Page 2 of Queen of Legends and Lies
Bastian, the male version of me with the same hazel eyes and rich brown hair, helps my sister down as she scales Kaida’s foreleg. She takes after my adoptive mother with her wavy golden blond hair and brown eyes. Even the bump on the bridge of her nose mimics our mother’s.
Chirean chuffs, brushing my mind with gentle reassurance. Tanwen and Ryu stretch, nodding to let me know I did the right thing. Mygist, the dragon that swooped down and stopped Xenon from killing me as the prophecy decreed, doesn’t seem affected one way or the other.
My heart clenches like a tight fist. These dragons rescued me, but we all failed to free Sterling.
What should’ve been a triumphant return is a pyrrhic defeat.
I dismount Mygist, my right knee protesting as my boots hit the ground. For a moment, I lean against his side, projecting my gratitude for the rescue.
A hushed gasp draws my attention.
A cluster of well-dressed folks, likely coming from some late-night revelry, gives us wide berth. Based on the expensive silks the men and women wear, they’ve got to be nobility. Their saucer-sized eyes reflect the flames that dance in the sconces lining the walls, and I have to wonder if this is their first time seeing a dragon up close.
Or maybe it’s the sorry states of the dragonriders that have them wrinkling their noses.
One woman clutches her pearls, and one of the men adjusts his tunic as if he could neaten away the sight of us. They all ruffle their wing feathers as they pass.
“Should we call the guards?”
The whisper reaches me, sharp enough to cut through my fatigue, and I stifle a laugh. They’re probably older than my nineteen years, but we’re worlds apart in experiences.
Mygist snaps his jaws, releasing a plume of smoke that sends them skuttling.
Yeah, call the guards on the dragoncaller and her dragonrider entourage.That’ll make for quite the story over breakfast.
A sigh escapes me, my hot breath misting in the cool air. I should be angry. Anyone in the palace should be able to recognize me by now. The first and only dragoncaller in generations. Not to mention the betrothed of Tirene’s crown prince.
But I can’t muster any indignance. All I know is bone-deep fatigue and the weight of failure.
I watch the silhouettes of the nobles as they retreat into the darkness, their judgments still lingering in the courtyard.
Leesa catches my eye. A shared smirk passes between us at the absurdity of our situation. “They’re about to summon the guards on their own dragoncaller.” No matter how hopeless things seem, Leesa always finds a way to lighten the mood.
I peer down at my sooty clothing. “We must be a sight. Dirty and bedraggled like we’ve clawed our way out of a dragon’s den.”
Which isn’t far from the truth.
From somewhere behind me, Agnar’s gruff voice rumbles. “Calling the guards on the queen to be.”
Oh. Right. There’s that.Another result of my failure.
Fail hard enough, and you’ll get a kingdom.
Bastian steps closer, his hands finding and squeezing my shoulders in a reassuring gesture. “How are you doing?”
I force a smile and try not to think about Sterling and the hundreds of corrupted people at Flighthaven. “Fantastic.”
The downward curl of Bastian’s mouth signals his skepticism.
My long-lost half-brother only came into my life a few months ago, but those months have tested the mettle of everyone involved. After spending hours researching together in the Royal Archives, traveling together to the Lost City and the Hidden Valley, and surviving both drachen attacks and court politics, he understands me well enough to know when I’m lying through my teeth.
“Thank you.” I stroke Mygist’s cheek. The sleek warmth of the scales beneath my fingertips grounds me. “You’re always welcome here.”
He cocks his head before launching into the sky. Though tired and hungry, Mygist is leery of remaining here long enough to recover. After seeing snippets of his memories, I can’t say I blame him.
Turning back to Bastian and Leesa, I nod toward the paddock where Dame has landed. “Would you mind making sure the dragontenders bring plenty of meat? I’m certain the Aclarian dragons are too weak to hunt.”
“Of course, Lark.” Even in disarray, Leesa’s hair is a golden wave. She appears remarkably healthy for someone who was just healed of her corruption only a handful of days ago. “We can take care of this. You need to report in. Then get some sleep.”
