11. Flame and Fear
Flame and Fear
G ripping the open-mouthed skulls on the arms of my throne felt different with the ring on my hand. The fireglass was cold and unyielding enough, but the iron band on my finger added an extra bite. I flexed my fingers without really thinking about it, trying to keep my face composed.
‘ Uncomfortable ’ was the best word to describe my current state.
Lukas reached over, as if sensing my thoughts, and picked up the hand with the ring on it, squeezing lightly. I glanced over at his reassuring smile. It did nothing to quiet the nervous energy racing through me.
Dragons stood before the dais, spread out in a line with Rensif Lightwing at their center.
The sky-blue twins were in attendance again, but a different Skymaster had accompanied the group.
I hadn’t been paying attention and missed his name.
It didn’t seem to matter now, after what Lightwing had told us.
“Are you sure?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. Behind me, my Talons shifted their wings in a duet of quiet rustling.
The golden woman nodded. “Absolutely. Nearly all the villages in the southern region of AEldin have been razed to the ground. The creature leads an army of myrkva to Ilfa Esari as we speak. We wished to warn you, as a courtesy, and in the spirit of the treaty, request any aid you might offer.”
My power. They wanted me to lend them my power.
What good would it do? I had no idea if I could fight against the creature that killed my mother. And an army of myrkva ?
My palms began to sweat as I pulled my hand out of Lukas’ grasp. I opened my mouth to speak.
“And what concern of it is ours?”
The words did not come from me, and my stomach dropped as I turned to look at the smaller throne beside mine.
“Lukas,” I breathed, humiliation and anger blending into the word.
He ignored me, staring down the dragons with thinly veiled disgust. “The creature and his army attack AEldin, not Volmere, Lady Lightwing.”
The Shadow stirred, her confusion mirroring my own.
“Lukas, that’s enough.”
He turned his gaze on me, brown eyes full of his fire. “Are we such great allies we should send our people to die for theirs, Vor? How dare they ask it of us?” Lukas directed his sudden anger back at the dragon delegation.
“Your Highness.” The whispered growl from behind Lukas’ throne was more threat than warning. Corbyn inched closer to the seat and continued, “Please, calm yourself.”
“And who are you to tell me so?” Lukas snapped at him.
“Stop it, ple?—"
He turned his attention back on me. “Say something, Asvoria. Stand up for your people.”
Humiliation kept me planted in my seat. How could he do this? After all the talks and reminders—after I’d relented and gone ahead with the wedding before tracking down the assassin—how could he embarrass me like this?
“In bringing this information,” Lightwing interrupted, her voice darker, “we had hoped Your Majesty might extend some goodwill. If that is not to be the case, perhaps we ought not take the treaty so seriously.”
My gaze snapped to her. “No,” I breathed. “This is all a misunder?—”
“Perhaps we ought not either,” Lukas cut in.
The room was getting hot. Sweat trickled down my neck into the collar of my gown. I glanced at the Talons behind me to see the fury in their expressions. No, no, no. What is he doing!
Asvoria… The Shadow sounded exhausted, her voice faint.
The golden woman’s wings spread wide, her eyes glowing red. “So, the Queen of Volmere now allows her Consort to speak for her. How disappointing.” The voice that spoke did not belong to Lightwing, and a chill coursed down my clammy back.
“I do not,” I tried to reassure her, sending Lukas a pointed look.
But he wasn’t paying attention to me. My heart dropped at the sight of him. A ball of flame flickered in his hand, orange and red and white lapping hungrily with his ire. What was he thinking?
Trygg and Corbyn pressed forward, blades drawn partly from their sheaths. My arms shook, but still I could not bring myself to stand from my throne.
“I’d suggest you put that out,” Trygg said, unnervingly calm. “You don’t want this fight, Your Highness.”
Asvoria, the Shadow said again, stronger now—more insistent.
Lukas shot a murderous look at the dragon prince. “Tell me what I don’t want again, dragon. I’ll show you real flames.”
“Try it,” Corbyn practically hissed.
“Stop!” I cried out, but none of them even looked my way. “Lukas, do not do this!”
Whether or not he heard me, Lukas ignored me all the same. A grotesque smile split his face. He drew his arm back, ball of flame erupting into a column, and hurled it at Corbyn and Trygg.
Heat bloomed painfully around me. Everywhere I looked, the throne room was engulfed in fire. Screams rent the air, and panicked people fled in all directions. Metal screamed as swords were drawn from their scabbards, and wings flapped amidst the whoosh of flames.
