Chapter 3 #2
If I’d wanted him dead, I’d have let the curse finish the job centuries ago.
Instead, I’d wasted lifetimes trying to break it—a curse that shackled me as tightly as it did him.
My brother knew the burden of the debt I could never repay, the oath I’d sworn in a moment of blinding pain and ruin.
The crime that would outlive me, long after my bones turned to dust.
Fortunately, that oath failed to require that I be nice to the bastard. “Goddess save me, but I tire of your whining.” I pitched my voice high, mocking. “Thorne hates me. Thorne wants to kill me.” I snorted. “Some days I wonder if I should have left you in King Idris’ zoo.”
Three lunar cycles ago, I’d searched the entire realm for the missing dragon only to discover he was a prisoner.
Chained, mind bent to the demands of a false king.
The once fierce beast was being kept as a pet by King Idris in Carcerem.
A rare sacred arbor kingdom full of magic, though that tainted magic was being squandered on foolish pursuits, like the Fallen Trials.
King Idris, the bastard, was using Alaric to incinerate the contestants he’d forced to take part in his games. The proud beast was reduced to performing parlor tricks for a bloodthirsty crowd. I’d risked life and limb to free him from that place.
Unfortunately, word spread that Idris’ pet dragon was on the loose, and hunters showed up in droves. Alaric’s head was quite the trophy, seeing as how dragons were rumored to be extinct. We escaped the wily bastards, but not without sustaining many injuries.
“What were you doing in Carcerem, anyway?” I nibbled a bit of sharp cheese. The flavor exploded on my tongue. It paired nicely with the rodent. “You never told me.”
Alaric settled his head onto his thick forearm. “There was talk of a temple, its sacred pool overflowing with obsidian.”
For close to a thousand years, Alaric and I had searched for a means to break his curse. Until our last argument—of which there were many—when Alaric had set out on his own. Much to his detriment.
When he fell silent, I cocked a brow. “So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Find this miracle temple?”
“Yes…and no.”
I sighed, long and theatrical. “Must I drag the story out of you?” I twirled a finger. “Go on.”
“The temple had a guardian,” he grumbled, clearly not a fan of this story. Which made me want to hear it all the more.
“A child. Or at least, it looked like one. Wild red hair. Smug little face.”
“And?” I prompted.
“He refused to take me. Said I was unworthy. So, I ate him.”
“Idiot.” It was no wonder we’d failed to break his curse in all these years.
“He grew angry after that.”
“You think?”
“When he reappeared, he swore at me. Claimed I deserved my fate.”
“And then?”
“I ate him again.”
“Ah.” I swallowed my laughter. “Now I see the problem.”
“After, Idris’ soldiers showed up, and in my weakened state—”
“They captured you.” Infiltrated his mind and kept him in a zoo. It was a humbling story to be sure. Not that the dragon had learned a single lesson from his incarceration.
“You seem to have forgotten the part where a devastatingly handsome hero snuck into the games, putting himself in grave danger to rescue you.” Along with the help of a few friends who were also prisoners, sentenced to the pit and forced to compete.
One of whom turned out to be the rightful king of Carcerem.
“As if you would let me forget,” Alaric rumbled.
“You never did thank me for that.” Not that he’d ever expressed gratitude. For anything. Ever.
“We never should have returned to this mountain,” he snarled, deflecting. “I do not want to be here.”
I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here either, but I didn’t parade my misery through every conversation. Unlike a certain overgrown lizard.
“Neither do I. But unless you’ve found another cavern big enough to wedge your fat ass into, we’re stuck. And you still need the healing waters in Nefarr if you want those gashes to close anytime this century.”
“Healing waters,” Alaric scoffed, a ribbon of smoke curling above his head. “We both know I am no longer healing. My curse has run its course. My time is up. The comet arrives tonight. In one lunar cycle, when it leaves our realm, I will turn to ash. Just as the curse foretold.”
I steeled myself against the pain that risked disrupting my carefree composure. Despite our tumultuous relationship, I didn’t truly want my brother dead. Pathetic as it was, Alaric was all I had left. Without him, I’d be alone. The last of our kind. For one such as me, it was a terrifying prospect.
Sure, I had hundreds of acquaintances. Some I called friends. I partied with the wild ones, slept with the pretty ones. But none of them truly knew me. Except Alaric. For better or for worse.
“Or maybe your interpretation of the curse is wrong. Again.” I let the word hang long enough to needle him. “You really think it’s a coincidence we ended up here? Gravestone Mountain? Where it all started?”
As much as I hated the idea, I couldn’t shake the feeling we’d been dragged here for a reason. Back to the place where his curse began… And maybe where it could finally end.
When Alric could barely fly without scraping his ass across the mountaintops, I’d brought him here out of desperation.
It was the only location large enough for a dragon to heal in relative safety.
To outsiders, the exterior of Gravestone Mountain appeared as it should, like a mountain.
Thanks to the wards, nobody could see the lost kingdom buried inside. Or the dragon hidden in its belly.
“It’s more likely the fates brought me here to die.” Alaric sighed, resignation in his growly voice.
Also...possible. But if he lost hope, the curse would finish him. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve given up? That you’re ready to roll over and surrender?” I sure as hell wasn’t. For as long as Alaric lived, I would fight to find a way to break that flarking curse.
“I grow weary of the battle.”
His tone scraped across my nerves. If he was going to lie down and die, I wouldn’t coddle him on the way there.
“Sissy.”
“What did you say?” He lifted his head.
“Sissy. So what if you got a little banged up, and it’s taking a while to heal?”
“You call this a little banged up?” Alaric roared, shifting his wing back to reveal several deep lacerations carved into his breast. Chunks of flesh had been gouged out of his flank. Pink streaks shot beneath his scales—a sign of infection.
My stomach rolled, but I locked my jaw.
Already weakened from King Idris’ barbaric zoo, Alaric had been slow to dodge the hunter’s poisoned arrows. After the bastards failed to shoot the dragon out of the sky, they’d managed to get their grappling hooks into him. Tearing free had cost him dearly.
My upper lip curled with a sneer. “I’ve seen worse.” But never on him.
“Go to hell, Thorne.” Alaric rose from his nest, his spiked tail swinging dangerously close to my head. I dove for cover as it swept over me.
Once the massive beast had stormed past, I picked myself up off the floor in time to see him heading for the flight deck. “Where are you going?” He was in no condition to fly.
“To the healing waters,” his voice thundered in my skull. “And if you value your life, you won’t follow.”
The mountain trembled with the force of his wingbeats as he launched from the deck. I stood there, chest heaving, the echo of his departure rattling my bones.
The air reeked of smoke and sickness. He thought the curse was done with him. Maybe it was. But I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.