Page 30 of All the Chaos of Constellations
“I could teach you.” His roughened whisper floated past her ear, and she whirled around to find him standing behind her, another wicked smile turning up his full lips.
Goosebumps pebbled down her arms.
She imagined he could probably teach her a lot of things.
“Nearly all the women in Brackroth are trained to fight. They choose their own weapons, of course. Daggers. Swords.” Those eyes of his raked over her. “A bow and arrow might be fitting for you.”
“Thank you for the offer, Your Highness.” Novalise swallowed, forcing her throat to work. If she even so much as took an interest in a sword or a bow, her mother would have her head. “But I really must get to the palace. I need to speak with the queen.”
His grin darkened. “Do you need a ride?”
“A…ride?”
“I have a dragon.” Prince Drake jerked his head toward the other end of the courtyard. “And I can guarantee you he’s faster than those absurd flying carriages you use.”
“I don’t know.” Twisting her hands together, her teeth skated along her bottom lip once more. “I’ve never ridden on a dragon before.”
He inclined his head, his wolfish smile all but vanishing. “Is that a yes?”
“Um…yes?”
Novalise had no time to regret her decision. The shadow prince led her from the courtyard through the sloping gardens. Her heart gave a significant twinge when they passed by the fountain where she’d fallen into Asher’s lap. Two days had passed since the last time she saw him, and she wondered if he’d found a way to barricade himself from their bond. The thought left her simmering, and wishing she’d been the one to think of it first. But she had little time to dwell on the matter as the Prince of Brackroth stalked through the gardens at a clipped pace, not bothering to make sure she hadn’t fallen behind. Following the winding path, his boots clicked in time to each measured step, until the floral archways and blooming shrubberies opened to a jutting mountain ledge off the Moonfall Peaks, right along the outskirts of House Celestine’s walls.
There, perched and sitting like a statue carved from obsidian, was the shadow prince’s dragon.
Novalise clamped her mouth shut, covering it with both hands, to keep from making any sudden noises.
The dragon was the most stunning yet frightening beast she’d ever beheld. His black scales glittered like stars on a moonless night. Rocks and small boulders tumbled down the cliffside as he lowered himself to the ground, preparing for flight. The claws along the bottom edge of his massive wings were like curving spires, carving little grooves into the face of the mountain with their sharp points. Glowing yellow eyes with slits for pupils watched her every move, as though he tracked her every breath. He thrashed his tail once and Novalise leapt, clutching Prince Drake’s arm.
“Wh-what’s his name?” Her attempt at polite small talk did little to ease the bundle of nervous energy tightening inside of her.
“Svartos.” Prince Drake approached the dragon with ease. He checked the beast’s underbelly, tightening a strap on something that looked incredibly similar to a horse’s saddle, then turned around to face her. “Ready?”
“Ah, I was actually going to ask why you were here. That is, at my house.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Svartos—if she made one wrong move, he could crush her, turning her bones to dust. If she could distract the prince a little longer, then maybe she could find a way to get herself out of this situation.
“Negotiations.” Prince Drake moved like lightning, leaving her no time to react. He plucked her off the ground, then lifted her up into the seat on the dragon’s back, hauling himself up behind her. “Hold on.”
“To what?” Her voice pitched with panic. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe.
“Here.” The prince reached around her and wrapped both of her hands around a set of sleek, black leather reins.
She doubted they actually did anything.
He pulled on a pair of worn riding gloves, tugging the leather up over his scarred hands. Then he was whispering words in a language she didn’t understand. The prince grabbed the reins, gripping the section between her hands, and Svartos rose from the ground. Novalise’s body went rigid, paralyzed with fear. She sucked in a strangled breath, squeezing the reins so tightly she nearly lost all feeling in her fingers. The dragon moved with a speed far faster than she imagined for his size. His wings beat steadily as he sprinted toward the edge of the cliff. Her heart thundered, her stomach dropped. She was going to die. This was it, climbing on the back of a dragon with the Shadowblade Assassin was going to be her demise.
The ground fell away from beneath them, the dragon soared, and Novalise screamed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, digging her nails into the fine leather of the reins, and held on for her life. Warm air rushed past her, hollowing her out. She pressed herself back into Prince Drake’s firm body, grateful for his reassuring presence, but petrified that if she couldn’t feel him sitting behind her she would inevitably fall to her death.
“Open your eyes,” he demanded.
She did as she was told, tossing him a look from over her shoulder. “How did you know they were closed?”
“Your entire body is tense.” His jaw ticked and he kept his gaze trained on the skies. “It’s making it difficult to…concentrate.”
“My apologies, Your Highness.” Novalise wiggled backwards, further nestling herself against him. She’d never made anyone uncomfortable before—his words emboldened her.
He grunted. “You’re only making it worse.”
