Page 32 of The Uncrowned King (The Bastard Duology #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The air was cool, the night silent. Too silent. Rhi didn’t like it. This game had too many moving parts, and the Kings were separated. On Zora and Earth. The Kings were strong apart but virtually invincible when facing a foe together. She had seen it, had even been a part of it. This thing with Miena reminded her too much of Usaeil.

Her mother had been as merciless and single-minded as Miena and Villette.

The enemy of my enemy… It was a popular human adage on Earth. But would it work with a viper like Villette? Rhi knew from experience that a person could change. All she had to do was look at one of her closest friends, Balladyn. He had gone from a general in the Light Fae army, to a Dark Fae, to King of the Dark, to a Reaper.

Then there was Usaeil, who was a completely different kind of animal. Some could—and willingly did—change. While others showed the world their true colors from the very beginning.

Which one was Villette? And would they discover the truth before it was too late?

“I doona like waiting,” Hector mumbled as he paced.

Alasdair stood morosely off to the side, arms crossed and silent as a sentry. His sherry-colored eyes flicked to Hector, but he didn’t reply.

Rhi’s gaze moved to her son. Brandr sat upon a rock at the base of the mountain. He had one leg stretched out while he braced the other foot on the rock as he leaned on a forearm. His dark eyes lifted to her. Con’s eyes. There was much about her mate she saw in each twin, but Rhi saw more of Con in Brandr. It was in the way her son held himself. Brandr also had the same habit of concealing his emotions. Like now.

But she didn’t need to see them to know he was as edgy as she was.

As they all were.

“Doona worry, Hector. There will be another battle,” Brandr said.

Rhi wished that wasn’t the case. This was supposed to be a time of peace. After everything the Kings had endured on Earth, they had believed it had culminated in them locating the dragons. Instead, it seemed trouble had followed them. Con wasn’t the only one doubting if they should have come. But she knew they were meant to be here.

If only all the Kings were together. She didn’t like this. Any of it.

She walked to Brandr and leaned against the boulder near his feet. “You wanted to go with Derek.”

“We all did.”

“But you really did.”

He looked down at his hands at the dried leaf he slowly picked apart. “Aye.”

“Because you want to be the first in battle?”

“Because anything can happen. I’d rather be there to help, rather than here, waiting.”

“Your father will be fine.” The words were like sand on her tongue. It didn’t matter how many times Con had been in battle, the worry of losing him would forever remain.

Brandr suddenly went rigid. In the next moment, he was on his feet, his gaze on something in the distance.

“What is it?” Rhi asked. A Fae couldn’t see as far as a dragon could.

Alasdair dropped his arms and scanned the horizon. “Dragons.”

“Looks like you’re getting your battle,” Brandr told Hector.

Rhi exchanged a look with her son. She could only hope that whatever Con had to face was easier.

Derek continued down the tunnel with slow, measured steps. The shouts continued but at different resonances. Some high, some low. A few close, but most far away. He felt, more than heard, their agony and anger. Their distress.

More ghostly dragon figures wavered before him. He sensed eyes watching him, scrutinizing. The dead were all around him. And more were waiting. Did they intend to punish him for not saving them? Maybe they blamed him for their painful endings. He held himself responsible.

He had known in his gut that the dragons were in danger. But not from the Kings or humans. They had been slain by the one he had killed for. All those times Villette had wiped his memories, and he hadn’t been able to hold on to anything that would’ve led him here to save even one. It chafed that he had failed them.

More so that he had taken so many innocent lives in the name of freeing the very ones Villette had slaughtered.

How could he make it right? What could he do to make up for his failures? Because they wanted something. The number of ghosts flying around him confirmed that.

Finally, the tunnel ended. Derek didn’t immediately step into the cavern. He looked across the way to the table he had lain on just days before as poison ate through him. He had expected to die there, unable to fight, free Merrill, or protect Kora. In the end, Kora had been the one to help herself and Merrill.

