Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
Nienna
“—not an ounce of Draconis blood in him.”
Everything hurt. My back stung as if laid open by hot iron, my skull battered by the invisible fists of a whirlstorm. Even my fingers throbbed, nail beds pulsing with a deep, blunt ache that matched the beat behind my eyes.
“Then he just says, ‘Be right back!’ like I’m a dog to sit and stay.”
Wind slid over my bare feet, cool against torn skin, carrying the copper scent of blood and ash. A dragon-sized snort rolled through the clearing.
Air scraped into my lungs in a staggered pull. The sky above burned too bright. My arm rose to shield my face, instinct over sense, and pain ripped through my muscles. A groan tore free before I could swallow it.
“Rest, Nienna. I’ve got you.” My brother’s voice sharpened, his thigh shifting beneath my head, fabric warm and solid against my cheek.
“Kal-lias?” My lips were split and chafed. My tongue felt swollen, throat scraped raw. Water. I needed water. And something to quiet the hammering inside my skull.
“Gone—back to the palace. He’ll return after he burns it to the ground.”
Deimos was dead.
My heart stumbled, catching hard against my ribs. The previous night flashed sharp and fractured. Egath was dead. But Tallon still lived. For the first time, Kallias chased someone with the intent to kill instead of waiting for an enemy to step into his reach.
Sunlight pierced through my heavy eyelids, spearing the back of my brain.
Gyrak lowered his massive head over me, blotting out the glare.
Shadow washed cool across my face, and I sank against Ronan.
The great black huffed, breath hot and sulfur-sweet, sniffing at my clothes until the hem of someone’s tunic brushed my thighs.
Bandages bound my wounds tight. I was safe.
Kallias had secured that before turning back for Tallon.
A man of priorities. He placed others first, storing his own wants like contraband at the bottom of a locked chest.
The world tilted as I pushed upright, a hiss slipping through my teeth at the pressure between my ears. I leaned into Ronan’s side, and he held me steady, careful to avoid my back.
With slow, long breaths, I worked through it until the clearing came into focus.
Dark water lapped at a moss-green shore, the scent of lake rot and damp bark thick in the air.
Fallen logs formed a rough circle around us.
Flecks of dying embers glowed just beyond reach, thin smoke curling upward in pale threads.
Two corpses lay bound nearby, eyes fixed on the sky, glassy and unseeing.
Flies gathered at the corners of their mouths.
A small warning buzz reverberated in the back of my thoughts, distant but insistent. Something was wrong. My gut tightened, pushing through the fog of exhaustion, searching for the shape of it.
“Where are the riders?” My voice scraped thin.
“With Kallias. I admit, even I was shocked.” Ronan let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. “He hopped on Tsunami like he owned her, like she was some horse, and just—flew off.”
“She threw Greaves off the Andeluith.” My gaze fixed on the treeline, branches stirring in a faint breeze as I forced the memory to align.
“He lives. Well—he was alive when we left.” Ronan exhaled. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But you’re my sister. If you knew you could order Gyrak around without my consent, I’d never hear the end–”
“Stop.” My hand shot out, gripping his shoulder. Mud lay gouged beside us, claw marks sunk deep and violent.
She hadn’t been attacking when Tallon captured me. She’d tried to save me.
But she couldn’t.
He had that canteen—the same one Penelope passed to that man at our handfasting. I could still see her fingers closing around it, polished and innocent.
She stole the dragons’ blood—if not our own.
And now Tallon had it.
“We have to go.” Pebbles cut into my soles as I struggled to stand.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Ronan caught my arms, hauling me back against him. “You’re a breath away from crossing the Veil, reduced to a wisp of smoke.”
“He has Tsunami’s blood.” I shoved at his bare chest. “Tallon is a Fortune. Ichor and Cruor. If he holds someone’s blood, he can command them. And he had Tsunami’s. Maybe Kallias’ too.”
“Then he has yours.” Ronan bared his teeth and spoke through his hiss. “I already lost you once. I’m not taking you back there.”
“If you don’t, Radaan will lose her king. And you’ll lose four riders. Four dragons.”
His jaw clenched with an audible crack. His blue gaze cut through me, hard as tempered steel. “Then they die.”
