That meant Alexi was making the outward, innocent appearance of this mission very public. When I’d suggested hiding in plain sight, I’d hoped we’d stay under public notice until after we were gone. But how could I argue? This trip wasn’tcovert—only it’s purpose. While any Shadowfang mission travel might be open and its team visible within the Keep, we always shrouded the mission directives behind benign purposes, even among Furyknights. Ruin and his team had enjoyed a public farewell. But few had known they were headed for Draeventhall, and none beyond the Shadowfang were aware that their purposes were political.
Furyknights traveled on behalf of the king and queen often. We conducted research, trained dragons and men, and handled delicate messages or simple reconnaissance. Our comings and goings were not closely observed—except by those with reason to suspect. A public awareness of our travel was not without precedence, but I couldn’t help feeling like Alexi had simply pounded one more nail into the coffin of my delay.
I glanced at the king, whose expression didn’t change. He merely tipped his head at Lady Faye who still awaited my response.
“Of course,” I said, as casually as I was able, though every fiber of my being screamedno. “I’m not certain exactly when we’ll fly, but I’m sure we can accommodate you with our team.”
“That’s why I called you urgently, Donavyn,” Alexi put in. “We’ve received word that your assessment team is returning and see no barrier to the mingling of our herds. I wanted to discuss—”
The most bone chilling scream—high and thin—echoed in the skies outside the palace.
Diaan startled. “What thehellwas that?!”
My heart sank. I immediately reached for Kgosi, but he was too far away. Without thought, I rushed to the window of the chamber, leaning close to the glass to see far enough east.
That high, mournful cry sounded again—and this time was answered. A quartet of voices first, then an orchestra, then a cacophony.
“No…” I breathed, then cursed under my breath when I finally caught sight of the circling dragons—and more flying to meet them over the woods just outside the Keep.
“Donavyn?” Only Alexi could make a demand with such a singular tone. I swallowed hard and turned back to him.
“Forgive me, Sire,” I said with a glance towards Lady Faye. “It’s the dragons, I…” I trailed off, praying he’d take the hint, and to my relief, Diaan did.
“Faye, the General carries so many responsibilities. I’m certain he will host you graciously in your travel. Perhaps it’s time for you to ready yourself and your maids. We will discuss the logistics and send a messenger with details for you.”
Unable to defy an outright suggestion from the Queen, Lady Faye got slowly to her feet, clucking and smiling, though there was a glint in her eyes. “Yes, yes, I look forward to—”
Those awful screams rose in a new wave, and now long, mournful dragonsong began under it. The kind I’d heard only a handful of times in my career.
They are singing their pain for the dead.
God, I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted to be with Kgosi. With Bren. With the herd. Wanted to gather my men and reassure them, and ask them to both observe, and respect their dragons’ needs.
Instead, I stood there, impotent, while Diaan hurried Faye from the room, then turned the moment the door closed on her.
“What the hell is going on?”
“The dragon that returned from Draeventhall is dead,” I said, almost choking on the lump in my throat. “The dragons are mourning.”
“Oh dear, God,” Diaan whispered, surprising me with her apparent empathy.
Alexi frowned. “Must they make thatawfulracket?
Sometimes I sincerely wished to punch him in the throat. “Yes,” I said bluntly. “The dragons honor the dead by giving voice to their pain—a pain theyallexperience because they’re linked in the herd. Every dragon submitted to Kgosi’s dominance will feel the loss of Ciar’s soul. And those too far away to sense it, will experience it fresh when they return and link with Kgosi and the herd.”
Diaan’s mouth turned down and she returned to the sideboard, waving the servant out of the room and—to my shock—pouring herself a new goblet of wine.
Alexi muttered, wincing when a new wave of screams rose.
I knew the dragons would stop screaming soon, though their songs might rise and fall for days. But a part of me grew petulant and decided not to share that with the royals.
Though the bonded riders would feel it most deeply, sharing their dragon’s pain, no one could hear the herd mourn and be unaffected.
Let the king squirm, and be reminded of the grief of war.
“Sire,” I said as the latest wave of cries trailed off. “I need to go to Kgosi—he carries the herd through this and—”
“Donavyn, there is no time.”
