Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nienna
Iknew that roar. Deep. Earth-throttling. Argos.
I scrambled for my clothes. A seam tore as I yanked my dress over my head. My skin crawled, heart raging to a chaotic pulse under my ribs. “They never come—not without a rider.”
Kallias dressed with precision, each motion quick, exact. Determination drew harsh lines across his brow, shadowing his features with concentration.
I bit my cheek, trying to steady my unease. “They fly in at first light, rest through the heat, and leave before dusk. A dragon doesn’t arrive this late in the day unless–”
“Let’s go.” He cut me off, fastening the last clasp of his mantle. He grabbed the basket, dirt still dusting his silvering hair, but I didn’t stop to brush it away. I bolted for the shore.
My instincts screamed to run, but brambles snagged at my steps. I tripped twice, steadied myself, forced my pace to slow. Panic surged like a tide. My fist clenched around my skirt as though the fabric might anchor me. Leaves whispered, branches shifted—nothing escaped my ears.
We broke through the treeline just as Argos dropped from the sky.
My hand flew to my mouth. He spiraled downward, wings faltering under his weight. The left buckled. He crashed into the beach with a guttural cry, the impact rattling the ground.
Father stood apart from the tents and men. Alone. Hands folded behind him. Chin high. Shoulders stiff as he watched the wounded creature right himself with a weary groan.
Whatever brought Argos here, Father had chosen to face it.
Kallias’ hand settled at the small of my back with a gentle push. I didn’t need more. I descended the hill in long strides, breath catching at the sight before us.
The dragon’s wing hung limp, its tip dragging a trench behind him. Labored breaths hissed from his flared nostrils. His head lifted and snapped at the air, gold eyes narrowed to fierce slits. Massive claws shredded the shoreline, spraying white sand.
I reached Father’s side. Wind tugged at his beard. He never blinked—his gaze held fast to the dragon, locked in a wordless exchange.
He drew in a breath, and fury hardened his features.
Argos mirrored him. A snarl curled his lip, and he dropped his head, rumbling deep enough to shake my bones.
“I ride for Draconia,” Father said, stepping forward.
“What happened?” I stayed close, matching his hurried steps. His dragon wore no saddle—it would be a long ride. And if he collapsed mid-flight, both of them would die at sea.
“The Innaki are coming.”
Laughter burst from me, disbelief masking my fear. “You’re joking. A messenger, maybe. Surely not an attack. Galdoni wouldn’t dare.”
“They’ll breach our waters in two days.”
Sea beneath. He dared?
I watched, frozen, as Father climbed onto Argos’ bare back. Horror curled tight in my belly. The Innaki had never launched a real threat. Sharp tongues, yes—insults wrapped in politics—but never open war. No one had.
They knew we had dragons.
Kallias stayed behind me, quiet. Steady. There’d be no talking Father down. He would not remain idle while raiders approached. Not when his queen, the riders, and his people were in danger.
Ronan and Gyrak could defend the island. Mother could rule if needed. But this—this need to be at their side burned in his marrow as fiercely as it did in mine.
Argos lifted his head, muscles flexing, pain twisting his form.
“He can’t fly!” I screamed, surging forward.
Kallias caught me around the waist, pulling me back while Argos threw himself into the air with a strangled shriek. The left wing wobbled. He veered and dipped with a shriek. Father jostled like a doll strapped to a charging horse.
My chest clenched. I grasped at the feeling, as if I might hold them to the ground with sheer will.
With strangled grunts, the black dragon struggled into the sky.
No backward glances. No hesitation. Only a king riding to war.
I couldn’t stop him.
I spun, ripped from Kallias’ grasp, feet pounding the sand—then stopped. Looked back.
He stood, head tilted, watching. He didn’t speak. Didn’t push. He let me choose. With a flick of his chin, he gestured toward the ship. I didn’t need to wait for him, for his permission. He’d follow my lead here. He gave me the helm.
And I took it.
We set sail before nightfall.
Out on open water, dark clouds pressed low, swallowing the stars. A dense weight settled in the air, wind thick with storm-salt. At the prow, I kept my eyes on the horizon. Dread sat heavy on my shoulders, silence anchoring me in place.
I scanned the sky until it blurred. Listened for wingbeats. For a distant cry. For anything.
When the first drops of rain kissed my cheeks, they mingled with tears I couldn’t hold back. If Mother had been there, she might have stopped him, tempered his fire.
But she wasn’t.
Instead, I searched the dark for a black dragon.
Kallias stayed near, his presence a barrier against the sea’s howl. Rain plastered my hair to my face as the waves bucked beneath us. When water breached the deck, he took my hand, pulled me below.
