Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Page Twelve. The rebellion is being hunted. We will make one last stand in hopes the deities guide us.
I wince as Ziven takes down ten more fae volunteers to be riders. Without the Decidere to weed out the weak, Ziven doesn’t have a choice but to test the riders with actual dragons, and the shadow dragons are mean. They are not used to fae at all, and they do not want riders, as Ziven explained to me. He took six fae males earlier—only two of them managed to ride dragons. I don’t need Ziven to tell me what happened to the other four, because we heard the screams. The trials are not going well, but none of us suspected they would do.
Every day that we train down here, every single day, thousands of fae are dying. It makes me feel sick to my stomach at the thought of their deaths, but I know we are not ready, and without more riders, we will fail. We are the last hope of every single fae out there, and it’s a lot of pressure for us all to handle. After yesterday, with the failure of the books, we could have used a better outcome on the first day of the trials. Maeve telling me she’s ready to fly again is the only thing keeping me from sinking into despair. At least with her, I’ll be able to fly and fight next to Ziven. Be useful. Avaluna is recovering, but it will be a long road and she will not be leaving her bed for weeks. Calix knows that means he will have to leave her to fly with us, and I know he doesn’t want to do that.
I sit at the edge of the cliff with Hettie, who is finishing off a painting of a dragon, a dragon with streaks of silver scales and green eyes. “Where did you see that dragon, Hettie?”
“In my dreams at dusk,” she answers, looking up at me. “I’m painting it for Luna. She loves dragons like me!”
I touch her light hair. “She does. Are you going there after lunch with my mum?”
“I’ve made dear Luna an herb tonic to help her sleep.” My mum’s voice comes to my ear, and I tilt my head back to see her coming over. Hettie jumps to her feet and runs to her, hugging her and holding the painting up behind her back. I turn to the cliff, feeling Maeve coming closer, and I pull out my new black clothes with red stitching. “Those are lovely,” my mum tells me.
“Ziven made them for me. He knows my hands get cold in the sky,” I explain to my mum and smile. “Now step back with Hettie.”
Hettie squeals in excitement as she steps back with my mum, whose eyes widen at the dragon who swoops up over the cliff behind me, the flapping of her wings sending my hair braid floating off my shoulder and dust into the air. Maeve soars high above us, and several people scream as she dives around the edges of the town. Even if they are used to dragons, she is enormous. Her red scales reflect the light, and I run my eyes over her wings, noting the scar on one side—but it’s fully healed.
“Like you. Broken but healed. A survivor who can fly.”
“You’re beautiful, Maeve,” I tell her in my head and out loud too.
I feel her warmth through our bond before she lands on the edge of the cliff near me. I walk over and climb onto her back, noticing children peeking their heads out to watch behind my shocked mum and Hettie. I can tell from her eyes alone that she didn’t expect my dragon to be this big. Hettie waves and I wave back. Using my other hand, I run my fingers over her scales before settling into place on her back, pressing my body close in a near hug. “You don’t know how great this feels to be back with you,” I whisper.
“We haven’t even flown yet,” she teases before leaping off the cliff in one smooth dive that nearly throws me off, but I hold on tight, the instinct kicking in. The air whistles in my ears, and I laugh—because besides having sex with Ziven, this is the most alive I’ve ever felt in my life, and it is addictive. Being a dragon rider is an honour.
A roar shakes the ground, and I glance up, catching sight of Ziven on the back of his shadow dragon before they tail behind us. His dragon catches up quickly, and Maeve snaps at him when he comes close. Ziven shakes his head, moving his dragon away.
“Be nice,” I warn.
Maeve huffs. “Those dragons are cowards compared to the rest of us who fought and trained. They hid. They take too much.”
“It’s also Ziven’s dragon, so it would be appreciated if you didn’t try to bite him when he has my mate on his back,” I remind her, and smoke blows out of her mouth as her only answer.
Her tone changes as she flies lower. “It has been decided you are to see our secret with the king.” She dives downward without warning. I grip her scales tightly as we plunge into one of the tunnels and into darkness, only the sound of her wings, the heat of her body, and the smell of dragon to remind me I’m not free-falling into darkness alone. We go deep into the land—so deep that my lungs begin to ache as it warms with every second until heat is pressing in onto my skin.
Finally, we emerge into a massive cavern, larger than the one where the town is. Lava pours down the walls in glowing red streams, and it smells like fire. Each intake of air hurts my lungs from the heat. Dragons of all colours are perched on jagged ledges, their eyes watching us, but most of them are brightly coloured, like the sun.
And then I see them. Eggs. Hundreds. No, thousands of them in circle patterns fill the centre of the cavern, which I realise is also shaped like an egg. I stare, speechless, as we circle above and on the far edge. I spot something familiar. Four red eggs, glittering like Maeve’s scales. “Are those your family?”
“Yes.” I glance over my shoulder at Ziven behind us. He’s looking down at the eggs, and he looks up at me, his eyes wide with shock too. The dragons below stir, not at Maeve, but at the shadow dragon following behind us, and I know we are not welcome for long. They are protective of the eggs, and I don’t blame them one bit. Maeve doesn’t linger long, and she turns, taking us out of the cavern, back into the tunnels, but through a different path. This one glows with red light, flashes of fire casting shadows along the walls, and I see where we are going this time. “The Moon and Sun kings didn’t just make a haven for the people, for the fae,” I tell her what she must know. “They made one for the dragons, too. Those red eggs mean the Twilight Dynasty helped.”
A future. For everyone. “Are there Dawn Dynasty eggs?”
“And Dusk too. Every egg, every chance of a future for our kind. We could stay here forever in peace,” she admits. “Many dragons wanted this, and it was a choice. We all decided to fight with our riders and not abandon you to your war.”
I don’t know what to say to her as we fly back to the town, and she lands on the cliff, Ziven and his dragon landing nearby. “I preferred Brythan for your mate.” She leaves me and flies off, Ziven’s new dragon chasing after her like he has a death wish or something. I look at the town for the first time, noticing all of the lights. There are lights hanging everywhere, a smell of flowers in the air, and Ziven walks up to me. He tugs my forehead against his. “Your friends and mother are waiting to dress you, and Hettie was the distraction. Today, you become mine in every single way, and I become yours. We are getting married and mated, Storm. I do not want to fight this war without knowing if I die, you are bonded to my soul the same as I am to yours.” He looks into my eyes. “Say yes?”
There was never an inch of hesitance in my heart or soul. Only joy. “It’s always yes.”