She caught my silence and sighed. “You need to leave the mainland.”
“I just got here.” My laugh came bitter.
“Ask your father to take you to the Wild Shores. Maybe the dragons will settle with you there.”
“Argos and Artorious won’t even stay the night. And you thinkIcan soothe them?”
“You’re the Dragon’s Heart,” she said. “That title means something. You calm them in ways riders can’t.”
I wasn’t so sure. My father had more sway over the dragons than I ever would. Still, she had a point. My body was nothing more than a brittle shell painted with forced smiles. I craved an escape—the opposite of the girl I’d once been, the one who begged to stay among my people.
Draconia held a piece of me. Mother always told me I belonged elsewhere, that my future was across the sea. Now, my heart lay there too—and this place no longer felt like the home it once was.
“Perhaps I’ll visit one of the islands after the Awakening,” I said, mostly for her sake.
She shook her head, looped her arm through mine, and together we walked toward the Spire. Narrow passages twisted like snakes between old walls. Around us, commoners drifted home, shoulders heavy with fatigue. The scent of brine clung to the air as we pressed on.
When we reached the palace, the sun had vanished. Green and gold scales blocked the doors in a living wall.
“What are you doing, Tsunami?” I laughed, stepping toward her. She lifted her head, tilting it as she studied me, golden membrane sliding over her eye in a slow blink.
Her body uncoiled in a stretch, claws digging into the stone steps like a waking cat.
“Father won’t be pleased,” I said, climbing the dark stairs to meet her.
She snorted, unimpressed, and sank onto her haunches, peering down.
Dragons were sentient, though more beast than man. She wasn’t a dog to command. Intelligence glimmered in her gaze—a question I couldn’t begin to guess at.
I slipped free of Freya’s grip and stepped forward. Tsunami towered above me. I had to crane my neck to meet her eyes.
“Princess?” Freya’s voice wavered, unsure. I had no answer for her.
Something inside me stirred. A spark, a tug—intuition, raw and insistent. I frowned and reached for her. She wasn’t mine, wasn’t anyone’s. All my life, she’d ignored me. She wouldn’t choose me now.
Still, a strange sensation pulled tight beneath my ribs.
Tsunami snapped her jaws with a sharp clack, biting the air. I yanked my hand back. A warning—one dragons gave each other.
With my palm to my chest, I stepped away. The sensation pressed, persistent and aching. A low trill rose from her throat as she dipped her head and sniffed my hair. Her breath stirred the loose strands, and I smiled.
Then she turned.
I backpedaled, letting Freya tug me toward the doors as Tsunami’s wings unfurled. Leathery and vast, they snapped wide. She launched skyward, beating the air. Dust lifted in her wake. I shielded my eyes and rubbed at the ache in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” Freya asked, glancing at my hand as she steadied me.
That pull tightened, then eased. I didn’t lower my palm as Tsunami vanished into the night. Relief and worry twisted together.
“Ever since I’ve come back… the dragons feel different,” I murmured, searching the stars for her shape.
“Their scales?” Freya sounded doubtful.
How could I explain it? I wasn’t a rider. Their thoughts couldn’t reach me. I was just the grown version of the babe they hadn’t eaten. But since returning to Draconia, it felt like theyknew. Knew when I needed them. Adoni’s attack shouldn’t have stirred them. And yet it had.
Ronan’s answer echoed in my head:Gyrak heard you.
“It’s nothing,” I said, brushing her off as we entered the Spire’s first level. Mage lights flickered between lanterns, catching the black stone like flecks of obsidian.
