I only hope that the soldiers, who flew back here on Draven’s orders after the escape, have told everyone else what really happened. Because if they treat Draven with the same disgust and resentment that his soldiers did when I first got to know him, I fear I might start killing people.
Black smoke drifts through the air as the other dragons shift back into human form when they reach the main island. It’s quickly swept away by the warm sea breeze. The slowly setting sun paints a rippling gilded blanket over the gentle waves from the west and casts golden highlights over the buildings on the main island.
In the very middle is an open space which all the dragons seem to use as a landing place before they shift. On one side of that open space is an incredibly imposing building made of wood so dark that it looks black. It’s not a house. It’s more like… halfway between a castle and one of those mansions I saw in the wealthier parts of Frostfell.
On the other side of the open space is a gigantic building, also made of wood, which is only one story. It’s long and wide and flat compared to the other buildings close by, which are at least two stories. But apart from that, a more normal city spreads out in all directions. Beautiful wooden buildings with blooming flowers on the windowsills. Shops with colorful awnings that flutter gently in the wind. Wells in the middle of smaller squares. A clock tower.
It’s both exactly what I imagined and not at all what I imagined at the same time.
Draven, Galen, and Lyra land in the middle of the open space with three loud thuds. The rest of the Black Dragon Clan, who have gathered around the wide area, fall utterly silent.
Worry flits through me. I expect them to glare at me and Alistair, who are seated on Draven’s and Lyra’s backs. But they don’t. I still move quickly as I get up and slide down to the ground. Alistair does the same.
Once our feet are on the ground, Draven, Galen, and Lyra shift at the same time.
Black smoke envelops us, obscuring the view of the capital around us. But it’s quickly swept away as another salt-tasting wind blows in from the sea.
I hurry over to Alistair, and together, we discreetly back away from the others until we’re standing at the edge where we are not everyone’s main focus. This is clan business. We shouldn’t intrude on that. And besides, if they treat Draven poorly, I need to have a good view so that I know who to hurt later.
Draven, in his half-shift form, stands in the middle of the open space with his wings spread wide. Galen and Lyra flank him.
For a few tension-filled seconds, the entire area is dead silent.
Then a male dragon shifter in black armor steps forward. Isquint at him, recognizing him from somewhere. Then it clicks. He is one of the soldiers I met in their barracks in Frostfell. Finlay. The guy who apparently won against Lyra in a sparring match but regretted it later because of how much of a sore loser she is.
“Commander Ryat,” Finlay says, his voice carrying over the mass of silent dragon shifters.
I hold my breath.
He keeps his gaze locked on Draven. “On behalf of the entire Black Dragon Clan, I offer you our deepest apologies. We are ashamed by our lack of faith in you and the disgrace we have brought upon ourselves by treating you the way we have. We should have trusted you. You are, and always have been, a true leader of the Black Dragon Clan.”
Dropping his gaze, he lowers himself to one knee. Everyone else in the crowd, soldier and civilian alike, does the same.
“Though we have no right to ask for it,” Finlay continues, his head bowed. “We beg your forgiveness.”
I let out a long breath of relief. He deserves this. Draven deserves this apology and to have his honor restored in the eyes of all of his people.
From where I’m standing, I can’t see Draven’s face. But there is no anger in his voice when he speaks. He just sounds relieved and calm.
“Rise,” he says. “There is nothing to forgive. I am proud of you all for carrying out your duties faithfully even during the most undesirable of circumstances. And now, I’m just glad to be back.”
Clothes rustle as the entire crowd gets to their feet again.
Finlay looks up. There is a wide smile on his face, and I swear I can even see some tears in his eyes as he says, “Welcome home, sir.”
“Welcome home, sir!” other soldiers call.
The civilians join in as well until the entire air is filled with joyous greetings.
A smile spreads across my lips, and the last of the tension bleeds out of me. Slumping back in relief, I lean against the wooden wall of the building behind us. Alistair takes a casual half step back and leans against it as well.
For a few minutes, we just remain there side by side, watching Draven, Lyra, and Galen greet people. There is a smile on Draven’s face the whole time, and his eyes glitter like sparkling gold. It warms my entire soul. Happiness suits him.
“He’s a better man than I am,” Alistair says.
I glance over at him in surprise, but his green and orange eyes remain locked on Draven.
“Forgiving the people who treated him like shit for two hundred years?” Alistair shakes his head. “I would never have been able to do it. The people who held me down and burned me, if I ever meet them again, I would…” He sucks his teeth. “I would probably take Isera up on her offer.”
