Chapter Four
Legend
I storm back toward the castle, dragging the taste of smoke and scorched stone along the polished floors. The dragon’s fury still echoes in the back of my skull like a fucking bell that won’t stop ringing.
Sinner is halfway through the corridor with Knight and London on his heels, tracking the direction of the clouds after the beast blew through them like a fucking lightning bolt.
Creed is ahead, moving fast, his hands in fists at his side. He doesn’t turn toward the war room or council chambers, where any king would go when the realm is fucking bleeding.
So, where the fuck is he going?
I shove past the others.
“Creed!” I bark.
His stride doesn’t falter as he rounds the corner and disappears through the tall archway that leads to the Archives.
“Creed!”
He slams the doors open with a wave of his hand and stomps through.
I’m right on his heels, stepping into a room I haven’t set foot in since I was ten. Dad had said it was time to understand how our family kept our royal position when the Argents were stripped of theirs after the death of their king and queen.
The Archives is cavernous, a cathedral built of both human paper and old magic, shelves climbing so high they vanish into shadowed rafters.
Creed heads straight to the far left wall, where all the Aethentale’s of old Magic are located, and starts tearing texts out, tossing them to the floor and going for the next when he doesn’t instantly find what he’s looking for.
“Creed. Talk,” I demand, because clearly, he knows something. My oldest brother is about to tear the bones out of our own history. “What happened back there?”
He ignores me, fingers moving faster.
My chest has been tight since the moment those sapphire eyes locked onto mine and a familiar darkness threaded through me. I was harsh and unruly, but soft and binding. It made no fucking sense.
Creed continues to dig, pulling a thick, leatherbound text apart, papers flying around like dead leaves, before tossing it behind him.
“Creed.” My voice drops, a warning wrapped in it. “Fucking answer me!”
Knight, London, and Sinner file into the room one by one.
Creed drags another stack of books down, several tumbling and falling at my feet, making me jump back.
My head yanks toward my brothers. Little fucking help!
“Brother,” Knight says, keeping his tone careful. “What did you see?”
“Not now,” he replies without a single flinch.
“Yes, now. What just happened back there? What did you see when you looked in that dragon’s head?” I close the distance between us until heat rolls off his skin and onto mine. “What was he afraid of?”
Creed snaps the book shut and bends, tucking it beneath his arms to hide the spine and checking the ones that fell.
“What are you afraid of?”
His head snaps to me. “Leave.”
I cross my arms. “Talk.”
“I said not now!” The air grows humid, the scent of metal and sugar pressing against my chest. Motherfucker is using his magic to get us out.
My back slams into Sinner, who collides with Knight and London, before we’re all tumbling out into the hallway.
“Bro!” I jump up, ready to throw myself at him. But a portal splits through the air and Creed steps right through before it snaps closed behind him.
“What the fuck?”
Sinner pushes to his feet, offering London a hand. “Bet he went back to Rathe U.”
She slaps it away and pushes up from Knight. “Well, someone should. We just took off after the ball. Zeke says it’s not only the students who are asking questions, but now, so are the professors.”
“Zeke,” Sinner snickers, unable to hide his dislike for Magdelena’s little spawn. “Can’t believe we’re using that tool for anything.”
“It’s called fake it with the enemy, Sinner.” London rolls her eyes. “And we can’t be everywhere all the time. Clearly.”
“Just, shut up.” I shake my head. “Why would Creed leave? Why not tell us what he saw?”
“The answer to both those questions is the same.” Knight frowns at the mess Creed made. “He left so he could research in peace.”
“Research what?”
“Whatever he saw in the dragon’s head.” Sinner scans the bookshelf. “He needs proof about whatever threat it was.”
I look to Knight for confirmation, but his features only pull tighter.
Frustration moves me deeper into the room, and I reach for a book in the section he was picking through to try to find a fucking clue, the words Mythical or Majestic imprinted in golden font.
I find a metal spine, but fire erupts through my hands at the touch, and I retract with a hiss.
“Spellbound spine?” Sinner steps up beside me, jaw flexing once. “That’s very fucking cute.”
London sighs, pressing against Knight’s chest. “I’m going to go see if Silver needs any help with the injured, then I’ll check the boundaries.”
Knight nods.
I drop my head back, the sharpness in my chest and ringing in my ears doubling.
“You doing all right?” Sinner asks.
“Fucking fine,” I snap, pulling away when he touches my arm.
I shove past them, storming out of the Archives and down the nearest set of steps that lead toward the back wing of the palace.
