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The serpentine dragon sticks out its long, wet tongue, then licks an ethereal beauty from her chin to forehead. I didn’t think Radiants could enter this tournament, but the similarities between her and the Lady are remarkable. Both have skin the color of sunburned sand. Their long, flowing bleached hair is a mirror image of the other. After they’re bound and retreat to the arena’s center, their gaits match. Their footsteps flow with liquid grace.
“The Baleful Hunt and the Earl of Heliodor, the Honorable Lord Sylvanar of the House of Stone, will choose their favored Shadow next.”
The great stone dragon roars so loudly that the closest troop ducks in fear. All except one. A tall, muscular man who looks like he could eat Well Hounds for breakfast. He is a warrior through and through. Having spent half my life surrounded by Guardians, I recognize the sort.
The fierce roar must have been a test of fortitude, and he passed. The first dragon breathed on their chosen, another licked, and the fire dragon enveloped their troop with smoke. Were they all tests of some sort? The stocky House of Stone Radiant beckons his warrior with a stalwart flourish.
There are only four dragons. My stomach sinks for Alfie. He’d been so hopeful. I don’t want to buy into this stupid tournament bullshit, and I hate that I’m disappointed for him. I just got him back. If he dies, I won’t forgive myself.
Goodfellow gives a very un-noble-like shrill whistle, and everyone falls silent. I thought the sound was to gain our attention, but when a fluffy white cloud descends from the sky, I realize he called another dragon.
Chapter
Thirteen
WILLOW
Acloud hits the ground at the center of the arena and unfurls in spools, revealing four legs, a long tail, incorporeal wings, and a dragon’s head hanging heavy with lethargy. It’s barely a part of existence with all the moving air and pale prismatic swirls rolling inside its body.Fascinating. I wonder if it solidifies.
During the battle in Elphyne, the Wild Hunt burst from the chests of each Sluagh and took shape as a swarming, dark shadow. It coalesced into an enormous storm cloud and morphed into a solid black dragon with a horned skull on the outside of its head.
The announcer’s sweet voice echoes in the arena. “The Weaving Hunt and Chief Advisor to the Queen, Ser Robin Goodfellow, will choose their favored Shadow as representative for Her Royal Highness, Queen Titania of the Court of Dreams, Her Radiant Majesty of the Commonwealth of Avorlorna.”
Goodfellow gestures toward the Weaving Hunt, and they begin their judgment walk. He takes his time inspecting each troop, but it feels more like he’s paying lip service to the customs rather than truly searching for a worthy protégé. The dragon lumbers beside him, barely lifting its nose to sniff or waft atendril until they arrive at a unit where a wisp unfurls to kiss Alfie on the cheek.
The Weaving Hunt sits on its haunches. Clouds puff from his rear end. Goodfellow sidesteps them, takes a scarf from the bowl of the Keeper following him, and binds his left hand to Alfie’s. The druid nods and then returns to the others.
Alfie found the patronage he so desperately wanted, but it’s from the Court of Dreams. It’s with a mentor who makes my skin crawl.
Could be worse. Could be the House of Shadow. I glance at their box and startle when I find it empty. People kept saying they’ve never picked a protégé, so they’ve probably left early.
Typical.
Just like them to leave without an explanation.
The House representatives stroll the arena outskirts beside their Shadows, waving regally to the crowd in the tiers, then veer back to the center while their dragons are dismissed. It’s all very civil. The Weaving Hunt returns to cloud form and wafts away while the others perch on their buttress of choice.
Some exhibitors sob quietly. I’m guessing this was their last chance. Goodfellow twirls his finger in the air to signal for the event to wrap up. The druids leave in single file, their flat bowls dangling at their sides. On the backs of their robes is an embroidered cauldron.
What does that represent?
The announcer reveals herself as she walks onto the arena floor—a lady-in-waiting with yellow hair. A bright smile stretches her ageless face as she speaks into a palm-sized stone. Her voice echoes across the fort from owl statues strategically placed about.
“In all my timeless existence, I’ve never beheld Shadows shimmering with such potential. Congratulations to all. Asusual, we shall draw the curtain on this evening’s splendid spectacle?—”
A high-pitched screech rends the air. Hands cover ears. People duck, both on the ground and up high. The light dims as though a cloud blocks the sun. Warning growls rumble from the throats of dragons as though they sense another predator encroaching on their territory. I sniff to see if I can catch something, but I can’t distinguish anything new. Scales shimmer and muscles coil with tension. Smoke hisses from the Fever Hunt’s veins. They glance up to where a small dark shadow spirals downward from the canopy like a vulture circling dying prey.
My gaze narrows. It’s too small for a dragon. Is it a bird?
Darkness briefly consumes the light, and it has nothing to do with a cloud and everything to do with the four devilish fae prowling into the arena, commanding attention from the air itself. Legion, Bodin, Emrys, and Fox stir up a frenzy that borders on chaos. Green-cloaked guards flurry about, reminding the crowd of common courtesies.
“We are smiling!” a male guard shouts.
I almost burst out laughing. No one else does, making me worry there’s something wrong with my sense of humor.
Two masked druids return to the arena through a gloomy archway, watching warily from the wings. Light returns as the four Sluagh arrive at the center. Radiants, I correct myself. To everyone else here, they’re Radiants. Not soul-sucking bastards who eat anything and ruin lives.
Their fellow nobility aren’t pleased. The announcer’s smile is frozen stiff. She darts a nervous glance at Goodfellow, who smirks at Legion and says, “The Old Code states only ancient houses with an exalted High Dragon may choose to sponsor a Shadow for their protégé during the exhibition.”
