Chapter Nine #2
“There’s been a message.” Haldor’s voice, low but clear, reached the family with ease.
“From?”
He hesitated. His gaze cut toward me, uneasy.
What did I do now?
Haldor bent close to his ear, a hand steadying on Father’s shoulder as he whispered, lips hidden.
Argos roared.
Porcelain rattled.
Father shoved back his chair, snarl curling his lip. “Nyxaria, come with me.”
Mother and I set down our spoons. Ronan rushed to his feet, already tensed to find Gyrak, to take flight.
My breath hitched. Sky above, had the Innaki declared war?
I scanned the table. Jehoikim’s beady eyes narrowed, studying my family. He wasn’t panicking—so it didn’t concern him. But then who?
Father stepped away. Mother and Ronan flanked him.
I moved to follow—whatever it was, he’d need all of us.
“Nienna, stay.”
I froze, mouth half-open. I swallowed the protest and sank back into my chair.
“You’ve only just arrived,” Mother called over her shoulder. “Join us after you’ve eaten.”
She took Father’s arm. Ronan followed, expression taut.
Dismissed. Left alone in a room full of nobles who no doubt blamed me for the disruption—probably a correct assumption—waiting for me to slip up.
I drew a breath, slow and deep, and leveled a smile like drawn steel. Then dipped my spoon back into the soup.
If Father wanted me here, I’d stay. Maybe he needed someone to watch the ambassadors. Still, the message gnawed at me. I didn’t know who sent it. Or what it said.
Endless possibilities swirled in my head, and somehow I was sure none of them were right.
The day’s heat blistered against my back. Sweat slicked my skin as I reached for the last length of cloth. The gold shimmered under the brutal light as I draped it over a green so deep it pulled my thoughts across the sea.
My foot slipped. A yelp broke loose as Freya cursed and grabbed for me. I dropped the fabric and snatched the rungs, fingers closing on rough wood. It jolted but held.
“Sun above!” Freya’s knuckles had turned white on the rails. “Let me move the blasted ladder!”
I groaned and climbed down. She was right. I shouldn’t have reached that far. The heat had frayed my patience—this task couldn’t end fast enough.
“You were so close!” Ronan’s voice came from the beach, a stone’s throw away. Gyrak’s wing stretched wide over him, casting a generous shadow.
Of course he wanted me to fall on my face while he stayed in the shade, complaining his black leathers weren’t suitable for stationary work in the sun.
I didn’t bother to give him a response. Freya and I repositioned the ladder against the platform.
I’d been assigned to decorate the dance stage—my mother’s attempt to make my work more ‘acceptable’ for royalty.
Honestly, the whole thing needed saving.
The poor woman who’d started it chose brown and green in honor of the earth.
A noble sentiment. But not a joyful one.
I accented in gold. The palette tugged at my frayed heart, but I claimed coincidence.
Freya steadied the ladder as I climbed again, reaching for the fallen cloth.
The stage stood raised above the beach, ringed with tall poles.
I secured the fabric to ropes strung from pole to pole, the drapes catching the breeze as if the wind danced with us.
Mage lights would hang among the cords. Dragons would paint fire in the sky during the Awakening.
Some days crawled; others vanished like smoke on a windy day.
Nearly a week had passed since Haldor’s message. When I reached Father’s level that night, he was flying with Ronan, and Mother warned me to give them space. All she’d said was war—and nothing more. She left me with orders: prepare for the Awakening, stay clear of the nobles.
“A little to the right,” my brother called.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, shoulder pressing into the damp strands of hair clinging to my face.
“I have a dagger,” Freya said from below.
A snort escaped as I adjusted the fabric, then tied it off.
“Too tight–”
A roar cut him off.
Gyrak jerked his head up, dropping his wing over Ronan like a tent flap. I twisted, gripping the ladder as the black dragon snorted, tongue flicking the air while his rider thrashed beneath the leathery membrane.
“What is it?” I shouted, as if the beast might answer.
A chorus of roars and shrieks ripped across the island, sending rock gulls screeching for their nests. I snapped my head around. Dragons launched skyward from every direction, wings slicing through the air as they surged north.
Gyrak snarled and sprang upright, lifting his wing.