Pride had flooded Derek as he watched her before Miena had taken him away from her. Kora was a survivor. She had proven it many times. He had known she would find a way to keep going. She was the last thing he had thought about before Miena’s magic slid into his mind and ventured to scrape away all that he was. She had nearly succeeded, too.

Yet Kora had saved him. She never gave up—even when others would have. Her determination restored what had been stolen from him. And in return, Miena had taken Kora. Not for long, though. Derek would find them. Just as Kora hadn’t lost hope, he clung to his. She was the only thing that kept him going.

Derek stepped into the cavern as the screams rose to a fever pitch. His gaze took in the copious gouge marks in the rock where the dragons had desperately tried to escape, clawing at the sandstone to reach out for someone, anyone who might help. He should’ve heard their roars. He should’ve heard their calls for help.

He continued forward, looking about the cavern. His gaze lingered on the alcove where Gordon had rested. There were others he hadn’t noticed when he was here last. Many with chains curled on the ground.

His steps took him to the table. Derek jerked back as a memory of Villette crushing horns, scales, and bone on the table filled his head. The table was also where she had attempted to create more like him and Bryok. Tried—and failed. She had forced him to watch, though he hadn’t realized what she was doing then. He only knew she was hurting dragons, which had been torment enough. It was the first time he had tried to kill her.

Tried—and failed.

Derek hurled the table away from him, sickened at the memories and his failure to stop her. The table sailed through the air, hitting a wall. The wood shattered on impact. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing could cleanse the cavern of the anguish and fear that seeped from the stone.

He dropped to his knees. The ghostlike dragons swirled lazily about the area, coming close but never too close. They were in all shapes and sizes and so numerous he didn’t bother trying to count. They were silent now. He watched them anyway, waiting. They had drawn him here. They wanted to show him, make him remember all they had suffered. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they wanted more.

Maybe to punish him?

He parted his lips to ask them to wait until after he’d freed Kora, but he never got the chance. One of the ghost dragons dove at him from the right. Shock went through Derek when the force of the ghost knocked him to the left. He caught himself with his hand, only to have another hit him from behind. He barely got his other hand under him to keep from smacking his face against the stone.

Thin, white bands curled up from the ground and swiftly wound around his fingers and hands before he had a chance to jerk away. They held him down. Not even his magic could make them loosen their grip. As he struggled, more of them fastened themselves to his lower legs and feet.

Derek shifted. Somehow, they still held him. He thrashed his tail and head to no avail. The screaming started again, a chorus of anguished shrieks, tormented roars, panicked shouts, and frightened growls. The sounds reached a crescendo, his roar joining theirs.

The spirit dragons swirled above him, forming a single line before diving straight at him. Light blinded him. It came up from the ground and moved through him. The force of it threw his head back as light shot from his eyes. He roared, and the light filtered through his mouth and nose. It continued for what felt like an eternity.

Yet it was over in a millisecond.

The light evaporated. When Derek looked, he found he was in his human form, naked on his hands and knees. His head hung as he took in great gulps of air. There were no bindings on his limbs.

There was something else instead.

Derek slowly sat on his haunches and lifted his arms to find them covered in dragons in a red and black ink that seemed to defy comprehension. There were more on his torso. He stood and discovered more on the front and back of his legs, all the way to the top of his feet and over his toes. He knew without looking that they covered his back, as well.

He gazed about the cavern. The ghost dragons were gone. As were their screams. He looked down at himself again. Nay. They weren’t gone. They were on him.

They had lured him here, but not to kill or punish him as he had assumed. They had wanted to mark him. There was no answer for why, but he had a feeling he would find out soon enough. He dropped his arms to his sides and called his clothes as his thoughts turned to Kora.

Derek walked to the right. As he approached the wall, something told him to keep going. He steeled himself for pain, but instead, he walked through magic. Once on the other side, he looked back to see that it had been made to appear like a wall. Villette had lied. There was a way from the cavern to Stonemore.

He peeled his lips over his teeth and started running toward the palace.