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1
KEMREMIR
I angle my wings to catch the draft, and I’m lifted higher into the endless blue sky. My shadows trail my body, the smoky tendrils twisting around my tail as I shift it slightly to adjust my direction. Breathing deep, the scents of mountain air and lilac relax my muscles. Right now, I have no agenda, no duties to fulfill. I’m simply enjoying the peace that always comes from flying over my kingdom.
I tilt my massive wings and dive toward the edge of the mountain. There’s the place I first brought Raelyn, the Seelie princess. I huff a chuckle, a small stream of smoke billowing from my lips. She’s now the Seelie Queen, and that assassin scoundrel, Asheraht, is now her king.
My talons curl loosely, the tips brushing the blue-green grass of the mountain meadow. The vibrant yellow sandril flowers are absent this time of year. The snows are coming, and the Moneria celebration will usher in the new year in honor of the goddess of the mountains.
I bank hard; the wind pulling on my wings, the muscles of my back straining against the drag. The rush of the waterfall flashes past, the spray sparkling against my black scales, the cloud of mist curling around me. An easy roll turns me over, and I’m once again spiraling into the sky, the winter sun turning the water on my scales to shimmering diamonds.
My scales ripple as I shake from head to tail, flinging the droplets out around me. I slow, tilting my body upright, my wings spread wide. Then I’m hanging in suspension, weightless, looking down on all that is mine—mine by right of Challenge.
I hang, breathless, grateful, exhilarated, and overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of my land … and then I’m falling. I tuck my wings tight, rotating until I’m pointed like an arrow toward the ground. The pull of the wind against my face causes my second lid to slide over my eyes. The blue-green of the mountain grass turns to a bright red as the valley draws closer. Gravity presses in on my bones, the molten fire in my veins compressing and boiling as my heart struggles to beat against the crush of my dive.
Joy. This is joy.
A laugh erupts from my chest, coming out as a roar that shakes the ground as I snap out my wings and pull up at the last second. The adrenaline rush of the dive mellows into a gentle peace as I once again float along the valley floor toward my castle.
Crystal, marble and glass reflect the many colors of my kingdom, and smug pride curls my lips up in what I know is a fearsome smile. I earned this. By might, by strength, by winning Challenge after Challenge. I have the scars to prove my worth.
I am King of the Dragons of The Realm of the Crimson Plains.
Circling my castle once, I gently flap my wings, slowing my speed, and a moment before my claws touch the gravel path of the royal gardens, I call up my magic and shift. It’s as easy as breathing, allowing the warm rush of power to fold itself around me, like sinking into a mineral bath. My shadows condense, and with my next breath, my boots touch down, and my gentle momentum carries me forward into a slow walk.
I roll my shoulders, shaking off the last of my dragon, my inky shadows hugging my black skin, not yet ready to retreat. The scent of winter roses and lilac carries through the air as I lift my hand, watching the shadows curl and dance around my fingers. For the millionth time, I wish I knew more about my shadows, about my past, about my family. A dark mental cloud threatens to sweep away my good mood from my flight. No matter how hard I try to remember, no matter how many texts I research, there’s nothing to be found about the black dragons, and certainly no mention of dragons with shadows. I have no recollection of my parents—the dragons of the valley clan found me by the North Lake and raised me. It’s like someone dropped me out of the sky.
I’m lost in my thoughts, not paying attention to the path before me, and as I automatically take a turn around an evergreen hedge, I skid to a stop to avoid crashing into one of my guards.
Arvun’s liquid silver eyes go wide as she shuffles back, bowing her head. Her short silver hair falls around her face. “I’m so sorry, your Majesty. I was searching for you and was told you were out flying.”
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention. What can I do for you, Arvun?”
“You have a guest. She’s waiting in the east solarium … unless you’d rather have her escorted to the throne room?”
A little kick of joy flutters through my heart as I start walking down the path again, Arvun keeping stride one pace behind me.
“Raelyn?”
“No, my Lord. Syphe returned from Attolyn this morning. Queen Raelyn won’t be able to make it today. She will try to reschedule for next week.”
How does the earth saying go? I’m not surprised, just disappointed. But I know all too well how the responsibilities of ruling eat away at your time. I’ll find the time to go see Rae if she can’t make it here.
“Then, who? I’m not expecting any visitors from on or off world—speaking of which, is the next application voting session still on for this evening?”
“Yes, your Majesty. Unless …” I draw to a stop, turning to face Arvun. Raising an eyebrow at her silence, I urge her to continue. “Unless … you may need to postpone due to your guest.”
Well, this is intriguing.
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I rock back on my heels. “So, who is it I’m about to meet?”
“Tatha, my Lord.”
My brows pinch tighter as I try to place the name. Arvun catches my confusion and continues, “The Lady of the Mountain clan.”
I hide my surprise and smooth out my face, resuming my slow pace back to the castle.
“When did she arrive?”
