Empire of Reckoning and Ruin (Dragons of Tirene #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

In the palace’s royal gift room, watery winter sunlight streams through tall windows, creating tiny stars out of the dust motes that dance between Sterling and me. His bronze, battle-scarred hand rests on my hip, warm and steady, like it’s meant to be there.

And it is.

Dark brown eyes flecked with gold—so expressive I could drown in their depths—smile down at me.

Add in the high cheekbones, square jaw, and confident swagger, and Knox Sterling Barda becomes too damn attractive for his own good.

The fact that he’s Tirene’s crown prince does nothing to deflate his ego.

Though he rubbed me the wrong way when we first met, I’ve grown to love this man’s enduring confidence.

It’s still hard to believe he’s all mine.

I lean into him, reveling in his hard, military-trained body as we weave around gift-laden tables, the weight of his touch anchoring me to this rare moment of peace after months of chaos.

My stomach flutters, not from nerves, but from the simple pleasure of being alone with him. From this brief respite from my responsibility as Tirene’s only dragoncaller in generations…and the savior of the kingdoms…and the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy.

For the afternoon, I don’t have to be Lark Axton, born Ella Leona Hendrix, now Queen of Tirene.

I can simply be myself.

A young woman deeply in love, opening engagement presents with her betrothed during a desperately needed moment of normalcy in a world gone mad.

“Another golden goblet set.” Sterling’s voice rumbles through his chest. “That makes five.”

I don’t bother to hide my snicker. We could get through this pile faster if we separated, but where’s the fun in that? “Now our company can get tipsy out of fancy drinkware too.”

“By company, I’m guessing you mean Agnar, Leesa, and Bastian.” Sterling’s lips quirk up at the corners. His glossy black hair shines in the light, beckoning my fingers to stroke its silkiness.

An answering grin spreads across my face. “Exactly.”

The gift room stretches before us, tables arranged in neat rows, each stacked with offerings sent to the palace in Windmyre, Tirene’s capital city, from neighboring nations, noble houses, and dignitaries who want to curry favor with the kingdom’s queen and soon-to-be-crowned king.

This small, out-of-the-way space is just one of many empty chambers that populate the palace. I’m pretty sure I never noticed it until we christened the place as the perfect spot to store our engagement and wedding gifts.

Many of the palace’s extra rooms currently function as overflow housing for those who lost their homes before we finally destroyed the drachen.

Though we’ve managed to repair some of the damage inside the palace walls in the last four months, parts of the capital city outside the barrier still resemble a war zone.

Rebuilding will take time.

Sterling’s fingers trace lazy patterns against my side as we meander through the rows of packages. “Two months. Two months until you’re officially mine.”

“I’ve been yours since that first kiss in the stable at Flighthaven.”

Heat rises to my cheeks at the memory of his hands on me, his lips. The taste of whiskey and danger. He served as my flight instructor, and students and instructors weren’t supposed to fraternize. The first time we met, he struck me as arrogant as he was beautiful.

He gradually managed to lower my defenses.

Little did I know he was only posing as an instructor at Flighthaven Academy.

In reality, he was a soldier and Tirene’s prince.

He infiltrated the campus to verify the existence of the kidnapped dragoncaller raised in Aclaris and then win her trust so he could steal her back to Tirene.

He smirks as if he can read my thoughts. “And I’ve been yours. Soon the whole world will know.”

Despite a rocky beginning, our story will finally culminate in a happy ending. The celebrations are set to last a full week. Sterling’s coronation will follow our nuptials, with feasts and hunts and a masquerade ball sandwiched between jousts and tournaments and magical games.

Royals and nobles from the closest kingdoms have already confirmed their attendance, along with visitors from more distant lands who will cross seas and snowcapped mountains just to witness our union.

And we must host them all.

Considering the turmoil other kingdoms have experienced recently, I suppose I shouldn’t complain.

“Do you think they’re coming to see us get married, or to see the woman who burned Narc’s bones?” I try to keep my voice light.

Sterling’s hand tightens on my hip. “Both. But mostly, they want to ensure Tirene’s favor. Thanks to you, we’re the strongest kingdom in the region.”

I shift my weight uneasily. The reality of being the sole phoenix-born dragoncaller in existence and the strongest fire user in generations comes with plenty of downsides. My heritage granted me an isolated and ignorant upbringing and molded me into a pawn kingdoms squabbled over.

