Page 115 of A War of Three Kings

Shouts ring out from the fae, and I whirl back around to them. A dozen have their hands pressed against the moonstoneof one of the portals, a vibrant white light streaming from their palms. With a great effort, they drag the blocks apart, and flying nymphs with buzzing butterfly wings extend the top of the arch higher in the air.

I draw in a sharp breath as my blood races, and I turn wild eyes to Cyprien. “What are they doing? They are going to break it!”

Cyprien smirks at me. “The portal will not break. They are widening it so someone…larger can come through.” I open my mouth, but he holds up a finger. “Ah, don’t ask. I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You will see what I have brought you.”

My breaths come hard and fast as they open the portal impossibly wide. The mist rolls out in even thicker waves, then is penetrated first by two long, thick golden horns, followed by gold-and-white scales. Next is a huge maw with rows of sharp teeth, a long neck and immense wings. I don't know if the ground shakes with each step the beast makes, or if it is my body trembling violently.

A dragon. Cyprien brought us a dragon.

It is the size of a peasant’s house, maybe larger. The creature unfurls its huge wings, tipped in claws, and snakes a long, barbed tail around itself as its head swivels around the clearing, taking stock of all of us little fae and humans that it could crush so easily beneath a foot.

It sniffs the air, then freezes. Massive, swirling eyes snap to me, then the dragon paces forward and lowers its neck until we are at eye level. I swallow hard under that gaze, cold sweat breaking out across my body. I try to take a step back, but Cyprien holds me in place with a hand on my arm.

You have the scent of Aldrin, the true king of the Spring Court fae, all over you,the dragon rumbles in my head.Are you the king’s mate?

“I—ah—I…” I turn to Cyprien for help, but his self-satisfied smirk only widens.

Does this one have a name, Lord Cyprien, or is she a simpleton?the dragon asks rudely.

I turn sharply to it with narrowed eyes. “I am the king’s betrothed!” I snap, and it blinks at me, uncomprehending.Betrothedis, after all, a human term.

Cyprien exhales a long breath. “Ezekiel, this is Lady Keira, the king’s consort.”

I do not like that word. I like it even less when Cyprien slaps my back and walks away to help the other fae as another dragon, this one black and iridescent, gets stuck within the arch of the portal.

The golden dragon, Ezekiel, stares at me for a long, unnerving moment, and I try to stay as still as possible. He sniffs me again, the intake of air into his nostrils so sharp I can fill the drag of the air pulling at me, then he makes a chuffing sound.

Lady Keira. You will ride into the battle seated on my back, as Aldrin does.

I open my mouth to protest, to ask a million questions. Is Aldrin truly bold enough to ride a dragon into war?

Ezekiel flaps his powerful wings, kicking up a torrent of air and dust, then he launches himself into the air, our conversation over. All I can do is gape at him, my stomach bottoming out.

I am crazy enough not to pass up the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of riding a dragon.

Chapter 30

Aldrin

It has been three days of brutal bloodshed. Three days of next to no sleep while harassing the enemy across this landscape of rolling hills and open fields. Of slaughtering their flank.

Absolute chaos rains down around me as swords strike flesh, as enemy soldiers run and our people cut them down on foot and horseback. I could laugh at the fools who believe they are escaping us toward their salvation at the ruins of Wenchwick Hold, but I am too fucking livid for that.

Instead, I throw out hardened platforms of air, leaping across them and base jumping until I reach the thick of the enemy’s tail. I send that magical royal command throughout the battlefield for all my Spring Court warriors to muster to me, and a cloud of fifty high fae base jump through the air alongside me to rain death below.

I land in front of a man who staggers to a stop. Gripping my sword with both hands, I thrust it deep into his shoulder where his armor panels meet. Blood gurgles from the wound as I rip my blade back out, and I am turning to stalk my next victim before the man hits the ground.

I become lost in the motions, my people fighting around me. Swinging my sword to remove a soldier’s head from his body.Kicking another to the ground with a blow to the stomach and curling my fingers to drag up a coffin of roots that completely engulf him, fisting my hand so they constrict with crushing force.

People stream all around me in an array of house colors. A woman in Appleshield green and bronze gallops past, hanging low in her seat and slicing through the warrior I had marked as my next victim. I swing low to cut the ankles of another, and when his back hits the ground, I stand and thrust my sword clean through his chest and into the earth beneath.

Abruptly, the crowd thins around me, until the enemy is gone. Then I am surrounded by my army, racing in their pursuit. I grind my teeth. That is the problem with stopping to slaughter the enemy’s tail. They keep moving out of my reach.

There has been so much death, but it is not enough. Each one of these humans is a threat to Keira. Here to kidnap her. Harm her. Force her to marry a mad king. It sets my blood on fire and has rage rippling through my every muscle.

My bloodlust is far from sated.

This butchery has merely whetted my appetite.

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