Page 35 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“First blood,” I pant triumphantly.
Anger and admiration war in his eyes.
“You tricked me,” he growls, glaring at my gaping shirt.
“I used your weakness against you,” I counter. “Isn’t that what you’ve been teaching?”
The crowd erupts—mostly my friends cheering. But I focus on Bodin’s indignant flush, his heaving chest.
He lunges, knocking me down. Ice bathes my back. He pins me, a force of nature. I glimpse a hungry snarl before his teeth graze my neck. A soft gasp escapes me, my body arching instinctively.
Yes. Mark me. Admit you want this.
Admit Fox is right. My heart is right. We teeter on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. Then reality crashes back. He jerks away, breath ragged.
“Enough for today,” he grumbles, avoiding my eyes. “See you tonight.”
“If you still want me to come earlier to training, I’ll do it,” I add, surprising us both.
Our eyes briefly meet, and then he stalks away, leaving me breathless and confused on the ground.
Chapter 16
Puck
Ipace outside the Shining Host’s grand chambers, my footsteps echoing off living crystal walls. Gilt doors carved with faerie revelry scenes stand closed before me. Dragon-bonded scents seep through—ozone and brimstone mingling with laughter and heated arguments.
“What are you waiting for?”the Baleful Hunt growls in my mind.“Moonrise was five minutes ago.”
I straighten my emerald doublet, its silver threads catching the light.“Patience. An entrance is everything . . . unless there’s no one to witness it.”
The dragon harrumphs. Chalky smoke curls from my nostrils.
“No snide quip? No scathing retort?”I smirk.“Perhaps you’re learning from me after all.”
He yawns, stretching within me. Restless claws scrape my insides. I contain him through sheer will, gritting my teeth. I must ratify this bond. The Shining Host could strip everything from me in an instant.
Tasting magic on my tongue, I thrust open the doors and stride in, chin high.
The chamber unfolds—a masterpiece of faerie architecture. Cobweb curtains shimmer between towering crystal columns pulsing with inner light. A circular moonstone table sparkles at the center, surrounded by six ornate chairs carved to represent each dragon. The Queen’s throne, woven botanicals blooming with starlight, sits empty. The Weaving Hunt perches behind it, incandescent light shimmering around its dozing form.
What a joke. The Weaving Hunt weakens yearly; its once-iridescent scales are now dull. Titania thinks she can hide the problem behind clouds, but I see them. And the Wild Hunt—supposedly the other High Dragon—is a mere hatchling in hiding.
The Baleful Hunt’s seat remains vacant. He resides within me now, a constant pressure behind my eyes. But I refuse to unleash him again, not after what happened at the cabinet temple. I’m lucky to have escaped with my life.
“Why did they let you go?”the dragon prods.“Seems curious to me, considering who you faced.”
I’ve wondered that myself. All I can think of is the Shadow. She holds some kind of power or influence I’m not privy to. But also, they’re not foolish enough to leave a dragon without a host. “Even they were aware of the dangers of a rogue, unbonded dragon.”
It’s well documented that dragons left unchecked and unbonded will grow wild and destructive. If the Sluagh had killed me, the Baleful Hunt would have instantly sensed the bond breaking. If another host has not taken precautions to take over immediately, control is a slippery slope, leading to disaster. For all these Radiants know, I saved them untold drama.
One more vote is all I need.
The chamber buzzes with bickering and gossip. No one spares me a glance.
I survey the remaining dragon-bonded:
The Fever Hunt smolders behind Marquess Ignarius, smoke and lava oozing from a scaled hide. The dragon’s eyes glow like embers, reflecting its bonded’s fiery temperament.