Sterling’s gasp yanks me from my brooding. “Look, how original! A bird!” His voice rings with faux surprise as he lifts a delicate glass sculpture from a velvet cushion.

Rolling my eyes, I gesture around at the dozens of bird-related presents scattered across the tables. Some appear subtle, others ostentatious. All are intended to pay homage to my phoenix-blessed heritage.

“How many birds does that make?” As I do the math, I sweep a lock of hair behind my ear, the streaks of gold threading the brown glinting in the sun. “Seventeen?”

Seventeen glass birds. Just what everyone needs.

“Eighteen.” Sterling sets the sculpture down carefully. “And technically, they’re phoenixes. After all, you incinerated Narc’s bones with your phoenix fire. People remember that.”

With a sigh, I drag my fingers along the edge of a silver tray. “We all played our part.”

“But you’re the one who dropped into the broken earth.

” When Sterling recites the line from the prophecy about me getting buried alive, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes vanishes.

“You torched his bones with phoenix fire to save us all. That’s what people are celebrating. Hope rising from the ashes.”

Rising from the ashes…the same way I did. Literally.

I rub my arms to fight off a shiver. I didn’t just plummet into the earth. I died down there, just like the prophecy stated I would. Then, I somehow came back to life on the ground above where I disappeared.

My gaze drifts to the window.

In the courtyard below, children play in the dappled shade of ancient umberheart trees.

Among them, little Rose Lockwood, Agnar’s six-year-old niece, runs in circles.

Her blond curls bounce with each step, and a small dancing flame hovers faithfully over her right shoulder.

The other children maintain a slight distance.

Not enough to be obvious, but enough that I notice.

“I may have saved the world, but at what cost?”

Sterling watches Rose as her innocent laughter floats up to us. “You saved her too.”

After Rose survived my phoenix fire, after she completely healed from the drachen’s corruption, a small flame started hovering at her shoulder.

The tiny blaze doesn’t harm anyone or anything, not even the flowers she loves to pick, but its presence marks her as different.

A mystery no one can explain. Maybe my grandfather could have helped solve this puzzle.

The pain—a sudden stab between my ribs—catches me off guard.

Eldor Gentry’s burial was over four months ago, just twenty-four hours after Dowager Queen Alannah Barda’s.

My grandfather and Sterling’s mother died on the same day, murdered by the same traitors on the Royal Council of Tirene.

Even though we were right there, we couldn’t save them.

Not a single day passes where I don’t feel the void created by the loss of my beloved, trusted family. So much loss concentrated in such a short time.

Too much.

“Rose is happy.” Sterling wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Agnar says she and her mother are settling in well in the east wing. They’ll stay until we find them a suitable home.”

I nod, watching the girl spin in circles and the flame streak through the air like a comet. “A lot of places are filled with displaced survivors. Not just the palace. There’s been so much destruction. So much death.”

“We’ll finish rebuilding. But first,” Sterling pulls me closer, both hands now enveloping my waist, “it’s time for celebrations. Something that will give hope to our people. Our queen’s wedding.”

I push up on my toes and kiss him, softly and sweetly. “And their king’s ascension.”

His pupils dilate. In a fluid motion, he sets me on one of the tables, knocking gifts aside with a sweep of his arm. Goblets and trinkets scatter, some thumping on the rug, others clattering against the marble floor.

I should care about the potential damage, but in a matter of seconds, his mouth is on mine, and suddenly nothing else matters.

He kisses me soundly, slowly, deliberately.

As always, my body reacts like this is our first time.

My blood heats as Sterling invades my mouth with his tongue, first tasting, then ravishing. His palms frame my face before sliding down to my neck, and his thumbs trace sensual circles on my shoulders.

He nips at my lower lip and pulls back, his expression contemplative.

I still. “What is it?”

The corner of his mouth rises. “You’re going to have to practice dancing, you know.”

“Dancing?”

I’m confused by the sudden shift in direction, but from the way he’s smiling, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Two can play this game. I’ll get him back later.

“For the wedding. The coronation ball. All the festivities where the kingdom will expect their queen to lead them in celebration.” He strokes my hips. “Can’t have you stumbling around like a newborn alicorn.”

I narrow my eyes. “What makes you think I need to practice? I have plenty of experience dancing.”