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Stones click under my claws as I pull back, as if I could push myself into the cold flank of the mountain. I’m staring down at a screaming disaster waiting to happen, a river of blood waiting to wash away an entire army. And what in the blessed names of all the many kings of Valgros could I do about it?
I could go running to King Donovan, but his name alone turns my stomach. What would Donovan do? He’s a king without a signet ring, a king who doesn’t even know the true nature of his advisor. And, I realize with a strange, sinking feeling, I already know exactly what King Donovan thinks of me and my advice.
Absolutely nothing.
I swallow hard. Donovan wouldn’t listen to me, and his new queen would probably be delighted to have a reason to throw me in the dungeons. But would the soldiers below heed my warnings?
Fuck. If I showed up in their encampment as a dragon, I’d probably be the first to die in this little war of Ensyvir’s. And if I showed up as a human, as Rayne the orphan who’d never quite managed to gain a place in His Majesty’s Royal Army, well then, I’d just be a joke. I’d be lucky if they laughed at me instead of slapping me outright.
The logic of what I have to do falls into place, and the wind feels even colder. My gaze traces the jagged peaks of the Iron Mountains as they claw at the night sky. No, King Donovan wouldn’t listen to me. And there might be a few sympathetic ears in the encampment below, a handful of soldiers who would heed my warning, but there’s no chance I’d find enough support to turn this bloody tide.
So, I need to warn the dragons. To ruin Ensyvir’s plans, to be the weapon that explodes in his hands, I need to tell the dragons exactly what he plans to do. I have to make sure they’re prepared.
But I can’t just fly into the Iron Mountains. I don’t even know where the entrance is, for one, and I don’t know anything about how to act like a dragon. I can’t even speak the language.
Although I know someone who can, someone who would believe my message and could then carry it to the places it needs to go. My chest aches as I remember his dark wings beating the air above the ocean, the way his eyes had dropped when I told him I couldn’t go with him.
And what a bloody fool I’d been. I’d thought my loyalties were here, in Valgros, with the king I’d been raised to serve and obey. I’d thought he needed me, my King Donovan. I’d thought there was something noble in serving the crown, something just and right about the I’d sworn to serve.
A hot, bitter taste rises in the back of my throat as I stare across the valley at the flickering lights of the encampment. This is where it’s all led, then. The mighty soldiers of Valgros, the good, the brave, and the strong, are being driven into the maw of the Iron Mountains. By a dragon.
Ensyvir makes a barking noise, and I flinch as though I’ve been hit.
“Child,” he growls. “I have a few items to attend to.”
His red eyes pin me again, and I feel myself shrinking back against the cold stone of the mountain.
“You’ll return to Valgros,” he continues. “This gift I’ve given you, this form and this power, is mine to command. You understand?”
I nod my head. Fool I might be, but I’m not enough of a fool to disagree.
“You are a weapon, Rayne,” Ensyvir says. “My weapon. You understand?”
“Yes,” I manage to whisper. “Yes, Sir.”
He nods his head, and the meager light from the waning moon flashes off his ebony scales.
“Go back, then,” he says. “Go back to my tower. Varitan will be waiting. He’ll transform you into your lesser state. Wait there. Train, follow your commands. And do I even need to tell you to say nothing of what happened tonight?”
I swing my head from side to side. My new muscles ache in protest.
“Of course not,” I whisper.
Ensyvir makes a snorting sound. “Good. I’ll let you know when you are needed for something more important.”
I nod again. Ensyvir stretches, then lifts his wings. They blot out the stars. Wind buffets my face as his wings begin to pump, lifting his reptilian body into the night sky.
Careless, a voice whispers in my head. I think of the sword tossed onto his desk, the papers strewn across his chambers, the doors left unlocked and the conversations overheard. He’s careless with his tools, King Donovan’s Royal Advisor Ensyvir.
I wait until his dark form vanishes into the distance above the Iron Mountains before spreading my own wings, forcing my exhausted muscles into motion, and leaving the mountain behind. I stay high until I reach the ocean, my path toward Valgros painfully obvious, just in case I’m being watched. And then I sink low, until my claws brush the foam of the waves.
And I turn. I crane my neck toward the lights and scents of the harbor of Mynndar. There aren’t as many lanterns burning, not this late into the night. I’ll be able to fly over that town without raising an alarm and hide in the forest when the sun rises.
And perhaps by tomorrow night, I’ll see the lights of Cairncliff shining before me.
Chapter14
Doshir
