Chapter Thirty-Five
“What happened to you?” Adarian called over the commotion of the soldiers deconstructing camp.
Aemyra knew her hair must resemble a phoenix nest after her lovemaking with Fiorean, trip through magical stones, and harried flight on dragonback. They had parted with Fiorean at the stone circle, promising to send news through the mating bond.
Terrea rumbled behind her, wings aching, and Aemyra braced her hands on her knees as her father and brother approached.
“There’s been a breakthrough,” she panted. “I need you to get me Thear—”
“You were scouting half the day. We searched for you earlier,” Draevan said, waiting for Adarian to catch up with his bad leg.
Momentarily distracted by the lines of soldiers funneling out of camp, Aemyra said, “Maeve is late moving the troops. I thought she said they would be gone before mid-morning?”
“Sorcha is avoiding her,” Draevan replied, his voice hard. “Maeve was attempting to make amends before leaving.”
Terrea stretched her neck across the grass toward Adarian.
“Hello, Beastie,” he said fondly, reaching out to stroke the softer scales under her jaw.
With a tired sigh, Terrea lay on her side, curls of smoke contentedly puffing from her nostrils.
Aemyra ignored her twin and her dragon. “I need Thear to translate something for me, urgently.”
“He was with Eilidh in the infirmary last I checked,” Adarian said.
“How is she?” Aemyra asked, rubbing the garnet on the hilt of her dagger.
“Asleep but stable. Oh, the princesses are still in their rooms,” Adarian reported. “There was no point in making them stand for hours in the sun when they all know how to ride. Although Elizabeth asked if we would provide a sidesaddle for—”
Desperate to experiment with her new information, Aemyra cut across him. “I need you to round up my queen’s guard before we march. I have information pertaining to the antidote.”
Adarian’s eyes widened. “But how—”
“I’ll tell you all together.”
With a mewl of protest from Terrea, Adarian departed, shouldering his way through a boisterous group of chimera warriors lugging bed rolls and blankets.
Aemyra turned to her father. “You don’t happen to have any crystals, do you?”
He smiled. “Why, magpie? Angling for a coronation present?”
Elbowing him, she shook her head. “Not quite.”
“When you take back àird Lasair you will have your pick of the crown jewels. Failing that, Laird Edouard has an extensive treasury,” Draevan said.
“Speaking of, Maeve had a swyft from him, the fleet’s stores are running low but they remain in position.
We should arrive at Edinbane within the week.
They report no ships from Katherine’s contacts in Tìr ùir. ”
“Because Katherine was working against Alfred. Does this satisfy your need for proof?” Aemyra said.
“Do not trust that woman.” Draevan crossed his arms, a scowl on his face.
Narrowing her eyes, Aemyra replied, “You two have history. When this is over I want a dram of òmar and the full recounting of it.”
“Not a chance in Hela’s realm,” Draevan replied, avoiding her eyes.
With a small laugh, Aemyra allowed herself to imagine a time when this war was over. When her father could walk through the halls of Caisteal Lasair as a rightful prince no longer in exile. Where they would enjoy flights with their dragons from the Deàrr Mountains together, perhaps with hatchlings…
No. Do not tempt fate, Aemyra scolded herself internally.
“Dragons,” Draevan muttered.
Shocked, Aemyra looked up at her father. “What?” she asked as his eyes went glassy—lost in his Bond.
Terrea lifted her head sharply, almost knocking Aemyra off-balance.
“Something’s wrong,” Draevan muttered, shifting automatically to a fighting stance even though he wore no armor.
Terrea had her nose in the air, scales raised in agitation.
Something was very wrong.
Draevan understood first and grasped Aemyra tightly by the arm. “Find your queen’s guard and get them to protect you. I’ll cover you from the air.”
Terrea opened her mouth in a feral snarl at the same moment Aemyra recognized the scent in the air.
Kolreath.
Terrea parted her jaws and roared loudly enough that the clanking camp fell silent.
“Form the lines!” Draevan’s voice thundered down the hill, Dorchadas already unsheathed. “Defensive positions!”
Screams replaced the camaraderie of only moments before as soldiers scurried to don armor and civilians fled for the town.
Aemyra hesitated, looking between Terrea and the camp at the bottom of the hill, the manor house that sat overlooking the river beyond.
Her father didn’t get scared. Draevan wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything.
But he looked afraid for her now, concern lacing every angle of his face.
“You thought I didn’t know that you cannot summon your magic?” he asked.
Her knees almost buckled.