His arms wrapped around me. Heat seeped through chilled skin. One heartbeat steadying another, chasing away my dread.
Small red-painted ships blocked our path to Draconia. Cannons lined their decks, harpoons glinting along the rails, sharp and waiting. Sails waved in the breeze, a golden banner slashed by a crimson scythe snapping at their peaks.
“They think they can cut us off?” I scoffed. How could they? Just men in boats—until I scanned the sky and my stomach soured.
No dragons.
“Where are your riders?” Kallias’ calculating gaze locked on the enemy formation. “They wouldn’t hold this line without something up their sleeve.”
“There’s no defense against dragonfire.” I shook my head. “Unless you’re the King of Radaan,” I added.
He alone had survived it. Wood and iron were no match for dragonflame.
A roar cleaved the air, pulling our eyes east. A red dragon shot low over the raiders, its cry sharp as tearing silk. My nails dug into the railing as harpoons arced upward, metal tips catching the light like stars.
With a squeal, it veered, spiraling through the sky.
Lightning struck.
A white-hot bolt cracked across the clouds, engulfing the creature midair. My heart stopped, a scream lodged in my throat. Kallias swore under his breath. The red tumbled, wings limp. Its rider—barely a dot—clung tight as they plummeted together.
Then a shadow dropped from above us.
Gyrak.
The black dragon descended with devastating silence, fire erupting from his maw. The nearest raider ship ignited in a bloom of heat and light, wood splintering as flames tore through hull and sail. Screams rose beneath the roar of flames.
I gasped, rooted to the deck as the charcoal beast ripped through their line.
“Now!” Kallias twisted toward Captain Wylyn and shoved me down behind the rail. “Take us in! Straight for the island!”
Gyrak vanished again, folding into the clouds. The sea boiled where he’d flown, only wreckage left in his wake.
The remaining ships scrambled. Red sails dropped as wind caught their canvas. Crews shouted, trying to close the gap.
But we were already moving.
A Draconis sailor stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as he looked up at the mast. Confidence swept through me. The gale shifted. I bared my teeth at the distant ships.
They were too slow. Too late.
We were Draconis.
Our ship surged like a living thing, the deck pitching underfoot as if shoved by some invisible hand.
At the heart of the vessel, a man stood still. Fingers spread. Palms angled toward the boards. His jaw clenched, sweat gleaming across his brow. Power swirled around him, rippling through the planks and rigging. Wind howled past us as magic grabbed hold and dragged the ship forward.
No sails needed.
We hit the wreckage with a shudder. Burning timbers shattered against the bow, bodies twisting in the surf.
A flash of blonde hair surfaced—brief, unmistakable.
“Kallias!” I gasped, leaning over the edge, scanning the burning mess. Smoke curled off scorched beams and shattered hulls. Blood spread in ribbons across the water. “A Draconis!”
A pale body bobbed amid the carnage, blonde hair stark against torn limbs and tangled strands of black. My stomach churned as we sped past, leaving the corpse adrift in reddened waves.
“Can your people summon lightning?” Kallias didn’t flinch. His tone was all steel—calculated, detached. A king assessing damage.
“That’s why the dragons aren’t attacking,” I whispered. Rage pressed tight against my ribs. “We won’t burn our own, even if they’re the ones calling the storm.”
“What’s stopping the Draconis on board from turning on the raiders?” He didn’t waste words. Just followed the logic.
“There’s too much variation.” I tightened my voice, layering it in fury. “Some Vessels barely hold enough magic to light a lantern—others don’t know how to sail or swim to shore without getting harpooned.”
A lump of pale flesh bobbed in the wake. Bone jutted through both ends.
My people.
Galdoni would pay. With his life.
On our ship, the Vessel faltered. His color had drained to ash. I caught him as he collapsed, arms limp, head slumping against my shoulder. His fingers twitched, pouring everything into the spell that carried us home.
“Thank you,” I murmured, brushing sweat-soaked hair from his brow.
Kallias shifted beside me as the ship slowed, his mantle chains clinking with the motion. He stood angled between enemy sails and the dock ahead, unreadable.
The Vessel sagged fully against me.
“Your Majesty, he’s spent,” another sailor said, easing the young man from my grasp.
I pressed a hand to the Vessel’s chest. “When he wakes, bring him to me—or to Queen Nyxaria.”
The man nodded, grunting under the weight as he carried him below deck.
Behind us, the red sails held their distance. They flanked the harbor mouth, watching, waiting—but not attacking.
“Negotiating?” Kallias muttered.