Chaos. Heat. Pain.
Oh, gods, the pain. Flames licked at my skin, singeing fabric and flesh as I finally leapt from my throne.
Asvoria!
An animalistic scream ripped from my throat, echoing in my ears. Panic rose in my chest. A sharp tug pierced my gut, and the Shadow’s sudden presence—suffocating and all-consuming—overtook my mind. With another cry, she was all around me, fluttering like a banner caught in a gale.
The door burst open, and Corbyn and Trygg rushed into the room.
One of them—I couldn’t tell which in the darkness—shot a jet of flame from his hand into the hearth, catching the smoldering wood.
The whole room lit up in an array of color as my Sight snapped into place.
The two dragons’ auras billowed around them like wisps of vapor.
Corbyn’s was a brilliant, flaring red. Trygg’s was white, like swirling mist.
Corbyn released a wordless yell, skidding to a halt and searching every corner of the room with his wide-eyed gaze. He held a sword aloft, but it dropped quickly when he beheld me.
I shot out of the bed, staring down at my hands in muted horror. Inky shadows swirled amidst blinding light, tendrils of power snaking off into the room and toward the dragons.
No, no, no.
Trygg stood there dressed in nothing but his trousers, eyes trained on me as his massive wings flexed from his shoulders.
His arms were black up to the elbow, tiny cracks in the skin revealing rivers of glowing fire.
Embers flaked off him and floated into the air as they dimmed.
Claws extended from each of his fingers.
And his eyes… They glinted sharply in the firelight, the pupils mere slits amidst a sea of liquid silver.
A deep, ancient rumble echoed in my throat, rattling my bones.
Gods, he looks fearsome in three-quarter Shift.
“What is this?” Trygg demanded of Corbyn. Apprehension tainted his voice, and his brow crinkled in a deep scowl.
Corbyn looked hastily at his kinsman. “Her power,” he explained, sheathing his sword. Slowly, he moved toward me, hands held up in supplication. “Your Majesty, you’re safe.”
“What’s happening?” Trygg asked, sparks of fire flaring at his fingertips. My shadows sang in response, reaching for him.
“I don’t know.” Despite the encroaching darkness, Corbyn stepped closer, concern mixing with the fear in his eyes. “I’m here,” he muttered. “You’re safe.”
“Stop,” I said, holding a hand up to him. “I… I don’t want to hurt you.” I tried to swallow but my throat was dry. Shadow, what’s happening? I asked her desperately. The pieces of the darkthread twitched in my chest.
She only echoed Corbyn’s words. Safe… safe…
He took another step forward, spiking my panic. Didn’t he know I could hurt him? Or did he not care?
Breathe, Asvoria, the Shadow pleaded. Her essence around me shuddered wildly, as though she too was trying to pull back.
The tendrils of darkness snaking from my hands fluttered over Corbyn’s scarlet cloak, grasping at the fabric. He tensed, casting a furtive look down at them. Trygg moved in closer, his silver eyes flashing with something I couldn’t name.
“Your Majesty,” he rumbled, his voice rolling through me. “There is no danger.”
Danger. I am not in danger. I am safe. I am calm.
I repeated the words to myself, drew in a deep breath, and closed my eyes.
There now, the Shadow soothed. Breathe.
It took several moments of measured, even breathing, but my pulse slowed.
The darkthread began to knit back together, drawing the Shadow’s essence and binding her inside me once more.
When next I opened my eyes, my Sight was gone.
The room was dim with murky shadows from the fire in the hearth, and cold. So, so cold.
I stumbled back to sit on the bed and Corbyn knelt before me. Tears welled in my eyes as they roved over his face, my mouth opening and closing silently.
“My lady,” he whispered. “Are you alright?” His fingers brushed the back of my hand gently.
The dream flashed through my mind. No… The nightmare.
Though I knew without a doubt it hadn’t been real, the heat of the fire had certainly felt so. I’d been burned by Lukas before—accidentally, of course, but that was exactly how I remembered it. Only ten times worse.
Where had such a terrible dream come from?
The darkthread thrummed, spiking my fear again.
It’s alright, the Shadow whispered. She shuddered in her corner.
What just happened to us?
Her worry filled my mind. I don’t know.
“Why did you scream?” the dragon prince asked.
I looked over at him as he rolled his shoulders, a slight haze forming around him.
