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“Mordessa’s family is the last one,” Varex murmurs.
My Promised had two fathers, Ardun and Ianeth. They paired decades ago and adopted Mordessa after her parents were killed in a rockfall. Ever since, Mordessa has been their cherished daughter, their pride and delight.
“I have no bone of hers to give the fathers.” My voice is rough from groaning my grief with the other families. “I made a terrible mistake, Varex. We should have waited at Guilhorn until dawn and gathered bone-tribute from the dead. I was too eager to have our revenge.”
“We had to take the capital by surprise,” he answers.
“No, we could have waited and attacked with the army. We could have captured the women later, after the city fell.”
“The king of Vohrain might not have given the women to us,” Varex points out. “Such tribute wasn’t part of our deal with him. Our agreement was that we would ensure his victory over Elekstan, and he would give us the Merrinwold Isles in exchange.”
“At the very least, we should have stayed to ensure that the capital of Elekstan fell before we left for home. We abandoned the final battle.”
“Vohrain’s victory was certain,” Varex assures me. “Our clan won the war for King Rahzien. The contract was completed.”
Technically we did fulfill the bargain. But I should have stayed for a final word with the king, face to face, to confirm the victory and to secure our ownership of the islands he promised. Instead, I sent word of my plan to him through one of his commanders, and I did not wait for a reply.
We need those islands. They are rich with pastureland, well-stocked with wild pigs, deer, and goats. Several months ago, a strange disease swept through Ouroskelle and the neighboring isles. It killed several dragons, including my father, and decimated the animals.
Since then, game has been more scarce, barely enough to feed the existing primes and elders, especially with the growing numbers of fenwolves who lurk in the narrow cracks of the mountains, where dragons cannot go. And the voratrice dens take prey, too—more than we can spare. Once we add hatchlings into the mix, we’ll be facing starvation. We must have the Merrinwold Isles as our new hunting grounds.
We could have taken the Isles by force, or hunted there without permission. But that is not our way. When my father finally succumbed to the plague, he had already forged the bargain with Vohrain, and he made me swear that I would uphold the contract. I gave him my bone-oath, the most sacred promise among our kind. If a bone-oath is broken, the dragon who breaks it loses his fire forever.
And thus, in the Bone-King’s name, I have led the slaughter of countless humans.
But the humans will recover quickly. They breed almost daily and spawn many offspring. Our race is not so fortunate.
“You left your woman in your cave?” Varex asks.
I was so deep in my thoughts that his question startles me. “I… yes.”
“Some of the other males put their women all together in that old cavern where we used to keep flocks. You know the one—at the base of the Whistling Peak. Rothkuri thought they might be more comfortable on the ground.”
“They will be more vulnerable to wolves.”
“The fence is still intact. Besides, Gosrik is on guard there.”
“And Gosrik is so reliable?” I snort. “Perhaps you should go and check on them.”
“I will, after we visit Ardun and Ianeth. And then I must see to my own prize. She is—obstinate.”
“Did I see her riding you?”
Varex growls. “Yes.”
“I believe you and I chose the most troublesome women of the bunch.” A dry chuckle escapes me. It feels wrong, like a betrayal. Guilt forms a stone in my throat.
I can see the spiked entrance to Ardun and Ianeth’s cave ahead. In a moment I will have to face them. And I will have to face the loss of my Promised.
I’m not ready.
She’s there, in my mind, with those glorious yellow wings, each scale like a lustrous coin. Brighter than me, bigger than me, and yet she wanted me, she loved me, and I—
Unworthy. The word reverberates in my head, through my bones. I was unworthy of her love. I am unworthy of avenging her, unworthy of carrying this terrible news to her fathers.
My heart booms through my body like the thunderous crash of huge waves against a mountain. The fiery liquid in my gut, the source of my flame, roils and churns until the pressure is unbearable—I feel like I’m going to explode. My lungs tighten, and though I stretch my neck, straining to draw a deep breath, I can’t manage it. I think I’m dying. Fire is going to fountain through my throat, terrible and uncontrollable, and after that, my heart will burst. It has never pounded this fast, not even during battle. It can’t sustain this speed for long.
I bank sharply aside and land on the rocky surface of a steep mountain slope. I cling there, huffing panicked breaths tinged with orange fire.
