Chapter Three
Mother’s hand stayed firm on my elbow as we climbed the long winding staircase to the Nest. A full night’s sleep, hot food, and fresh water had begun to rebuild my strength. But my thighs and calves, softened by Radaan’s flat plains, protested the endless ascent.
A sharp pang cut through me. I buried it fast, embracing the burn. I couldn’t afford to think of Radaan.
Oils coated my cheeks and split lip, shielding the raw skin. My hands lay swaddled in linen, hiding the gashes from clinging to Gyrak’s scales. Nothing could touch the bruises under my eyes—the price of slamming my head against his neck.
I looked wrecked.
A battered shell for a soul in shreds.
Breath rasped in my throat, and I slowed, squinting toward the black passage above. Mother shifted the lantern, golden light flashing across the cold stone walls.
So different from Radaan, where life couldn’t be contained.
A throaty croon rolled down the stairwell, followed by heavy sniffing. A faint smile tugged on my scabbed lip, and I forced my legs onward.
At last, we reached a landing. Mother turned the lantern low and hooked it on the wall.
“She’ll be insufferable,” she muttered.
I chuckled and pushed at the door. It flung wide. I hadn’t set foot through before a golden eye blocked the way, the slit pupil tightening as it swept my frame.
“Kalepsi.” My throat tightened. I raised a bandaged hand, pressing it to her cool, dark cheek. “Let me in.”
With a sharp huff and one last scan, her great head withdrew. I stepped inside, and wind rushed past, tearing at my skirts now that the windbreak no longer shielded me.
A wall of purple scales nudged me deeper into the chamber. I strode over sun-bleached bones and crumbled shells, careful not to slip on the gouged floor where dragons once quarreled. Kalepsi herded me toward a hollow carved in the black stone.
After a gentle push, I stumbled forward, catching myself against a pale-blue egg the size of a barrel. It jostled the others. A myriad of colors and patterns swirled across their thick, dimpled shells, but I knew from experience it would take more than a tumble to break one.
Kalepsi’s tail looped around me, pressing me into the Nest. Curled close, she shut the world away, and I laughed up at her as she dipped her head low, pulling in a long, slow breath.
In the shade, her scales blended into near-black. In sunlight, they bloomed violet like wildflowers after rain.
“You laid a clutch.” I eased her tail aside and lowered myself against the curve of an egg.
Only hers ever grew this large. The older the dragon, the bigger the egg. Younger beasts laid smaller ones, and their hatchlings took years to grow strong enough for a rider. Kalepsi’s hatchlings could carry someone before their first year.
Not always a good thing. Riding a half-grown dragonling invited disaster. Gyrak and Ronan proved that. They’d been insufferable. He’d bonded as a boy when the black hatchling barely held the strength to lift him. A horse-sized beast flitting through the palace had been a nightmare.
Father once grounded him, forced him to walk everywhere for a week. ‘A dragon is not a ride,’ he had said. ‘Not a shortcut.’
Kalepsi hummed, settling her head on paws the size of my body. Her nostrils flared. She could smell my unease. I’d be stuck here until she deemed me healed, but after keeping the Spire awake all night with her howls, she’d earned her peace.
Draconia could rest. That was enough.
“I am fine.”
She snorted, one lazy eye sliding open like she knew better.
“I’m here. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Grief tightened my lungs, and I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. Kalepsi might’ve craved my return, to have me cradled in her Nest, but she wasn’t the reason I came back.
My body was mending, but my heart would never fully heal.
In the night, I wept like a child, stunned by the simple fact that I once again could.
Visions of Kallias, alone, facing his people—Tallon—haunted me.
I mourned him, but fury flared hotter at the thought of Tallon poised behind his father’s throne, undermining him. Waiting.
Kalepsi’s thick tail trembled, muscles shivering against my side.
“Kalepsi, let me in,” Mother called from beyond the scaled wall.
The dragon queen didn’t move. Her gleaming eye narrowed on me, reading the cracks I couldn’t speak aloud. Time stretched, wordless.
Because I wasn’t fine.
My heart ached. I shattered my name, turned Father against me, pushed Radaan to the brink of war, and abandoned Kallias in the storm I stirred. Every thought curved back to him.
What would life look like without him?
Cold. Miserable.
I tasted passion, felt what it meant to love. Kallias was strong, steady. A true king—not perfect, but powerful. Fierce. His presence lifted his people, stoked their spirit. He was everything I wanted.
No one else matched his fire with restraint. Nobody saw the world as he did—with that rare blend of resolve and mercy.
