CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ronan
THREE DAYS OF FORD’S ENDLESS CHATTER and Ronan had reminded himself far too many times that toasting someone for sheer irritation wasn’t worth the fallout.
Until now, when his questions were beginning to make the idea very tempting.
“Not to sound like a mimic,” Ford propped forward, elbows resting across his knees while losing a battle to a strip of jerky, “but why can’t we just sift to Nyctom’s borders? It’ll save us all an excruciating trip.” He gestured with the unbitten meat at Callum. “Don’t you think?”
Callum sighed, rubbing his forehead. “For the fifth time—”
“Sixth,” Ronan muttered.
“The Dark Kingdom has wards up,” Callum spun a finger in the air, the flames from the firepit whooshing to dust. “Those wards don’t allow anyone to sift in.” He made a vague do you get it now motion. “Have you ever even seen a mimic, Ford?”
“How would I know?” The jerky was halfway to his mouth when he answered.
Ronan’s glare narrowed between it and Ford, but his thoughts were on neither. Verena had kept her distance from him for the last twenty-four hours. And no matter how often he scanned the group, he never found her.
His only hope now was that this trip was quick, and at the end of it they would find the lost Nyctom heir hidden quietly away within its borders.
The Bale could be erased; the kingdoms could push forward united and Ronan, well, he could be free.
Though it was not going to be a happy ending for all, whether they found the heir or not.
Ford caught Ronan’s displeased look and wiggled the jerky between them. “Want some?”
Ronan waved a hand in dismissal.
“You don’t have jerky in Ryuu?” Ford asked.
“We are dragons.” Ronan huffed a breath, more smoke than patience, and looked to the woods. “Everything is jerky to us.”
Ford gave him a good point nod as he handed Gus his inedible meat strip and gestured for a new one. Gus just rolled his eyes, pretending to grab a new piece of jerky, while laughably handing Ford the same strip back.
Ford didn’t notice.
“Are they even real?” Wells questioned, appearing from the back of the group. “The mimics? I’ve heard rumors...”
Two figures emerged from the forest, their black hair catching the rising sun as they led four horses into camp.
Ronan strode toward them as both gave him a tip of their chin. “For those of you who haven’t been introduced—” His voice drew every focus as his hand swept toward the woman first. “This is Inessa.”
She wore only slate leathered pants and a cropped top fashioned from dragon scales that gleamed iridescent in the light. Her glare was dark, holding each individual set of eyes before lingering too far behind the group of bodies.
Ronan’s hand shifted to the man at her side. “And Kanoa.” Her brother.
Scaled armor plated his chest and back, a darker sheen than his sister’s. He regarded the group with the kind of unwavering scrutiny that made you feel, down the immediate snap of your spine, that he was dangerous.
He didn’t blink, not once, not until Inessa’s hand found his. Then, just barely, the edges relaxed.
“They’re captivating,” Ronan said. “And they’ll rip your throat out with their teeth if you get too close.
So, my advice—” He let the pause hang, be felt.
“Don’t.” Turning, his palm grazed down the white, satin nose of a mare before glancing back to Wells.
“Mimics are very real. But not on our radar.” A muscle jumped in his jaw, so subtle it was unnoticed. “You have nothing to fear.”
“Yeah, but—” Ford ripped the jerky forcefully with his teeth, finally gaining himself a small bite. “Couldn’t we still at least sift close to the border, save the miles? There must be an easier way.”
The mare snorted and Ronan shushed it, offering her an apple from his sack. “Again,” he grumbled. “We don’t know how far the wards extend. If we guess wrong, we end up dried to crips.” His finger pointed toward Ford’s mouth. “Like your jerky.”
Ford froze mid-bite, staring at the beef strip like it might, in fact, be his future.
Ronan moved to the black stallion beside the mare, running a hand over his strong flank, “Along with that, if Ryuu learns where we are, or what we’re doing, it could put my kingdom in danger.”
A chill, like the brush of death, kissed the back of his neck as her voice slid in. “Your kingdom, or yourself?”
Ronan lifted his head to where the Viper had finally emerged from her den, looking…better. Though, too composed for someone who had been broken days ago.
“Come again?” he asked.
She dropped her arm from Wells’ shoulder, stalking toward the tallest horse, fingers sinking into the stallion’s obsidian mane. “Are you worried about your kingdom finding out for the sake of their lives, or because you don’t want anyone knowing you’re aiding rebels?”
Ronan’s scowl was answer enough as he turned to the others.
A flash of gold breezed in the corner of his eye as Elva smoothed her hands down the front of her new attire.
He almost didn’t recognize the princess, no longer draped in a tattered gown, but clothed in a loose, mauve colored tunic tucked into chestnut leather pants. Her waist was cinched tight in a thick belt that was much too big for her.
“How long is this trip supposed to take?” she asked, eyes darting between him and Verena.
Elysian stepped forward before Ronan could answer. “There’s a faster route through Ryuu once we reach southern Luamis. Crossing the border will alert the active leader, Aero, to Ronan’s return. But he won’t be able to track us. Without interference it should take maybe two months.”
Elva winced as everyone, besides the dragons, roared in protest.
“Two months?” Ford sputtered. “As in eight weeks?”
