Page 8 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

We moved to the bed with a kind of urgency we hadn’t felt in days—maybe weeks. He guided me down with reverence, his fingers tracing the line of my collarbone, my stomach, my thighs, like he was memorizing a map he already knew by heart.

The sheets tangled around us, heat rising fast as I arched into his touch. His mouth left a trail down my throat, across my chest, his magic flickering between us like a pulse of flame and shadow, brushing my skin with every kiss. My own power responded, rising to meet his—light mingling with dark, storm against fire.

“Zander…” I gasped as he pressed into me, his body aligning with mine like we were made to fit this way, gods or fate or war be damned.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough against my ear. “I always have.”

The world faded. There was no war. No throne. No prophecy. Just his mouth on mine, his name tangled in my breath, the sound of skin against skin and the fire we couldn’t outrun any longer.

When it was over, we lay in the silence.

He curled behind me, arm draped over my waist, breath slowing against the back of my neck. I reached for his fingers, laced them with mine.

Let me stay here, I thought. Just for a little while longer.

Sleep came slowly. But when it did, it took us both.

Get up!

Kaelith’s voice screamed through my skull like a whip of lightning, shattering the silence. I jerked upright in bed, heart hammering.

Get up! Siergen is gone!

“What?” My voice cracked as I shoved the sheets away. Zander bolted upright beside me, reaching for the dagger on the bedside table before his senses caught up with his instincts.

“How is that possible?” I asked, swinging my legs off the bed and grabbing the tunic I’d thrown across the floor just hours ago.

He went to investigate a magical surge near the Hollow, Kaelith said, her fury barely contained. And now he’s cut off. I can’t feel him. Neither can the horde.

Zander was already strapping on his leathers. “Shit,” he muttered, jaw tight. “Where’s Hein?”

Calling the Thrall Squad dragons, they will wake their riders, Kaelith answered grimly. They’ll fan out from your positions. We don’t have much time.

I yanked on my boots, still dazed from sleep, but adrenaline was already burning that away. Zander met my gaze, eyes hard and focused. “We’ll split.”

“No,” I started, already shaking my head.

He caught my wrist. “We’ll cover more ground this way. I’ll fly the western coast—keep near the cliffs. You fly south, more inland. If he’s grounded or caught in something magical, you’ll find the trail faster. Kaelith is his clutchmate. Their bond is the strongest.”

I hated it, but he was right. I gave a quick nod.

We ran down the stairs together, boots thundering against the stone, the early morning mist clinging to the corners of the castle like breath held too long.

The Ascension Grounds loomed ahead, already glowing with torchlight. Wind rushed as Kaelith descended like fury incarnate, her wings snapping outward with a violent gust. Hein landed beside her, his form a blur of pale silver and coiled Storm Fire.

The other dragons were already on their way—shadows darting from the east, scales glinting in the thinning moonlight.

Zander turned to me one last time. “We find him,” he said.

“We will.”

And then we launched.

Kaelith’s wings surged beneath me, catching the air with lethal grace. We rose high, the wind screaming past as I veered away from Zander’s path, angling southeast—inward, toward the cursed lands near the Hollow. The coast vanished behind me.

Hold on, Siergen, I thought, gripping the saddle tight. We’re coming.

The sun crested the horizon, allowing a flicker of light.