire. "You have followed the deceiver, and disrupted the balance of the world."

"Imposter," King Zephyr's dragon seethes. "The crown is not yours."

I do not deign to acknowledge his insults.

"You have divided my children," I remind him, and the voice speaking through me writhes with rage. "Murdered them. Worse, you've set them to murdering each other."

King Haoyu's dragon shifts his eyes, taking a different tack. "You said it yourself--we were deceived."

"You were vested with great power." The goddess fueling me sends tingles of magic flaring to life in my palms. "And you have proven yourselves unworthy."

"Your Highness," King Aeden's crimson dragon tries.

"Please," Queen Dahab beseeches, but her gaze is on her son. "I did what I had to do--to protect you."

"You betrayed me," Malik says quietly. "You betrayed our people."

The quiet devastation in his voice racks me to my core--but it only strengthens my resolve.

The borrowed power within me grows. I hold out my hands. My magic wraps around each of the four remaining rulers of the dragon world.

And the mother of dragons within me pulls.

"Ember..." Jianyu gasps.

Thin tendrils of light draw free from each of the fallen monarchs. They resist, growling and roaring. Queen Dahab sputters, and Zephyr rages, clawing at the sky.

"You have no power here," I repeat.

I yank harder.

Spectral dragons tear free from each of them, crimson and ice blue and silver and aquamarine. And it hurts--even watching it.

But there's no doubt within me.

I tear the dragon from each of them. They twist and thrash, but within moments, all four disgraced monarchs are floating, human in the sky.

"Be free," I whisper, and the spirits of the dragons dissolve into the magical ether of the world.

I set the former kings and queen down on the ground.

King Aeden grasps at his chest. His eyes blaze. "Witch."

"Queen," Rafe corrects him.

"What have you done?" Queen Dahab's words are frantic, desperation and terror twining in her eyes.

"You are relieved of your crowns." The moment the words leave my mouth, the crowns on their heads go up in smoke.

King Hayou's gaze is murderous, but he's shaking. "We're--"

"Human," I agree. "And so you will be allowed to remain."

King Zephyr crumbles to the ground. "Impossible."

But the truth cannot be denied.

"Ember." Storm puts a hand on my shoulder.

Godly power still fuels me, and I turn.

There's sadness in his gaze--deep grief, but also joy. I follow where he's looking and find Princess Aria, blinking and sinking to the ground. She's pale and frail, and drowning in a sea of glittering black fabric.

"Storm?" she asks, her voice almost childlike.

He rushes to her side, helping her stand again.

"What happened?" she asks. "It's like I've been--in a dream?" She shudders. "Or maybe a nightmare, or--"

"It's okay." He holds his sister close, his gray eyes shining as he pulls her into his chest. "Everything's going to be okay, now."

My throat bobs. Storm spent so much time trying to protect her, and he carried so much guilt, believing that he failed. It all fades away now, leaving his aura clear for the first time in I don't even know how long.

"You just might be right." Jianyu's tone is full of wonder as he gestures toward the sky.

Without the Shadow King to tie them together, goading them to war and suffusing them with his power, the remaining Shadow Dragons have turned tail and fled. Their accomplices from the other four kingdoms have abandoned the fight, too. Off in the distance, I spot Fury and Jasmine's dragons retreating with speed, and that's fine. I let them go.

Our friends come to land on the rock. My heart clenches. Amy clutches her arm to her chest, clearly in pain, and Freya is staggering. But Grace is at Amy's side in an instant, and Jett is already holding Freya up. Mariutza and Delaynie touch down, collapsing into each other. Mariutza holds her granddaughter as she cries happy tears, the bones of the Sorceress now scattered at their feet.

High Priestess Fang lands elegantly beside them, the Enchantress and the apprentice Witch and the junior Oracle at her side. I want to laugh. They're an unlikely but powerful team.

Fang nods at me, brushing her hair from her face, streaks of dirt and blood marring her cheek. Her white gown is in tatters, but that hardly matters.

My own eyes sting. My friends, our motley crew. Everyone's alive. Battered--maybe worse for the wear.

And there will be so much to do--half the dragon world will need to be rebuilt. The Shadow King has been spreading fear and hate for so long. It will take years to reunite our people.

