The dark tunnel leads us to a door at the base of the mountain, and we step out into bright starlight.
“This door is keyed to your blood,” he says. I tilt my head.
“What do you mean?”
“High Queen Arden spelled it to only grant entry to Blackbloods. You’re the only one who can open it,” he explains, turning to me. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“I barely have enough strength to stand. My legs are shaking so badly from gripping the saddle.” I wince, stretching my hips until my bones give a satisfying crack.
“If you can do it when you’re on the verge of collapse, you can do it whenever. Try.”
He pulls me into his arms, and I close my eyes. I lean my head against his chest, inhaling his smoky scent. As I envision our destination, the edges around us start to fray, and we are enveloped in dark smoke. It curls around our legs, gobbling them up greedily as it spreads up and over our backs in a slow, sensual tornado. Furious winds envelop us as we are swallowed by a black hole and spit out the other side. Familiar walls materialize around us, and I open my eyes to the sanctuary of my room.
“Well done, Dragon Rider,” Jace says against my hair. I lean into him, tilting my head up. Just as he lowers his face to mine and our lips begin to touch, the door flies open.
Mal and Max stand there, their twin faces wearing matching expressions of surprise. I feel the blush creep over my cheeks as I drop my hands from Jace’s side. He tenses but makes no attempt to distance himself from me.
“Well, well, well,” Max regales, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “She lives to tell the tale.”
“Captain. My lady.” Mal’s cool, low voice rings out as he dips his head respectfully. It’s maybe the second time I’ve ever heard him speak. His eyes link with mine. “The king wanted us to alert him the moment you arrived back.”
“Ifyou arrived back,” Max mutters. Mal shoots him a sharp look. “I meant no offense! It was a dangerous mission, is all.”
“Serena made it look like child’s play,” Jace says, glancing down at me. He doesn’t bother to mask the affection brimming in his eyes. He must really trust these two males.
“The king is waiting on our word. He wants a meeting in the interior throne room,” Mal says, his sharp eyes roaming over me.
His demeanor is drastically different from his jovial twin’s. Where Max is all boisterous swagger and sloppy smiles, Mal is unnervingly quiet and abnormally still.
I nod and we follow them from the room. Max escorts us to the interior throne room—a modest space in comparison to the exterior throne room in the diamond cave. Our footsteps echo off the tan-colored marble tiles as we enter. Two tall alabaster pillars curtain the small dais and resplendent velvet lined thrones. We stand off to the side, the entrance clear for the king.
Moments later, I feel a swell of power reverberate through the hall—a sure sign of his approach. He comes into view, looking somewhat less formal than usual—a dark, fitted jacket and black leathers tucked into knee-high boots.
To my surprise, the queen enters behind him with Mal at her side. She is cold and regal in a simple cream-colored gown and floor-length overcoat of the deepest crimson. The king starts when he sees us, sees me.
A look of disbelief crosses his features as he approaches.
“I must admit, I wondered if you would make it out with your life.” He stops before me. The queen stands behind him, silent and removed, hands folded elegantly in front of her. Her steely eyes are the only indication of interest as they gloss over me curiously.
“Well?” the king asks. “Is it done?”
“I bonded the dragon, Your Grace,” I say, meeting his hopeful gaze. “She is safe in Aegar.”
His whole face relaxes as he blinks.
“I sorely underestimated your abilities.”
I bow my head in gratitude. He shakes his head and claps his hands together. To my utter shock, he pulls me forward and kisses me on both cheeks.
“Well done, my dear. Well done.” He glances from me to Jace. “You as well, Captain. You promised a Dragon Rider. And you delivered.” He claps him on the shoulder affectionately. Jace offers a small smile in return, bowing his head.
“Come,” the king commands, motioning for us to follow him. “You two must be starved. I want to hear all about your adventures over supper.”
The three of us dine in an intimate room with navy blue wallpaper, ornately carved cherry wood furniture, and soft candlelight. The feast before me sets my stomach rumbling as we each sink into our seats. A large roast serves as the centerpiece, with cooked vegetables and hot, roasted potatoes.
We tell the king all that happened on the island, sparing no detail as per request. I realize that he isn’t asking from a political standpoint. He’s simply intrigued—amused by our stories. He leans in and listens between bites as we recount our misadventures with the Naiads.
Jace recalls, more expressive than I’ve ever seen him, “It had me by the collar, and what did you say?” He turns to me.
