Page 21 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

Thelise adjusts her position on my back, and for a while she rides in silence. At last she says, “Do you mean that? My secrets are yours, and you’ll keep them for me?”

“With my life.”

“Very well.” Another long silence, and then, “My best friend’s name was Katlee.”

Her tale is one of the saddest I’ve heard. When she finishes the story, I take a moment to contemplate it before I speak.

“I understand why you were banished,” I say quietly.

“If one dragon causes the death of another, they are punished severely, even if it was an accident. But it was unfair, because your father was also responsible, perhaps more so. From what you have said, he caused the cruel deaths of many humans, and yet was not punished for it. He took life after life at the command of the Queen, and no one stopped him, until finally he took all the lives of our females. Their deaths finally stopped him, in a way.”

“He made terrible choices,” Thelise replies. “I never want to be the cause of such misery.”

“If you perform the transformation spell Kyreagan has in mind, you will be our salvation.” But in my heart, I have doubts.

I haven’t interacted with the other captive women, but I don’t think they will be pleased with the idea of becoming female dragons.

They might be very miserable until they adjust to the concept—if they ever do.

As if she can read my mind, Thelise asks the precise question I’ve been dreading. “What exactly does Kyreagan want me to do, Ashvelon?”

I consider telling her, but again, I struggle against the feeling that it’s not my place to do so. I am simply carrying out a task, bringing her to my prince, and also bringing supplies so that he and the others can take care of the women they captured—

“Oh fuck,” I exclaim.

“What?”

“I forgot the tea. What does a person need to do the tea? Never mind, it’s too late now. The sun is about to rise, and we’re almost there.”

Within minutes, light pours over the edge of the world.

We fly through the rosy air and the fresh breeze, over the sparkling expanse of the sea.

Beneath all the excitement, the lust, and the uncertainty of the past two days, my heart has carried the weight of grief, deep at the bottom, in the darkest place of my soul.

But when the dawn comes, it pours inside me like a glittering tide, illuminating even that underlying sorrow.

The press of Thelise’s legs against my neck, the rushing air, and the morning light ease the pain of Mordessa’s death and the ache of the dragons we lost. The grief is not gone, but it is soothed.

The mountains of Ouroskelle appear on the horizon, and Thelise gives a soft exclamation of delight.

“It’s beautiful. Did you know I’ve never been past the borders of Elekstan?

This is such an adventure.” She leans forward, patting my neck.

My scales are pressure-sensitive, but the touch of her hand is so light it’s like a tiny bird fluttering against me.

Power is hers, and yet she is so fragile .

“Whatever happens on Ouroskelle, I will protect you,” I say.

She laughs. “I love that, darling, but I hope you realize I’m not entirely defenseless.”

“Be that as it may, I want you to know you can count on me.”

“I know,” she replies. “It’s foolish of me to trust you, but I do. You’ll take care of me if I can’t take care of myself, won’t you, pet?”

“I will, or perish in the attempt. I vow it, on the bones of my mother.”

“You made a similar vow to me before,” she comments.

“Yes. The bones of dragons are sacred to the clan. Swearing on the bones of a parent or a close relative is one of our most solemn oaths. The only vow more binding is a bone-oath sworn in the presence of a dying progenitor.”

“Interesting. I’m honored to merit your clan’s second-best oath.”

I’m not sure I appreciate her choice of words, but I sense that her attempt at levity is born from her discomfort and uncertainty. Despite her self-assurance, she is afraid. What human wouldn’t experience trepidation at being brought to an island full of dragons?

A loud crack shatters the whispering rush of the morning, and Thelise startles on my back, nearly slipping off. The instant the sound occurred, I spotted its source—a void orb that sucked up a swirl of sand and ocean water, then imploded.

“You see that black dragon on the beach?” I say. “That is Varex, Kyreagan’s brother, the second prince. He has void magic.”

“He seems upset,” she replies dryly.

“He and Kyreagan are carrying a great burden. They lost not only their grandmother, but their sister as well, and Kyreagan’s Promised. ”

“His Promised?”

“The one who would have been his mate for life. She was close with both of the brothers, and she loved Kyreagan deeply, though I don’t think he felt the same way. She talked to me often of her devotion to him. I never really understood it until yesterday, when I began to feel it myself.”

