CHAPTER TEN #2
Aero inhaled, the streaks in his blond hair darkening more toward onyx than crimson. “The longer you suppress it, the more unhinged it becomes. We’ve talked about this.”
It wasn’t a reprimand, barely even a warning. Only a reminder. That even kings could burn on what they refused to release.
“Ronan, what if Aelora had been here? What if you were in the courtyard, surrounded by younglings?” Aero’s voice lowered as he studied Ronan, sensing the things left unsaid. “If that power is not released when due, it will find its own way out.”
He knew that. He knew it. Why did Aero keep reminding him?
Ronan growled, “I would never let that happen.”
Aero lifted his arms. “Oh? Then I’ll take offense to what just occurred while I was standing here.” His stare rose to the portrait above the hearth, where the wings of painted dragons came to life in the glow. “Where were you?” he asked. “Just now?”
Ronan’s eyes followed, to cliffs once alive with wings and thunder. Where younglings learned to soar. Where legacy was rooted in stone.
But those cliffs were haunted now. It was there the memory had dragged him. Not the cliff, but the day. The moment.
“Nowhere,” he lied, a yawn slipping through as if it were nothing. He stretched while a wave shattered itself against the veil of glass behind him.
Aero inclined his head, reading the dismissal for what it was. His hands clasped behind his back, eyes sliding to the letter surprisingly unburned and still abandoned on the desk.
“If you don’t attend, you’re not only sending a message to Ryuu,” he let the pause linger, “but also to Luamis. King Obrann does not fear me the way he fears you. It is no secret his aim is to evade the Dark Kingdom. How long until he turns his sights toward the dragons as well?”
Ronan’s canines glinted in the light as he met Aero’s eyes at last. “I will never allow that to happen.”
Aero forced a thin smile. “Then you’d better show them that.”
He turned, boots pounding against the stone as he left the chamber, the door shutting with a final thud.
Ronan stared where the memory had dredged up from, debate churning in his skull. Coming back had been a mistake. He should leave Ryuu tonight, fly until the sky shredded his wings clean.
But Elysian wouldn’t return from searching for the Kaida until tomorrow. Then they’d head for Csolenia, where Ronan would threaten the king into calling off his hunt for the lost dark heir.
And try not to reduce him to dust. The commander had yet to clarify what would happen if he failed at that last bit.
He collapsed, sinking into his father’s chair, head tipping back, eyes shutting hard. His mind didn’t even give him a chance of deciding where to go, her image was already there waiting for him.
The Viper.
The blood-oath tugged tight, invisible but biting. Gooseflesh rippled over his arms at the thought of what his prophecy promised.
A knock rasped at the door, fading into the hollow of his mind. All he could see was her, walking Csolenia’s crooked streets as if she ruled the dusk itself, the remaining sunlight brushing her skin. The sway of her steps was unhurried, dangerous.
She stopped, rubbing the back of her neck, head moving, barely, to the side. Like she felt him watching.
His eyes snapped open as the knock came again against the door. Three strikes, a pause, silence—then heels clicking against stone growing fainter and fainter.
The pull yanked harder, this time dragging him upright.
He let his eyes close again. She was walking the same street, under the same setting sun.
Again, she stopped. Again, she reached for the back of her neck, shoulders hunching, a chill kissing its nape. She turned, almost completely this time, just as Ronan’s eyes shot open.
He knew where she was. He saw her. That wasn’t a dream, not even a vision. It was real time.
She was awake and prowling.
Smoke snatched a cloak from its hook, throwing it over his bare shoulders as he moved. He grabbed the half-drained glass, held it to the firelight, gold and amber flaring in the depths.
He stared at it for a heartbeat, then sighed, bringing it to his lips. “Aero is going to kill me.”
The hood shadowed half his face, cloaking the sharp lines as he stalked her down the narrow cobblestone road.
Nothing about her looked menacing.
She laughed as she walked with a villager, braid swaying with each step. The picture of harmless, of someone hiding a curse well.
If not for the snare in his chest, it would have been seamless. He might have almost believed her ordinary.
But he knew better.
He pulled the cloak tighter, fire blooming in his chest to chase away the chill. She hadn’t sensed him again. Not yet, at least. She paused as the villager vanished into a doorway, tilting her head back, three fingers rising to the coming stars.
Three fingers for three kingdoms.
Odd for her to pray to the same gods who damned her. He wondered if she would look up at them the same way when he cut out her soul.
Temptation hovered at his hands, fingers flexing as the slam of a door closing left them alone. He could do it now, drag her into the shadows, spill prophecy from her lungs, feel the spray of destiny end hot against his skin.
A hand slid to the hilt at his hip, the dagger singing as it eased free, steel catching the last glint of Aelia’s light.
He would kill her, for his freedom, for his future. He would peel the curse from her body and rip her heart out with his teeth.
He would not be shackled. Not by fate. Not by gods.
Nothing would stop him.
Especially not a vindictive little viper cloaked in twilight.
Breath dragged through him, vanilla and amber, and as his step faltered, so did hers. Instinct caught him, motion dying instantly.
He was far enough back to stay unseen but close enough to feel the shift, the prickling awareness that sparked over her skin and onto his. It was subtle, the tilt of her head, as if she could hear every thought scraping through his skull.
He moved, fast, pressing his spine against a crate bedside an empty shop. That tether yanked, making his teeth grind together. Stillness stretched and she lingered in it, too still, too stealthy.
But she didn’t turn the corner in time. Didn’t catch him.
Before she had the chance, he’d slipped elsewhere, gone into a whisper of mist, the sift carrying him without thought or aim. Only away.
Because for the first time in a long time, Ronan wasn’t sure if he was the predator. Or the prey.