I didn’t bother to give him a response. Freya and I repositioned the ladder against the platform. I’d been assigned to decorate the dance stage—my mother’s attempt to make my work more ‘acceptable’ for royalty. Honestly, the whole thing needed saving. The poor woman who’d started it chose brown and green in honor of the earth.
A noble sentiment. But not a joyful one.
I accented in gold. The palette tugged at my frayed heart, but I claimed coincidence.
Freya steadied the ladder as I climbed again, reaching for the fallen cloth. The stage stood raised above the beach, ringed with tall poles. I secured the fabric to ropes strung from pole to pole, the drapes catching the breeze as if the wind danced with us. Mage lights would hang among the cords. Dragons would paint fire in the sky during the Awakening.
Some days crawled; others vanished like smoke on a windy day.
Nearly a week had passed since Haldor’s message. When I reached Father’s level that night, he was flying with Ronan, and Mother warned me to give them space. All she’d said was war—and nothing more. She left me with orders: prepare for the Awakening, stay clear of the nobles.
“A little to the right,” my brother called.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, shoulder pressing into the damp strands of hair clinging to my face.
“I have a dagger,” Freya said from below.
A snort escaped as I adjusted the fabric, then tied it off.
“Too tight–”
A roar cut him off.
Gyrak jerked his head up, dropping his wing over Ronan like a tent flap. I twisted, gripping the ladder as the black dragon snorted, tongue flicking the air while his rider thrashed beneath the leathery membrane.
“What is it?” I shouted, as if the beast might answer.
A chorus of roars and shrieks ripped across the island, sending rock gulls screeching for their nests. I snapped my head around. Dragons launched skyward from every direction, wings slicing through the air as they surged north.
Gyrak snarled and sprang upright, lifting his wing.
I scrambled down the ladder while my brother brushed off his leathers, muttering curses. Gyrak let out another growl and tossed his head toward the northern shores, eyes slitted.
“Ronan!” I called over the sudden clamor. Workers shaded their stares, gazes tracking the beasts spiraling overhead.
What could stir them like that?
He hesitated, spun to Gyrak, then sprinted to his leg, clambering up without pause.
“You slimy suckerfish!” I snapped, tearing after him. Whatever drove the dragons to frenzy—he wasn’t leaving me behind.
My dress tangled around my legs, nearly pitching me into the glittering sand. I grabbed a fistful of fabric and sprinted across the beach. Ronan leaned into the saddle as I vaulted onto Gyrak’s paw, slipping where his missing toe left a hollow. A midnight head swung toward me, breath hot and rancid. I locked eyes with the yellow glare and didn’t flinch. He would take me. I’d ridden him before—with my brother. I wouldn’t dare try another dragon, not even Argos.
Teeth the length of my arm snapped inches from my face. I exhaled hard, then scrambled up the side, fingers clawing at the saddle’s straps.
“Stay here!”
“I’m not your dog,” I spat, climbing behind him and locking my arms around his waist. “Tell me what’s happening!”
Gyrak launched skyward. The force slammed my jaw shut. Ronan grunted as I clung tighter, hands clenched in front of him. Black scales shifted, muscles coiling, wings unfurling to catch the wind. Gyrak hurled his neck forward, leveraging his bulk, jostling us with each beat.
My throat tightened as the northern port came into view, the air swarming with dragons. K’lan shimmered beneath the chaos. Innaki ships would have arrived from the east, landing farther south along the border. We’d have heard if they passed through the outer isles.
It couldn’t be.
Dread stole my breath. Panic swelled. My vision blurred.
He wouldn’t.
