Page 86 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

‘No. Though she is protecting something. Or should I say, some one. Perhaps they are hurt,’ my dragon replied, but his tone was oddly distant. Preoccupied.

Down below on the grass, one of the male dragons who’d been attracted by the crowd, slipped closer, his neck curved and snout to the ground—a posture of curiosity and respect.

And yet, when he reached the female, she opened her jaws and lifted her wings to make herself bigger, her tail cracking like a whip.

My brows rose. “Keg, what’s going on?” I breathed.

‘I will learn,’ he replied, then the growl began—a low, thunderous rumble that set every dragon in the clearing backing away and averting eyes from their Primarch who was making it very clear that the female was to be left to him.

Some of the Furyknights had come with their dragons to see this, and there were easily a dozen stablehands, as well as a few others. But any human who worked with the dragons knew the command behind that sound, and they all retreated from the female.

She dropped her chin and closed her mouth, but her head kept swinging, back and forth, even checking behind her, as if she worried someone might try to sneak up.

Kgosi took his time walking down the side of the bowl, giving her plenty of time to see him approach, keeping his head low. But though she didn’t flatten her ears, she watched him, her mouth open and panting, clearly unsettled.

‘Kgosi, what’s happening?’

‘She’s young. Her instincts have taken hold. She’s protective—even against the herd. Time is needed. She’ll come around.’

‘Protective of what?’

‘Her Flameborne.’

I blinked and my head jerked back. I couldn’t have heard that correctly.

Or I hadn’t paid attention, because while she was definitely large for a female and likely headed for battle, I would have sworn she had only barely reached maturity.

She was an adult, but still very young by dragon standards. In no way equipped to bond a rider yet.

Squinting, wondering if my eyes were beginning to fail, I looked again.

But no… her horns extended from the back of her skull almost completely straight.

She hadn’t lived long enough for them to lengthen and begin curving down toward her neck.

Her wing membranes were taut even when she wasn’t flapping.

And her scales retained the slightly blue hue of youth.

She couldn’t be more than fifty—which was barely out of adolescence in dragon terms. She shouldn’t have been Choosing for at least another two decades, and even that would have been young.

Most dragons were closing in on a century before they chose their first bond.

It was part of why it was so crucial for us to manage birthrates and the health of the herd now—because our poor choices could spell disaster for the generations that followed.

But Kgosi said she was protecting a Flameborne? A Chosen but untested new rider?

She’d bonded someone?

‘Who is it? Is he a Prospect?’

I prayed he was. With a dragon this young and untried, it would take a very strong and mature man to nurture the bond.

And he needed to make it through the trials with an immature dragon.

Prospects were men who had hoped to become Furyknights, and so took jobs here and at the Palace and in the Dragon Keep, keeping themselves in the proximity of the dragons, and learning about them.

Many of them were never Chosen, but became stablehands or healers, or took other positions that at least kept them near the dragons.

‘No,’ was all that Kgosi replied. He was getting closer to the female and he’d begun crooning to soothe her.

He weaved his head back and forth, emitting that low hum that rose and fell in a lovely, soft susurration. She watched him warily, but didn’t hiss.

Soon, he made it within reach.

She’d curled herself into a round knot, her legs drawn up towards her belly, her wings still flapping with agitation at times, though not extended far enough to actually lift her into flight.

I waited, barely breathing, as Kgosi nudged at her snout, still crooning, then rubbed his head against hers, then her neck, slowly inching forward, always rumbling and crooning, until finally he stood at her head, his head was near her shoulder, and he could see under her wing.

I’d never seen my dragon freeze before.

Goosebumps rose on my arms.

‘Donavyn…’ he sounded awed.

‘What is it?’

‘You need to be here. Come directly to me—keep me between you and her. Quickly.’

With a muttered order to the men around me not to let any more dragons or people down into the bowl, I started down the incline towards the center.

‘Tell me. What’s the problem? Is she hurt? Does she have young?’ It seemed impossible—dragon babies incubated in the hatching ground for almost a year. But maybe the missing eggs were being laid outside the Eeyre? Perhaps she’d mated with a feral dragon and now was bringing her baby home?

My heart rose. If she’d done it, chances were, others were also.

Perhaps this was our answer! But Kgosi didn’t answer me, which was his polite way of telling me I was utterly wrong.

And that only made me more tense as I jogged to his side, slowing and dropping my chin to reassure her when the female lifted her head and her nostrils flared.

Kgosi crooned again—and shot me a look.

“I won’t harm you or… anyone with you,” I said clearly, but softly. Her dragon ears could hear my heartbeat. “I belong to Kgosi.”

The female fluttered her wings again, and I caught a quick glimpse of something rumpled and curled in the crook of her foreleg, but it was there and gone too quickly.

‘Move slowly, but come,’ Kgosi urged me, his nostrils flaring and pinching, flaring and pinching.

Finally, I made it to her shoulder and laid a hand flat on the thick muscle there.

Her skin quivered like a horse trying to rid itself of a fly and her head whipped around, so that I suddenly stood in the circle of her long neck.

She stared down at me with a wide eye, the slash of her pupil contracted. Yet, she didn’t hiss.

Kgosi crooned one more time and nudged at her wing. She grunted, but with a final warning look at me, she lifted it.

I saw crumpled, dirty cotton and a small smear of blood on a forearm. A very small forearm.

What in the world?

I took one step closer, frowning, because my eyes couldn’t make sense of—

Kgosi rumbled as the arm drew back and a head popped up from behind the dragon’s thick foreleg. A pair of wide, haunted eyes opened, then locked on me under a head of hair so messy it looked like a bird's nest perched on top of a boulder.

Her. Her hair was so messy.

The person with the dragon was a her. Was she a child? Had her father been Chosen and the dragon brought the child along?

“You’re safe,” I said quietly. “You’re safe here. No one will hurt you. But tell me… are you injured? I could take you to a healer—”

‘No!’ Kgosi snapped in my head, his head swinging around as the female hissed and smoke plumed from her nostrils.

I raised my hands to reassure them both of my submission, but addressed Kgosi because he was Primarch.

‘I need to see if she’s been hurt. There’s obviously something wrong. How did she get here—and why is the female protecting her? Where is her Flameborne? Did he fall? Is she confused?’

But Kgosi shook his head like a dog, his neck snaking as he snorted his unease.

‘She is Chosen. She is bonded. The girl, Donavyn… she is the Flameborne.’