“The courtyard,” I ordered, eyeing their steel-plated bodies. No amount of ornamental sunshine and forest-green paint could soften their rigid stances. Their heavy footfalls herded me forward like livestock.
I clenched my jaw, resolved to memorize the castle’s winding corridors. The faster I learned, the sooner I could navigate on my own, free of the clamor and presence of armored shadows.
As I padded down the hall, thoughts of King Kallias crept back. He didn’t travel with a pack of guards—only one. Maybe I could make the same request. A single guard I could get to know in this unfamiliar place, who might feel like a friend rather than a jailor.
The hallways unfurled in quiet beauty around me, each turn revealing lush greenery that softened the marble walls and polished floors. Vines had been trained to grow across the stone, their tangled paths like threads of living art. Small-leaved ivies mingled with massive fronds that stretched almost to my waist. Green tendrils, pulsing with life, reached for the sun filtering through stained glass windows, as if the plants themselves were straining against their confines. I understood that yearning too well—seeking sunlight, the freedom of open skies.
A pang of sorrow thudded through me, knowing I would likely never feel the rush of dragonflight again. I buried that ache, pushing it down with all the others. This was my place now, my duty. Whatever Tallon did or didn’t do, I was still a princess, bound by everything I’d been trained to uphold.
Relief washed over me when I recognized the paintings at the end of the corridor. The guards hauled open the towering doors to reveal the courtyard—grand enough to receive a dragon.
Gyrak’s massive maw filled my vision as I stepped forward, his teeth glinting as he lowered his head. I stopped short, grinning at the guards’ startled mutters.
“I missed you, too.” My hand rested on his warm, smooth scales.
He gave a contented rumble, one gleaming yellow eye turning to study my face, his gaze piercing yet comforting.
Ronan’s voice cut through, laced with amusement. “I’d take a few steps back,” he warned. “He sneezes—you’re all kindling.”
I scoffed, but the guards gave us some distance, shuffling for space.
Ronan adjusted his flight goggles, ruffling his light hair with a casual swipe. “You danced with the king.”
Not a question. His steady gaze found mine, his usual irritation giving way to open concern. My little brother—ever watchful, ever loyal—was worried about me.
“Tallon was indisposed,” I muttered, keeping my voice low.
Ronan’s mouth twisted, and a muscle in his jaw feathered as his annoyance deepened. “Seems he’s always missing when it matters,” he growled. “I looked for him when the dance began—he was nowhere.”
No, Kallias had to send his guard to drag his son from the shadows.
I forced a bright, practiced smile. “The treaty’s between Radaan and Draconia. Trust me to do my duty, Ronan.”
“You deserve better,” he grumbled, pulling me into a fierce hug. “If it weren’t for the whirlstorms–”
“I know. You’d stick around until I grew so sick of you I’d have to banish,” my tongue slipped over the word, “banish you home.”
He pulled back, eyes narrowed, but I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Gyrak, burying any stray emotion in the dragon’s warm gaze.
“I will do this, Ronan. Father signed the treaty. Radaan and Draconia will be joined. A tardy prince won’t stop it.”
“Father would have the fleets brave the whirlstorms for you. Never forget that, Nienna.”
A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips as I pushed a stray lock of his sand-colored hair from his brow. Always my protective little brother. “Go on, then. You’re wasting daylight.”
He snorted at my attempt to get rid of him, then wrapped me in another rib-crushing hug. I wheezed, sure he’d cracked something. When he pulled away, he flashed a bright smile, one that wiped the frown that had marred his handsome features.
“It’s a good day to fly,” he said, throwing his hand to the skies before sauntering over to his dragon’s shoulder. “A kiss for luck?”
I chuckled as Gyrak brought his fangs within a hand’s breadth of my face and waited. Shaking my head, I settled my palms on his scaled lips and gave him a quick peck on the nose. “Ride the winds. Fly fast. Take him home.”
He trilled, lifting with a powerful stretch. Ronan barely had time to settle before the dragon launched, propelling skyward with a force that sent a string of curses from my brother—words more suited to a sailor than a prince.
A crack split through my heart, and tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t know when I’d see him again. Next season—or years from now?
Straightening, I blinked all emotions back. When I faced the guards, my smile felt bright and proper, though I caught one still staring after Gyrak—likely in awe.
“Take me to Fyrn’sol.”
