Page 46 of The Flame King's Queen

One afternoon, I take Ravenna down to the dragongrounds to see if perhaps she’s meant to ride a dragon after all. The flare is scattered and disorganized with so many riders taking their mounts into the skies on such a beautiful day, and for a while, we merely walk among them as I keep an eye out for Calyx.

We pass by Omaira, a beautiful pink dragon with rosy gold eyes and talons, and watch as she and her rider take to the skies and fly swiftly around the dragongrounds. Omaira is a battle dragon and can move like the wind. She’s also very nimble with an experienced rider, and I wonder if Esmeral and I have a chance to score even one point in any event with dragons like Omaira to compete with. I think of my supporters feeling embarrassed and taking off their turquoise and gold colors after seeing us come last, and I break out into a cold sweat.

“You and Esmeral are faster than the pink dragon,” Ravenna says.

She must have noticed me staring at Omaira in something verging on horror. “Are we? I don’t know. Esmeral is fast, but I’m sure I slow her down with my clumsiness, and I’m getting fatter every day.”

I feel a sharp tug on my tunic, and hear a little growl. Esmeral has heard me, and she doesn’t agree.

“Well, I am getting very round,” I remind her, patting my belly. “You can’t argue with me about that.”

“This whole event is for you,” Ravenna reminds me with a smile. “Just the sight of Esmeral and you with your baby bump will have people cheering.”

“I know. But I want to do well insomething,” I say desperately.

She gives my shoulders a squeeze. “I can understand that. Apparently this is because we’re witches. I heard that Omegas never said boo to a goose in the Maledin that existed five hundred years ago. I think that kind of Omega would have suited Kane,” she adds sourly.

Seeing as she brought him up, I ask her a question that I’ve been burning to know the answer to. “It’s because we’re witches, and also because times are changing for the better. By the way, can I ask, what did you do to Kane to make him so ill?”

Ravenna smiles mysteriously. “He was always careful never to accept food and drink from me, but it was the end of his rut, and he was careless. I put urganetta in his wine.”

Biddy has taught me about urganetta. It causes severe vomiting, fever, and stomach cramping, and it’s lethal in large doses. “Did you not have enough to finish him off, or did Kane realize he was drinking poison halfway through and spit it out?”

Ravenna looks away. I wonder if she’s embarrassed by not killing Kane or that she mismeasured the poison. “Tell me, what’s the best way to make an Alpha unhappy?”

“Avoid him. Ignore him.”

“I can do better than that. If Kane is going to be here, then I want to make him miserable his every waking moment.”

“I’m on your side, but are you sure it’s wise to provoke him like that? The man is dangerous.”

“Kane has learned to fear plates of food and cups of water, but it’s not enough. Teach me how to torment an Alpha.”

It’s not the way I’d do things, but Ravenna is a witch, and she has the right to protect herself and torment Kane in any manner she chooses. “Don’t let him touch you, of course. Don’t let him bite you. Don’t let him take anything that holds your scent.”

“Anything else?”

“The nape of your neck,” I say after a moment. “Alphas go crazy over that spot. If you wear your hair up around him and stroke it with your fingers, you’ll have him biting off his own arm. I’m not exaggerating. Zabriel bears scars from his own frustration of when I wouldn’t let him touch me.”

Ravenna’s eyes widen in interest. “You were able to make him that desperate?”

I feel torn. On the one hand, Kane suffering because he wants Ravenna and can’t have her sounds wonderful. On the other, Kane isn’t Zabriel, and he might lash out at her.

“Just please be careful. Your Alpha doesn’t care if he hurts you. Mine did. Mine does. If you provoke Kane too much, you might regret it.”

“Don’t worry about me. I have a few tricks up my sleeves if he gets too close.”

Stesha is a few dragons away from us, tending to an iridescent dragon with a twisted scale. Apparently she’s feeling sensitive about it because Stesha has put on protective gauntlets that reach his shoulders. When he manipulates the scale, she hisses and clamps her teeth around his forearm. Every few minutes we hear his muttered, “Cardine, stop that. I know it hurts, but I’m trying to help.”

Cardine continues gnawing on his gauntlet.

Zenevieve has appeared on the dragongrounds, and she’s wandering easily among the dragons, her fingers trailing over their scales in silent greeting. The rule never to touch another rider’s dragon doesn’t seem to apply to her, but she was the last dragonmaster’s granddaughter, and she’s the present dragonmaster’s former ward. She must have known many of these dragons when they were very young. The older dragons knew her from when she was a baby. I watch in astonishment as she wraps both her arms around Nilak’s neck and rests her cheek there for a moment, and the fierce white dragon does nothing but blink slowly in the sunshine.

Zenevieve’s expression is a little sad as she approaches us.

“Are you thinking about Shar?” I ask gently.

She nods. “Shar and Minta. They would have loved the Dragon Games. Minta and I often raced against Nilak and the dragonmaster for fun. She loved competitions.” Forcing a smile, she says, “But I will take pleasure in cheering you all on, and I can point out all the advantages that you and Esmeral will have in each of the events because you are riding a smaller dragon. Minta was a small dragon as well.”

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