Page 81 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

NOTE: The following chapters are advance reader content and may change before publication. They may include typographical, grammatical, or spelling errors, or continuity issues that will be revised or corrected before publishing.

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“My first glimpse of a dragonfury struck something deep within me that rang like a plucked string on the harp of my soul. The note sang that I was in the presence of the Divine. And in the wake of that glimpse, the rest of the world fell away.”

- Brennan Kearney of the Seventh Squadron, Fang Wing, and the first She-Fury

1. The Betrayal

~ brEN (Pronounced Bren) ~

I had walked all night, my still-healing body pleading with me to stop, to rest. I’d nearly wept with relief when I finally reached the ancient wood with its gnarled trees and misty mosses that surrounded the Dragon Reach and minutes later, found the launch hollow.

Even though the hollow was little more than a wide crater in the ground carpeted in grass, I knew this was the place where the dragons would gather with their riders—the Furyknights—at sunrise.

I was still within the trees, circling, searching for a position where I could rest safely until the legion arrived but still see the ground below, when something moved among the shadows on the other side.

The mists curled and tumbled away from the disturbance, billowing on the shore of those stunning scales, until it parted to reveal the dragonfury.

The sight stole my breath.

Tall and proud, it rippled into the clearing, head high and hot blasts of breath and smoke pouring from its nostrils at the tip of its broad snout as it snorted—like a horse, only deeper— and turned its regal head to scan the area.

I sank even deeper between the trees, but couldn’t bring myself to turn away, to run. Because nothing existed in that moment except this magnificent creature.

It was so beautiful, I couldn’t breathe.

Only moments before this hollow earth had been mere space, surrounded by forest, and all of it silent in the cold, dark hour before dawn.

Now, the gnarled trees stood guard over a beauty and power so rich, the very air seemed to shimmer, just like it’s marvelous scales that, despite the emerald hue, pulsed and flickered with the same promise of heat that lingered in the dying coals of a fire.

The earth fell away. Time ceased to exist. I no longer saw the mist curling between the ancient trees, or felt its cool kiss on my skin. The pale dawn no longer promised a new day because it served no purpose other than to caress that iridescent skin that glowed with power and strength.

Despite its massive size, the fury slipped silently into the clearing, raised its wings and stretched them, flapping with a rush like a gust of wind, then boomed as those massive wings clapped the air.

I was awed. Like any citizen, I’d seen the dragonfuries my whole life—but usually soaring so high in the sky they appeared to be little more than large birds. I’d never had a chance to see one up close before. I feared it would take off and my moment with it would be gone.

But instead, it shook it’s head like a dog—a startlingly mundane comparison—and retracted it’s wings to tuck back against its sides.

As I leaned closer, the air vibrated with a strange, deep rumble that seemed to rise from the bowels of the earth and tremble in my bones. Then those fathomless, amber eyes turned and locked on me like jewels set in the precious metal of its green-blue scales.

I could no longer breathe. For one, blessed, shining moment, the world and all its pains disappeared.

I forgot that Ruin was leaving and likely wouldn’t return for months, perhaps even years.

I forgot the events of a month ago, the wracking pain of my body and the specter of shame that had shadowed my father’s eyes ever since.

I even forgot the creeping dread that had kept my limbs heavy as I walked all night to be here.

For one breathless beat there was nothing in the world but the savage grace of a creature so ancient, it must know the face of God Himself.

Hello, Little Flame.

I didn’t hear the voice, but somehow felt the greeting as this fantastic beast stared at me. I was fixed in that gaze, speechless, until it snorted again and two more gusts of steam and smoke plumed from those nostrils, hissing into the pre-dawn air.

Swallowing a surprised squeak, I dropped to a crouch below the level of the underbrush to break the spell the fury held on me and remind myself I was here for a purpose. But I squirmed. I had the distinct impression it was laughing at me.

“No more complaints, Ekko,” a male voice muttered, the words muffled somewhat by the mists that still draped the trees like wedding lace, the edges beginning to glow now as the sun threatened to rise. “Even you can’t fly on a breakfast of a whole bull.”

