Page 37 of Queen of Legends and Lies
This has to be a glimpse of what’s to come.
Or a warning that the battle has already begun.
“Grandfather?” I stagger to my feet, the vision of war still burning in my mind’s eye.
The crowd starts to mutter and whisper. The council’s collective gasp is a distant echo as I search for something grounding, something real. My gaze locks on a small figure beside a too pale Agnar.
Rose. Her presence tethers me back to the here and now.
“Are you okay?” Eldor uses a firm grip on my arm to help me stand. “You’re dehydrated.”
I sway a little, my legs still unsteady. “I drank plenty.”
“A moment of prayer, nothing more. Look to the dragons. They aren’t worried.” Eldor’s words are meant for the approaching council members, but when he turns back to face me, he levels me with a meaningful look.
What does he know? Or what does he thinkIknow?
At least he’s right about the dragons. While they’re not worried or trying to get close to me, they’re not brimming with excitement either. Still, I take the excuse the high priest has offered and bow my head as if I have just finished a blessing.
Alannah comes forward, her nearly white hair glinting in the firelight. “Your Highness, let’s get you inside. Your body hasn’t recovered from…everything. You need refreshments. Would you like some assistance walking? There are several strong men here.” Her voice is so low, I’m sure only Eldor and I can hear her.
The high priest tries to offer me his arm again, but I shake my head.
Did those visions come from him? Is that even possible?
Serle stands his ground, holding back the tide of council curiosity with a glare that could freeze the sun.
“Allow me, as brother to the queen.” Bastian steps up, Leesa at his side. He holds his arm out, and I gladly grasp it.
Leesa beckons me with a tilt of her head, and we begin the long walk back inside, Eldor close behind. Alannah was right. With everything I’ve been through, my body is suffering. I need to eat and drink and rest, though sleep will have to wait until after the celebrations are?—
Horns blare.
My body tightens. I start to turn, to ask if the horns are part of the festivities, when Bastian’s arm tenses. The sudden flurry of wings taking flight fills the air.
Dragons bugle, challenging unseen foes.
I drop my dampening, allowing their emotions to wash over me.
Anger, retribution, readiness to fight.
“The guards have seen people approaching. But they’re not certain they’re enemies.” Agnar’s at my side, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
At least he’s armed like always, as is Eldor.
I release Bastian’s arm, then reach for his shoulder. “Let me lean on you while I take these damned shoes off. I can’t fight if I can’t?—”
“Wait.” Leesa raises her eyebrows. “It might be visiting dignitaries. Not everything is a battle, Lark. You don’t want to be barefoot for visitors.” Despite her words, she moves in front of Alannah, shielding the frail older woman.
Several guards approach both on foot and from the air, surrounding us.
One who just landed gives a slight bow before words tumble from his mouth. “Three Aclarian alicorns and their riders are approaching under a white flag of truce.”
That must’ve been what the second set of horns meant. Another thing I have to learn in order to rule here.
Even the dragons seem to be aware of Tirenese and Aclarian customs.
A burst of shock ripples through me, from Chirean, the first dragon I bonded to and one I cemented my connection with through shared highs and lows. Overhead, his orange scales gleam in the moonlight as he gazes down at me. Sorrow trickles in, as well as a tiny bit of hope.