A scream tore from my throat. I shoved him back. “Gyrak! Hold him down.”
The black dragon keened, sound high and furious, wings flaring wide enough to stir dust into the air. His paw slammed over Ronan, clawless nub pinning him to the earth, leaving only his head visible.
“You squiggling eel! You dung fly!” he roared, twisting, thrashing, struggling to free himself.
My hands dug into Gyrak’s shoulder, nails chipping on midnight scales. My body protested every inch, muscles trembling, breath breaking. Still, I climbed, hauling myself higher.
“Wait! Nienna–” He struggled, dirt grinding into his hair. “Dragons above, I’ll take you. Don’t you dare go alone!”
My fingers closed around the leather stirrup. The strap felt rough, oiled hide biting into my palm as I dragged myself up. “I won’t abandon him, Ronan.”
“Because you’re a storming fool.” Fury sharpened each word. “But you’re my sister. Let me up. You can’t ride alone.”
My arms shook, strength thinning with each pull. He was right. I’d need to strap in and pray I didn’t tumble from Gyrak’s back. The flight would be steadier with Ronan behind me. I wouldn’t oppose his fire.
“Release him.”
Gyrak lifted his paw, then slumped with a sigh. He twisted his neck, dark and sinuous, bringing one golden eye level with mine. Judgment burned there.
I ignored it and fumbled into the saddle.
Ronan muttered a curse and climbed fast, scrambling up Gyrak’s side like an island monkey.
His hands moved over my thighs, firm and controlled.
Straps tightened. The stirrups cinched close.
Leather bit into my skin, anchoring me in place as he secured every buckle.
Gyrak lunged into a run, earth shuddering beneath his weight. His wings snapped wide and Ronan slammed into my back as we lifted, his arms locking around my waist. Pain flared white-hot along my spine. Shadows darkened the edges of my sight, thick and hungry, threatening to pull me under.
We flew hard. Gyrak stretched long and lean beneath us, body pulled taut as a drawn bow. His wings beat without pause, each stroke carving through the sky as we sped northwest.
Smoke found us first.
Dark plumes twisted upward beyond the trees, streaking the horizon in bruised gray. Between the rhythm of Gyrak’s strides, I caught glimpses of it, rising in steady columns. The scent reached us a heartbeat later: char and oil and scorched flesh.
If there was smoke, it meant the dragons had fired—hopefully on Tallon.
Urgency thrummed through my veins, a fever under my skin. My skull pounded in time with Gyrak’s wings. He had to be alive. He couldn’t tear me from the brink of death only to fall into it himself.
Gyrak skimmed the treetops, claws nearly brushing the vibrant leaves. His breaths turned ragged, heat blasting back against my calves. Each wingbeat demanded more, like a war mount pushed beyond reason.
Then the trees broke.
The battlefield opened beneath us.
Terror locked my fists tight as Tsunami hunted Kallias across the clearing.
Dyre and Breon thrashed nearby, necks snapping skyward, wings striking dirt in frantic bursts.
Tsunami and Artorious were a knot of talons and flashing teeth, bright scales smeared with crimson.
Erwin clung to his dragon’s saddle, small as a fleck of ash.
“He’s got more than Tsunami!” Ronan shouted against my ear as Gyrak climbed, banking hard toward the clouds.
“That bastard isn’t just using their blood!” I twisted despite the fire ripping through my back. “He’s using mine.”
“Then he can control you too!” My brother shifted with Gyrak’s movement, boots slipping against bare scale without the saddle’s brace.
“I have to try. Their power runs out. They burn through it, then purge to take more. He can’t hold them forever.”
“Long enough to gut you!”
“Gyrak, down!”
“If he doesn’t kill you, dragon’s above, I will.” Ronan’s arms crushed my ribs, pain rippling torn skin. He shoved me forward as Gyrak rolled, then dove.
A streak of dragonfire seared past our flank before Gyrak slammed into the clearing, dirt exploding beneath his claws. He landed between Matalino and the gleam of Kallias’ golden armor.
Straps bit into my thighs as I fought them, fingers clumsy and numb. Matalino reared high, maw snapping at Gyrak’s throat. The gold’s eyes had narrowed to molten slits, bronze swallowing any trace of reason.