That deep rumble sounded again, but this time overlayed with a soft chug. A huff.

A dragon’s laugh?

Taking deep, silent breaths to steady myself, I slowly nudged a branch of the sucklebrush back, so I could peer past it.

Furyknight.

The man who stood at the dragon’s shoulder was almost as beautiful as the creature he served.

Tall, strong, vital.

He was clothed in dragonhide cut to such perfection it seemed molded to his skin.

That leather, the legendary final gift of the ancient dragonfuries to the human warriors that rode them, was thin and flexible, yet would keep a body warm in the coldest chill of winter—even in the glacial wind of flight high above the clouds.

It was flexible enough not to impede a warrior’s movement, while also nearly-impenetrable, deflecting all except the sharpest metal-tipped arrows, and providing critical protection from fire as well.

The hood that fell from the nape of the man’s neck was purported to keep ears from becoming frostbitten in flight—and deflecting dragonflame in battle.

All of this passed through my mind in a blink, because the sight of the man in those leathers had conjured a memory that made my heart sing—and crushed it in the same breath.

Ruin, three years earlier, standing proudly in the golden warmth of the late evening sun that pierced the slats and poured through the upper windows of the barn.

Feet shoulder-width apart and encased in thick, black boots. Hands loose at his sides, but open—poised for action. His sandy hair tousled in the way only the winds could do. Chin high and blue eyes bright, gleaming with smug satisfaction and ambitious thrill.

He’d been Chosen . His dragon named him Talon… and he named it Carnage.

I was so awed by the sight of him in those legendary leathers that at first I was afraid to approach. He had never looked so handsome. Or so utterly out of reach.

When I hesitated, his smile broadened from smug, to amused.

“Come here! Touch it, Bren! Feel how soft it is—yet, I gamble you couldn’t pierce it, even with the hay fork.” He beckoned me forward, and after a painful swallow, I inched forward like a child, reaching out with a trembling hand.

When my fingers brushed that strange, slick hide, something crackled under my palm. I could feel the power of the creature from whom it had been taken. And yet, I wanted to weep—

I blinked, pushing the memory away.

The dragonfury’s eyes stayed on mine for long seconds as it stepped over the edge of the bowl in the earth and began down the slope to its middle, the man trotting at his side and mumbling further warnings not to complain.

They were the first to arrive, but they would not be the last. Soon, an entire legion of dragons and their Furyknights would gather here to be blessed, then take off into the skies. They would not return for months. Perhaps years.

One of those men was named Ruin.

He had named his fury Carnage.

Which was fitting. Because the arrival of Carnage in Ruin’s life had been the harbinger of destruction in mine.

My heart pounded as the dragon and his knight circled the bottom of that depression in the earth. The fact that the man hadn’t looked at me meant the dragon knew I was here, but he hadn’t told his knight.

Thank you, I thought, praying he could hear me. Thank you. God bless you on your journey. And… and please… keep Ruin safe.

If he heard me, he didn’t answer. But he shook his head in that oddly canine way again.

Tearing my eyes from him, I found a hollow between tree roots, and sank to the dirt, leaning back on the rugged tree with a sigh.

I would rest here and wait for the legion to arrive. Then I’d find Ruin and tell him I forgave him. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I turned it all over in my mind—how I would tell him everything had been a mistake. And when he returned, he would be welcomes by me and in my home…

…I woke, blinking against bright, morning sun.

With a gasp, I leaped to my feet, stomach plummeting to my toes because I was certain I’d already missed the ceremony. But the moment I darted past the trees and undergrowth between me and the launch hollow, I slid to a halt, my jaw slack.

Below me, in that great depression that seemed to have been pressed into the earth by God himself, were a dozen dragons, and easily fifty men.

Some of the divine beasts wandered, milling about like horses in a corral, their Furyknights walking at their sides.

Others stood along the edges of the bowl, heads low—while their knights checked straps, chatted… prepared to leave.