I scrambled down the ladder while my brother brushed off his leathers, muttering curses. Gyrak let out another growl and tossed his head toward the northern shores, eyes slitted.
“Ronan!” I called over the sudden clamor. Workers shaded their stares, gazes tracking the beasts spiraling overhead.
What could stir them like that?
He hesitated, spun to Gyrak, then sprinted to his leg, clambering up without pause.
“You slimy suckerfish!” I snapped, tearing after him. Whatever drove the dragons to frenzy—he wasn’t leaving me behind.
My dress tangled around my legs, nearly pitching me into the glittering sand.
I grabbed a fistful of fabric and sprinted across the beach.
Ronan leaned into the saddle as I vaulted onto Gyrak’s paw, slipping where his missing toe left a hollow.
A midnight head swung toward me, breath hot and rancid.
I locked eyes with the yellow glare and didn’t flinch.
He would take me. I’d ridden him before—with my brother.
I wouldn’t dare try another dragon, not even Argos.
Teeth the length of my arm snapped inches from my face. I exhaled hard, then scrambled up the side, fingers clawing at the saddle’s straps.
“Stay here!”
“I’m not your dog,” I spat, climbing behind him and locking my arms around his waist. “Tell me what’s happening!”
Gyrak launched skyward. The force slammed my jaw shut. Ronan grunted as I clung tighter, hands clenched in front of him. Black scales shifted, muscles coiling, wings unfurling to catch the wind. Gyrak hurled his neck forward, leveraging his bulk, jostling us with each beat.
My throat tightened as the northern port came into view, the air swarming with dragons. K’lan shimmered beneath the chaos. Innaki ships would have arrived from the east, landing farther south along the border. We’d have heard if they passed through the outer isles.
It couldn’t be.
Dread stole my breath. Panic swelled. My vision blurred.
He wouldn’t.
Gyrak cut through the sky. Ronan pulled his goggles down while I pressed my face into his shoulder. Wind clawed at my eyes when I tried to look. I gave up and held on, whispering prayers to Veridis—or any god listening—that he hadn’t sent a ship here.
We dipped low. Gyrak groaned as he fought to land on the choked beach. Dragons packed the shore, scales glinting in a riot of colors. Some stood knee-deep in the surf, riders still mounted.
My gaze swept the water. Hope curdled. Air fled my lungs.
A Radaanian banner snapped from the mast of a sleek ship.
Ronan dropped from the saddle without waiting. Across the way, Father dismounted from Argos’ massive shoulder. The black bull snarled, lips curled, eyes murderous.
I swung my leg over and slid off Gyrak—graceless, stumbling through the sand as I raced after them.
Dockhands bolted from the green-flagged ship, retreating behind the wall of dragons. No one wanted to be caught in the blast.
And that’s what the ship risked.
Ronan and I sprinted after Father’s navy coat. His shoulders squared, his stride relentless as he charged the ramp. Radaanian crew leaped from the vessel, ropes in hand to moor it.
“You get a single breath to haul anchor and leave our waters!” Father thundered.
My boots thudded on the dock. I grabbed Ronan’s arm, holding him back. We didn’t need more kindling thrown on this blaze.
“Begging your pardon–” one began.
“But they’re under my orders.”
My knees buckled. A sob caught in my throat.
Kallias stood atop the ship. Greaves loomed behind him, his shadow as always. Sunlight flared against the golden mantle. The wind stirred his silvered hair. I couldn’t see his face at this distance, but I knew that voice. It clung to my nightmares.
Argos roared. The blast whipped the sails and strained the ropes that held the ship in place.
Ronan yanked me to a stop behind Father. A ramp crashed down from the ship’s deck, thudding hard against the dock.
He shouldn’t be here.
Even in my wildest dreams, he never dared. He couldn’t. Father would kill him.
“Don’t do it.” Father’s voice dropped—quiet, deadly. A promise.
The air swirled around us, tugging at my dress. Sparks crackled over his clenched fists, blue and bright.
Kallias stepped onto the ramp.
Argos lunged. Water exploded beneath his pounding stride. His gaping jaws rushed past me—teeth wide, aimed at Kallias.
I was wrong.
Argos would kill him.