Page 67 of Dragon Fight

“No, not with their dragons,” the man spluttered. “In some ways it would be easier if they had. Boys that choose to try and slope off with the king’s property? They’d be dealt with quickly and quietly” — which made me wonder how often that happened — “and the dragons returned but…”

The general let out a sigh, the lines in his face looking to be etched deeper than when we’d last spoken with him.

“The lads’ dragons are still here stationed in the keep and weakening by the day.” There, that was what had rattled the general. Glimmer crawled her way along Obsidian’s saddle towards us when she heard this, and both dragons, no, make thatallof our dragons were paying close attention. The general looked up at Glimmer, then shook his head. “None of the boys were seen leaving the keep and you know we keep a close eye on young cadets for just this reason. The dragons are barely accepting food and just push mental images of darkness every time we try to question them about where the boys are. Many of the adult dragons are sure the boys have been taken, locked up somewhere and…”

“Locked up?” I said, with a blink, doing my best to feign surprise.

“Though gods know where,” the general spluttered. He raked a hand through his hair, the short strands standing up to form choppy spikes. “Tensions are always high during a Gathering.” He shook his head. “If another Harlstonian girl becomes queen-in-waiting…” The general seemed to realise what he was saying, shooting the two of us a wary look. “Well, as much as the duke and his sister, the queen, might think that an auspicious turn of events, I’m not sure Nevermere could survive another such ‘coincidence’.”

My eyebrow jerked up. The general was Harlstonian, as were far too many of the officers in the corps, but his frank admission was not what I expected to hear today. The man seemed to realise that belatedly, flushing for a moment before turning his attention back to Brom.

“To keep the peace, we need to find those cadets. We need a Cantlynite queen or a Tharfieldian.” The general looked across the keep roof to where a man I knew approached Flynn. The Duke of Skane looked the picture of affable ease as he greeted his third eldest son, clapping Flynn on the shoulder before the two of them looked our way. “Even a Skanian one would be better than another from our homeland.”

Their eyes slid automatically to me, if only for a moment, because, of course, my lands lay within the borders of Skane.

“But that lies within the hands of the gods surely,” Brom replied smoothly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. The heavy weight of it was comforting.

“Of course.” Brom had given the general an out and the man took it. “I speak purely of what would be politically sensible, but the fates keep their own counsel.”

The general searched my face and then Brom’s.

“However, I need you to be aware that the disappearance of the lads coupled with the impending Gathering has resulted in growing… tensions within the corps. No lad bonded to a dragon would leave willingly, and the lack of ransom requests, of any communication at all, has resulted in theories being bandied around the keep as to where they have gone. The adult dragons are… discomfited, restless. We’ve had to ground whole wings due to recalcitrant behaviour from certain dragons and that…” The general let out a long sigh. “That has resulted in accusations being slung around with growing regularity and ferocity.”

Hearing that the queen’s hard work to secure the power monopoly over my country was starting to come apart made me want to smile, but the reality of what that meant, of the conflict that would surely come as a result, stopped me cold. I saw those two queen dragons in my mind. The sight of their claws slicing through the air was exhilarating at first, but then there were those poor unborn dragons being crushed under their feet. The small, the vulnerable, always bore the brunt of clashes between powerful factions.

“Find the boys.” The general was no longer a harried looking man, his spine lengthening, his stance growing stiff and tall, every inch a soldier, a commander. “You have connections at the palace.” His eyes flicked to where the rest of the wing waited to approach us. “The riders in your wing have connections all over the city. Find wherever the hell they are and…” He moved in close, putting his hand on Brom’s shoulder, staring intently into his eyes. “Restore the lads to their dragons, and to us, and then we can to try and cool down an already volatile situation.”

Brom didn’t get to reply to that nor ask questions, but I don’t think he would have even if given the opportunity. The general had just given us blanket approval to do what we had already intended to but… I scanned the keep rooftop, seeing all the people clambering off dragon back with fresh eyes. Each one was dressed in richly made clothes, the displays of their wealth subtle, but evident in the fine choice of cloth, the jewellery on the women’s necks and hands.

“The rich and powerful of Nevermere are here for the Gathering?” I asked Brom.

He nodded slowly. “It’s all part of the pomp and circumstance that leads up to a hatching.”

“To the crowning of a queen,” I added, my focus narrowing down on the young women who were being lifted off the backs of dragons and down to the keep roof, their cheeks flushed, their smiles wide. They were all caught up in the excitement. And that made me want to step forward, to warn them. As I was contemplating whether or not to pursue that course of action, two people caught my eye: a man and a woman. The sight of them wiped away all altruistic impulses and replaced them it with something much hotter and more immediate.

Draven was always beautiful, but with the sun beating down on him, creating highlights in his black locks a stray bar of light bleaching his eyes to pure ice blue, he looked divine. He stood extending a hand out to someone and, looking at the way he held it out, I could still feel the places where he’d touched my skin. As I continued to watch him, he reached up to help her down.

Beatrice.

I remembered her as the woman who’d clung to Draven’s side the night of the ball, when we’d been forced to make our daring escape. Her long red hair was wound up tight and bound at the base of her neck, but her green eyes twinkled, matching the flirtatious smile she bestowed upon the prince as he swung her down from the back of a stranger’s dragon’s back.

Myprince.

What is the rude one doing with that woman?

I took a step forward then, Glimmer’s growl my own, just as Brom’s hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me from taking another step.

“Don’t.”

He didn’t need to explain. A flare of white hot anger washed over me, but with it came clarity. I watched the prince chat to the woman and knew exactly what she was feeling. Like she had his entire focus, that there was no one else in the world he’d rather be speaking to, her whole body softening as he wrapped his arm around her waist and then escorted her towards the stairs.

My hand went to my mouth as I watched Beatrice’s curve into a smile. I touched my lips, the skin was still tender there from his vicious kisses that had felt they bit down into my core, his fangs still lodged there somehow. Would hers grow even more full, swollen from his kisses as he—?

“Don’t.” Brom turned me towards him, the one word taking on a whole other meaning, because who knew this kind of pain more than him. “He isn’t worth eating your heart out over.”

“You’re mine?”

My question to Draven echoed around in my head, growing higher and squeakier with each turn. And he’d told me exactly what I wanted to hear, the right things to get me into his bed, into his—

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