Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Roar once to get their attention. Twice to get results.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
Icouldn’t concentrate. Not with a countdown clock ticking in the back of my mind like some world-altering bomb soon to detonate. Five days. Twelve hours. Forty-seven minutes and eleven… ten… nine seconds until I saw Taron Locke again.
Desperate? Possibly.
Spiraling? Absolutely.
Was this what my father had felt? This dizzy, helpless loss of control? I longed to ask him but didn’t dare cop to the truth of what I endured. Not to friends, and especially not to a foe. Plus, I wasn’t foolish enough to believe anything he said.
But the worst part? I’d started seeing Taron as if he were a ghost here to haunt me for the rest of eternity. I caught only glimpses of him here and there, usually out of the corner of my eye. There and gone the moment I focused, never lasting longer than a few racing heartbeats.
The first time, I chased him. And the second and third. Now, he just flickered throughout every part of my day, like static on a screen. I knew he wasn’t really there, but that didn’t stop me from constantly questioning my grip on an already fraying reality.
Disconcerting. Annoying. Unwelcome. And yet, highly addictive. Every time his image faded, I eagerly awaited the next, and there was no off switch.
“Yo. Lyss.” Adelaide snapped her fingers in my face, and I blinked into the present.
Oops. We occupied the throne room, where columns of lava-born obsidian propped up a vaulted ceiling painted to resemble the sky from sunrise to sunset.
Etched into the stone walls were scenes of dragon fights and conquests.
Banners the size of sails hung between the insets, depicting every fire a dragon could breathe, from molten fury to smoldering embers.
My sister stood beside me as I sat on my throne of fire-forged skyglass, its surface reflecting light in shifting shades of pink, purple and silver, as if capturing a setting sun.
One by one, the ambassadors from other berserker factions approached to offer messages from their kings until only one remained. The griffin. He wore a tailored suit, with a tie the color of spilled wine. A tie pin in the shape of an eagle’s talon anchored the fabric in place.
How would Taron look in a tie? So far I’d only seen him in–
“Lyss,” Adelaide hissed.
I shook my head. See! Zero concentration. “You may speak,” I told the ambassador, as if nothing untoward had occurred.
His lips stretched thin. “For the third time, King Malachi wishes to know why he should stay his hand and preserve the peace treaty with Ashmorra.”
I stifled a snort. “King Malachi isn’t that polite. Tell me what he really said.”
The ambassador cringed before admitting, “He wants to figure out why he shouldn’t invade Ashmorra and use you as an example. Queens who take liberties they shouldn’t will always lose their crowns.”
I let my shoulders relax a fraction. This was Malachi’s way of forcing me to spend my prized boon while digging an invisible knife deep into my pride. I must back down.
“There are many reasons he shouldn’t attempt such an impossible feat,” I said simply, “though I’ll share only one. Tell him we’re even now. If he doubts it, remind him of the boon I spared him from paying in blood. That’s all. The matter is closed. You may go.”
The ambassador opened his mouth to say more, but I waved him out. With no other choice, he snapped into a turn and left, leaving me alone with my sister.
“I’m guessing you ventured into Malachi’s lands without his permission, just to see your newest Locke,” she piped up.
Her fitted leather corset of varying shades of pink—the queendom’s color—embroidered with a fierce dragon that stretched across a raised-collared, long-sleeved top.
A split skirt gave both elegance and the freedom of swift movement if the need arose.
A ceremonial sword, its hilt wrapped in pink-gilded silk, hung at her hip, while chains of gold and pink pearls threaded through her chestnut hair held in a high braid.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such foolishness isn’t like you.”
“I know.” I heaved a sigh. While she was dressed to awe, I wore leather pants and another novelty T-shirt. This one read “Certified Smoke Show.” I’d chosen it, not because Taron had remarked on the first but because…of some other reason. “Any other business?”
“Ja. One.” She motioned to the exit the griffin had just taken, and I noticed another sister peeking through a crack in the two doors.
Bronwyn the Graceborn, aka the Pirouette Princess, aka the Swan of Ashmorra, aka the Mistress of Motion, middle child, entered, wringing her fingers, the soft layers of her petal pink gown flowing behind her. Her flaxen hair swept to one side, delicate flowers woven through the waves.
