Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kallias
Phares loomed on the horizon, dragons circling like vultures over a rotting carcass.
Dark clouds smudged the sky above its towers, a bruise spreading across the late light.
Nienna rode next to me, Gyrak at her side, ready to obey her command.
We waited, giving the citizens of Phares time to escape.
My soldiers ringed the city, shields locked, prepared to secure safe passage after a swift pledge of allegiance to their king and queen.
And now that time was up.
“We’re ready.” My voice stayed low, meant only for Nienna’s ears. She did not need my permission, yet she lingered beside me, honoring the pause.
Her chin lifted, ocean-deep eyes flashing with restrained fury. Wind teased loose strands of her hair across her cheek. “Let them burn.”
Great claws gouged into the loamy earth as Gyrak stretched his neck skyward.
Clods of damp soil split beneath his talons.
Ivory fangs, long as my arm, caught the dying sun and flared gold.
His body convulsed with a bellow that ripped through the plains, the vibration echoing through my bones.
Dragonoil splattered from his maw in a dark, misty spray as he screamed his rage at the dragons circling above the city.
Our horses rolled their eyes, whites flashing, hooves stamping as they sidestepped from the heat rolling off him.
Nienna tightened her grip on the reins, keeping her mare steady without taking her attention off Phares.
Radaan’s king had offered her people grace, gave them time to flee. Those who remained would beg the mercy of her queen.
Ronan appeared no more than a speck against the massive black as they lunged into the sky with a shriek.
Above the city, the dragons broke formation and dove in coordinated pairs, streaking toward the vulnerable wall and the tower that rose behind it.
Tsunami trailed them. Riderless, she followed on instinct, wings carving the air with ruthless precision.
My hand tightened its grip on my spear as I urged my horse forward.
He snorted, neck arched, hooves dancing toward Phares with restless energy.
I never wanted to fight in the streets—to torch homes and shops, the baker’s ovens, the tailor’s bolts of silk, the scent of bread and dye and sweat that meant life.
Yet this was the price of treason. Dread settled into my bones, heavy as chainmail.
Fingers locked around the shaft, and I forced the sorrow down, raising my guard like a wall of iron.
I would mourn later. Now I needed to be the Warrior King.
Dyre, sapphire scales flashing through smoke, was first to pull up.
His wings snapped wide, catching the wind.
A rush of dragonfire roared across the plains.
Lit oil spilled over stone, cascaded down the walls, splashing in blazing sheets at the base.
Matalino followed, vast and gold, his fire heavier, slower, igniting what the smaller dragon had missed.
Behind us, thousands of boots struck the earth in relentless rhythm, a drumbeat of judgment rolling toward the gates.
They left a strategic opening, and I trusted Ronan would guide them. We required a clear path to the tower.
The rest could burn to ash.
Gyrak became a streak of shadow as he plunged into a column of ashes and embers.
Fire erupted behind him in a concussive boom that rattled my teeth.
Tsunami tore away from Breon and Artorious and slammed into the nearest wall.
Stone fractured beneath the force. She perched amid flame, smoke curling around her horns, jaws parted as she drew in the scent of death.
Blood streaked her fangs. Her gaze tracked our troops below.
Nienna glanced upward, brow tightening. “No.” The word barely stirred her lips.
Tsunami snapped at the air, teeth clacking in irritation. Bricks crumbled under her claws as she leaned low, studying us while we rode through the shattered gates.
I met her stare with cold, unyielding determination. Here, she could scorch what she pleased, but the scabbed ridges along her flanks bore witness to the havoc she had unleashed before.
Her tail lashed, a guttural rumble vibrating from her chest. Narrowed pupils fixed on me. Her tongue flicked, tasting smoke and steel. She snorted, then shifted her attention to Nienna, lip peeling back from her teeth.
Dragons remained a language I did not fully grasp. I could not read what moved behind that molten stare or guess her intent. Still, we passed her without challenge. Soldiers surged ahead, forming a wedge to cut through the city.
Screams split the air. Dragonfire devoured with greed, saturating timber, sending thick smoke rolling through the streets.
The stench of pitch and burning flesh coated the back of my throat.
