56
Within moments of our arrival at the doors, a Cloverleaf carriage rolled to a stop before the stone steps.
Thunder grumbled louder, closer, tempting my eyes toward the night sky.
Valadorn warriors stood rigid astride the steps and along the palace exterior as my father pulled me toward the carriage. Their forms were so taut that they rippled, just like Voran had. They wanted to move—to shift and attack—but they had their orders to stand down.
To let this happen.
“Get in,” my father barked.
Courtesy of my heeled slippers, I tripped on my skirts and stumbled to the seat. There was no comfort found in the familiar velvet and mahogany interior. There was only disdain and a fear that harshened every breath as my father clambered into the carriage to sit much too close to me.
He pointed the blade’s tip at my neck. “Once we find Cercaven and my crown, you will be free to do as you wish.” Leaning forward, he pounded on the driver’s window. “Goddess shun you, Ephil. Make haste.”
I opened my mouth to remind him that he had to release me when he reached the city, or his life would be forfeit.
The carriage door was wrenched open.
Evexon shoved the Cloverleaf guard out of his way and dropped onto the seat.
Our father turned to him, the blade still too close to my throat. “You have some nerve getting in my carriage after betraying me.”
We lurched into motion, and I flattened against the seat to keep that sharp point from encountering my skin.
“What you call betrayal, I call protection,” Evexon said. “You are not getting that crown back, Father, and even if you do…” He straightened his cloak. “If you think anyone will bow to you after this mortifying ordeal, then you’re as delusional as you are desperate.”
The blade left my throat.
Only to end up poised at my half brother’s chest. “I tire of your disobedience.” My father gripped Evexon’s cloak. “I gave you this life, and I can just as easily take it away.”
Quietly, I lifted my skirts and leg to remove my slipper.
“Do it,” sneered Evexon. “Kill the son you kept hidden until it suited you to reveal him. That will certainly make you look so much better than you already do.”
Shoe in hand, I lunged across the seat.
“You ungrateful little—argh.” Our father leapt to the floor, my slipper heel embedded in the back of his neck.
The dagger gleamed on the carpet beside him. A light smear of my blood coated the edge.
Evexon snatched it just as the horses screamed and the carriage swerved.
A shout came from the driver. A thud above our heads drew our eyes to the dented ceiling as the carriage straightened and slowed. Gripping his neck, our father gaped at us. Then, wretched screeching made us all wince.
Evexon and Father groaned and cried out.
But I kept my eyes on that bowing ceiling. I watched as claws plunged through it, and the metal peeled open as if it were simply an old, stubborn door. In the giant gap made, a snout appeared.
“Voran,” I breathed.
Rage illuminated his blue gaze. Teeth bared, he snarled.
Evexon cursed. “Get out, Ayla.”
I didn’t argue or wait to see if he wished to come with me. I shoved open the door and threw myself onto the snow. Grumbling thunder became a growled screech. Around me, snow jumped and shook from the wolf who’d leapt from the carriage roof.
And the wyvern smudging the sky with torrential darkness.
Voran stood over me—shielding me as he watched the leaving carriage.
Slightly winded, I croaked his name as the Cloverleaf carriage rocked to a sudden stop several paces before the palace gates.
Shadow wreathed. Wisps tickled my cheeks before curling and fluttering into the frigid air. Voran, back in his faerie form, still loomed on all fours above me.
Stark naked.
Gazing up at the star-muted sky, he didn’t seem to care. “Huvuon,” he muttered and rose to his feet.
As he pulled me to mine, the breeze became a chilling wind beneath the force of giant wings.
Valadorn’s missing wyvern had returned.
As the wyvern descended upon the city downhill, fear tightened my throat. A shaken exhale plumed when Huvuon curled back.
And headed toward the palace.
“Cercaven,” I rasped. “He must have taken the crown out of the iron chest.”
But he knew. Everyone knew that if anyone but a Cloverleaf touched that crown, it would incur the wyvern’s wrath. Maybe he hadn’t meant to take the crown out of the chest.
Or maybe he thought the punishment for touching it was a myth.
The beast swooped low toward the hillside. A mighty and shrieked roar had Voran cursing a moment before blue flame brightened the night.
Cold swept over my heart.
The wyvern retreated, only to unleash another enraged bout of blue fire. It spiraled toward the palace gates, destroying everything in its path. Then a boom sent snow from barren trees as Huvuon alighted and stomped toward the flames.
Between those shuddering steps, I heard it. A familiar screech.
Dusk.
She’d been in a cage in the throne room antechamber—with the Scale Crown. Cercaven wouldn’t have foolishly taken her, too. But that he’d even stolen the crown…
I ran.
