Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

“On Ouroskelle, we do not dance except during mating season, for our intended partners,” I say cautiously, thickly. “I’m not sure if I should dance with another female. I love the Princess. Her name is carved on my bones.”

Aeris quirks a brow. “Intense. But among humans, a dance can just be a merry bit of exercise among friends. I’ll teach you the basics, and then, when you get your princess back, you can dance with her.”

She leads me away from the table, toward the flat, open space in the center of the cave where a dozen or so rebels are dancing. Hinarax and Meridian remain near the fringe of the group, caught up in each other, but Aeris and I join a merry circle. I feel like a fool, clumping along in my boots, but everyone else is stamping, clapping, and cheering so heartily that I forget my awkwardness and let the ale loosen my limbs. It’s a dizzy whirl, a mad heat, and the harder I dance, the more distant my grief becomes. But it’s there, crouched like a fenwolf in the shadows, ready to leap at my throat the moment I stop moving.

The song changes, from a jolly jig to a tune I know… one that paralyzes me, freezes me cold where I stand. The people around me begin to shout the words of the song, each phrase punctuated with laughter.

“I once had a wife who took my life…”

I’m struck sober in an instant, as if a giant clawed hand slid around my heart and squeezed until blood burst from the pierced muscle.

“Kyreagan?” Aeris’s voice is distant, dulled.

At a measured pace, with perfectly even steps, I walk through the dancers to the mouth of the cave. Behind the waterfall I strip my body naked, and then I descend the narrow path until I come to a huge rock overlooking the pool. Sunlight glows on that rock, turning it warm and golden.

Seated there, with the rush of the waterfall in my head and the heat of the ale in my body, I break under the agony and uncertainty of it all. Whether I can save Serylla without beginning another war, whether I can rescue her before the King forces himself on her.

And if I can save her, what then? Would I really ask her to live in a cave on Ouroskelle? Or would I offer to change my own way of life, my culture, my existence, for the reward of having her by my side?

Tears feel different in human form—liquid on skin, not scales. The sounds I make are huge, harsh, and painful—great spasms of my lungs and chest. My nose tingles and clogs until I can’t breathe through it, and still the tears flow.

I want my family. Sometimes Hinarax reminds me of Varex, but he isn’t my brother, the one of our sibling trio who always knows what to say. If my family were here, Varex would sympathize and support me, while Vylar would poke my wing with hers and tell me to toughen up. Grimmaw would give me some obscure nugget of Dragonish wisdom in poetry form. My father would insist that I think of the clan first, not my own desires or needs.

And Mordessa—she would weep with me, then promise to help me find Serylla. Her soul was that beautiful—rich in kindness. I hate that I pulled her into my father’s war, that her final acts involved the slaughter of humans. She deserved better.

My skin vibrates, the precursor to transformation. Hinarax comes running out from behind the waterfall, stripping hastily and yelling, “Fuck!”

The moment I turn into a dragon, the haze of the alcohol dissipates completely. Perched on the rock, I stretch my wings, lash my tail, and look over at Hinarax.

He shakes his scaled body and chuffs with frustration. “Fuck this. Meridian was about to kiss me.”

“My condolences.”

He lifts his head and neck, arches his wings. “You probably don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’m pleased you two are finding joy in each other. But your paths don’t exactly align.”

“Neither do yours and Serylla’s.”

I swivel my head toward him, baring my teeth, and he cringes back. “Apologies, my Prince.”

“We should sleep,” I tell him. “We can rest in the same cavern we used last time, as long as it’s still empty. We’ll have to be careful walking back through the main cave. Don’t swing your tail this time.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll ask Meridian when he wants to head for the city. We may need to switch forms briefly tomorrow to make sure we have enough human hours at the right time.”

Hinarax hesitates, threads of smoke sifting from his nostrils. “What if we make a mistake, and betray ourselves to Rahzien? What if we’re discovered?”

“Then you’ll leave me, and you’ll fly back to Ouroskelle and tell Varex what happened. If I die, tell him he is under no obligation to avenge me. I’ll let him decide what’s best for the clan.”

“Leave you?” Hinarax snorts. “No chance of that. I’ll fight for you and the Princess, and if our enemies are too strong, we’ll perish together. We may not be good fighters in human form, but as dragons we can take down a lot of them before they manage to kill us.”

“I swore I wouldn’t harm any more of Elekstan’s people,” I reply. “Vohrainians are fair game, but we must be careful not to shed innocent blood. And that includes destroying buildings and crushing the people within them.”

“That will complicate my fighting style,” Hinarax admits. “I’ll try, but no promises. The vow was yours, not mine.”

“Fair enough.”