We drew damp cloths from oiled pouches and tied them across our faces, the fabric sour and slick against my lips.
A quiet voice within me insisted Nienna should not be here. This battlefield offered no mercy to a woman carrying my child.
Yet she belonged at my side. Her dragons rained judgment from the sky. Nienna was Queen, punishing nobles who dared shelter a traitor. She would never wait behind walls until danger passed. She was the Dragon’s Heart, defiance etched into her soul.
My men combed the streets ahead. Dragonfire didn’t choose its victims—it did not discriminate. Shops collapsed inward, beams crashing down in showers of sparks. Homes blocked the roads; shattered carts and smoldering debris choked every turn.
Citizens fled past us, faces streaked with soot, eyes wild. They sought refuge deeper within their burning city. Bodies lay scattered across the cobbles, clothing fused to charred skin. Smoke swallowed the sun, casting a false night over Phares. A dragon-born dusk, thick and suffocating.
At last, we reached the courtyard. Orange flames crawled up the dark stone of the tower’s base. Gyrak’s shadow swept overhead, his screech edged with frustration.
Heat pressed from every side. My golden armor trapped it against my skin until sweat pooled beneath the plates. I dismounted. Soldiers barked orders as they secured the perimeter. Resistance came in scattered bursts, brief and desperate.
The citizens were too consumed with escape to stop and fight.
My men tested the doors. The iron bands rattled, but held. The barricade braced them from within.
Nienna stepped to my side. Heat from the courtyard fire warmed her armor. I moved aside and gave her the space, waiting for entry.
Above us, Breon crashed into the peak of a neighboring roof.
Clay tiles shattered and skittered across the cobbles.
Bricks tumbled, striking shields with hollow clangs.
He rumbled low in his chest, the sound rolling through the courtyard like distant thunder.
Nakos leaned over the emerald curve of his neck.
Firelight flickered along green scales, staining them a sickly hue.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, Gyrak roared. Breon lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he searched for the larger dragon. His gaze cut through ash and embers. A harsh huff burst from him before he lowered, snapping at the nearest soldiers.
“Give him space!” Nienna’s voice sliced through the chaos as Breon’s claws scraped down the side of the building. Stone shrieked beneath talons. He descended with surprising care for a creature built for ruin.
“They’re bringing a battering ram.” My jaw locked as I spoke. A beast that massive in this narrow courtyard promised broken men and shattered bones. Too many bodies crowded the stone.
“A dragon is faster,” she murmured. Impatience edged her tone.
Soldiers shuffled back, shields raised as Breon prowled forward. He growled under his breath, a nervous hiss threading through the sound. Smallest of the fleet, most hesitant in temperament, yet no dragon matched his speed in the sky.
His tail stayed tucked tight along his flank, posture almost restrained as he maneuvered between walls.
Even so, talons crushed stone to powder beneath each careful step.
He paused before the doors, waiting while the men cleared his path.
Brilliant eyes found Nienna. A soft chirp slipped from him, a greeting meant only for her.
Nakos swayed with the motion of his dragon and offered a sharp salute before leaning forward again.
Claws as long as my leg sank into the heavy wood.
The doors groaned. Splinters cracked under his strength.
Breon braced on his hind legs, wings flaring wide for balance.
Muscles bunched along his shoulders. With a guttural growl, he heaved, ripping the doors from their hinges—then flung them down an empty street.
Two soldiers stepped ahead of me at once, shields lifted. I entered the tower behind them; the air inside was cool and stale. Lanterns burned low along the walls, their weak glow barely reaching the floor.
“Eyes front. Shield the queen!” The command left my mouth as hands tugged Nienna from my side. Claus pressed close to her. My men folded around her in a tight ring. Greaves moved to my shoulder without a word.
Takal and Bac would choose surrender or ambush.
I prepared for blood.
More troops poured into the corridor. Armor clanged in the confined space. The sound drilled into my skull. My grip tightened on my weapon as I measured the narrow walls. No room for a full formation. Every strike would land close.
Deeper inside, I adjusted my hold on my spear and drew my sword. No shield—just blades. I had nothing to hide from.
We approached an intersection, and our pace slowed. Breath echoed off stone.
Three blades flashed from the side passage.