Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

“Understood, my Prince.” Hinarax bobs his head.

“Ashvelon and I will fetch the supplies for the charm,” says Thelise. “We’ll meet you at your cave.”

“And my Prince—” Ashvelon’s eyes meet mine, sympathy in his gaze. “If this scheme fails, and you need the clan, we will fight for you and the Princess. Love is worth starting a war.”

“So dramatic.” Thelise smacks his neck again. “Come on, pet.”

They wheel around and soar away.

“I’ll fetch Jessiva,” says Varex. “She and I will watch over your eggs while you’re gone.”

“No,” I snarl. “I don’t want that woman anywhere near my offspring. Have Rothkuri and his partner do it. You can check in on them now and then.”

Varex looks as if he might argue, but after glowering at me he says, “Very well. I’ll address the clan and have food brought to your cave. You should eat something before you go.”

“I’ll fetch the food,” Hinarax offers. He heads off in the direction of Conch Valley, while Varex hovers before me, anxiety furrowing his brow ridges.

“I know you must go after the Princess,” he says. “But Kyreagan—be careful. Be wise as Grimmaw, strategic as Vylar, and—”

“Diplomatic as you?”

He chuckles. “Exactly.”

“I will think of the clan and do my best to avoid further conflict. But Serylla is…” I struggle for words. Nothing seems to fully express what she means to me.

“I know,” he says softly, an ache in his voice. “Trust me, I know.”

Without another word, he soars away.

I wish we had more time. I know something is troubling him, and I want to help—but every bone in my body is screaming to leave Ouroskelle and race after Serylla. If I’d known there was the slightest danger of something like this happening, I wouldn’t have left her for a moment.

Diving back into my cave, I prowl over to the nest and gently tilt the eggs with my clawed forepaw. An inspection of each egg’s entire surface reveals that they are still intact, undamaged. I tip them carefully upright again and scrape some of the grass closer around them.

The blankets which covered Serylla lie discarded in the nest. When I push my nose against one of them, her scent rushes into me, an earthy sweetness that sends shards of pain through my heart.

“I’m going to save your mother,” I tell the eggs in Dragonish. “Whether I bring her back with me, or whether she chooses her own path, I want you to know that she is the most beautiful, clever, kind, musical, funny, precious person I’ve ever known, and you are both lucky to have come from her. I claim the protection of the Bone-Builder over you both. Know that I’m only leaving you because I have to. You will be in excellent hands while I’m gone, and I promise to return as soon as possible. On the bones of Grimmaw and Lorgin, of Arzhaling and Zemua, I swear it.”

Despite all the flames I spewed in my rage and sorrow, I feel more liquid fire in my belly, more energy ready to be used. Since the mating frenzy, my powers seem to have amplified. Which will be useful when I get Serylla back—because once I know she is safe, I plan to burn everyone who touched her to the fucking ground.

2

Wind blasts my cheeks and whips tears from my eyes. I forgot how uncomfortable it is to fly for hours, grasped in the bony claws of a dragon who doesn’t care for my well-being. Fortunix said he’s supposed to deliver me undamaged, but apparently he doesn’t think a few bruises will interfere with him receiving his reward from the King of Vohrain.

We’re high up, gliding through wispy clouds as we approach the capital city of Elekstan. Fortunix is angling slightly south. If he continues this trajectory, we’ll bypass the city entirely.

“If you’re aiming for the palace, you should be heading due west,” I call.

“Thank you, Princess,” he replies in a dry, grating tone. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be utterly lost, bumbling about with no sense of direction.”

“Fine, so we’re not heading for the palace. Where are we going?”

“Wait and see.”

I sigh gustily and fall silent, watching the landscape roll beneath me. It’s familiar and yet foreign, since I’m not used to seeing any of it from this height. When Kyreagan carried me away from my home, I was too frantic to appreciate the view. I’m scared now, too, but it’s a different kind of fear, not the raw panic I felt on the day Vohrain conquered my kingdom. Perhaps I’ve grown more used to danger and unexpected occurrences.

Apart from some debris along the beach, I’ve seen no damage from the Mordvorren during our flight, for which I’m relieved. My kingdom has suffered enough without bearing the fury of a monstrous storm. According to the tales, the storm tends to choose particular places over which to hover. Targets to torture, I suppose. For some reason it selected Ouroskelle. I’m still curious about why I couldn’t see the receding cloud mass when Fortunix and I left Kyreagan’s cave. The Mordvorren should have still been visible on the horizon. But it was utterly gone, as if something swallowed it up. Convenient that it disappeared when it did, since we were all on the brink of starvation.

Speaking of which, I’m famished. I’m not sure what sort of reception to expect when I’m brought to the King of Vohrain, but I hope it includes food.