Page 14 of Ignite the Infernos

“Well done,” I admonish my reflection. I’ve had my dragon for less than a week, and already I’m fumbling it. If I keep this up, I’ll send myself into a feeding frenzy, and that won’t be good for anyone.

I run a hand over my dragon mark, a silent promise to do better. The manifestation of my dragon and my affinity will require extensive training and a lot of hard work, and I don’t have the luxury of time. I need to get my shit together, and I need to have started yesterday.

Carefully I prod my memories for other things my mother told me and Enslee about revealing. But instead of recalling her lessons, an image of her dragon coalesces.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, graceful, formidable, and everything I wanted to be when I revealed. She’d let me and Enslee hitch rides while she stretched her wings and played in the currents, imparting lessons and filling our minds with the best memories. The rich chuff of dragon laughter accompanied by our little giggles settles lovingly in my chest. I can almost feel the warm puff of my mother’s breath against my cheek before she would dole out dragon kisses.

I close my eyes and relish the phantom sensation. I’m pushing it with the flashback and now this, but it’s been so long since I let myself remember anything. I was so intent on keeping the horrific and painful things at bay, I didn’t really think about how I was trapping the beautiful and happy things within the tomb of my trauma too.

Untethering myself from those thoughts, I pull on the tattered shirt that’s been laid out for me and take in my reflection one last time. A small smile slips across my face when I picture the outrage and disgust the group of stylists in Four Tiers would have over my baggy pants and short top. The skin I’m showing wouldn’t be an issue—there’s plenty of that in King’s Keep—but to shirk all of their fittings and fancy fabrics in favor of clothing built for struggle and survival? Oh yeah, that would most definitely ruffle some scales.

Quietly I exit the bathroom, shaking more water from my hair to help the thick mass dry. I’m halfway across the room before I notice that Enslee is awake and watching me. I freeze and take her in, unsure of what to do or say. Should I hug her, or will that make her think everything’s fine when it isn’t? Do we hash things out even though there’s nothing she can do or say that will fix what’s happened?

“You look better,” she offers hesitantly, like she’s just as unsure how to navigate things.

I look down at myself and shrug. “It’s not exactly playing dress-up for the dragons, but it’ll do.”

Annnd we have our answer. We’re going to hash it out, and I just came out of the gate swinging.

Chapter 8

Ever

ENSLEE SHAKES HER HEAD AND drops her gaze at the shot I just fired. I know she recognizes the phrase; it’s what she said to me right after she informed me that she sent my Flight into a trap and they were missing. To be fair, I’d just called her reckless and she was pissed, but I stand by my statement.

“I can see you’re still mad—” Enslee starts, in that placating tone she knows I can’t stand.

“Mad doesn’t really begin to cover it,” I counter, leaning back against the dresser behind me.

Enslee tracks the movement and levels me with an offended glower when she notices I just put my weapons within reach.

“So that’s how it is?” she accuses.

“Please. Like you don’t have at least ten blades hidden on you right now.”

“I’m not reaching for them,” she argues.

“Neither am I. I was just making myself comfortable, since you seem to be in the mood to play games.”

“Games?” she demands.

I scoff. “I look better, Ens? Really? A human could have scented that lie. I look like shit. I know it, you know it, so why fucking lie about it? We don’t do that,” I tell her, gesturing between us. “At least, we didn’t used to, so what the fuck?”

“Fine,” she snips, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You looked like death before, and now you look like sun-scorched shit. It’s technically an improvement, so I’m not lying, but if you want to count scales, I will. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” I snark.

“Great, I promise to be a judgmental bitch at all times moving forward. I’ll never attempt to spare your feelings again. Let it be written into law,” she pontificates and then aims a haughty look my way.

“Spare me, Your Highness. Let’s not pretend you take my feelings into account at all anymore,” I growl.

Enslee pops up from the chair and squares off with me. “I do, Ever, but you’re not the only person I’m responsible for. I have to consider what’s best for everyone, not just what’s best for you.”

I push away from the dresser and meet her head on. “And yet you did neither when you sent my Flight on a wild sorcai chase on the other side of the divide. And you did it despite being advised not to let anyone out of the fucking wards!”

Emotion constricts my lungs, and my face feels hot with frustration and fury. I try to think about my mother’s words and the fact Enslee and I don’t fight, not like this. However, I can tell by the anger radiating off my sister that we both have a lot we need to get off our chests, and there will be no moving forward for either of us until we do.

Enslee growls and threads her fingers through her hair, tugging on the roots like the movement will calm her outrage. She starts to pace and then stops herself.