Page 7 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)

Saevel descends from the group of dragons flying above us. “My Princes, the other warriors are famished. If we are to have the strength to reach the Capital, we must stop to hunt.”

“No need to hunt this time,” Kyreagan says darkly. “We will dine on the flocks and herds of Elekstan. Tell Rothkuri to come to me. I have questions for him about a tale he once told—a story about the daughter of the Supreme Sorcerer.”

“His daughter?” I ask.

“She is a powerful enchantress. She can transform animals from one species into another.”

“And how does that help us?” inquires Varex.

Kyreagan arches his neck, his spikes bristling.

“We will snatch women from the royal city, the heart of Elekstan. As the humans destroyed our daughters, mates, mothers, and friends, so we will take their females. Then we will find this enchantress and force her to transform all the women we have taken into female dragons.”

Saevel’s green body shudders. “That will not stem the tide of our grief, nor smother the fire of our rage.”

“No, but it is something,” Kyreagan says. “It is a solution that may help us survive. ”

“Kyreagan…” I say hesitantly.

“What?” He wheels on me, fire in his golden eyes. “Would you have me do nothing?”

“Ashvelon is merely being cautious,” Varex tells his brother.

“Now is not the time for caution,” Kyreagan says. “There are herds of cattle to the northeast—I glimpsed them before we descended. We will hunt there, fill our stomachs, and continue with all haste to the Capital.”

The cows in the nearby fields stare up at us with vague interest as our shadows fall over them. They are lazy, comfortable animals who have lived without fear, and they do not run until we are already landing among them, tearing their bodies apart.

It seems absurd to think about prey at such a time, when our souls are sick with grief and longing. But the journey to Guilhorn was long, and the battle to take the stronghold sapped much of our energy. Without food, we cannot hope to carry out Kyreagan’s plan.

I believe Kyreagan already had the seeds of the scheme when we left Guilhorn, but with more information from the spy and from Rothkuri, he has become adamant that kidnapping human women is our only choice.

He explains his idea to the others while we are gathered, devouring the cattle.

As soon as the meal is done, we take to the skies again, heading for the royal city.

Once we get there, I will have to choose a woman to capture.

Kyreagan said we do not necessarily have to mate with the one we choose—our goal is simply to collect as many women of breedable age as possible, preferably those who do not already have offspring.

Varex added something about choosing women with strength of spirit as well, which makes sense.

We do not want females who are too faint of heart and will die of fright the moment they are scooped up by a dragon’s claws .

The rain slackens in the late morning, and by midafternoon, I see the walls and towers of the Capital ahead. Within those walls are hundreds of small houses, pitifully fragile compared to a dragon’s bulk, unprotected and vulnerable.

Kyreagan roars his agony and his fury, and the dragons around me echo the fierce cry. He makes for one of the towers like an obliterating storm, like a black arrow of death.

I fall back a little, slowing my wingbeats as the other dragons tear past me, streaking after him. Some of them have only anger and despair in their hearts—others seem oddly excited at the prospect of capturing human women.

For my part, I am too grief-stricken to feel anger. Inside I am hollow, like a dark cavern in which only echoes reside.

Instead of following the others to the city, I land heavily outside the wall, in a meadow bordering several rows of cottages. About a wing’s length away from me is a stone circle, something the humans call a well, which allows them to bring up fresh water from the ground.

Beside the well stands a young woman with brown hair and pleasing features. She looks sturdy enough to handle the journey to Ouroskelle, and she hasn’t fled from me—she is merely staring, open-mouthed, which means she is either brave or stupid.

I’m not sure how to proceed. Do I simply snatch her up and fly off with her? Do I ask her to come with me? Judging by what Kyreagan said, I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to grab her and take off. That feels cruel to me. What if she already has a mate and offspring?

“Do you have offspring?” I speak as quietly as I can, but the sound of my voice still appears to terrify her.

She shakes her head.

“Do you have a mate?”

She’s still shaking her head, though she looks confused now. At least I think it’s confusion. Human expressions are sometimes difficult for me to read, though I’ve gotten better at deciphering them since we joined the Vohrainian army.

