Chapter 70
Belle
Valen glared back at me, the hazel in his eyes consumed by golden fire—dragon fire. This wasn’t a male who was accustomed to being told no.
“We’ll do it your way then,” he said, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he reached for the hem of his blood-stained shirt and tugged it over his head in one swift motion before tossing it aside.
I stilled, my breath catching. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Shadows clung to the ridges of his torso, and the deep V along his abdomen pulled my gaze down to where it disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Fates have mercy on me. Every line of this man had been crafted by some cruel god to tempt me.
He began unfastening the buttons at his waist. “Removing my clothes.”
I spun as he shoved his pants down, my face flaming hotter than the general’s slap. “Yes, but why?”
A rush of cold air hit my back, along with understanding.
I whirled around. “Valen, stop!”
The doors to the balcony were flung wide. Valen stood outside, his back a canvas of strength and symmetry, the sculpted curve of his backside nothing short of perfection. Despite my anger, heat spread through my belly at the sight of him.
He met my gaze over his shoulder, his expression deadly. “Stay put, princess. And behave.”
Without removing his mask, he stepped up onto the stone railing. Then he dropped.
I bolted onto the balcony and bent over the rail, the rough cold stone pressing into my palms as I searched the darkness below.
A roar shook the stones of the castle, and I staggered back as the dragon soared up from the darkness. A gust of wind buffeted my face, twisting my hair above me in a wild tangle. And then he was away, his wings beating as he flew toward the encampment, a silhouette against the brightening sky.
“You hotheaded fool,” I shouted, then darted back inside. I needed someone I could reason with. I needed Locke.
The guards posted outside Valen’s quarters blocked my path. “We cannot permit you to leave, Mistress. The castle is still not secured.”
“If you do not step aside, I will bring this castle down on you.”
They knew about my magic, and they glanced at each other uneasily. “Where’s the king?”
My hands tightened into fists. “He left. Now, get out of my way. I need to find the high magister.”
When they didn’t shift, I gritted out, “To protect the Fates-damned king!”
That got them moving. I hurried to my quarters with the sentries at my heels. I quickly donned my clothes from the hunt—both for practical reasons and because I couldn’t stomach the lingering scent of Sarkis—then grabbed my bow and raced toward the high magister’s chambers.
The castle was in utter disarray. Guards shuffled through the halls systematically checking and clearing each room, while servants and staff darted around in panicked chaos.
“Belle!” Gregoire’s voice cut through the clamor. He ran toward me, his face streaked with sweat. “Thank the gods you’re okay. Loreli’s been looking everywhere for you. We’re under attack!”
“I know. I need to find Locke. Have you seen him?”
He shook his head. “Not since he and the king rode out.”
I cursed. Valen would’ve told me if he’d been wounded in Sarkis’s trap, so where was he now? Probably dealing with the fallout of the attack, and most likely ripping a confession from whoever it was that had opened the castle door for the general and his men. That meant the dungeons.
“The king is in danger. Find Locke and tell him to muster the castle’s garrison and send everything to Sarkis’s camp. The king is attacking them alone.”
Confusion and surprise flickered across his face. “Why does it sound like you’re going after him?”
“Because I am.”
“You’re not, my lady,” one of my sentries said. “We have orders—”
I forged a connection with a pair of crossed halberds hanging on the wall. They clanged down, cutting into the floor between us. “The male who gave you those orders will be dead if I don’t go.”
The halberds raised threateningly, and my minders retreated a step.
I gripped the huntsman’s shoulder. “If you were ever going to step up, now is the time. We might not have a second chance.”
I galloped out of the postern gate on Briar’s back, hunched forward in the saddle and tears from the biting air streaking my cheeks. The first hints of dawn kissed the sky, and the hills echoed with the shouts of Sarkis’s men.
Was I a fool to think that I’d be able to help?
Probably. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Valen went into battle alone. From what he’d told me, the general’s army had been training for a dragon attack, some form of treachery planned from the start.
A roar pierced the sky above, and I glanced up. For a second, I saw a dark flash, then the horizon beyond the trees turned orange and red—but not from the rising sun. A chaos of shouting and screams followed, then the sound of artillery.
Valen had begun his attack.
Please don’t let me be too late.
I barely had a sense of where I was. I turned Briar into the forest, riding hard through the trees to a lichen-covered outcrop.
Her breaths drowned out the drumming of my heart as I scanned the brightening horizon.
An open field stretched ahead, fronting another patch of woods where a tendril of smoke curled into the sky.
A resounding crack shuddered through the trees, followed moments later by a second.
Steel flashed above the canopy as a massive crossbow bolt streaked through the sky.
My chest tightened. Nothing could survive a hit from one of those.
Seconds later, a black shape rose above the trees. The dragon beat its wings, rising as it unleashed a stream of fire below.
“You’re too close!” I shouted, though there was no way he could hear me above the fire and screams.
Three more shots fired in rapid succession, their percussive reverberations rumbling through the forest. The dragon twisted, narrowly missing the first bolt, before a second one darted past his neck.
Valen soared upward, but the third bolt sank into his hind leg, trailing a long steel chain behind it. The dragon roared in pain, and a sound I didn’t recognize tore from my throat.
The chain paid out as he fought to climb higher, each beat of his wings becoming more labored.
Then it went taut with a violent clang, and Valen’s body jerked to the side as his wings fought to gain purchase.
He bellowed with fury and unleashed a torrent of fire below, but the chain grew taut and began to draw back. The soldiers were reeling him in.
“No!” I spurred Briar down the outcrop. Where was Locke? Where was our garrison?
I galloped out of the woods into the open plain, taking little heed of the surrounding battlefield, my gaze locked on the sky.
Nothing could tear my eyes from the dragon struggling above me.
Valen fought against the chain, his movements labored but still furious.
I tried to focus my mind on the metal links, willing them to snap, but I was too far away. I couldn’t make the connection.
Even across the distance, his blood called to me, a steady hum beneath my skin, drawing me forward as certainly as my magic drew my arrows to their targets.
I urged Briar to run faster, my thighs aching. A metallic clang rang out, and Valen lurched sideways as the chain broke. He was free.
Then he was falling.
I ducked against the back of the silver mare as she bolted through the tree line. Perhaps she knew who it really was.
The dragon disappeared behind the treetops, and the ground rumbled. Branches clawed at my arms and legs, but I gritted my teeth and clung on. His blood sang louder in my veins. We were close.
We burst from the woods into a small clearing where trees had been snapped in half and upended, their roots torn and charred. Briar’s front legs rose as she fought to slow. She couldn’t get through.
I slid off her back and scrambled through the long trail of destruction, weaving between fallen trees, my lungs burning, vision tunneling.
Blood wet the ground, and bile rose in the back of my throat. Ahead, the dragon lay motionless in a pile of steel chain.