“We aren’t yours,” I whispered. “He’s not yours.” I gripped Kallias’ hand. He squeezed back, fingers clenched tight.
She let out a questioning croon, dropping her head to skate her chin above the water’s surface.
As one, the dragons roared their outrage, Gyrak’s dark neck stretching over us protectively. Ivory fangs flashed in the light, embers hissing onto the river.
Tsunami lunged.
Her teeth snapped just shy of his muzzle in challenge. I gasped, instinctively trying to pull away as she threw her wings wide, blowing a stream of fire above our heads.
Kallias refused to back down, crushing my hand in a bruising grip as he stood his ground. Our blood poured, and my head spun—not from blood loss, but from the fact that Tsunami would challenge Gyrak so openly.
The great black leapt over the bridge, splashing water onto us. He used his bulk to push her back, his furious snarl lifting the fine hair along my arms. She tested him, flapping her wings, retreating on her hind legs.
He didn’t hesitate. He feinted for her neck; she twisted, trying to throw fire. His tail slammed into her leg, and she crashed into the water. His claws scored her scales, blood gushing downstream.
It was madness.
Screams, human and dragon alike, scarred the riverbank. Gyrak’s long fangs sank into Tsunami’s neck as she thrashed, gold talons scraping for solid ground. She wasn’t fighting him—she was trying to escape.
“Gyrak!” I called, searching for my brother.
Ronan stood on the bank, face grave, hands at his sides. He watched them fight. This was dragon hierarchy. Gyrak was the leader. Tsunami had to obey—she couldn’t do as she pleased. There had to be order.
A wild dragon that answered to no one could bring down an entire kingdom.
The black twisted, locking a golden eye on me. Tsunami wailed, her flails weakening as she submitted to the bull’s authority. Gyrak backed his massive body out of the water, dragging the sea-green dragon by her neck. She keened, trying to maneuver to relieve the pressure. Talons scraped deep grooves into the bloody mud as they climbed from the river.
“Enough, Gyrak,” I whispered, throat tight.
It broke me to see Tsunami like that. But with dragonlings, there was no reasoning. They had to be dominated—it was theway of dragons. Without a rider to temper her mind, she was reduced to base, animalistic instincts.
The black planted a paw on her neck, relaxing his bite. He shook water from his scales, lowering his head to her face. Fangs flashed as his deafening roar rattled the ground. She flinched, horns pressing into the mud, eyes closing in pain, tail lashing.
With a crack of his jaw, he stepped back, releasing her.
She jerked away, only to fall down the bank. Head down, her gaze darted between him and us. The quiet keen that rolled from her throat nearly broke my heart.
His lips twitched in a warning snarl, neck arched, chin bowed in regal posture.
Plunging her mouth below the surface, she drank in deep gulps. Crimson seeped from long gouges across her body, mixing with ours as the river carried it downstream. Satisfied, she spread her wings and leapt into the sky, not stopping to look at us.
Bloody water splattered the crowd as she flew—not in languid circles, but in a straight line, seeking refuge far from Gyrak. Artorious and Erwin took to the skies to follow her. It wouldn’t do to have her eat someone’s pig in her state.
Gyrak’s pupils returned to us, flaring wide as his need to fight dissipated.
I swallowed, surveying the scene. The river carried ruddy mud downriver, deep troughs marking where the dragons had fought. Gyrak’s blood darkened the banks—Tsunami had left her own mark, paltry though it was.
But the people… Radaanians clutched each other in fear, men lining the edges of the crowd, pulling their children and women back. Slowly, they quieted. No more screams or whimpers pierced the fragile silence.
I couldn’t fix this. Tsunami ruined everything.
“Radaan!” Kallias’ voice boomed across the expanse, shattering the stillness. “Today it is not only the blood of your king and queen that feeds your lands—but that of the dragons themselves! Their vitality spills into the river, a blessing upon our kingdom. May their sacrifice nourish our future generations!”
Stances relaxed. Men shook their heads. Applause scattered across the plain. Kallias played it off as if it had been intended. We meant for this to happen—to mingle our blood and shed the dragons’ into the current as well.
“Thank you,” I whispered, studying the hard lines of his face.
His eyes were steel, frigid as ice as he glared above my head at my brother. “I have words for the prince.”