The black scales on his arms rippled down until they disappeared into his tan skin.
His wings folded, retracting into his shoulders with the sound of leathery scales dragging against one another.
My gaze fell upon his broad chest where a line down the center glowed a faint orange.
A gentle touch on my cheek caused me to jump. Corbyn’s hand rested against my face and angled it back toward him, his dark eyes brimming with some emotion I couldn’t place. Was it fear?
“What happened?” he asked, his voice tight.
I swallowed the acid in my throat, blinking away the tears so they traced down my cheeks.
“A dream,” I finally answered, “or… I’m not sure.
” I choked back a sob and closed my eyes against the lingering feeling of flames licking over my skin.
Lukas’s face flashed in my mind—how he’d stood there and set us all ablaze, smiling through it.
But that hadn’t been him, I realized as I replayed the nightmare.
His face had been wrong, twisted somehow. It was the shape of him in the barest sense, but the details were… off. As if he’d been painted by someone who didn’t know him all that well. What hellish shade had found its way into my dreams to haunt and torment me after I’d already suffered so much?
“It wasn’t real.” Trygg’s voice cut through the fog of my distress.
I swallowed again, nodding. “Of course,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”
“Do not apologize,” Corbyn said forcefully, though not unkind. He stood in a single movement, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Do you need anything?”
My breath caught in my throat again. In truth, I didn’t know what I needed.
I couldn’t understand where the dream had come from.
Yes, Lukas and I had been arguing more lately, but why would I have such an awful nightmare about him?
Would he ever really do something like that? Uncertainty roiled in my gut.
“Water,” I finally said, pushing my hair back from my brow, “if you’d be so kind.”
Corbyn nodded and stepped past the dragon prince, who stood watching me. His gray eyes—now devoid of their reptilian pupils—glinted in the firelight, burning from within. My hands still shook so I buried them in the folds of my nightgown, hoping he couldn’t see.
After a brief silence, he spoke, his voice gentler than before. “I suffered the same thing.”
“What?” I breathed, my mind drawing a blank.
“After my mother died, I had nightmares too,” he explained, leaning a shoulder against the bedpost. “I was with her. Nearly died myself.” He tapped on a wide, pink scar that stretched over his shoulder.
A jolt of surprise coursed through my chest. I’d heard stories about the dragon queen’s death nearly thirty years ago. But if Trygg really had been there, and that scar was any evidence, it seemed it was a violent end.
“I’m sorry,” I offered quietly, trying to keep the surprise from my voice. I didn’t realize we would have something in common.
He said nothing, but nodded in apparent thanks and then glanced down. The orange line along his sternum flickered, growing dimmer. My gaze traveled to that strange glow nestled in the hollow of his chiseled chest. He drew in a deep breath and the light finally disappeared.
His eyes found mine once more, and warmth bloomed in my cheeks. I diverted my gaze to stare at the hearth and its crackling fire instead. Fire… so much fire.
“They’ll go away eventually,” he continued. His tone was somehow reassuring. Odd. He didn’t seem at all like the man I’d met earlier in the day.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Perhaps the nightmares would go away, but what of the loosening grip on my power? I could have hurt them, or worse. As if things weren’t tense enough after what happened to my mother. That would’ve been a disaster I didn’t know if I could recover from.
Corbyn came back with the water. I took it with trembling fingers, lifting the cup to my parched lips. The two dragons watched me, and I couldn’t help feeling self-conscious. Losing control of the Shadow hadn’t been intentional. Surely they knew that, didn’t they?
I finished the water and handed the cup back to Corbyn. “I’m alright,” I assured him.
He gave me a doubtful look. But he made his way to the door, shooting a scowl at the prince as he went. “We’ll be right out here.”
The prince’s gaze lingered on me a moment, making my cheeks burn once more. Then he followed his kinsman out into the sitting room. As my door closed behind them, I let out a heavy rush of air.
Shadow…
Rest, Asvoria, she said, her voice weak. I do not understand what’s happened to us. Staying up fretting about it won’t give us the answer.
A hollow pit opened in my gut as I tucked myself beneath the covers. What if it happens again? And I can’t stop myself from hurting someone?
The Shadow was quiet for a long while. So long, I thought she’d gone dormant again. But finally, she said, We must remain vigilant. If it comes to that, it will not end well.
I could guess what she meant. A queen without control of her killing power would not remain queen for long.