Elysian moved back at the uproar, as Ronan said flatly, “Yes.”
Callum raised a hand to quiet them all, though the movement drew a wince. “The Brightwalkers could beat us there by then. If crossing the border alerts Aero anyway, why not just sift us?”
Ronan handed Inessa and Kanoa weapons, the pair loading them into saddle satchels strewn across the back of a bronzed stallion, before returning to his mare.
“Because when I sift,” he said. “He sees exactly where I land.”
“You don’t trust him?” Callum pressed, eyeing the last free horse as Ronan pulled himself atop his own.
“I trust very few as much as I trust him.” Ronan paused with the reins in his hands, urging his horse forward.
“The Brights are slower and not accustomed to longer voyages, even on horseback. They’ll tire and drag.
We have all trained for this, one way or another.
We will beat them there.” His eyes shone as they swept over the group.
“Familiarize yourselves with one another, it’s going to be an arduous journey. We leave in an hour.”
Swiftly at that, his dragons moved toward the rebels, intrigued by their delicately apprehensive statures. Inessa offered her hand to Verena, cropped hair spilling over her cheek as her eyes scanned her piece by piece.
Verena’s brows creased as she took in the scaled top barely covering Inessa’s chest. “Aren’t you cold?”
“No,” Inessa said, not a lick of heat in it.
Nodding, Verena pressed her lips together.
“Dragons equal hot. Got it.” She flashed a thumbs up, earning an arched brow from Inessa and a twitch of emotion from Kanoa.
That made her backpedal. “I mean hot as in warm. Not hot as in—” She looked them both over.
“Though, you are attractive, so technically I meant that too. But what I really meant was—”
Ford threw an arm over her shoulder, saving her from herself.
“What she meant was clearly all dragons,” he looked Kanoa over, “well, most dragons, are insanely ravishing and must run hot to dress like that in this weather.” He blew out a breath, raking his stare over Inessa. “Gods, you are stunning.”
Nezra rolled her eyes beside him, moving to where Gus and Wells kept an acceptable distance between themselves and the dragon siblings.
The compliment was disregarded and Ford frowned as Inessa turned to leave, exposing the smoothed muscles of her back. A bar piercing lay horizontal between her shoulder blades, the metal dulled in the light, rough skin melded over the center.
Ronan tasted the disgust off Verena before she even spoke. “Is that a resin piercing?”
Inessa halted mid-step, tightening the muscles around it, reaching for Kanoa’s hand. Their fingers laced, her exhale misting into the air.
“You are familiar?” The vague accent of her voice gave the question a haunting quality to it.
Verena’s nod was slow, certain in understanding. “Yes,” she said. Chin tipping toward the bar, her hand pushed the tail of her braid from her shoulders, “That feels like this.” She tapped her temple. “Like you’re trapped. I can sense it.”
A rare curve touched Inessa’s mouth. In three centuries, Ronan doubted she’d met another who understood the prison she wore. He’d spent years searching for a cure for her. There had been nothing. Even taking out the bar would fix nothing.
“My father…” Inessa looked up at Kanoa, his focus fixed on her like she was the last living thing worth looking at.
“He was a cruel dragon. He didn’t want a daughter, only a warrior.
” She shook her head, squeezing her brother’s hand.
“The piercing stopped my wings from growing, stopped me from transforming.” A wave drifted over her eyes, washed away with one blink.
“I’ve never felt them outside my flesh.”
When she turned her eyes to Verena, it was a heaviness, one made from black, ravenous pools that dared her to shy away.
“My brother felt what he had done, even from miles away. So, he killed him.” Satisfaction lit up her face as she brushed her forehead against his. “It’s his proudest moment. And his greatest regret.”
Verena’s head shook until Inessa finished and said, “That he didn’t feel my fear in time to stop it.
” She rolled her shoulders, the bar shifting with the movement.
“No matter. I’m honored to ride my brother into battle.
I do not need wings to be a warrior.” She took a few steps closer to Verena, looking her over, before glancing at Ford. “You would do best to remember that.”
Verena didn’t recoil a beat.
“So,” Ford cleared his throat. “Are you only into riding dragons, or would you settle for something smaller but equally as thrilling?”
He flexed his fingers, grinning, the hazel in his eyes flinching as Kanoa stepped forward with a low growl, sending Ford stumbling back. He tripped straight into Verena, who made matters brilliantly worse, by shoving him right back toward the snarling dragon.
Inessa looked Ford over with one cold and devastating look, bringing him down from the clouds with one statement. “Thrill bores me.” Taking her brother's arm, she walked away without a backward glance.
Verena stayed where she was, eyes following the siblings until they disappeared behind the horses. Ronan didn’t need the bond of the witch oath to feel what had shifted inside Verena.
It was subtle but undeniable, coming to him first in the air, a barely-there wave curling off her skin, slipping beneath his own.
Her pulse wasn’t racing, it was slowing, deepening, each beat drumming through the space between them in time with a power older and more dangerous.
The curse had grown the moment she felt recognized. Not the rebel, or the Viper, but the caged thing underneath.
And as much as Ronan respected the spark it lit in her, if she became a weapon more than she already was, a version neither of them could control—
It wouldn’t just be her enemies who should be afraid.
It would be the whole damned continent.