But right here? In this moment. We've won.

I sag into Storm, and he pulls me deep into his arms. The stress of battle is fading, leaving me jittery and shaking, but his strength shores me up.

Rafe barrels into us both. "Holy shit, Ember, holy fucking shit."

I laugh, but the sound is cut off as he crashes his mouth to mine. I let him sweep me away in the kiss, his fire breathing life back into my worn-out shell.

"You were magnificent," Jianyu says, reaching past Rafe, who releases me with a filthy twist of his tongue. Jianyu's kiss is gentler but no less passionate. Our gazes meet, and the love in his eyes bowls me over, and how is that possible? How can I still be struck with awe by these men--even after we just brought down the most vicious, malignant evil of the dragon world?

Malik tugs at my arm. "Thank you."

That grief is still alive in his gaze. He truly loved--loves--his mother. But her rule has come to an end.

Meanwhile, ours is just beginning.

And that's a fact I can't escape, when Rhiannon and Rook come in to land just beyond us.

"Ember," Rook says gruffly, the relief in his tone reaching right into my chest. But then he stops himself, his throat bobbing as he begins to bow. "I mean--Your majesty."

I shake my head, holding out my arms. "Oh, no. We're not doing any of that."

"You may not have much choice," Rhiannon says, one brow arched.

Dragons do love their titles, their hierarchies.

Their wealth and their dominion over everyone they see as lesser than themselves. Even now, the power vacuum left in Erembour's wake is a palpable void.

"Uh," Amy interrupts. Her eyes wide, she points to the sky behind us.

And that's when we all turn and see it.

The Dragon Moon--the full white circle of light rising over the altar of the Shadow Queen's tomb. It reaches its apex, and a hush falls over the crowd.

And I'm already awash in the glow of victory. The deep magic my mates and I just shared is still thrumming through my veins, the Crown Of Cinders infusing me with a rush of energy I may never fully get accustomed to.

But it doesn't matter.

Fresh waves of power flow over and through me, drawing me to the altar. I take the first few steps without entirely realizing what I'm doing. Storm holds onto my hand, following me, but also slowing me down. I slip my fingers free of his grasp.

The remnants of Erembour's ritual are all laid out on the ebony stone. It's a gruesome array of materials; if they didn't radiate mystical energy, they could be mistaken for props from a hilariously over-the-top, stereotypical horror film.

But no. They're all too real.

A black iron cauldron emblazoned with hideous caricatures of gargoyles bubbles with a sickly, swirling, purple-green brew. Beside it sits the mangled corpse of a poor rodent and the mutilated wing of an owl. There are dragon scales, too, and the blood gleaming on their surfaces makes my stomach threaten to revolt. An ancient scroll, weighted down by obsidian crystal, glows with cramped script.

And the instant I get close enough, they all go up in purple flame.

I flinch, but before I can step back, I'm yanked right to the altar's edge. The Crown Of Cinders ignites atop my head, and I'm not burned, but the hot embers blur my vision.

The voice that spoke through me earlier is now a beating, pulsing presence in my chest.

Ours, it breathes.

I look down into the fiery cauldron.

I see myself in the reflection, glorious and beautiful, my practical clothes replaced with a glittering black gown. My eyes gleam purple, and the streaks in my hair are rippling with magic.

Take it, the voice whispers. It is meant for us.

I reach out my hand, and the vision shifts.

My mates and I are standing on this very outcrop--older and wiser, dressed in finery I could only have dreamed of, back when I was living in outfits I'd barely managed to afford from a thrift store. We're imperious, ruling the dragon world. All-powerful.

"Ember." Storm's caught up with me; he's tugging at my arm, but I brush him away.

Glittering waves of power wash over me, intoxicating--addicting. This was how it felt in the midst of the battle with Erembour. My mates' magic flowed into me, and I felt like a goddess.

The seductive pleasure of that kind of power is washing over my skin, reaching into my chest. I breathe in magic and I exhale doubt, and I'm the Dragon Queen. This is ours. We deserve this.

"Ember," Rafe growls, louder than Storm but no less easy to ignore.

"What--" Jianyu gasps.