Gyrak ducked beneath the strike and lunged, ramming chest to chest with another dragon. Their massive bodies struck with a sound like splitting stone.
Then he faltered.
“Hurry!” Ronan’s dagger flashed, slicing through leather. Gyrak shook his head, movements loose, unfocused. Ronan shoved me off, sliding into the saddle in one fluid motion. “Seconds, Nienna. That’s all.”
I fell.
Unable to slow my descent, the ground rose to meet me. My shoulder hit first, shock punching the air from my lungs. Grass tore beneath my fingers as I clutched at it, damp earth pressing cool against my palm. Darkness clawed at the edges of my mind. I held on.
A shadow fell across me.
Golden boots planted on either side of my body. The ground trembled with each dragon strike, roars splitting the air until my ears rang. I rolled onto my back, forcing breath into my chest.
Kallias stood over me, spear lifted.
Gyrak lunged for him, jaws snapping near his head. The spearhead lashed out, slicing a seam across scaled lips.
The black roared and staggered into Matalino, who fought to reach Kallias, horns carving trenches through dirt.
“He has them. But his hold is weak!” Kallias shouted over the mayhem.
I turned inward, reaching within myself to find that empty chamber inside my soul—that pocket that had always ached for a dragon’s bond. Magic never stayed there. It seeped away like water through cracked stone. But I scoured its expanse, past the ache, searching for any current, any connection.
Stop!
Dragons dropped mid-lunge, momentum carrying them into stumbling heaps. Confused chirps tangled with snarls as instinct battled command.
Something slick and dark brushed against my thoughts.
Cold. Clinging.
He was there.
Tallon slid past the edge of my mind, leaving behind a residue like murky oil on water. I shivered as his presence pressed close. When he used my body before, I had felt nothing—I’d been numb. Detached.
But now? Through the hollow that marked me as the Dragon’s Heart, I saw him—his magic.
Kill them both! His voice coiled deep inside my skull.
Gyrak’s eyes rolled white. His claws carved toward us.
No. Be still!
Matalino shrieked, smashing his horned head into the ground, dirt spraying as he spun. Voices collided in their minds, power clashing against power until the dragons trembled under it. It was driving them mad.
I crawled clear of Kallias’ boots and looked across the field.
Tallon stood alone.
Behind him, the Velli army held formation, content to watch. This was a spectacle. A display of dominance. A show of power. After this, none would dare question him.
But that would be his undoing.
“Kallias, kill him.”
He drove his spear into the earth before me, a wall of gold and steel. “I’m not leaving you.”
“He’s alone!” My fingers dug into grass, blades bending between them. “We are not.”
His gaze searched mine. Cornflower blue, sharp and bright despite the grime streaking his face. Lines bracketed his eyes, his brow pulled tight as if trying to read my thoughts. I was asking him to leave me, to trust me.
War was still a foreign concept to me. I’d misjudged before, trusted my own instinct over his. But this time, he had to lean on me. On my blood. On the call carved into my soul.
I couldn’t do it without him. But he needed me just the same.
A snarl ripped from his throat, then he wrenched his spear free and stormed toward Tallon.
With a small, sad smile curving my lips, my eyelids fluttered shut. I turned my sight inward—and hunted.
Tallon’s grip on the dragons felt slick, like the mucus coating an eel’s skin. Each time I grasped for it, he slipped through, his cackling laughter skittering through my skull.
I tried again. Blind. Reaching through the hollow for that cold shadow. My hold slipped, magic darting away like a fish through claws.
Panic shot through me.
If I couldn’t seize him, pin down his control, I would die. The riders, my brother… Kallias. All of them would be killed. The dragons would become his to wield and bleed dry. I saw it—a vision of him carving them open. Drinking deep. Forcing himself to purge it only to swallow more.
No.
I pulled back a fraction. And his power spread over the beasts once more. I didn’t need to catch him. I had to hold him.
My focus condensed into a spear of light, one I knew so well, bright and fierce. I drove it downward into the dark, piercing his control.
He jerked back, and my body swayed with the strain, muscles trembling. His laughter morphed into a snarl. That slimy essence recoiled, peeling from the dragons, snapping free of their minds.
Then it coiled around my spear.