Moving into a run, I finally reach the mountainous edge of the dragon fields, a burning pile ofsomethingnearby casting a golden glow over the rocky cave in front of me.
The Fae Kingdom is built in and surrounded by mountains, the horizon littered with black peaks and hazy mist. One might think us vulnerable in such open terrain. What is mist compared to the cover of thickly woven trees or miles of ocean? The mist isn’t meant to protect us, however. The dragons are, and no other kingdom can lay claim to the beasts but the fae.
I let out a low whistle in warning, prowling forward towards the mountain front. The ends of my hair brush against my shoulders at thehotbreeze that blows from the opening, the smell of burnt carrion making my nose crinkle. Just one of her luminous yellow eyes is visible at first against the impossible darkness behind her. Then her head swivels, hard black scales glistening as she emerges from the mouth of the cave, shrewd gaze landing on me. The ground beneath my boots rumbles with the impact of her steps, her massive size blocking my field of vision entirely. With a head larger than my own body and a wingspan that would stretch past ten lengths of me, Bali is the largest of her dragonkind, as those of the Khar line are. Her tail—the end tipped in a trio of spikes the size of my forearm—lifts high behind her while she lowers her head down, the serpentine movements of her neck making my stomach hollow as she assesses whether she’s in the mood to humor or cook me.
“Bali,” I offer by way of greeting, forcing my voice to be loud but steady while I straighten my spine a little more. The fine hairs on my arms lift as she emits a noise that sounds like rolling thunder, the vibration of it rattling my skull. Behind her, a slightly higher-pitched growl answers as it reverberates off the surrounding rock. Bali snarls at me, her four canines showcasing the blood that still stains them from her last meal.
The tip of her snout skims over me as she blows out through her nostrils, ruffling her leathery wings in tandem at her sides. The blood from Dagan is still speckled over my clothing, likely what draws the dragon’s attention. A deeper sound rumbles from her as she lifts her head and opens her mouth wide, revealing the molten dragon flame balled at the base of her throat. It churns in a beautiful display of vivid red, orange, and golden yellow, the colors as hypnotizing as they are fear inducing. She blows out a singeing breath that forces me to close my eyes and turn my head. Sweat glides down my body beneathmy black leathers, but I keep my feet rooted to the ground as I endure her display of dominance. Or rather, her test of my own.
Dragons are loyal creatures by nature, and bonding them to a rider only magnifies that loyalty. Before The War Of Five Kingdoms, a bond between dragon and rider was only severed when the rider died, as a fae’s lifespan is less than half of a dragon’s, or when a dragon willfully ended it. However, in the centuries that have passed, the connection between these ferocious beasts and the fae have faltered. Growing more common are instances of bonds nearly as old as the war itself fading away until there is nothing that remains.
When a rider loses their bond, it’s devastating. When a dragon loses a bond and the severingisn’tenacted by them, it can drive the beast mad. Most will choose a new rider to bond with because of it.
Bali finally extinguishes the swirling flame and closes her mouth. I observe her as she stares at me, seeing just enough of her outline in the growing early morning light to make out the massive pointed horns on the top of her head. They’re surrounded by smaller ones of different heights and thicknesses, the diamond-shaped scales covering her iridescently black. The Khar line possesses a fearsome blend of brute strength and cocky bravery. The color and shape of their scales are unique to this line, and while most dragons tend to be a mix of two different lines, Bali remains one of only a few dragons alive whose line is completely pure.
I glance to the east again, my heart rate kicking up at how little time I have left to spend here.Fuck. I should already be home. But if I, a female, want to bond with a dragon—a feat that has never been accomplished in our history—then Ihaveto spend as much time here as I can. Especially as my bargain with the siren begins this week. Annoyance is a tight knot in mythroat, but I force it down roughly. There is no time to ruminate on that now.
Bali turns to stalk away, her tail swinging harshly enough behind her to send a small gust of air towards me in a warning. With my view of the cave once more unobstructed, I focus in on the second set of glowing eyes that appear in the opening.
It has takenyearsof coming here for Bali to only threaten me partially—though I wonder if that is a courtesy she extends to me simply because of who I am related to. Her former rider, my older brother, Shah, was murdered in the war, and though Bali could have no way of knowing I am his younger sister, I sometimes wonder if she can sense it. Whether through the scent of my blood or some other mystical means, she hasn’t acted nearly as aggressive with me as she has with anyone else who happens to wander into the dragon fields.
My brother was the kingdom’s darling, a crown prince everyone was honored to have and proud to know. My parents still celebrate his birthday every year as if he hasn’t missed the past two hundred of them. His death did more than just devastate our parents; it changed the course of the kingdom nearly more than the war had. A century later and against all odds, my mother became pregnant, and there was reason to celebrate again. Until my birth was deemed not a blessing by the gods but an omen.A punishment, the brethren of the church declared.
