Page 63 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Past them, Crownwatch and Stormforge wheeled in disciplined arcs above the field, their dragons circling like predatory hawks. At the center, Dorian’s blue Striker, Foran, cut through the air with Lirane’s Swordtail just off his wingtip. Their formation was tight, their focus absolute. Even from here, I could feel the hum of magic between them as they adjusted their patrol to cover our passage.

Kaelith’s voice brushed my mind. We are clear. The sky is ours—for now.

The army became a distant smear of movement behind us as Kaelith’s powerful strokes carried us farther and farther east. Zander angled Hein into a wide arc, leading us away from any direct line toward the Blood Isle. The sea wind tore at my hair, salt and brine stinging my cheeks as the sunlight glimmered in hard, silver shards across the waves.

We stayed high at first, skimming the edge of the clouds, where the air was thinner and colder. Below, the water churned and foamed against jagged shoals, its deep-blue darkening to near-black as we pushed farther out. I knew Zander’s caution wasn’t misplaced—the Crimson Sigil would have lookouts in the skies, watching for any sign of movement from the castle. A direct flight path would have been a beacon.

The longer we flew over open water, the heavier the quiet in my mind became. Every wingbeat felt like a drumbeat toward something final, and Kaelith’s steady breathing beneath me was the only thing that kept the tension from twisting too tight.

Finally, the jagged teeth of the Blood Isle’s outer rocks rose from the sea like the bones of some ancient leviathan. We descended toward an outcropping large enough to hold all of us, the dragons landing in heavy bursts of displaced air and spray. Kaelith folded her wings, muscles rippling as she lowered herself to the rock to rest.

The isle loomed in the near distance, a black silhouette against the horizon, its cliffs sheer and forbidding. Dark clouds gathered over its highest point, pulsing as if responding to some heartbeat deep within.

Zander slid from Hein’s saddle, boots crunching against the wet stone, and turned to me. His eyes steady, though I could feel the weight behind them. “I will do whatever I have to in order to complete this mission,” he said. “You have to find out what that key of yours unlocks, and I have to make sure Veralin doesn’t leave the isle alive.”

A knot formed in my throat. “You can’t beat him. He’s more powerful than⁠—”

“Me. Yes,” Zander finished, his voice even. “But not both of us. I believe in you, Ashlyn.”

My fingers lifted almost of their own accord, finding the small, cold weight hanging from its chain at my neck. The key felt heavier now, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. I’d almost forgotten I had it—but Zander hadn’t.

I hated what it meant for us, hated the path it might force us down. But looking at him there, with the wind tangling his dark hair and the sea mist on his face, I accepted what I had been trying to deny.

He was destined to be king.

And if we survived this, I would be by his side. Even if he were forced to marry another.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Kaelith’s growl vibrated through the stone beneath my boots as I swung into the saddle, her violet scales glimmering in the muted light. Zander vaulted onto Hein with fluid ease despite the shadows under his eyes, Jax and Ferrula taking their places beside us, Naia as steady as ever astride Temil.

We knew this had to be quick. The majority of the Blood Fae riders were still tethered to the army marching on Warriath. If we were lucky, we could slip into the heart of their stronghold before Severeth’s spies realized what we were doing.

Ready? Kaelith asked, her tone taut with anticipation.

Always, I told her.

We lifted from the rocks in unison, wings tearing through the salty air. The isle loomed closer with every beat, shrouded by the swirling mass of cloud that had looked so distant from the sea. As we pierced through it, the stench hit me—rot, damp earth, and the metallic tang of blood.

Below us sprawled a dead land. The ground was cracked and gray, littered with twisted trees that had long since withered. Pools of stagnant water reflected the dark sky, and no birds cried, no beasts moved. Only silence, heavy and unnatural, broken by the low growls of our dragons as their claws flexed in unease.

The castle rose at the island’s center like a wound against the stone. Black walls slick with moss, jagged towers reaching for the sky. It wasn’t just built—it was bled into the land, carved by hands that had no love for beauty, only power.

There, Zander’s voice echoed through the bond, directing us toward an open patch of barren rock about a mile from the fortress walls.

We descended in careful spirals, landing hard enough to jar my bones. Kaelith folded her wings, her massive head swinging toward the looming fortress with open disdain.

“They can’t follow us closer,” Zander said grimly as he dismounted Hein, his boots crunching against the gravel. “The tunnels are too narrow—built for the black dragons’ size, not ours. We need to sneak in, so landing closer isn’t an option.”

I slid down Kaelith’s side, my hand lingering a moment on her warm scales. She rumbled low in her chest, disapproval clear, but she knew this was the only way.

One by one, we dropped to the ground, the roar of the sea behind us and the suffocating silence of the isle before us.

We were on our own now.

We moved like shadows across the broken ground, the air heavy with damp and rot. Every step toward that looming black fortress felt like walking deeper into a grave.