She was a famed ballerina, known for her incomparable elegance and ability to dance both on stage and in the air. Offstage, she was infamous for her blushes. They came constantly. In fact, one of those blushes seared her cheeks even now.
“H-hello, Olyssa. Sister. Your Majesty. My Queen,” Bronwyn stuttered, giving an awkward curtsy. She darted her gaze to Adelaide, who heaved a sigh more exasperated than mine.
“Bron,” I said. “I love you. Formality isn’t required. Tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of it.”
Eyes of ice blue brightened. “Well, the dragon ambassador stationed in Krakenstrond has reached the end of his service contract, and he doesn’t wish to renew. He requested a return to Ashmorra. If you agree, you’ll require a new ambassador there. I…I would like to sign on.”
“Why?” I burst out. There was no one less qualified.
I sent decorated warriors to other berserker factions.
Those who represented the queendom with strength, courage and unflinching resolve in the face of brutal combat.
“No one enjoys living among the kraken.” The worst of all the berserkers.
Especially the king, Sebastian Morrissey.
“Well, um.” More finger wringing. “Because?”
The reason crystalized, and I was the one to flick my gaze to Adelaide. You’ve got to be kidding me.
She shrugged, clearly certain of the reason, too.
“You have a crush on a kraken?” I said with a cringe.
“It’s worse than that.” Adelaide winced. “She thinks the king is her firebrand.”
Poor Bronwyn.
The ballerina flushed in a hurry. “Well, it happened when you sent me in your stead to cast the dragon vote on marriages between different berserker factions. As soon as Sebastian appeared, I knew. Maybe? It could just be a ridiculous attraction. Because, you know, he’s gorgeous.
I just…I need more in-person meetings to be sure, and an ambassadorship is the only way for a dragon to enter kraken territory. ”
“But a dragon and a kraken? And that particular kraken.” I ran a hand over my face. “The service contracts last three years, and I won’t shorten it for anyone, not even you. If he’s not your firebrand, you’ll be stuck in his sunken waterworld until time runs out.”
“That’s okay,” she said with an eager nod. “It’s worth the risk. I can’t live not knowing anymore. I just can’t.”
That I understood. “You’ll undergo a mandatory crash-course battle refresher.”
“Deal!” Grinning, she raced up the dais steps, hugged me, then rushed out. Along the way, she called, “You’re not such a hissy lizard, after all!”
“Hissy lizard?” I snipped at Adelaide.
“If the claw-cover fits.” She clasped my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Now that business is concluded, it’s time for pleasure. I’m happy to say the shifter you captured at the border has broken. He’s ready for interrogation.” She air-quoted the last word.
Excellent, excellent. In such a state, he should spew information right and left, without being asked, eager to brag. I rubbed mental hands together with glee. Time for answers. What was Lorik up to?
“Turn off the sensory deprivation protocols,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Adelaide typed on her phone as we made our way to the catacombs beneath the dungeon. To my delight, I didn’t think about Taron for almost a full minute.
Walking through the corridors, the damp, chilled walls closed in with every step.
For creatures born for open sky, the suffocating weight of stone below, to the sides and overhead felt like stumbling straight into your own coffin.
The stale, heavy air that filled my lungs and barred any attempt to cast fire didn’t help the illusion.
Worse, each surface hummed with a frequency that blocked a dragon’s natural ability to navigate, so the passageways seemed to stack over themselves.
It wasn’t unusual to find the jailed glassy-eyed, their fingers scraped raw from clawing, any spark of defiance gone.
We discovered the prisoner exactly as expected.
Chained to a stone that he’d been forced to drag behind him, grounding him and preventing even the pretense of flight.
He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth as wild laughter spilled from him.
His eyes darted in every direction. Patches of emerald dragon scales broke across his skin.
The shifter’s form had warped, his facial features exaggerated and his teeth far too sharp.
Hours spent inside these catacombs had peeled all layers of sanity from his demeanor.
“He did it. He did it. He did it,” he sang. If insanity had a voice, his was it. “He, he, he. Did, did, did. It, it, it.”
