“Storming son of a squid!” my brother roared. He hauled Adoni up by the hair. The prince swung, landing a fist in his gut.
Ronan doubled over.
Tsunami lunged, neck weaving low across the sand.
I bolted from under Gyrak, sprinting toward them. We couldn’t kill him. He fed our people.
“Ronan! Adoni!” I screamed, charging to intercept them, racing Tsunami’s strike.
Behind me, Gyrak let loose a roar, reared, and slammed into the ground. The shockwave sent me stumbling. My brother staggered away, dragging a hand through his hair, while the island prince struggled to his knees, rage simmering in his eyes.
My strides halted beside Ronan, chin raised like steel. “I am the Dragon’s Heart, Adoni Innaku. I am never alone.”
Then her jaws descended.
Chapter Eight
“She’s a riderless dragon—it’s a known risk when they come to our shores!”
“He was the crown prince of Innaku! Their ambassador! And we don’t have so much as a shoe latch to show for him!” Mother snapped at Ronan.
We sat cramped at the table in my parents’ chambers. Father’s glare pinned me with suffocating force. I couldn’t read him anymore. Did he blame me? Did he hate me even more?
I huddled beside Mother, a thin blanket over my shoulders. It did little to fight the slight chill in the salty air, but offered some defense against the tension curling through the room.
“Send Tsunami to their coast,” Ronan muttered, rocking his chair back on two legs. “Let them take it up with her.” Blood streaked his cheek. Sand clung to his tangled blond hair. His torn tunic hung crooked from the fight.
Mother pinched the bridge of her nose, as though the pressure could hold back her temper. “We cannot afford vengeance—we need their supplies!”
“Draconia flies for Innaku.” Father’s voice hit the table like a dropped blade. All eyes turned to him. His gaze never left me—as if I held the answer he wouldn’t say aloud.
“Fly?” Mother echoed. “Nereus, do not act in haste.”
She’d caught the word. He hadn’t said sail. Flying the dragons meant war.
“Their prince attacked my daughter,” he growled, teeth clenched. At last, his stare broke from mine and turned to her. “That was within their ability to control. Tsunami eating that flaming son of an eel was beyond our responsibility.”
“Gyrak was present. He could have prevented it.”
“Whose side are you on, Mother?” Ronan snarled. “Adoni would’ve raped Nienna if I hadn’t stepped in!”
He slammed his chair forward, all four legs thudding hard against the floor.
“Don’t you dare accuse me of betraying my daughter.” She spun on him, eyes sharp as sparks. She jabbed a thin finger toward his face. “Watch your temper—and your tongue. One day this burden may fall to you, and, dragons above, may you have a steady voice of reason at your side!”
“Voice of reason?” Father leaned forward. “Tell me, then. Why can’t I fly for Innaku?”
Mother straightened in her chair with a pointed look at Ronan. “Innaku is too large. You cannot hold it with dragonfire, not when we need it for its resources. You burn the fields and they’re worthless to us—and they won’t forget.”
She pressed on, tone flat. “We don’t have the manpower to colonize a land that size without leaving ourselves exposed. And if you start a war among the isles, the Kulletti will strike before you can blink. Dragons or not, their warships could reduce the Spire to rubble. And the Ivetti? They’d be caught in the crossfire. Resources are scarce as it is. Add a war and our people will suffer even more.”
“She’s right.” My voice broke. I loathed how weak that made me feel.
Father’s stormy eyes traced back to me and I frowned, trying to weather his glare.
“Tsunami avenged my honor. As a dragon, Draconia is her haven. King Galdoni knew the risks when he sent his son. They’ve seen their bloodlust—how instinct takes over. If we strike Innaku now, we lose the potions keeping half our children alive.”
“Pah!” Ronan spat. “If I hadn’t seen the attack myself, your defense might convince me–”