“Ayla,” Voran roared.
Skirts bunched in my hands, I hurried past my father’s carriage. I made it mere feet from the palace gates before Voran caught me.
My feet swung. He put me down and growled, “Cercaven is already ash.”
“Dusk.” I pushed and pulled at his arms. “He took Dusk, too.”
Voran stilled.
“I heard her.” Again, I tried to break free of his arms. When that failed, I twisted within them to shove at his chest. “Let me go.”
The ground trembled beneath Huvuon’s stomped steps.
“Voran, please.” I pushed and pushed at his chest. “You gave her to me. She’s mine, and she’s just a babe. I’m supposed to protect her until she can protect the realms. And now she’s…” Words and strength evaded me, and I sagged against him.
“Wait.” Those blue flames shone in his eyes as he gazed over my head. “Listen to me.” He murmured, “We must wait, and you must do exactly as I fucking say, or I will return you to the palace and place you under guard until Huvuon has gone.”
“Voran, no—”
“Ayla,” he snarled. Urged.
“All right.” My eyes squeezed closed. “I’m listening.”
“No sudden movements.” When I nodded, he said, “No running. You walk with intention, and you keep your breathing even. That crown has yet to be fed your blood, so he might think you also wish to steal it.”
“I understand,” I said quickly.
He held me tighter. “Huvuon was trained to see other wyverns as threats.” I heard him swallow. “If Dusk is seen, he will want to kill her. Should that happen, make no fucking mistake, I’ll give her to him and gladly let you hate me for the rest of our days.”
Horrified, I glared up at him.
He continued to gaze over my head—tracking the wyvern.
Another tiny screech made me tense.
Voran ordered, “Wait.”
Thirty-one labored heartbeats later, it sounded like Huvuon’s lumbered steps had retreated.
Voran released me. But he took my hand, kept me close to his side, and whispered, “Do not acknowledge him, and stay away from the flames.”
A crash and groan came from ahead.
The palace gates, we discovered as we crested a notch in the hillside. One stood askew, teetering on its remaining hinge. Blue flame crawled over it. The other lay on the ground in the melting sludge.
Sweat immediately dampened my body.
I’d seen blue flame numerous times before. But never so close. Usually, only when it was shot toward the sky, extinguishing before it could fall to the earth and destroy. I hadn’t known you could feel it so intensely from yards away.
I hadn’t known just how bright and ferocious it burned when fresh.
As we neared the fallen gate, Voran slowed and helped me walk around it. Right as we cleared the palace entry, a mighty wind tossed snow and violet embers.
Voran covered me as Huvuon leapt into the air.
We waited for the wind to settle—for Huvuon to fly toward the palace—before proceeding. Another boom came as he alighted, but we refrained from hurrying. We walked steadily downhill to the inferno scorching a path through the snowy hillside.
The heat was so immense that my skin protested as if I’d stepped into a scalding bath before checking the temperature.
Disbelief had me stating the obvious. “Cercaven is truly gone.”
Voran gave a low grunt.
There was no surviving this. There was no carriage or sleigh within the fire. If the iron chest or crown remained, I couldn’t see them through the swaying flames.
I couldn’t see anything.
Dismay strangled my throat as we strode alongside the flames, peering into the snow-piled brush and inspecting ditches. Continuously, I looked at the sky—fearing Huvuon might return. While we searched, Voran spoke softly in the old language, calling for Dusk.
But as we trekked back uphill to get to the other side of the fire’s path, there was only crackling and hissing flame.
Voran looked at me. Tendrils of hair swished over his taut features.
He didn’t need to say it. She wasn’t here.
My chest felt bruised by fear, but I nodded.
“The fire cannot harm her. She probably fled when Cercaven’s carriage was destroyed.” He came to stand before me. “Dusk is clever, myishla.”
“She is.” Tears blurred my vision. “She…” I swallowed thickly and threw my hand toward the trees. “She might have wandered into the woodland.”
“She might have.” He clasped my face, forcing my eyes to his. “We’ll keep searching, but right now, we need to take cover until Huvuon—”
A screech finally sounded again, slight and croaked. We both turned to the fire.
Just as Dusk walked out of the flames, blinking repeatedly.
And mercifully unharmed.
Smart indeed. She’d hidden where no one could sense or scent her—within the flames.
We walked even though Huvuon was no longer near. Even though my heart screamed when Dusk coughed and coughed. Voran crouched. He spoke to her in the old language, then collected the soot-covered hatchling into his arms.
He rose, and didn’t so much as wince, although the babe was hot enough to burn through layers of his bare skin.
Hooves pounded.