As I approached, Adelaide waited at the back wall, leaning against it, chewing gum and typing on her phone.
“He did what?” I asked.
“He did it. He sold the Yrnblade. He launched the ambush. He killed the Locke. Or soon will.” Creepy laughter. “The Queen’s fire always finishes what it starts. The pattern never breaks. He sold the Yrnblade. He launched the ambush. He killed the Locke.”
My blood flashed cold. He, meaning Lorik? I’d known Taron must be working with him but hadn’t thought the shifter intended to ambush the human.
Unease rushed through me. “What do you know of the Locke?”
Cackle, cackle. “You’re the key, bonded to the Locke by blade.
Desperation for him will grow and grow and grow and grow and grow even after his death, forever unsatisfied.
It’ll grow and grow and grow and grow and grow until crazed dragon takes the reins, and you shift.
Consort to King Lorik.” Cackle. “Can’t stop it. ”
Revulsion coiled in my gut, and I balled my hands into fists. The prisoner had just laid out his king’s entire plan. But to what end?
My dragon stalked through my mind, barking a single order on repeat. KILL LORIK!
“The dragon queen kneeling in ash. The dragon queen kneeling in ash,” the prisoner repeated. “His. His. His. It’s already set.”
“Lorik is no threat,” I said, striving for a bored tone.
Lorik might be a threat. He was quietly making moves behind the scenes while I dealt with my father and my professor.
“Lorik has already won,” the prisoner said with a laugh. But he quickly began to shake. His lips opened and closed. Sweat dotted his forehead, and his pupils blew wide.
“What’s wrong with him?” I called. I’d witnessed plenty of catacomb madness, and this wasn’t it.
Adelaide rushed to my side. “Something is shimmering under his skin.”
An oval-shaped symbol resembling a dragon’s eye formed, its edges glowing brighter and brighter, buried embers fanned awake. The air itself seemed to tighten, as if the catacombs held its breath.
A kill switch. Lorik’s kill switch.
“Step back,” I yelled at my sister.
The shifter’s head snapped awkwardly, and his eyes darkened, all life draining from him.
Lorik had played me. Had wanted his man captured and questioned.
Two daggers in hand, I turned on my heel and stalked from the underground chamber. Adelaide kept pace at my side.
Thoughts whirled. The race was on. If I didn’t get multiple steps ahead of Lorik, he could do serious damage to my forces. “Bonded by blade…”
“Yeah, about that,” Adelaide began. “You want the good news or the bad?”
Ugh. “Just give me the news, period.”
“So. From what I’ve been able to dig up, there is a way to sever the bond to Locke, no matter the method he used to create it.
Which you’ll want to do ASAP. Babble Boy made a good point.
Locke is a danger to you as long as you’re bonded to him.
I mean, no wonder Lorik sold him the Yrnblade.
Lorik wants Tar-bear dead, and you crazed. Talk about diabolical.”
“Don’t you dare sound impressed. Taron wanted the same thing.”
“As if I would ever be impressed by a shifter or a mortal. Please.” Disgust molded my sister’s features. “Not more than a teensy-weensy bit impressed. But now with the bond cemented, you’ll have to protect Locke until it’s severed.”
Protect Professor Hotpants, who despised me and wanted me dead. Whatever could go wrong?
We reached the palace foyer, and I breathed deep of the clean air. “Well?” I demanded, stopping to face her. “How do I sever the bond?”
“Oh. That. You have to gather the ingredients. A lot of ingredients, most of them unpleasant. I’ve already spoken to Emma, and she’s ready to brew a special potion.
But you gotta gather the ingredients with the one you’re bound to.
The recipe claims it is quote unquote necessary for reasons not stated. ”
Emma, our most bookish sister and two years younger than Adelaide. She specialized in concoctions for every occasion.
“Go get your man,” Adelaide said, shooing me off. “According to intel, he just snuck through the Frankfurt Airport. Avoided detection until he made it outside. But none of our people knows which direction he went. He vanished in the crowd.”
With a nod, I rushed up a flight of stairs. A queen on a mission, I headed straight to my room, leaped from the balcony, and flew to the traveling stones.