Page 36 of Queen of Legends and Lies
“Well said. It seems we have chosen well.” The high priest rests his hand on my shoulder, pride radiating in his amber eyes. “Come, it’s time to celebrate.”
He steps forward and offers me his arm. Inside the palace, the ballrooms are already set up. Outside, tables stretch across the courtyard, their surfaces piled high with food and drink.
In the distance, I register movement. I turn my head in time to see a dark shadow slither over the palace walls.
It hits the ground like an earthquake. Black, oily wings emerge from the growing blotch of darkness. Then another pair. And another. Dozens more.
Icy fear crawls down my spine.
The drachen are here.
Chapter Thirteen
My heart pounds, and I forget to breathe.
Opening my mouth, I try to yell, to warn the people, but no sound comes out.
No one has seen the creatures yet. They’re all too busy staring at me. Did Xenon plan this just for that reason?
It’s the perfect opportunity. I’m unarmed, as are the majority of the people. Only the guards have their weapons. And everyone would already be drinking and celebrating if I hadn’t been late to the party.
My breath catches in my throat. For a moment, I’m a statue, horror rooting me in place. My hands itch for my elemental magic, my mind races with strategies, and my body aches to defend Tirene. Reaching deep, I summon the flames from my very core, ready to burn them all to protect my kingdom.
The world blurs, and the cheers of my people fade to a ghostly silence.
When I blink, I’m not in Tirene anymore.
My gaze locks on Xenon, who’s perched upon a stone throne high in the mountains of a kingdom I’m not familiar with. He’s a black smudge against the snow, with thousands prostrating themselves before him in the meadow below.
It’s like some twisted coronation mirroring my own.
Armies plunge into the valley. Tirenese, Kamorians, Tír Ríogaians, Aclarians, and people from other lands, all united in their desperation.
They swarm against an endless sea of corrupted and drachen. Battle cries pierce the air, along with the clash of steel and roar of elemental magic.
A golden-haired woman wields a sword with a fury that belies her size. No, not a woman. A young girl. The dance of death swirls around her. Warriors with hair like night, fire, and sun spill blood upon the earth.
Suddenly, everything shifts.
I’m in the bowels of the earth now, where the cave walls pulse with the terror of the entrapped. The stench of decay invades my nose and mouth. Shrieks echo in the distance. People? Animals? I can’t tell.
The chaos of fighting and the final gasps of the dying reverberate off the cavernous walls.
The scene changes once more.
I’m outside, in the midst of a confusing battle, surrounded by the screams of the wounded and dying. Bodies bounce off mine. My heart races as I try to comprehend what’s happening.
Fiery arrows arc toward the heavens as if they’d pierce the sun above. Swords catch the moonlight, scattering light across the dark night.
How is it day and night at once?
This can’t be real.
Eons seem to pass before warmth spreads through my arm.
With a gasp, I peer down at the touch. Eldor’s hand rests there, solid and reassuring.
I blink away the waking dream and find myself kneeling, gasping for air. My people gape, their faces etched with fear and confusion. How long have I been here on the ground?
