Page 68 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Pride, strong and pure, radiates from every dragon in the paddock. Even little spurts of relief. Their trills morph into victory roars.

Once again, all eyes in the room settle on me.

The small success warms me more than any fire I could conjure. I’m not the only one who’s been subjected to outside emotions since I arrived. The dragons have been swept along in my trials and tribulations as well, a tumultuous path marked by love’s highs and grief’s lows. They’ve ridden the waves of my heartache and triumph right alongside me. All without complaint.

I project a silent message of gratitude.Ryu, Dame, Chirean, thank you.

“Lady Lark, your control is impressive.” Alannah’s voice penetrates the tangled thoughts in my mind. “I can tell from the dragons’ reactions and the expression on your face you’ve managed to learn dampening. But remember, mastery comes with repetition. Keep practicing.”

“Of course, Queen Alannah. I started picturing a filter instead of a wall, and I think that may have helped.” I square my shoulders, determined to solidify this newfound skill. “I won’t stop until it’s second nature. But for now, I’m going to let Crown Prince Knox know it can be taught. And someone else can take my place in the lesson.”

Alannah waves me toward the door. “Send the next student in. I’ll share what aided you with your success in case it may be of assistance to them.”

Leaving the parlor behind, I stride through the palace’s grand corridors. The stone walls of the king’s wing whisper secrets of ages past, yet my mind hums with thoughts of the present.

Finally, some good news to share. If I’m lucky, it will be enough to put Sterling in a special kind of celebratory mood.

My boots click on the marble floor as I approach his chambers with mounting anticipation. I can picture his smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s genuinely moved. How he’ll wrap an arm around me. Kiss me.

Shove me onto the bed and have his wicked way with me.

I push open the door to Sterling’s public sitting room, my heart skipping a beat in excitement and heat blooming low in my belly.

The scene before me is intense. Royal council members huddle around Sterling with their combined voices creating an urgent hum, their postures and expressions all frozen lines and sharp edges.

My gaze settles on a woman with short magenta hair. Dalya, a no-nonsense woman about ten years my senior. Next, I spot Fenton, a slender older man with curly gray hair. I haven’t had much interaction with him, but he always seems polite.

My eyes rove over the other council members. Duchess Breann, a gray-haired grandmother who showed me kindness when I struggled with my brand-new wings. A young blond man with a pointed chin who I think is called Duke Bron. I don’t know the rest of their names, though I really should remember to ask who the man with dark wavy hair is. I swear, he could turn scowling at me into its own sport.

He notices me first and cuts off mid-sentence. One by one, the remaining heads swivel to face me, and the discussion halts as if snipped by shears.

Sterling’s gaze latches onto mine, and for a heartbeat, his expression remains flat, not a flicker of recognition in the depths of his eyes.

My gut twists. Before I can devolve into full freak-out mode, his features soften, quick as a summer storm. He offers me a tight smile and gestures around the room to indicate that he’s tied up at the moment.

Okay, I mouth, easing the door closed. Outside, my former excitement cools into a puddle of uncertainty.

I tug at a loose strand of hair while retreating down the hall at a snail’s pace. Either the drachen attack exhausted him even more than I thought, or the discussion with the council isn’t going well.

Unfortunately, I don’t find either option particularly reassuring.

ChapterTwenty-Three

As I wander back through the echoing halls, doubt niggles at my thoughts. Not wanting to bother the dragons with my misery, I pull up my dampening shield again. No time like the present to start practicing.

It’s been a strange day, now that I think about it. Leesa’s been off-kilter, too, distant and distracted since our return from the Lost City. Her usual spark, normally as bright and crackling as my fire magic, has dimmed to embers.

She was already struggling a little before someone killed Mother, whose death has only seemed to worsen whatever ails her. We’re both dealing with so much. The entire kingdom is.

Mother, what would you do?

She’d talk to the healers about the problem. In fact, that was what Lynnea Axton was on her way to do right before her murder. Another problem we still haven’t solved.

A sure sign that things were moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Mother was murdered in these very halls only a few days ago, and no one has been brought to justice yet. I haven’t even found the time to dig into it myself.

After asking for directions a few times, I find the healers’ quarters, only to discover them empty. A nearby guard assures me that if the healers aren’t in their rooms, they’re almost certainly with a patient or out in the herb gardens just outside the kitchens.

Not wanting to interrupt a healer with an active patient, I head outside. I weave through the manicured rows of the herb gardens, my thoughts a tangled snarl. The air is rife with fragrant plants. Mint and oregano and a host of other herbs I can’t distinguish. The scent, though pleasant, does little to soothe the discontent clawing at my insides.

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