Page 30 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

As soon as they ascended high enough for the others to see, they pressed onward, leaving the dying embers of green fire—and the mystery of their attackers—far behind.

Why must drakonians put honey in absolutely everything?

Tabitha Wysteria

‘They’re late,’ Alina muttered, her voice a thread of irritation as she stood on the grand balcony, her gaze fixed on the distant sky where the wyverians were meant to appear. The sun, high and merciless, cast its golden light upon the castle, setting her brother’s gilded armour ablaze. His golden drakonian horns gleamed like polished obsidian kissed by fire, and for a fleeting moment, Alina wondered if her own bore the same celestial sheen.

‘Patience is a virtue a princess must possess,’ Queen Cyra intoned, her voice cool as tempered steel.

‘Yes, mother.’ Alina lowered her head in practiced obedience, though her fingers twitched against the fabric of her dress. The gown was a tapestry of deep red and molten gold, woven as though the flames of their kingdom had been stitched into the silk. The jeweled collar tightened against her throat, each gemstone pressing into her skin like shackles, but she did not dare touch it. Not here. Not now. A princess showed only grace.

A sharp hiss, barely morethan a breath of sound, sliced through the moment. Alina turned her head in time to see her mother press elegant fingers to her temples, her dark eyes pinched with pain.

‘What is it, mother?’ she asked, though she already knew.

The queen’s headaches came like specters—sudden, relentless, and consuming. There were days when they stole her from the court, locking her away in the solitude of her chambers, whispering cruel things in the darkness.

‘Is it another headache?’ Alina pressed, softer this time.

‘It is nothing,’ the queen snapped, her voice tight with irritation. ‘Stop questioning and be silent.’

Alina clenched her teeth, swallowing down the retort that burnt the back of her throat. The sky remained empty. The wyverians had not yet come.

Ash stood perfectly still, but Alina could sense his unease. Without drawing their parents' attention, she reached out, slipping her hand into his. The sky stretched above them, serene and empty, painted in shades of red and orange. It was nearing midday, and Alina's stomach grumbled in protest. The wyverians were meant to have arrived hours ago, yet the sky remained void of their presence.

‘Over there! Look!’ someone yelled.

Leaning forward, she peered upward, squinting against the light, frustration bubbling within her. That morning, all their dragons had been secured away, a precaution to prevent any clashes between them and the incoming wyverns. Alina had wanted to greet them atop her own dragon, but her parents had forbidden it.

Then, a roar shattered the silence.

From the horizon, the wyverns emerged, slicing through the sky like shadows given form. Alina’s grip on her brother tightened as her eyes widened in astonishment. These creatures were nothing like their dragons—larger, more fearsome. Their scales were the colour of coal, gleaming like polished obsidian beneath the sunlight, their eyes vast and unfathomable, as if carved from the deepest seas. Their forelimbs fused seamlessly with their massive wings, membranous and thin, so fragile-looking that it seemed a mere gust of wind might tear them apart. In contrast, her own dragon’s wings were like tempered metal, solid and unyielding. She frowned, unimpressed.

And then she sawher.

The princess was unlike anyone Alina had ever encountered. She sat astride her wyvern with an effortless grace, her form slim yet commanding. Her skin was pale as fresh-fallen snow, a striking contrast to the wild tangle of black hair that whipped around her face. But it was her horns that held Alina’s attention—dark, twisted, razor-sharp. Even without a weapon in hand, the princess looked as if she could wage war with nothing but the edges of her own form.

Alina nearly gasped as the princess descended onto the grounds. She wore little more than a tattered grey dress, its fabric torn in so many places that it barely served its purpose. Dirt-streaked boots engulfed her feet, and strapped to her back was a sword so brilliantly polished that it gleamed even from a distance.

Turning to her brother, Alina’s expression twisted in disgust. Was this truly what their parents had arranged for him?

Ash, however, remained unreadable, his golden eyes fixed upon the princess, unblinking. Whatever thoughts stirred behind them, Alina could not decipher. He did not move, did not speak—only stood there, motionless, until she tugged at his arm, urging him forward.

‘We must go to greet them,’ King Egan announced, his voice richwith forced cheer, the kind that came with political alliances rather than true celebration. His golden cloak billowed behind him as he strode forward, the weight of centuries of rivalry pressing on his broad shoulders.

A wave of dread washed over Alina, wrapping around her like a heavy shroud. What had they done? A savage like that girl could not possibly be the future queen of their kingdom.

Keeping her lips pressed tightly together, Alina followed as they made their way through the castle, past the open gardens, and towards the wide stretch of land where dragons were meant to land. By then, the rest of the wyverians had dismounted, and once again, Alina had to stifle her shock.

‘King Egan,’ one of them addressed, his voice deep yet measured. ‘My sister, Haven Blackburn, future queen of the Kingdom of Darkness, House of Shadows. This is our brother, Prince Kage Blackburn, and Princess Mal Blackburn. I am secondborn, Kai Blackburn, of House of Shadows.’ He bowed, the motion smooth and dignified, then lifted two fingers to his forehead in what seemed to be a salute—an unfamiliar custom, one the others immediately mimicked. The gesture was executed with such precision that it carried the weight of a sacred rite.

Alina’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced towards her father, searching for an explanation. This foreign display, though clearly a sign of respect, left an unsettling impression. King Egan, however, appeared unbothered, his face splitting into a welcoming grin as he stepped forward.

‘Welcome!’ he declared. ‘I am honoured to receive you, to unite our families at last. Please, enter—you are my most esteemed guests.’ He gestured towards the regal figures beside him. ‘This is my wife, Queen Cyra. My son, Ash Acheron, future king of the Kingdom of Fire, House of Flames. And mydaughter, Alina Acheron.’

They strode forward, leaving their beasts untethered. The wyverns screeched and growled at the dragon keepers who hesitantly approached, trying to guide them to their resting places. ‘Leave them be,’ the secondborn wyverian called out, his voice sharp. ‘They are half-wild and will fly off soon enough to find their own shelter. However, you may grab our belongings, they won’t bite.’

Alina frowned. Where were their guards? Every royal family arrived with an escort, a force of protection in case something went amiss. Yet these wyverians walked forward alone, unconcerned, moving with an arrogance that unsettled her.

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