Not that anyone would have me now.
A princess caught mid-betrayal, with a man who wasn’t her betrothed. Who would trust me to remain loyal? Unless he chained me like a prisoner. Locked me behind iron bars.
My fingers closed around my throat, eyes clamped shut, fighting a silent scream against my constricted airway.
There was nothing left. I had to face what waited: the hollow stares tinged with the slow dying of trust; the hunger we’d share, born from my failure.
Arms crossed tight, I met Kalepsi’s eye. Still as stone, she studied me—pupil thin as a thread. I didn’t look away. I bared my soul, letting her see my pain, my ruin. There was nothing either of us could do about it.
I dropped my gaze, unable to handle her scrutiny any longer.
Silence thickened. Only the wind’s sharp cry and distant gulls competed with the dragon fleet roaring offshore.
At last, Kalepsi eased aside, granting my mother entrance. Queen though she was, she waited for permission like everyone else. She stepped forward, brushing her fingers across the dark violet scales for balance, casting a glare up at the massive beast.
My mask slid into place, concealing my damaged heart to deal with later.
She settled beside me, sighing as her spine met the bronze curve of a nearby shell.
A low chirp broke the quiet, followed by a gust of wind and the heavy thump of wings. Roars rolled over the Spire, a cacophony of dragons banking just outside.
“Tsunami’s being a menace,” Mother muttered.
“At least the riders stayed behind to rein her in.” I kept my voice even. Father didn’t ride out yesterday, but he also wouldn’t speak to me. He locked himself in his war room, only leaving to fly Argos, who passed the time hurling boulders off the sea cliffs, sharing his rider’s fury.
“She tipped a ship last week.” Mother pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Black fish?” The great whales often traveled in pods. Dragons loved them.
“Crab.”
Tsunami’s favorite. When haulers dragged in a net, they were expected to alert Artorius and his rider to deter her from sinking the ship.
I chuckled, wrapping my arms around myself. “Where was Artorius?”
“Patrolling the south. There are stirrings in the Wild Shores. Your father’s sending more riders to keep watch.”
“What’s happened?” I tilted my head, latching onto this new information. I was a Draconis princess once more. My place was here, my mind needed to be, as well.
“Nothing alarming.” She gave me a faint smile. “Argos feels it, and your father doesn’t want to lose our hold.”
We had planned to expand to those lands, as we were the only island with dragons. Unbonded beasts roamed there, so no other isle could claim it.
But we needed resources to settle.
Resources Radaan had once promised.
I nodded and leaned back, eyes falling shut. “You’ve planned everything for the Awakening?”
“There’s always more to do, and your touch would be welcome with the decorations. Williard swore he’d retire from kite-making when you left. Perhaps you can coax him into one more year.”
A bittersweet smile teased my lips. The Awakening marked the end of whirlstorm season. It also signaled the start of Hatching Days, when the eggs cracked open. Draconis celebrated with songs, dancing, feasts, and kites soaring overhead. A time steeped in joy and reverie.
Williard was a wizard with kites, and one of the island’s finest Vessels. He funneled magic into paper and string, turning sky into canvas. Trails of color drifted behind his creations, glowing like comets. Father himself once gave him the power to fuel them.
Memories stirred: bare feet pounding sand, wind tugging my hair, a dragon kite trailing golden dust. He was my favorite kite maker.
But if I visited now, would he see the same sweet princess who once raced through the tidefoam? Or had I been reduced to a stained name, a fallen daughter?
Self-doubt soured my stomach. I hated this endless cycle of questioning my worth. Would anyone welcome my return?
“The Kulletti recently arrived for the Awakening. Join us for dinner.”
“Already?” I scoffed. They never failed to needle Father, hinting we should gift them dragon eggs. No matter how often we explained that dragons chose their riders—not us—they ignored it. Their people settled on the island nearest the Wild Shores decades ago, and to this day, remained dragonless.
“They wouldn’t dare be late,” Mother muttered. “They’ll drive your father mad. If it weren’t for their pearls, we’d have cut ties long ago.”
Kulletti pearls shimmered with multiple colors, but the rare crimson ones held the most worth. They were the only thing that gave them standing among the island nations.
I thought of Radaan, how jewels gleamed on goblets, rings, and every unguarded corner. Gems flowed there like water. Here, pearls were our riches. No room for quarries, no stones to mine. But one day, expanding our homeland might give us that.
Kallias wore no gems on his yoke. Just beaten gold, etched with vines and filigree. No rubies. No opals.
Why?