Page 65 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Beneath his infectious laughter, I sense the same thread of urgency that keeps coiling tighter inside me. We’re all grasping at straws, trying to find ways to banish the dread that comes with knowing we’re up against something that can invade not just our lands, but our minds too.

“Hey, Agnar might be onto something.” Leesa’s dark golden blond waves catch the morning light. “People claim eyril gives ’em guts when spooked. Might not shield your mind from a drachen, but it’s a start.”

Always the scholar, Bastian raises an eyebrow, his hazel eyes reflecting a spark of interest. “Eyril? Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

Sterling sips his coffee, wincing as he sets the mug down. “If this headache ever goes away, I’ll scour the archives. Maybe there’s something that hasn’t turned to dust or been eaten by silverfish.”

I tap my fingers against the table. “Don’t get your hopes up.” I’m unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “The archives are a mess. Finding anything helpful could take forever.”

“Convenient how history gets tangled when kings have discretion over what is written and preserved.” Bitterness steeps Bastians’s words. “And now here we are, sifting through riddles and rumors instead of concrete knowledge. No offense, Crown Prince Knox, Queen Alannah.”

Blair gives a solemn nod, a rare moment where his jovial facade cracks to reveal the soldier underneath.

We’re all tired of crashing into literal and metaphorical walls. But it’s the hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find that one thread to pull that keeps us searching and me believing that survival is more than a fairy tale whispered in the night. After all, Nyc does seem to be on our side, and she’s the goddess who knows the secrets hidden in the dark.

“I could swing by the other big library in Tirene.” Blair absently twirls a fork between his fingers. “It’s private, owned by some noble family rolling in coin. Might be worth a shot.”

There’s a collective murmur of agreement, an understanding that we’re in need of a small miracle, searching for needles in haystacks while time runs thin.

“Not everything is lost when kings clean out the archives. But I think I may be able to help.” Alannah’s voice slices through the air with the precision of a well-forged blade. All eyes settle on the dowager queen as she delicately finishes a bite of fruit. “You’re talking about dampening.”

The surprise flickering across Sterling’s face mirrors my own. “Dampening?”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, the soldier in him alert and seeking.

“Your father, may the gods rest his soul, mentioned it long ago.” Alannah smiles at her son before locking gazes with me. “According to Rex, all dragoncallers in the past learned to master the skill to keep the onslaught of dragon emotions at bay. I don’t see a reason why anyone couldn’t learn dampening with some practice, though, or why it wouldn’t work to keep the drachen from meddling with your emotions too.”

Now that I think about it, I recall stumbling across the worddampeningin one of the books I read while researching. The author skimmed right over without explanation, so I wasn’t sure what it meant. Now that I know, Alannah’s logic tracks. When the dragons fled from the drachen, their collective terror overwhelmed me and sent me running too. The strength of their projected panic basically seized control of my body, bypassing my brain and turning me into an emotion-driven mess.

“It’s a mental shield against emotions?” I think I’m beginning to understand. She’s describing a barrier against the evil that tried to steal Sterling from me. “How did your husband know about it?”

“Precisely. Without dampening, sometimes a dragoncaller’s mind could fracture under the strain. He read about the process in a very old tome and decided to teach himself the skill. For what reason, I don’t know.” There’s a hint of sadness in Alannah’s stoic demeanor. “But now, I can’t help but think my husband’s actions were guided by divine intervention, so that I could, in turn, teach you how to dampen.”

The thought that the gods may have had a hand in King Rex learning about dampening many years ago so that Alannah could teach me the skill boggles my mind.

Sterling’s gaze meets mine. The hope glimmering in his dark, gold-flecked eyes reminds me that we need to locate and cling to the light in the darkness.

I lean in, my attention fixed on the older woman. “Can you train us how to do it?”

She pauses, her fork halfway to her plate, and I can tell the wheels are spinning behind her cool facade. “To dampen,” she begins slowly, as if recalling a lesson from long ago, “one must draw deeply upon their own magic. Right before its release, imagine it burgeoning within you.” Her hands move through the air, miming the gathering of an unseen energy.

With her words, I can picture it perfectly. That’s what Agnar and Blair did yesterday in order to physically repel the drachen.

“Then you hold it there. In place.” Her fingers curl, miming holding something in front of her, and a shield of ice forms. “This is just to give you an idea. You shouldn’t form the real thing. Only envision that magic as a barricade between you and the rest of the world. Not tangible bricks and mortar, but a mental construct within your psyche. It acts as a fortress, repelling external emotions, allowing only your true feelings to resonate within.”

I push my plate back, not able to eat another bite as I watch the dowager queen. “That’s incredible.”

When everyone at the table offers her their rapt attention, she flushes pink, her ice shield disappearing.

Alannah’s shoulders lift in an elegant shrug, a queenly gesture that somehow conveys both uncertainty and regal confidence. “Whether this will shield you from the drachen or aid those without dragoncaller blood, I cannot say. But it’s our best chance.”

“Thank you.” After what feels like an eternity of fear, my heart swells with something akin to hope. Turning to Sterling, I find his eyes already on me, alight with a newfound determination.

For once, the future doesn’t seem like a gaping maw ready to swallow us whole. If we remain united and face the threat together, we might just stand a chance of defeating the darkness that hunts us.

ChapterTwenty-Two

The queen’s parlor is heavy with the scent of lavender and beeswax, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of sweaty soldiers standing at attention in the middle of the room.

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