Page 32 of Of Steel and Scale

He studied me for a moment, and for the first time in a long time, I wished my ability to hear thoughts ran to humans rather than just animals. The lovely planes of his face were giving very little away.

“No drakkons fly above Angola,” he said eventually. “And that is the home of my heart.”

“I’m led to believe no drakkons fly above Zephrine, either, though their aerie remains in the Balkain Mountains.”

“Yes, but you can at least reach the aeries from Zephrine, a fact I now suspect is important to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Such consideration is unexpected, husband.”

“There is an old saying amongst my mother’s people that goes something along the lines of ‘happy wife, happy life’. Especially when said wife is armed and dangerous.”

I stared at him for a moment and then laughed. “A worthwhile saying indeed, but one that ignores a basic principle.”

He raised an eyebrow, the movement lazy and somehow infinitely amused, even if the coolness remained in his eyes. “And that is?”

“For any marriage to be successful, it has to be an equal partnership.”

“A principle I heartily agree with.”

“I’m extremely happy to hear that.”

The amusement finally touched the corners of his bright eyes. “Especially given the man who raised me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

No, and it was yet another pointer to the fact that we were more of a match than either of us had realized.

I picked up the pack and slung it over my shoulder. “I need to set flame to the drakkling, so you might want to step back.”

“Can your heat burn hot enough to dispose of both flesh and ivory? The latter isn’t easy to burn.”

“I really don’t know, but he’s only young, and neither his claws nor his horn nubs have fully hardened.”

“Ah.”

He caught his mount’s reins and walked away. I took a deep breath, then reached for the inner fires. They burned through my body and erupted from my fingers, a fierce, white-hot heat that scorched the grass even though the arc of flame went nowhere near it.

Once the drakkling was fully alight, I moved back and mounted up. The force of the fire pulled at my strength, but that was necessary to ensure it remained hot enough to consume the ivory.

When the drakkling’s flesh and bones finally began to disintegrate and the fire had burned low, I broke the connection, then turned Desta around and headed home. Weariness ate at me, and a low-grade ache settled deep in my brain. I couldn’t be bothered making conversation, and Damon seemed content to keep it that way.

It was nearing dusk by the time we finally rode through the gates into Esan. Torches lined the streets, sending a flickering golden glow across the dark stone. There were few people about, and for very good reason. The air was now cold enough to frost each breath. Luckily for the drakkons, the old aerie was situated close to a volcanic steam vent that not only warmed the sand of what had once been an ancient seafloor, but also heated the caverns themselves. We’d long siphoned similar vents to heat water and keep rooms at an even temperature during the long winter months, but it did of course come with an ever-present danger. The Black Glass Mountains might not have seen an eruption for many centuries now, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t or wouldn’t erupt sometime in the future. Thankfully, the earth witches we now had stationed here would at least give us warning enough to evacuate the city.

As we rode into the main courtyard, Mik appeared. He lightly held Desta’s mane while I swung a leg over her withers and slipped from her back.

“Give her a good rub down tonight, Mik. She deserves it.”

He nodded and chirruped lightly to get her moving again. I took a deep breath, then glanced across at Damon. “I have to report to my father. I’ll meet you in the apartment.”

He hesitated, then nodded and walked on. I spun and headed for the metal steps. The two guards stationed at the top saluted and opened the door. I responded and strode through, my footsteps once again echoing in the hall’s stillness. It was late, so the building was basically empty, but I wondered if that was a mistake. We had no true understanding of our foe as yet. For all we knew, they preferred night to day—or, at the very least, the indefinite light that came just before dawn. It would certainly explain their predawn attacks on both Eastmead and the drakkons.

The shadows got stronger and the air colder the deeper I moved into the wall complex. I tried pushing some heat to my fingertips, but the inner flames remained decidedly weak. It had taken alotof energy to burn the bones of the drakkling to ash, and that led me to one vital question—would they work any faster against flighted foe who were so heavily armored?

And yet, therehadto be some defense against them—some way of killing them. No enemy was indestructible, no matter how much it might at first appear otherwise. There had to be at leastonechink in their armor.

But to uncover it, we needed to find them.Seethem.

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