Thelise squirms on my back. “You really must stop talking like that, dragon. You’re sweet and sexy, but you’re also absurdly attached to me. It’s not something I’m used to. I fear I may be tempted to use it against you.”

“Use me anytime.”

She gives a breathless laugh. “Stop being naughty, or I’ll have to sting you with lightning.”

“It won’t have much effect. Our hides are practically impervious to our own magic, and they hold up well against comparable kinds of human magic, like lightning and fire.”

“But not against magical traps,” she says coyly. “The charm I placed on the stable confined you two well enough.”

Fortunix sweeps in, closing the distance he has maintained between us, though he doesn’t speak to me or to Thelise. As we glide above the beach, Varex looks up, then takes to the air, winging his way toward us.

“You have the sorceress?” he calls.

“Yes,” I reply. “We are taking her to my cave.”

“I will tell Kyreagan,” Varex replies. He glides with us a little longer, and I can tell he’s looking at Thelise.

Faint jealousy threads through my heart.

I want him to feel kindly toward her, and I’m sure he will, since he is the gentler of the two princes.

But I do not want him to desire my sorceress.

And who could help craving her, once they see her beauty?

But he barely lingers before swerving away, soaring off to inform Kyreagan of our arrival.

“I blew him a kiss,” Thelise says. “He didn’t seem to appreciate it. ”

“No more kisses for other dragons,” I snarl.

“I’ll kiss whoever I want.”

Heat and frost rush over my body, beneath my scales.

Instead of answering, I shoot higher into the sky, then swerve and dart between the mountaintops toward my cave.

Thelise screams, and at first I think she’s frightened—but then I realize she’s shrieking with delight.

She loves this—relishes the tearing speed of flight, the blast of the wind, the thrill of plummeting sharply down or banking swiftly to the side.

Joy erases my jealousy, and I wheel through the air, releasing a long stream of frosty blue fire. She shrieks again, more fear in the sound this time, but there’s excitement, too. I level out, relishing her presence astride my neck.

“Fuck, that’s fun,” she gasps. “Why haven’t you been flying like that the whole time?”

“I wanted to keep you safe. We’ll do it again soon, but for now, we must go to my cave.”

Fortunix doesn’t leave my side. When I enter my cave, he sweeps in as well. It’s a large, deep space with a decent nest, but I haven’t been here in many weeks because of the war, and there’s a musty scent that embarrasses me.

After seeing the furniture, decorations, and other items that Thelise had in her cottage, my cave seems pathetically plain.

I don’t have nearly as many carvings on my walls as some of the other dragons do, nor do I have a bone shrine, stoneware, or any of the more artistic elements of our culture.

My mother’s skeleton was washed out to sea by the tide after the hunters were finished stripping her body, so I have nothing of hers—nor do I have any relatives who might contribute the art of engraving to my walls or the crafting of stoneware in which I might keep scavenged goods or the leftovers of a kill.

All I have is a single chest in a crevice at the back of the cave, which contains my personal treasure hoard.

It’s concealed by a pile of twigs and straw, ostensibly stacked there for a future nest expansion.

Since I have no mate or hatchlings to share my home, there has been no reason to add anything to the nest.

Behind the nest, out of sight of the cave entrance, there’s a stain on the floor, a scorched area where I’ve blasted away the pools of my seed that erupted from me when I was dazzled and pleasure-sick with alethia. That knowledge weighs on my mind, but the guilt isn’t as heavy as usual.

“I apologize that the cave is not more comfortable,” I say gruffly, folding my wings against my body. When I landed, I let the bundles I was carrying tumble from my claws, and I push them farther toward the cave wall with my nose.

Thelise slides down my shoulder. “We can make it comfortable. Fetch those sticks and things, pet. We’ll use them to fashion a nice couch—or maybe a big chair. Something where I can relax.”

Fortunix gives one of his mocking snorts, but we both ignore him.

Thelise doesn’t leave me to do all the work—she gathers armfuls of the twigs and straw as well, and she both directs and assists as we stack, weave, and compress them into a makeshift “throne,” as she calls it.

When it’s finished, she takes off her gold cloak and drapes it over the seat.

I must admit, the effect is rather fine.

Thelise moves the bundles around, arranging some of them and tearing into others until she finds the supply of wine bottles she packed, each one carefully wrapped in multiple articles of clothing.