The castle shifts around us as we move, the sound of distant alarms finally fading as our guards get shit in order.
Eventually, I’m climbing the tower at the edge of the castle, fist wrapped around stone as old as life.
Dark ridges of Rathe stretch out like the spine of a sleeping beast, and beyond that, if you know where to look and the clouds are just thin enough, you can see the shadowed cut of Darkadia’s border. The home of dragons.
I take a deep breath, feeling the wind pull around me in a scent of ash and sulphur. Footsteps thud against stone as Sinner and Knight close in. Sinner leans against one of the posts, as Knight stands at my left, his arms crossed.
We stare out at the dark hills ahead.
Every few seconds there’s a flash in the distance, flames snapping through dark clouds that send bolts of red streaks through the galaxy above. It’s in synch with the loud clap of violence that shakes loose rock on the ground.
“Something is off,” I tell them. “I don’t know what, but I feel it.” I tap my sternum with my knuckle once.
Knight’s gaze shifts to me. He’s always had the ability to say more by saying less. He perfected that shit when he was in my mother’s womb, so when he stares back at me with that signature blank expression, I already know. I know he feels the same way I do.
But the longer he looks at me, the more I notice something else. I don’t know if it’s the softening of the edges of his eyes, or the slackness of his jaw, but that same feeling that settles beneath my ribs spreads. Is he hiding something from me?
I hold him there. “We need to fix it.”
“Not without Creed.” He finally releases, glancing at Sinner. “There are four kings of Rathe, not three.”
He’s right. I know it, Sinner knows it, and fucking Creed knows it. He knew we couldn’t do shit about whatever is going on without him—and he still chose to lock himself away.
“He doesn’t understand.” A soft voice slips into the space behind us.
I spin around, finding Arabella standing there, her pale hair tucked back and her expression composed.
I didn’t even smell her arrival, or fucking feel her approach. I should have, but I was distracted enough to shut out my fucking bond. The guilt is like a punch to the gut.
I reach for her like it’s gonna fix it. The moment our fingers touch, my chest fills with heat again, our bond fueling me in places she’d never know.
“Doesn’t understand what, my mate?”
Delicate fingers slide along my palm as she steps up beside me, glancing out at the flickering mess ahead.
“Creed is a good man, and a great king for Rathe,” she begins, her skin glowing despite the darkness. “But he doesn’t know the different kind of fear we live once we meet our fated.”
Her grip digs into my arms, clinging to me like I’m the safest place she’s ever lived. “He won’t take any of us who have mated seriously until someone gets hurt.”
Knight stiffens beside me.
Arabella focuses on him, and slowly, Knight’s features harden. His eyes turn white, the shadows around his cheekbones deepening.
My skin prickles, and I shift closer to Arabella. The fuck is he doing?
His lip curls. “Not sure you should be the one to speak on this, or do you need reminding of that little fact?”
“Knight,” I warn, but Arabella uses her other hand to stabilize me, her fingers spreading over my chest.
My magic dies down instantly, and I lower my frown to her.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” she presses, tilting her head to the side as she stares my brother down. “For your mate?”
He can be fucking worried without taking his shit out on mine.
The snarl on Knight’s mouth dissolves into a full glare, his whole face morphing to one I’d only seen on him right before he fucking kills someone.
“Keep my mate out of your mouth, Argent,” he growls. “She is more powerful than you know. She can handle herself.”
I go to put myself between my lost the fucking plot brother and my mate, but she taps at my chest again, keeping me there.
Why does my body listen if my bond is being threatened? I could never control myself with—no.
You will not think of her.
“Yes,” she says softly, “but still you worry.”
“Watch yourself, little girl,” he warns.
“I have my true mate to watch things for me.”
That grabs Sinner’s attention as he stiffens beside me, his gaze sliding over Arabella with lazy but animalistic focus. It’s what he’s good at. Speaking of lost the fucking plot.
“What exactly are you suggesting, Scab-bella?” Sinner drawls.
Arabella’s eyes flick to him, and then she looks back out at the horizon, at the flashes of fire still cutting through.
“A ban on the skies,” she says with a shrug, as if it’s the most obvious option.
Sinner’s eyes narrow.
Knight’s jaw ticks.
And the wind shifts again, carrying another distant roar up over the balcony, as if the dragons themselves heard her…and laughed.
Like I’m about to fucking do– because is she serious ?
That has to be the most Argent thing I have ever fucking heard.
Never, in a million human years, could we possibly.