Page 69
The rider jumps down from the dragon, landing on the deck. Short black hair falls around a pale, oval face as the tall woman removes her helmet.
Her irises are black from corner to corner, and her ear tips are pointed like Zephyr’s. Shadows swim around her neck and disappear beneath her riding leathers.
I’ve heard of her before—the wraith—that’s what my father called her when he considered her as a suitor.
She’s not just a rider. She’s the Dragon Queen—the ruler of Sarteal.
I’ve never been so happy that one of my marriage arrangements fell through, because the energy rolling off of her feels like death.
Not that it matters much now. She’s caught us preparing to slay a dragon, so there’s a high probability that we’ll all be dead in a few minutes anyway.
Everyone kneels, and I drop into a curtsy.
The Sartealean Queen motions for everyone to rise. “I’ve received word that the ice dragon might be waking up from her slumber.”
“Your Majesty, I only came here to make sure the ice dragon wasn’t causing any damage,” Darcy explains, her jaw ticking as she searches the crew for the traitor who sold her out to the Sartealeans. “Her permafrost has been breaking apart and washing up on the island of Cor.”
The Dragon Queen’s bored expression remains unchanged. “I’m assuming you’re the one who sent the message.”
Darcy looks around and lies, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Queen’s shadows slither around her like snakes tasting the air. “You did the right thing by bringing the problem to my attention. All dragons are under my protection.”
“It won’t be easy to tame that one since she’s under the control of a rune key,” Darcy says. “Let me help you.”
“The rune key,” the Queen mutters to herself. “Someone must have stolen it from the Mer-King.”
Darcy’s shoulders pinch back. “Why do you say that?”
“I suppose the news hasn’t spread this far south yet, but the Mer-King is dead, so it can’t be him wielding it.” The Queen shrugs. “Someone must have snatched the rune key during the coup, but that’s no problem.” She snaps her fingers, and a green flame sparks in her shadows. “All dragons answer to Vellesse. A rune key cannot overpower the magic of the horned Goddess. Now, please evacuate to the beaches while I take care of this.”
I’ve only met with my father a handful of times in my life. They were all unpleasant meetings, the hours filled with judgmental questions and reminders of his expectations.
Still, I want to know what happened to him. If someone attacked him for his throne, then my sisters are in danger.
My brain searches for answers, filtering out the sound of Darcy sulking in the background.
“Are you listening?” she asks, bumping her shoulder against mine as she prods the bonfire with a stick.
“Sorry, I feel a headache coming on.” I rub my temple and try to sit still on the log. “Could you repeat that?’
Her eyes dart around, and she whispers, “Ross was the one who came up with the idea of poaching the dragon scales for armor. I bet he sold us out to the Dragon Queen in hopes of receiving a better reward.”
Zephyr is sitting across the flames, their forearms braced on their spread knees as they scowl at their feet.
“You’re probably right,” I say, although that might be one good thing he did before his death.
The ice dragon is alive and free, and we aren’t being hunted by the Dragon Queen, thanks to his timely message.
“People are going to find out about the keys before I’m ready.” She takes a swig of cider. “I’m going to kill him for making a fool out of me.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Zephyr says, their mouth hidden by their mug.
I shoot them a warning look as Bijou taps Darcy’s shoulder. “Would you mind escorting me to the castle? We should inform my brother of what’s going on.”
I tend to forget the priestess was born a princess of Cor. She’s always dressed in plain, stiff gowns, and I often see her helping the maids with their trays and laundry baskets.
Darcy hands her mug to me. “I’ve got to talk to Prince Bertrand. Do you mind waiting here?”
