Page 72 of Only Flames Remain

But it was nowhere to be found.

I pulled my shirt back down, stuffing it back into my trousers. “I will visit Azhar,” I promised him, “but I am not telling him about our little poisoner.”

Ren raised a single brow. “Don’t you think it wise he knows what we are dealing with? To better equip you, or at the very least, stock you full of antidotes?”

I shook my head. “She won’t try to poison me again.”

“We don’t know her,” Ren insisted.

But that wasn’t the truth, not any longer.

Ren rubbed an aggravated hand against the short curl of his hair, watching as I beat my wings, preparing to take flight.

“The skiff?” he asked, wind stirring the tail of his cape as I beat my wings harder.

“I will take care of it.”

Ren nodded, turning back toward the castle and disappearing from sight. I watched him go, my eyes traveling from the arch he had vanished beneath up the sheer rock face to the tower where Aveline resided. I could see candles flickering at the base of the arched glass windows. In their reflection stood Aveline, her arms crossed over her chest.

Watching me.

A smirk lifted the corner of my mouth. I jumped into the air, beating my wings to hold me in place as I ascended skyward slowly. One moment I was Vireth, suspended in the air with my wings furious at my back. In the next, I was a great black dragon.

It didn’t happen in pieces—but rather—all at once. Blink and you could miss the transformation entirely. My magic felt strong.

My dragon form was a second skin. After decades of training, transforming into it was as effortless as breathing. But that hadn’t been the case recently as the curse had intensified.

For the first time in a long time, it was effortless. Like I had expended no magic at all. It was exhilarating.

I opened my mouth and a screech wrenched free from my throat as I took to the sky. My black scales shimmered against the reflection of lightning from the oncoming storm. I circled high before diving back down, forming a ball of flame deep in my breast.

I soared toward the shoreline where the cliff face and the water met. Where the skiff was stored, pulled up against the rocks among the crashing waves. Once the flame was hot in my belly, I let it roar through me. It blazed out of my open maw to obliterate the wood before me.

The skiff was aflame in a matter of seconds.

It would be reduced to ashes in a matter of minutes.

I soared back upward, following the cliff face with only inches between my hulking body and the jagged rocks. I was careful to avoid the sea wall that held the waves back from flooding the courtyard—only grazing it with my chest as I tucked my legs against my sides.

Aveline still stood at the window, a hand now pressed against her chest where her heart beat. If a dragon could smile, I would. I shook my head, another screech tearing free from my throat as I took off toward Gothryn, into the heart of the storm.

CHAPTER 21

Sorin

By the time I stalked into the palace in Gothryn, I was soaked from head to toe from the deluge of rain I had flown through. I shook water droplets from my hair in the main hall, brushing the excess water from my tunic and wringing out my trousers as best I could. I was certain I had at least an inch of water in my boots as I strode toward the throne room.

I had known it wouldn’t take long for my father to figure out I had left for Stormgaard, but I hadn’t expected him to call me back immediately. Valerian stood at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the curved banister, an apple in his hand.

“Do I even ask?” He took a bite, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“No,” I replied, pressing past him toward the throne room.

I could feel his eyes on my back. I stormed down the corridor, striding through the immense obsidian doors as the guards pulled them open for me.

“Father, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner—” I began as I entered, my gaze downcast at my wet, squeaking boots.

When I raised my head to gaze upon him, I stopped mid-step.