10. A Throne of Talons
Chapter ten
A Throne of Talons
Sol
Korin—the God Dragon of fire and death—held Sol in the sky, and against all reason, all logic, all fear. . .she felt safe.
His claws were vast and shimmering in burnished shades of black and gold. They curved around her like a throne built for the sky itself—an impossible nest of talons that held her as if she were crafted to be carried across the stars.
Lush heat radiated from him.
His talons—curved obsidian sickles around her waist and thighs—cradled her with a terrifying gentleness. He never pierced her flesh or pressed too hard.
Wind tore around them.
Each wing stroke was a thunderous wave of sound and power, making her body tremble. The gusts hissed past her ears, but the way his wings beat—rhythmic and almighty—formed a current that protected her.
When he picked up speed, his massive frame sent shockwaves through the night sky, bending moonlight, eviscerating clouds, and claiming space that no creature should have the right to command.
If Korin chose to drop Sol, no one would or could save her.
And still. . .there was a strange comfort in his prison of scales, claws, and heat. In fact. . .a small, shameful part of Sol wanted to see what else a god like him could show her.
Sol scanned the sky.
The stars look different up here. I might be losing my mind and getting ready to die, but. . .at least I’m doing it beautifully.
Sol shifted, tucking her knees closer to her chest, and the movement brought her tighter into his grip. The curved edges of his talons adjusted with her shifting, flexing just slightly to accommodate her frame.
Why did he do that?
She should have been afraid. She should have been screaming again.
And then one of those claws brushed against her skin, triggering her flesh to buzz.
Did he do that intentionally?
She leaned forward and reached her hand out to the claw and. . .the closer her fingers got, the more her magic swelled. Sweet and electric. Eager even. . .as if it had finally found something it didn’t know it was missing.
What is happening to me?
She didn't understand it, but her core did. The cold part of her. The old part. The part of her magic that had never truly spoken—only reacted—now leaned toward him. It was as if her frost had found its flame, and wanted to melt.
Why does Korin have this effect on me?
She pulled back slightly, pressing her spine against the curl of his other talon, trying to control her breathing. Meanwhile, her power bloomed from the contact.
She swallowed hard, glancing down at her fingertips, half-expecting to see frost threading from her nails.
Nothing showed.
But she felt her power’s excitement.
She returned to focusing on her breathing, yet his scent filled her nostrils—jasmine, stormwater, and flame.
Her pulse stuttered.
Focus on something else.
She looked down, and realized she had no idea how long he'd been carrying her.
Time blurred at this height.
The world below was no longer made of borders and names. No kingdom. No Lowly Quarter. No Hareef.
Just land.
Large cities.
Next small towns.
Then forests.
Then streams cutting through villages.
Then rivers twisting within the wild.
Then. . .only water. Endless and undisturbed. A gleaming sheet of liquid silver beneath her.
Is that. . .the ocean?
Sol had only ever read about it in one of her mother’s forbidden books.
It had been a page-worn tome tucked in the back of a cabinet, brittle with age, and full of stories no Lowly girl was meant to read.
The ocean was a myth to most in Hareef, especially since many had never traveled farther than the market stalls.
But here it was now, unfolding beneath her.
A myth made real.
So. . .breathtaking. . .
And above her?
A vast sky stitched with glittering stars, veiled in cloud-lace, and kissed by moonlight.
Everything she’d ever known—every name, every rule, every fear—faded with each mile.
And the dragon?
Korin did not speak, but he didn’t have to.
His presence was language.
His silence was possession.
His flight was power incarnate.
Sol glanced up at him, squinting past the rush of wind that whipped her curls.
Where is he taking me. . .and why?
Korin’s golden eyes remained locked on the horizon. His dragon face was both brutal and enchanting. Terror and grace. Jagged, obsidian horns swept back from his skull.
Thick lashes—longer than she’d ever imagined a dragon could have—framed those molten eyes.
Captivating. . .
A second later, his nostrils flared, exhaling soft white streams of heat that ribboned into the wind.
Beneath his curved lip, she caught a glimpse of what still waited inside his mouth. Long, ivory fangs tucked behind his jaw like violent secrets.
She couldn’t see them fully—but she knew they were there, just beyond view, ready to rend bone from flesh.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak. “Korin?”
Her voice was barely audible above the rush of air, but he heard her.
Without turning his head, his eye shifted—just one massive, glowing iris sliding sideways, pinning her in place. But part of her wondered if he was still watching her from the corner of his vision.
Oh. . .God. . .
Her breath caught.
The heat in that gaze wasn’t threatening. Not exactly. It was knowing .
She shivered. “Korin. . .where are you taking me?”
He remained silent, and then, just as slowly, he turned his eye back to the sky.
Sol exhaled.
Her pulse thundered behind her ribs. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping the edge of his claw until her fingers started to ache.
Can dragons even speak? Maybe he can only talk when he is in human form. . .
She thought back to the small knowledge of dragons that she’d learned.
Dragons roared. They burned. They flew. But they didn’t speak.
And yet. . .
No one ever said a dragon could turn into a man, either.
She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
All her life, she’d relied on stolen books, overheard myths, half-whispered lore buried in floorboards. But none of it had prepared her for this —for the heat of his body, the softness in his hold, the terrible grace of that golden stare.
Maybe everything we think we know about Korin is wrong.
Or worse.
Maybe everything we thought we understood was only what he allowed us to.
She placed her gaze back on the ocean.
The moonlight turned the water into liquid silver, endless and undisturbed, stretching so far, she couldn’t tell where the sea ended, and the sky began. It looked calm from up here, but her mind wondered what might be hidden beneath the surface.
What kind of creatures swim below? Are there beasts within those murky depths?
Her thoughts drifted, pulling her inward.
Mother. . .Father.
By now, they would have realized she hadn’t returned.
She could see her mother standing in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, still believing that maybe Sol had stopped to help a neighbor.
Maybe she was gathering herbs.
Maybe she was just late.
But as the hours passed, that hope would crack.
Her father would already assume the worst. He always feared her power would betray her, that someone would take her.
Or. . .they probably thought the most obvious. . .that Korin incinerated her like all the others.
Sol’s throat closed.
They think I’m gone.
Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, tears spilled from her eyes.
Sol wiped her face quickly, brushing away the tears before they could fully dry.
No crying. We’re too strong for that.
She straightened her spine as best she could within the cradle of Korin’s claws. Her legs remained tucked close to her chest, so she adjusted again, slowly, straightening her legs.
Korin’s talons shifted once more, accommodating her without hesitation, yet making sure that she was in his grip.
I am going to survive whatever this is.
Sol exhaled through her nose.
A pulse of frost stirred in her fingertips—small, harmless. But it reminded her that she was not just someone to be carried away.
She was still dangerous.
I am strong. I have power. I can. . .beat him.
She leaned her head back and after several minutes of endless ocean and shimmering stars. . .her eyes fluttered closed.