The young woman backs away from the well, keeping it between us as if it could somehow protect her. “Please leave me alone.”

“You will come with me,” I tell her.

“No.” She turns to run.

With a sigh, I bound forward, leaping off a nearby stone wall and beating my huge wings to gain altitude. Then I skim over the woman and snatch her up neatly in my claws.

The job is half done. Now I must take her safely to Ouroskelle.

The young woman screams and babbles in my grip.

Her fear carves my grief deeper, but I clench my jaws and mount higher in the sky, rejoining the other dragons.

Most of them made quick work of catching their females, but a few are still chasing down their future mates, so we wait for them, circling in the skies high above the capital city, far out of reach of the humans’ crossbows, cannons, and other weaponry.

There’s only one airship protecting the city, and it is of little use against us. It only confirms what the King of Vohrain told Kyreagan a few days ago—that Elekstan has reached the end of its resources. The kingdom has nothing left with which to repel the invasion. The war is essentially over.

The woman thrashes in my claws, so I tighten my hold.

Kyreagan climbs into the bright air with a pink-clad girl in his claws. When he drops her, I’m momentarily horrified—but he catches her again, growling a warning. Apparently he was only teaching her a lesson.

“It’s the princess,” Saevel mutters from nearby. Because of the angle of his body and the size of his claws, I can’t see the woman he has captured very well. He bobs his head in the direction of Kyreagan and the pink-clad girl. “Our Prince has caught the heir to the throne of Elekstan. ”

“How can you be sure?” I ask.

“I’ve seen a painting of her. And look at her clothes. Different from most of the others. Who did you get?”

“I’m not sure.” I crane my neck down to look at the woman in my claws. “A farm girl, I suppose. Should she be weeping so much? Will it hurt her?”

Saevel snorts to express that he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. I have no more time to worry over my prey’s wellbeing, because all the males have returned with their prizes, and Kyreagan is heading eastward, leading us toward Ouroskelle.

During the long flight, we mourn. All around me I hear the groans, bellows, and sighs of dragons. Saevel, still on my right, moans, “No bone-tribute,” and my heart breaks again.

Because of the gray clouds and the rain, we did not see the exact moment of sunrise this morning, but I know that when it occurred, the bodies of our beloved females would have dissipated from the streets of Guilhorn. Their hide, flesh, and organs turned to dust, leaving only bones behind.

It is the way of our species. When we die, we return to the air, while our bones remain behind for those we love.

By our custom, we would take small bones from our fallen comrades as mementos, and the rest of the bones would be carefully placed upon the fields of Ouroskelle, forming beautiful designs upon the green grass.

From above, the patterns are glorious to behold.

They transform death and loss into something sweet, something new.

But we left Guilhorn in a hurry, without waiting for sunrise, without waiting to take bone-tribute from our murdered females.

Kyreagan said we must fly to the Capital with all haste and take our tribute in human flesh instead.

I understand why he gave that order, but leaving the mainland without the bones of the dragons we loved is a pain we will carry in our hearts for the rest of our lives .

I would have liked to have a bone from Mordessa.

Just one, to place within my cave, to remind me of her words, her strength, her calmness, and her determined nature.

She was a royal among dragons, and would have made an exemplary Bone-Queen at Kyreagan’s side.

The two of them would have ruled with fairness and kindness.

For two years, I have harbored a slight resentment toward Kyreagan for his inability to love Mordessa the way she wanted to be loved.

But I respect him. I know his heart is always for the welfare of the clan.

During a few of our hunts, my frost-fire was too powerful and rendered my chosen prey inedible.

Each time, Kyreagan gave me a portion of his own kill so I would not go hungry.

I have no doubt that he is tormented by Mordessa’s death, just as I am.

In addition to her loss, he and Varex have also suffered the deaths of their sister and grandmother.

Saevel is mourning his sister Nyreza as well as his mother.

I lost warriors within my section, incredible huntresses who would have birthed strong offspring this season.

Therenax was a skilled bone-weaver, one of those tasked with arranging the bones of our dead in beautiful patterns. Her artistry will be greatly missed.

So many losses. So much death and torment. So little hope.