Page 50 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
The Corona Ignis. The crown of the Dragon King.
He is my dragon prince no longer.
Shouts ring out beyond the shattered window, sending a shiver dancing down my spine. We should move. We cannot linger here.
And yet I am rooted in place, frozen within this moment.
Countless questions linger between us. Burning. Waiting to be voiced.
Bene’s heartbeat pulses in my ears—a staccato rhythm to match my own. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. His eyes gleam like molten sapphire.
No, not sapphire. Ruby. For a split second, I would almost swear his gaze is red, not blue.
But then the moment passes. Bene’s lips peel back, flashing teeth. Even in his human form, his canines glint with a predatory sharpness.
“Naei,” he snarls as the dome of Spirit around us dissolves, as a gust of Air wraps around my waist and plucks me off him with brusque efficiency.
I barely have time to gasp before it deposits me on the floor, feet first.
Bene springs to his feet in the next moment, rising to his full height. Just as when we were children, he stands not much taller than I—enough that I must lift my eyes to meet his, but not so much that he looms over me like some monster in the night.
The perfect height. He has always been perfect.
What my dragon king lacks in vertical presence, he more than makes up for in strength. In raw power. It ripples off him in kaleidoscopic bands of magic—infinite potential that clings to him like cologne.
He takes a step toward me, and my heart skips. My pulse stumbles. Especially when I notice the ring he still wears on the index finger of his left hand.
The ring woven from my hair.
“Where is your amulet?” he all but growls, those four words vibrating through my chest. His voice is deeper than I remember. Darker. Laced with a dangerous edge.
I wet my lips and whisper, “I dropped it.”
I can almost feel his disappointment. It is like a living thing, writhing between us.
His eyes snap downward and fixate on my mouth. His own twists into a frown. “And then Friedemar threw you off the balcony.”
It is not a question but a statement. More anger crashes through me in the wake of it, waves of heat that leave me weak. That threaten to buckle my knees.
“Naei,”I whisper in urgent denial, shaking my head. I am out of practice. My accent is atrocious. But my speaking his native tongue has the desired effect on my dragon king.
The hard lines of his face soften. The anger roaring within my soul quiets.
Within the quiet, I sheepishly explain, “I jumped,na’valraen.”
Na’valraen.My favorite. The title was always a mere playful endearment when we were children. But now, it seems to hold greater weight as it lingers on, hanging in the air between us.
Moments tick by. Moments in which Bene stares into my eyes, his own ablaze with a heat I don’t quite understand.
But then he blinks. Naked confusion knits his eyebrows together. “Why?” he asks.
“… Because the Aether told me to.” It sounds ridiculous, saying it aloud. But Bene doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t mock me.
He simply stares at me in wonder and edges closer by another half-step. “The Great Weaver speaks to you?”
Electricity charges the air, leaving me lightheaded all over again. Bene ishere.After twelve years, he’s here, within arm’s reach of me. I still can hardly believe it.
“Only tonight,” I whisper. “He told me to run when Friedemar first cornered me. And then to jump when I was cornered again.”
