Page 32 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

“And I would have let you take her.” My wings and tail stiffen as I glide. “You know I cannot deny you anything.”

“Youshoulddeny me,” says Kyreagan quietly, “if I ever ask for something that is too precious.”

My throat tightens, and I don’t reply.

“If you had told me of your feelings for the woman, I would never have looked at her,” Kyreagan says. “You are my brother, my blood, the one whom I value above every other dragon in the clan. You are wiser than many of the Elders, and far better with words than I am. I have been lost in darkness since the Bone-King’s death, and that darkness has deepened since the females perished. My way is often unclear to me. Yet even so, I would never knowingly hurt you. If I have, I beg your forgiveness.”

“You have it,” I reply. “Always.”

We fly faster, he and I, as if the wind of our speed can purge away the heaviness of our spirits. And perhaps it does, because as I soar with Kyreagan, my heart is lighter than it has been for many days.

10

Princess Serylla doesn’t seem to recognize me, which makes sense, I suppose. She and her mother did not often spend time together, so our troupe rarely performed for both of them. She did not usually attend royal parties, preferring to stay in the back halls with the servants. I always respected her for that, and for her reputation of treating everyone with the same sincere warmth, no matter what their rank or role.

Still, she and I have been in the same room several times, and the fact that she doesn’t know my face stings a little. She seems keen on helping everyone escape, though, and we spendhours trying to come up with a viable plan to return to the mainland.

The primary issue is that without the dragons, transportation to the coast is practically impossible. If there are any ships along the borders of the island, they are likely wrecked beyond repair. According to what one of the women heard from her dragon, any shipwrecks that end up on Ouroskelle are quickly looted, dismantled, and returned to the sea. The clan likes to keep their beaches clear of human detritus, so leaving the island by boat isn’t an option.

Our other escape plans include poisoning or trapping the dragons, neither of which is feasible when we’re always under guard and we have no weapons or tools to speak of.

Gweneth, a slim, dark-skinned woman with a streak of white in her black hair, suggests the most practical strategy—winning over the most soft-hearted dragons and inciting a rebellion against the two princes who lead the clan.

Serylla has been sitting on a rock, listening respectfully to the debate and occasionally contributing her thoughts; but at this juncture she rises. “There’s one problem with that plan. It would take time we don’t have.”

And then she tells the group of women what I’ve been reluctant to divulge, for fear it would start a panic—that the dragons’ ultimate goal is to transform us into their mates, the mothers of the next brood of hatchlings.

A few of the women seem to know about the plan already, but it’s clearly news to many of them, including Lady Falima, who looks furious. A couple of the other captives burst into tears at the very thought of being turned into dragons.

The rest of us debate a little longer, until Serylla declares, “Talking is getting us nowhere. We must choose. Those who wish to run, go now, while there’s only one of them watching us. Run to the beach—maybe there’s a swamped boat that’s stillsomewhat seaworthy. Run to the forest—maybe you can find a weapon. I’m not sure whether they need us to be present for the spell, or whether it will be cast over the whole island, but if you want to flee, do it. If you want to fight, think of a strategy. If you want to stay and try to convince your dragon to take you back to the mainland and set you free, use every charm, every persuasive argument.”

I appreciate that she wants everyone to make their own choice, but splitting us all up makes us weaker.

“It would be best if we worked together,” I say.

“But we can’t.” Serylla meets my gaze. “We don’t agree on the best course of action, and none of our schemes seem likely to succeed. For my part, I think I’ll run. Maybe if they can’t find me, they can’t include me in the spell.”

I had a few trysts with a sorcerer-in-training once, a few years ago, and I picked up a bit of magical knowledge from him—enough to know that the Princess is wrong. “Spells like that can be cast from a distance, targeted to a specific group of beings. Hiding won’t protect you from the change.”

“It’s better than nothing,” the Princess counters. “At least I won’t have to deal with the fucking Prince of Dragons anymore.”

Gweneth and several of the others decide to flee as well, but Lady Falima is not among them. She’s glaring at me as if I’m personally responsible for not telling her about the dragons’ plan.

I don’t like the idea of running wildly across a vast, unfamiliar island, especially not in the thin slippers I’ve been wearing since the dragon prince took me. Varex spoke of fenwolves, and from what I’ve gathered, something else on this island killed his mother. The younger prince is still my best chance of returning to my family, and I won’t jeopardize the tenuous hold I’ve gained over him by running away.

“I’m staying,” I tell the others. “But we’ll distract them for you, so you can slip past the wall. Maybe it will take them a while to notice you’re gone. Be careful, though. Varex has spoken of creatures that inhabit this island and come out at night—dangerous predators that occasionally bring down the dragons themselves.”

Serylla looks alarmed, but she doesn’t back down from her plan. I follow her gaze upward to the bronze dragon soaring overhead. He’s the one who’s been in charge of watching us more than any other dragon. I overheard one of the other dragons call him “Gosrik” and make some quip about how he didn’t accompany the others to war, how he’s useless for anything but guard duty. He has only landed in the courtyard a couple of times, and both times he seemed rather skittish—almost as if he’s afraid of us.

Gosrik’s primary role is to protect us from outside threats like the fenwolves, but what will he do if he’s forced to interact with us in a different way, to deal with an unexpected situation? If we’re lucky, he’ll panic.

“I know what to do,” I say. “They want us for breeding, right? Which means they want us healthy, uninjured. So if we start a fight, and make it vicious—” I slant my gaze over to Lady Falima.

Her mouth is set, her eyes blazing. She pulls all her blonde braids together and winds them up in a knot. “I will gladly help you make it look real.”

She’s been wanting to hit me for years, and truth be told, I deserve it. I won’t begrudge her a few good blows.

I step toward her, cracking my knuckles. Falima faces me, her arms rigid and fists curled, but she doesn’t strike. She carries more true nobility in her soul than Lord Neran ever had in his bloodline, and despite her long-standing anger, she can’t bring herself to attack me without provocation.

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