Cinnamon and sunshine. His scent. I understood the dragons completely.
Tsunami lashed her tail, flinging seawater across the beach in a wide arc. Artorius snapped his jaws, a sharp reprimand meant to steer her off the civilians. She ignored him. Another snort gusted from her nostrils, followed by a deep inhale like she needed to clear her nose to place Kallias’ scent.
I sighed, handed my stick to Freya, and slid off the boulder. Wet sand swallowed my boots. Her eyes locked on mine. She bared her teeth and released a low warbling trill. I recognized it—a sound of frustration.
Lifting my hand, I let her study my approach. If she didn’t want me close, she had every chance to show it. Water curled around her limbs as she crouched in the shallows, tail flicking under the surface.
When my palm met her snout, she shivered, muscles rippling. A low click sounded in her throat, uncertain.
“He’s mine,” I murmured, running my hand along the smaller plates near her jaw. Warm. Almost soft. Those scales held heat like stone in summer.
She blinked slowly. The horned crests above her eyes dropped in a suspicious squint. Then she turned, studying me sideways, head cocked like a dog too clever for her own good. A menace, but with the heart of a spoiled pup.
Artorius clacked his teeth. She shrieked, hurling her massive skull toward him, sparks flying from her mouth. I staggered back, salt spray and heat surging over me as her talons churned the water.
Borj swore and rushed forward to put himself between me and the bickering creatures as I retreated to the beach.
She hissed, lunged like she might strike—but instead flared her wings and leapt skyward. The downforce punched into the sea, sending a wall of water over the shoreline.
Greaves’ jaw tightened. He glared after her, unreadable but clearly unimpressed.
“Good day, Princess,” Borj barked, already moving, his voice clipped as he joined Artorius. The black dragon’s rider crouched low, preparing to follow her into the sky.
I didn’t envy him. Babysitting a force like Tsunami required both skill and patience—and even that wasn’t always enough. She was half storm, half flame, with a will no dragon could temper.
Kallias had watched it all in silence, leaning against the boulder, shoulders relaxed. But his gaze didn’t miss a beat.
“So,” he said as I stepped beside him, “is this what my people should expect?”
I shook my head, pushing damp hair behind my ear. “No. Tsunami won’t leave Draconia. The dragons assigned to Radaan are older, bonded, and disciplined. She’s a rare… exception.”
He hummed, thoughtful. “Still. Radaan will have to adjust.”
I grinned. “Wait until you see the Awakening.”
It began with the dragons’ song.
Before dawn’s first touch, when light only whispered at the edge of the sky, their voices rose in eerie, powerful howls. Cavernous groaning bellows rolled through the air—much like whales from the deep—vibrating in tandem. A chorus carried from ridge to sea.
The sound pulled me from sleep, lured every Draconis into the damp hush of morning. At the landing, Argos perched at the tip. His neck curved, chin tucked to his chest. He loosed a low, resonant thrum that rattled my ribs, blending with Kalepsi’s haunting notes from the Nest above.
Father rested a hand against Argos’ shoulder, gaze trained on the horizon. Mother stood behind him, near but not part of the moment. She had no dragon—no place in their bond where their souls melded.
She smiled when I reached her, our pale white robes catching the moon’s last light. Her hand clasped mine—steady, warm.
Argos’ humming tunneled through my bones, thrumming beneath my skin, sparking urgency. It felt ancient, like the song stirred something buried in the island itself. Magic shimmered in the air—unseen, but impossible to ignore.
The sky shifted to gray, and a bloom of orange spread at the sea’s rim. Mother squeezed my hand, and I followed her pointed nod.
Kallias approached the landing, stride sure but guarded. Greaves trailed close behind. Their black attire broke like shadows across the stone. Morning light kissed the edge of his mantle, offering hints of reflection.
He stopped before us, bowed low. “I was sent for.”
Father didn’t move. His eyes stayed forward, locked on the surf. Argos remained still, lost in song.
“Welcome to the Awakening, King Kallias,” Mother said, offering a graceful nod. “I trust your rest was sufficient?”
“Very,” he replied, glancing east. “Though I must admit, I don’t know how to participate.” His eye twitched, but he masked it with a blink.
