Page 18 of A Bond of Ice and Glass
It’s a monarch!
How the fuck did we have the monarch hiding under the lake and not know it? I thought the last of them was still being kept in the mountains, bound by the witches. We tried to free her that day, but we were only able to take some of her eggs. Is this the same monarch? Or a different one?
My breath streams in front of me as I grip Cyrsí’s reins to steady myself.
“You never told me there was a monarch in the lake!”
“She did not want us to know,” Cyrsí replies to me. “When Maelena froze the waters, we dragons sensed something in theair, but I did not know it was our queen. She is the oldest of us all.”
The monarch fixes her eyes on Kymera. They blink slower than any dragon’s I’ve seen, and they glow like starlight and the dawn mixed together. Kymera doesn’t cower from her. She meets the dragon’s gaze with a strange calmness that impresses me. It’s not arrogant like I expected from a witch. Something closer to acceptance, like the witch really has been waiting for this moment.
Cold mist pours through the dragon’s nose again. The gust blows Kymera’s hair and skirts behind her. My cloak snaps from up on Cyrsí’s back. The mist curls around the witch, but it doesn’t seem to bite her.
“I wondered when you would come for me,” Kymera calls out, her voice loud, unafraid.
The dragon’s pupils widen, slitted eyes glowing with a deep light that isn’t magic but something else. Something ancient that reminds me of Ciagid and his children. She exhales again, and this time, the air vibrates. I feel the pulse in my bones, in the scars etched into my skin.
Then Kymera screams.
Her body arches, seized by the dragon’s magic. She clutches her chest like her ribs are being clawed open by the dragon’s talons and her organs crushed. Silver-blue light bursts from her eyes and mouth. Her black hair floats around her.
“What’s happening to her?”
“She is accepting the bond,” Cyrsí answers with a growl.
“What bond?” I snap. “You don’t bond with witches anymore.”
I never thought one would bond to the witch, let alone a monarch. I never would’ve brought Kymera down here if I thought she’d leave with a dragon.
“We do not,” Cyrsí agrees. “It appears our gods are rewriting fate, and when fate is rewritten, we must listen.”
The witch slams to her knees with a high-pitched scream that doesn’t sound like it could come from a mortal. My ears ring, and all the hairs on my body lift as the frost in the air turns colder. Frost curls up Kymera’s arms, etching white runes into her skin. They glow faintly, spirals of ancient letters I can’t read. Her lips part in a silent scream, and her eyes roll back. A dead witch on my hands is not how I wanted this to play out.
I let go of Cyrsí’s reins and move to slide off her back. She blocks me with her wing.
“The witch is not dying. She is bonding.”
I sit back in the saddle again, watching the witch burst with light. This isn’t an ordinary bonding.
It’s an ascension.
Having a dragon ascend you with power is one of the most painful things a rider can go through. Second only to losing your dragon. It can even kill you if you’re not strong enough. Damn near killed me when I did it for Maelena. My hair will always be a reminder of it now.
Kymera slams her hands to the stone, and a tremor shakes the ground. It isn’t violent. It’s deliberate, like something sacred is taking root beneath our feet. The dragon lowers her head and shuts her glowing eyes.
A crack splits across the ground, reaching towards the wall where Freyren rests. I glance over and see the dragon lift her head. She’s still so weak, barely thriving, but she watches the monarch transfer power into the witch.
When the monarch opens her eyes again, they’re pure gold.
And then I hear it. Her voice in my head where it shouldn’t be.
“By the flame of Nytar and the blood of Hekai, I have chosen this witch, not as rider but as the one who will light your way.The chains of old have been shattered so that frost can stand by fire once more. Let your queen be found so she can rise again.”
The ground trembles, but this time the crack in the ground widens, and something crawls out of it.
One of the bondless dragons I keep in the lower ground climbs out, roaring and breathing fire, its black scales veined with crimson. Even as a full-grown male, it’s a lot smaller than the monarch. But that only means it’s faster. The dragon flies around her, and then it lunges for Kymera.
“Move!” I shout, but my voice is drowned out by the blast of fire and frost.