Where was Ruin? These men looked like they were soon to take off. I had to find him!

I didn’t give myself time to think, just stepped out of the shadows and trotted towards the edge of that deep depression in the earth.

At first, no one noticed me.

The tension in the air was palpable. The knights would mount soon, and then they’d all be gone. Had I already missed the blessing?

But no—to my relief, the Head Cleric remained, offside of center at the bottom of the bowl, talking to a man dressed in unrelenting black.

Five, ebony-black dragon scales adorned each of his massive shoulders and named him General Donavyn Arsen, the most accomplished, and highest ranking Furyknight in Vosgarde. And Ruin’s personal mentor. Personally selected. The greatest honor any Furyknight could receive.

The man was a legend. Even Ruin, who’d always resented authority, sang his praises.

He was also the man who’d given the order for this team to leave on this mission from which they might never return.

I couldn’t decide whether to love the man for seeing how special Ruin was, or despise him for taking Ruin from me.

My thoughts were interrupted when my foot caught on a clod of earth that had been kicked up by one of the dragons. I scrambled to right myself, but my flapping skirts drew the attention of a handful of men standing near the bottom of the bowl.

None of them were Ruin, so I gave them an awkward wave and moved on.

Ruin had said he’d be gone at least a year.

He’d explained that it was a great honor that he was being included in this group—such an important mission.

Despite it being only his second year as a ranked Furyknight, he was already invited into this…

whatever it was. I could not know. Ruin had made that very clear.

But it was prestigious.

And dangerous.

The King Himself had declared that the work of this mission might avert war before it had even begun.

Ruin had been so proud—and I was so proud of him.

So, I hurried, heart bubbling into my throat with the dream of his smile.

I hadn’t seen his smile in weeks.

But then a shadow passed over me and I gasped, jerking aside as one of the dragons passed so near I felt the tremble of the earth under its feet.

Pain crackled through my body at the sudden movement, but after gaping at the regal creature, its horned head higher than the roof of our barn at home, I caught myself and bowed my head, pleading with God that it wouldn’t be offended by my gawking.

Some of the furies could be… unpredictable.

Ruin had made that really clear, as well.

When the dragon lost interest in me and wandered on, I pushed away the lingering pain in my belly and kept walking, peering left and right, trying desperately to find Ruin’s sandy hair, his bright smile among the gathered ranks.

By the time I reached the bottom of the bowl, there were a great many more men and dragons moving around, and at first I quavered, suddenly certain would never find him in this milling mass of creatures that were terrifying up close.

I was afraid to just walk through the forest of legs thicker than my body and bodies bigger than my house, but what choice did I have?

So, I took as deep a breath as I could until my ribs zinged with pain, kept myself as small as possible, but set my course right through the center, dodging clusters of grim-faced men, groaning dragons, and piles on the ground that were the size of a small pony, until finally, one of the dragons moved from my path and…

There he was.

I stopped dead, heart hammering. A massive dragon, a male with gray scales that reminded me of the color of Ruin’s eyes in dim light, stood patiently, already strapped for riding, but with no other tether. And standing in his shadow was Ruin.

My Ruin.

Sunny and strong, in full uniform, the dragonhide leather hugging the lines of his body so that my eyes wanted to follow it. It had only been a few weeks, but even standing in the shadow of that stunning creature, somehow Ruin seemed larger than I remembered.

The darkness of the cured dragonhide set off the gold of his hair and the sparkle in his eyes, though his expression was serious. He stood speaking with another man who was even larger, and terribly handsome. Also in full uniform, but…

Oh dear.

Those scales on his shoulders.

It was General Arsen. He’d left the Cleric and now he stood here, speaking with Ruin, arms folded across his chest, and a grim look on his face.

I would have known he was an important man even if I hadn’t seen him in the City once.

He stood with the quiet assurance only important men had—no question of their own value, or that others might want to hear their words.

Or move out of their way.

The General stared down at Ruin like a father, worried about his child.

Did that mean I couldn’t interrupt them?