Page 71 of Court of Secrets and Flames

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but it’s a partnership.” I lower my gaze out of faux respect. I’m treading on thin ice, and I need to be careful of what I say and how. “Dame was worried about the safety of the kingdom she calls home. I could feel it through the connection. She insisted on flying south of Tirene, to the first small island. There, I saw a herd of wild alicorns. At first, I thought they were sleeping, until we landed, and I realized all of them were lying down. Dead. The entire herd, dead all at once.”

A shadow flickers over Jasper’s face, vanishing instantly as his features settle into mild curiosity. “A tragic sight, I’m sure, but creatures die. It is the way of the world.”

Knox shifts beside me, a silent pillar of support. “Not this. Nothing about this was natural.”

“He’s right. Nature does take its course,” I bow my head, “but not like this. Not in such numbers. These alicorns, nearly thirty of them, all landed, laid down, and then died, leaving behind no trace of what caused their deaths. What could be fast enough to slaughter thirty alicorns without alerting the others? Why did scavengers not touch them? Dame seemed as confused and uneasy as I was.”

I don’t mention the odd scent. I have no idea what to make of it, or why the odor pings my mind as familiar.

The king studies me long and hard, his expression enigmatic. I’m not sure what’s happening in his head, but a part of me wonders if he’s keeping secrets again. He shifts his attention to the prince. “What do you make of this, brother?”

Knox steps forward, his head held high. “Everything is exactly as Lark explained it. And as you know, I trained her at Flighthaven. I taught her to ride and care for alicorns. Sheseemed to have an affinity for them there, and I wonder if perhaps her dragoncaller abilities make her more in tune with other creatures. Like her, I don’t know what might have caused their deaths. And before I could get any answers for you, Hyde gave us your summons.”

He truly is a fabulous liar.

Jasper steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “Perhaps it’s a virus, or some sort of genetic affliction that affected the whole herd.”

“Perhaps.” Doubt permeates my voice. Virus, maybe, but a genetic affliction wouldn’t kill every animal at the same time. “I can search the archives for any past incidents like this. An anxious, broody dragon can’t be good for anyone.”

“Of course.” Jasper waves a hand as, if I’m not mistaken, relief eases the tension from his posture. “Feel free to continue using the Royal Archives as you see fit.”

I dip my chin. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Knox moves to follow me out the door but stops at the king’s words. “Knox. A word, please.”

A guard trails after me as I pass through the grand doors.

Maybe my imagination is running wild, but my gut keeps insisting that Jasper is hiding something. What, I have no clue, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Then again, Knox’s brother is a hard one to get an accurate read on. The king has more masks than an entire masquerade ball and no problem playing games.

All I know is, not much worries a dragon, and Dame was concerned. Almost afraid. That right there is reason enough to convince me that we shouldn’t brush off the dead alicorns.

And I definitely trust Dame more than I trust Tirene’s ruler. No contest.

I send word to Leesa, who meets me in the Royal Archives. Together, we comb through the labyrinthine stacks. She searches one shelf while I search another, tracing spine afterspine of aged tomes before sifting through a pile of parchment scrolls. Dust motes dance in the slanted beams of light as I pull down volumes with titles promising knowledge of mythical beasts.

Each one, however, yields nothing on any beast that matches what I’m hunting for. Leesa doesn’t have much luck either, and ends up cutting her time short due to a headache.

Once she leaves, I continue flipping through books. It doesn’t help that, as always, everything’s a mixed-up mess, the stacks a hodge podge of assorted subjects and titles that bear no relation to each other.

I pause when I get to one volume.

“Dragoncaller biographies. I was looking for these before.” I flip through the pages as I muse out loud. “Maybe there’s wisdom from the past that can help with our present troubles.” Having these may come in handy again later since King Jasper doesn’t seem to understand how the dragoncaller bond actually works.

I crinkle my nose, shaking my head at the sheer volume of eel-themed cookbooks that line an entire section. Seems our royal chefs had quite the obsession.

There’s even one on eel-inspired desserts, for fuck’s sake.

Shuddering, I cast one last glance over the culinary oddities before my gaze lands on an ornate binding nestled between two mundane treatises on the art of eel smoking. The book calls to me like a siren song, and that weird sensation from my last visit to the archives crawls over my skin, digging in with invisible hooks and dragging me in that direction.

As if someone else commands my hands, I reach for the volume. My pulse drums in my ears when I pull it off the shelf.

My eyes fall on the title, and every muscle in my body stills.

Holy shit. I’ve seen this book before. Read this title.

The script curls like smoke above a bunch of unrecognizable sigils.

The Chronicles of the Mother Wurm.

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