Page 27 of The Flame King's Queen

“I have never felt less ready in my life,” I confess.

When we recaptured Maledin, I didn’t have the luxury of a plan. Of timing and strategy. There was only the shock of our sudden release from captivity and the anger that our enemies were falsely claiming our lands as theirs. The Brethren strongholds needed to be destroyed and Lenhale retaken. Those first few days were chaotic as I gave orders to my riders, wingrunners, foot soldiers, and theHratha’len, knowing little about our enemy but feeling more confident with every battle that we won thanks to the might of our dragons. Then in the midst of it all, I found my Omega, and my yearning for Maledin to be free and strong only sharpened my determination.

Stesha strides forward and studies the little figurines of dragons, wyverns, and soldiers assembled at the line that marks the southern barrier. “We are more prepared than when we took Maledin back from the Brethren. Stop worrying.”

“I didn’t have time to worry then, let alone plan,” I say with a tired laugh.

“You believe Kane will disrupt the barrier?”

“I don’t believe he gives a damn about us, but he will do it for the sake of his own pride and his hatred of Emmeric.”

Stesha fixes me with a stern gaze. “Then there is nothing more for you to do. Get out of here and get some rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“When does your Omega return?”

“In the morning.”

“Then go ride your dragon. Actually, I have a better idea. Come make yourself useful with me.”

I allow Stesha to bully me out of the room, and I follow him as he leads me through the castle and into the Flame Temple. There are two dragon hatchlings playing in front of the blazing font, romping about and rolling over and over as they mouth each other with sharp little teeth. A third lies on its side, snoozing in the warmth. As soon as they see Stesha, they all get up, scamper over to him, and climb up his legs and onto his shoulders. I realize there are small talon holes all over Stesha’s riding leathers, and he winces but doesn’t complain as sharp little claws dig into his clothing and flesh.

He passes one to me, and it settles into my arms and tucks itself beneath my chin. A warm feeling spreads through me as I hold the trusting little creature. Its scales are a rich purple color, and she blinks pretty yellow eyes at me.

“Their mothers were patrolling today. We’ll take them back to the dragongrounds.”

“You have the sharpest little talons,” I tell the purple dragon.

A hatchling burrows into the dragonmaster’s hair, and Stesha has to untangle it. “Esmeral’s hatchlings will probably rip me apart. Something to look forward to.”

I turn to him in surprise. “Esmeral? Has she laid a clutch? I have been hoping that any day now she will.”

“Not yet. Soon, I think.”

With hatchlings resting on each of his shoulders, Stesha leads the way out of the temple and down to the dragongrounds. I don’t have to ask Stesha to whom my hatchling belongs. A lilac and gold Beta dragon calls out, and she launches herself out of my arms and scampers across the ground toward her mother.

“Good night,Ma’len, and get some sleep,” Stesha calls to me, disappearing among the dragons with the hatchlings in his arms.

Stesha seems relaxed despite the impending battle, and I should try to emulate him. When I was a boy, the former dragonmaster, Zenevieve’s grandfather, told me that a dragonmaster is happiest when his flare is growing and his leathers have been ripped by tiny talons. Stesha seems proud of the new dragons.

Scourge is proud as well, and snorts with interest as he smells a hatchling on me. He’s never fathered any dragons before. The flare will grow stronger once his offspring spread their wings.

I’m not ready for sleep yet, so I stay with my dragon for a little while. As the sky above darkens to midnight blue, I lean against Scourge’s flank with my eyes closed, listening to the steady rush of air in and out of his enormous lungs.

Isavelle’s scent is suddenly all around me. I turn, thinking that she must be here, that she’s returned sooner than expected, but I see no one. Yet I feel her all around me. I wonder what manner of witchcraft this is. My little farseeker is with her crone, so perhaps she has learned something new. I feel the brush of her lips against mine, and then the sensation and her scent fades away, and I know I am alone again.

I’m smiling as I take myself to bed.

The next morning at dawn I watch from the balcony in my room as a turquoise and golden dragon rises through the misty air and arrows off toward the west. Esmeral, going to fetch her rider home. In a few hours Isavelle will return with Fiala and Dusan, and I am impatient to see her.

I need to be busy. I ask Sundra to put me to work, and she sends me to the armory courtyard where I join the workers who are sharpening and polishing sword blades. Every time a dragon or wyvern passes overhead, I look up, and the soldiers catch on to the fact that I’m waiting for my queen to return.

“A lonely dragon has his eyes on the skies,” one of them says as he grinds a whetstone against a blade. It’s an old saying about dragonrider lovers missing one another, or unmated Alphas who are pining for their Omega.

“More like a hungry dragon,” replies another, and I can’t help my grin as they all laugh. I am a hungry dragon today. I long to get my teeth into my mate.

It’s the middle of the afternoon before I see the familiar turquoise and golden scales overhead.

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