Someone is crying, somewhere in the distance.

Too late, I realize...

It's me.

Tears stream down my face as I dip my fingertips into the cauldron. The liquid within bubbles, cascading up my arm, and the power flowing into me grows and grows, and it's delicious. All I want is more.

"Beloved," Malik whispers.

As black waves of magic drive him away, he grasps at my waist.

And that's when it hits me.

The vision in the surface of the cauldron. It's me and my mates, sitting on a Grand Throne, untouchable and omnipotent.

And alone.

Our child is nowhere to be seen. We have no friends--only subjects.

The background of the vision comes into focus, and we're surrounded by spectral phantasms. Withered husks of dragons, and no.

No--that can't be right.

But it is. I pry my gaze from the gleaming surface of the cauldron to look around, and the entire rock we're standing on is a swirling mass of inky black magic. It's all flowing into me, and of course.

Of course.

Erembour started his ritual to steal the magic from all of dragonkind, but without the Crown, he couldn't finish it. We may have defeated him, his sorceress, and his puppets, but we didn't stop the spell they'd set in motion.

Now here I am, the heir apparent to the world of dragons, the crown in my grasp. I've had a taste of power and awakened an unquenchable thirst.

I am a dragon, after all. We love our hierarchies. Our dominion.

We would pursue power over all else.

I drop my gaze to the pile of ash which is all that remains of the Shadow King.

He was a warped, twisted husk by the end--a walking, rotten corpse held together by magic and spite. His only nod to the idea that he was anything short of immortal was his plan to beget an heir on a bride he bought with promises of safety and influence.

And even then. All he wanted was more. More power, more magic, more artifacts and relics and servants. He wanted the entire world at his feet.

He divided everyone. He sowed war and ruin everywhere he went.

I look back into the cauldron and see myself with his face, my mates withering away, our child lost or forgotten--and no--

It can't be.

"You have to end it," Rhiannon is screaming from somewhere close by.

"She can't," Rook tells her. "It's already in motion."

"Ember--"

I whip my head around and catch the faintest glimpse of Amy through the swirling black fog. Her magic floats toward me in cotton candy pink waves.

"Don't," she begs.

And then my mates are there, fighting against the tide. The rushing wind blinds me almost as completely as the tempest of stolen magic, but I can feel them. Jianyu grasps my hand, and Rafe takes me by the other. Streams of silver and crimson energy course through me--not stolen, but freely given, exactly as they've always been.

Storm wraps me up in his arms from behind, and Malik takes my face in his hands. My entire world is ice blue wind and flowing, cerulean waters.

And it strikes me.

I am complete. Exactly how I am.

Their love is all I need.

I yank backward from the altar, desperate to fall into my mates' arms and put an end to all of this. But I'm frozen in place. The spell is in motion, more and more stolen magic streaming into me. Violent tremors shake me as impossible depths of power pour through the altar and into my blood. For all our training--for all the good my destiny might do me--I'm utterly unprepared.

I try in vain to flex my hands, envisioning the interruption of the magic, but it does no good. Even if I were more experienced, even if I knew exactly how to counter Erembour's ritual, there's an inexorability to the entire thing.

The awful truth settles over my shoulders.

Rook was right. I can't stop it.

Good.

The intrusive voice inside me revels in my frustration, and there's part of me that wants to give in. The heady stream of magic has me swept up in its embrace. It has a lover's hands; its ecstatic thrall is nearly inescapable.

Anguish tears at my chest.

Because this was what I was worried about. Every time I shied away from my so-called destiny. Every time I feared my true Shadow Dragon nature.

I was afraid of this.

What if there was a piece within me that could be seduced to dark power? What if I couldn't stop myself from hurting the people I loved? What if my affinity for Shadow Dragon magic meant that there was a part of me that was just plain...evil?

Is that the life that fate and the gods have chosen for me?

A shuddering resistance starts up deep at the base of my spine. Choking on a sob, I close my eyes.

The black tide of stolen magic pouring into me is strong.

But the brilliant connections to my mates are stronger. They ground me. They make me who I am--they remind me that I'm my own kind of Shadow Dragon.

And I'm the one who chooses my destiny.