The sound of rustling leather wings echoes as the smaller black dragon, Bali’s spitting image in every way but size for now, steps out onto the rocky ground. She flares her wings out, a satisfied whine pushing past her sharp teeth at the stretch before they snap back in. I take a step closer to her, those brilliant eyes looking at me curiously. The horns that adorn her scales are only barely starting to sharpen, but despite her young age, she is just as deadly as her mother to a fae.
Sunis is still a fucking dragon, after all.
To name her already without a bond between us is foolish. Despite how my father and the brethren of the church might disagree, I try very hard to be anythingbutfoolish. I had chosen Bali’s offspring to attempt bonding with purely because it seemed like the most practical choice. Shah had bonded with Bali, and Bali didn’t incinerate me the moment I stood outside of her home for the first time. As far as naming her, well, I thought I might try being optimistic about something in my gods-cursed life. So far, that optimism has gotten me nowhere.
She lowers her head until my hand meets the smooth scales on her nose. Hot air blasts past me through her nostrils as one of her green-tinged eyes meets mine. The bonding process with a dragon is kept secret, not spoken about outside of the circles of males who are already bound. From my brother, Navin—a male who enjoys breaking from tradition and, above all,gossiping—I’ve learned that bonding doesn’t necessarily give dragons the ability tospeakto their rider. Instead, it builds a mental pathway between them so that they can understand each other’s emotions and intentions. Staring at Sunis now, I wonder if my time spent coming here almost daily for the past few years isfinallybeginning to pay off.
Grinding my teeth together, I drag my hand up the side of her face, searching for what Navin had annoyingly called the bondingtingle. “Let today be the day.” I close my eyes and steady my hand, my heart thundering in my chest.
Sunis chuffs before bumping her enormous head into me and knocking me to the ground. I let out a growl as my eyes open, the fucking dragon answering it with a much louder one of her own before she turns and trots onto the dragon field. With a groan, I roll onto my stomach and push up to stand, brushing myself off. Lifting the hood attached to my cloak, I fix it over my head and then tug my mask up to cover the bottom half of my face. Iwait until Sunis and Bali take flight, likely off to go hunt, before I turn, and race home against the incoming daylight.
Chapter Nine: Myla
Theglassslidershakesas I knock on it again, my annoyance with my brother making me contemplate if wrapping my cloak around my hand and punching through the glass might be a better option. My muscles ache, the adrenaline from sprinting through the forest and then the rocky tunnels connecting the palace to the mountain beginning to wear off. They were thought to be sealed off, used long ago as a way for the palace inhabitants to escape should there be a siege, yet with the Spell now in place, the fear of an attack from other kingdoms islong over. While all the passageways within the palace that lead to the tunnels are indeed blocked, there’s one exterior entrance near Navin’s bedroom balcony that remains untouched. Likely due to the fact that it’s also near a ramp for dragons to land, giving a fae rider much quicker and easier access to mount.
Another minute passes, and I kick the slider hard enough that the glass rattles. Navin finally appears on the other side, grumbling as he runs a hand through his rumpled hair. The raven locks hang tangled past his shoulders, covering some of the colorful ink that adorns his muscular frame.
“Good morning,princess,” I tease, pushing past him once the slider is open wide enough.
“I hate you,” he grumbles, his voice still groggy with sleep. I make my way to his bathroom, unclasping the cloak and leather vest that’s strapped to me as I do. Though barely conscious, Navin doesn’t let the silence linger. “Long night?”
“Yes.” I ignore the weight of his gaze on me as he checks me for injuries, something he’s done since he inconveniently caught me sneaking in from a visit to Khargis one night.
My vest hits the floor of his bathroom, the hilts of my daggers tucked into the sheaths that line my ribs clanging on the stone. I pull my weapons from the vest and grab the final two daggers from the straps at my thighs, piling them on top of a towel. Navin tosses one of the spare nightgowns I keep hidden in his room in my direction before giving me the privacy to undress completely.
Once I’m changed, I gather up my blood and dirt-covered clothes and toss them into the wicker basket on the other side of the bathroom before carefully rolling up the towel and padding barefoot out into his room, my boots also in hand. “Thank you.”
He grunts, pulling a white tunic over his head. “I can’t decide if I should be offended thatnoneof the staff have questionedwhy flying leathers that are clearly too small for me end up in my laundry so frequently.”
“Perhaps you aren’t as large as your ego would have you believe,” I counter, entering the sitting space that adjoins our bedrooms. Though he has the option to move to the heir’s wing of the palace—a wing much nicer and larger than this one—he’s opted to stay here. The common area we share is large enough to fit a collection of sofas and reading chairs as well as a dining table set up at the center. Bookcases filled with tomes on the history of the kingdom line most of the walls, only broken up by hanging tapestries and paintings.
“You’re unusually cruel this morning.” Following behind, he leans his hip against the back of a ruby-red chair, its gold stitching shining in the pale sunlight that pours in through another glass slider.
“Blame it on the fact that I’m not much of a morning person.”
