Page 70 of Court of Secrets and Flames

I am grateful he believes me, even as I try to ignore the way his full lips thin with worry. “The first island south of Tirene. I don’t know if it has a name. It’s just a sandy little thing with hardly any life at all and no trees.”

I hold up a hand as his face contorts with anger and dread. “Let me tell you.”

I describe the morning’s events, starting with Dame’s insistence on the route and the fact that she definitely wanted me to see the carnage.

“But how? If something attacked them, even something as large as a dragon, once the first one was attacked, the rest would have fled.” His question hangs between us, unanswered. For who or what could wield enough power to silence an entire herd of the majestic creatures?

“And there were no other tracks except their own. It’s like they landed there together, then laid down and died.” I continue recounting what I saw, though none of it makes sense. “There weren’t even signs of a fight. Not even thrashing limbs as they died. It was so…clean.”

Cleanhas never before felt like such a dirty word.

Knox rakes a hand through his shiny black hair, pushing it away from his face. “You walked next to them and saw nothing? No blood?”

“Nothing. It was an ordinary beach…some grasses, plants…nothing sharp enough to even scratch the skin. Whatever killed them was long gone. Nothing natural could be responsible for what I saw. They were cold. Dead for hours. And there was no sign of predation on the bodies either. Not a single peck from avulture or seagull. Not even a bug.” My hands flutter in a useless effort to convey the scene’s unnatural nature.

Knox reaches out and stills my hands. “Or the cause couldn’t be seen. You wouldn’t see a disease, just its effects.” He tugs on my wrist, a resolute expression hardening his face. “Show me.”

Though returning to that awful site is the last thing I want to do, I nod my assent. Together, we return to the fire paddock. I remount Dame, and Knox climbs onto Tanwen.

This time, I stand back with Dame while Knox approaches the dead herd. My throat burns when he kneels beside the smallest foal, strokes the baby’s shoulder, and bows his head.

His pain saturates the air, forcing me to turn away before it chokes me.

Minutes pass. Finally, he rises and continues his inspection in silence. Once he finishes, he stalks across the sand to me. “Let’s go.”

The familiar blank expression covers his face, erasing any sign of emotion. I hate that mask, especially now, under these terrible circumstances. Plus, I don’t understand. That dead herd hit him hard. I know it. Iknowhe’s hurting. So why does he act so completely unfazed?

The truth slams me in the chest. That blank expression of his doesn’t indicate—has never indicated—his cold heart or inability to feel, but the exact opposite. Knox dons that disguise whenever he feels too much. because life’s taught him it’s safer to hide such strong emotions.

As he starts to brush past me, I step into his path and cup his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

His shield cracks, offering me a glimpse of his devastation, followed by a softening in his eyes. He bends down until his forehead rests against mine. “I know.”

After riding back to the fire paddock, we wander the palace grounds, our boots kicking up the scent of fresh earth andcrushed leaves. The silence between us pulses like a living thing, and Knox’s gaze, heavy with the same questions swimming through my mind, weighs on me.

We walk on until I can no longer stand the silence or the accompanying dread that coils low in my gut. “Should we tell the king?”

He hesitates and then shakes his head. Before he can verbalize a reply, though, thundering hooves interrupt us.

A squadron of the king’s guard storms into view, their faces set in grim lines. Hyde reins in his steed before us, flanked by soldiers whose hands rest ominously on the hilts of their swords.

“His Majesty requires your presence immediately,” he barks. The command brooks no argument.

A chill sweeps through me as I exchange a glance with Knox. The air tastes of steel and tension. Are they escorting us to an audience, or to our doom?

Chapter Twenty-Five

The heavy oak door groans on its hinges as guards usher Knox and me into the king’s chambers. King Jasper’s gaze, sharp as a skewer, pins me to the spot before I can muster a greeting. The air hangs thick with the scent of his displeasure.

Since he informed Tirene of our betrothal, the king’s mostly left me to my own devices, probably deciding it was wise to give me time to process. This is the first summons I’ve received since then. Given his obviously poor mood, I can’t say I’m all that happy about spending time in his company again.

“Explain yourself. I find the most pressing matter today is your little escapade beyond our borders.”

This is the second time in less than an hour a Barda brother has demanded an explanation from me. I can’t say I’m happy about that either.

I choose my words with caution, careful not to allow my irritation to seep into my tone. “Your Majesty, Dame veered from our normal path over the capital. She had her own intentions, which led us to a small island just outside your borders. No farther.”

“Indeed?” Jasper leans back in his throne, the gold filigree catching the light with an almost mocking glint. “A true dragoncaller dictates the course, does she not?”

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