Her father had known all along, and hadn’t once berated her for it. He had left her to figure it out on her own, not because he didn’t want to help—but because he had known she needed time.
There were lines of sadness etched into his face, regret painted on every wrinkle.
“Aemyra, you are many things. The true queen, my heir, blessed by Brigid—but first and foremost you are my daughter.”
A lump stuck in her throat as he spoke the words she had wanted to hear her whole life. The acceptance she had craved as a child but so rarely received.
Gealach’s wings eclipsed the sun as he searched for a place to land. Even though Kolreath had almost killed his dragon during the battle of àird Lasair, her father was ready to face him again.
“Do not fail your queen,” she said firmly, the back of her nose burning.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, letting her fingers slip through his hands.
Screams of terror rose from the town as Kolreath emerged from the valley, his golden wings staining the sky.
The battle of àird Lasair had left its mark on all of them, but Kolreath was no longer the magnificent beast Aemyra remembered.
His left wing was bent at an unnatural angle, but the joint still seemed to support his weight.
The golden scales that had once brought sunshine to a dreich sky were now dull.
Terrea was exhausted, but Aemyra knew she couldn’t leave her father to face Kolreath alone, so she remounted.
Draevan was wearing no armor, yet he did not alter his course.
“It’s all right,” Aemyra said to herself as Terrea rose into the air with a labored push from her legs. “Kolreath’s barely healed. Between you and Gealach it’ll be fine.”
The mark on her palm burned ominously.
Taking a heartbeat to make her decision, she tried to weave her way into Aervor’s or Fiorean’s consciousness.
“Help us,” she muttered through gritted teeth, hoping one of them would understand.
It was worth revealing Fiorean was alive to have a third dragon to protect the army.
Terrea arrowed into the sky just behind the emerald dragon, the massive Kolreath heading straight for them both.
He was incensed, the whites of his eyes visible even from this distance. With no Dùileach on his back, it was impossible to predict what he might do. It was the exact reason Aemyra had been hoping he would die of his wounds far away from her army and her dragon.
Gealach was roaring, Draevan bellowing a challenge on his back.
Flashes of the battle of àird Lasair came unbidden to her mind, how Evander had yelled from Kolreath’s back, how those dagger-like teeth had clamped around Gealach’s neck.
The emerald dragon seemed to have a score to settle as he made for the golden.
“Aemyra!”
Adarian’s voice came from the ground and Aemyra shut him out. Her twin could not help them up here. She only had to keep Kolreath distracted long enough to spare those on the ground.
Despite the heaviness in her wings, Terrea put on a sudden burst of speed and looped over Gealach.
Terrea gathered white-hot flames at the back of her throat and took aim at the golden dragon, wings splayed midair.
Kolreath had healed from impossible injuries, survived a fourth Bond, and flown miles from his nest in the Deàrr Mountains. The ancient beathach was nigh indestructible.
With more speed than Aemyra thought possible, Gealach raked his claws across Kolreath’s wing membranes. Course altered, Kolreath veered toward Terrea with his jaws open.
“No!” The strangled cry escaped her lips and Aemyra clung on through the smoke as the long canines came perilously close to cleaving muscle and sinew.
For the first time since they had been Bonded, Aemyra felt fear from her dragon.
With her smaller body, Terrea twisted and unfurled her wings as the two males thundered around them.
“Thank Brigid,” Aemyra muttered, heart thundering painfully.
Utterly furious, Gealach parted his jaws and launched a stream of fire at Kolreath, chasing him away from Terrea.
As the emerald dragon passed them, Draevan gave Aemyra a stern look that was clearly meant to communicate his desire for his daughter to return to the ground.
With a growl, Terrea spiraled in a way she didn’t usually do when she had Aemyra on her back.
The she-dragon was no longer being careful.
“Fuck, Terrea!” Aemyra cursed, unable to do anything but cling desperately to the spikes in front of her.
Fire filled her vision as the three dragons engaged in the skies, and she knew she was vulnerable without the ability to shield. Her only weapon was her dagger, and even the garnet was useless without her magic.
As if realizing this, Terrea ducked under a jet of fire sent from Kolreath’s gaping maw and headed away from the smoke.
Aemyra looked back.
Kolreath’s crippled body flew slowly, his eyes ringed with red. Spittle dripped from his mouth and the dragon looked like he was searching for something.
Something he could no longer live without.
“Enough,” Aemyra said, stroking Terrea’s back. “I know what I have to do.”
When Terrea landed on the hill, Aemyra scurried down her spikes and onto the grass.