Page 86 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
I may be walking into the dragon’s mouth, but I refuse to crawl.
The landing zone looms below, a massive clearing carved from the forest specifically for dragons. Voltguard tilts forward, and Indrax responds instantly, banking into a smooth descent. I follow her lead, guiding Zephyros with the lightest touch of my mind rather than physical cues.
—Ready for this?I ask Zephyros.
—To see the weasel who would kill you for being a Weaver? I am absolutely thrilled.
—Try not to Wind Spear anyone.
—No promises.
The dragons touch down almost simultaneously, talons digging into the soft earth. The moment Indrax settles, a swarm of Claws emerge from shelters nestled against the tree line. They rush toward the Commander’s yellow dragon with brushes, water containers, and feed bags.
None approach Zephyros. Smart of them. He’s infamous for his bad temper.
Voltguard dismounts with practiced efficiency, stepping onto Indrax’s neck and sliding down his shoulder in one fluid motion. She uses his bent foreleg as a final step before jumping lightly to the ground, her boots barely making a sound. She’s just as agile as any young Skyrider.
I mirror her movements, though with my own flair. I spring forward onto Zephyros’s neck, my fingers finding the familiar ridges between his scales. In one continuous motion, I slide down his shoulder, the scales smooth as polished metal beneath my palms. At his bent leg, I jump and flip midair, landing in a crouch before straightening with a grin. I have a valiant façade to maintain.
“Was that really necessary?” Voltguard says, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Just keeping limber.” My muscles burn pleasantly with the movement, reminding me of my usual strength.
A royal guard approaches, his face expressionless beneath his helmet. “Commander Voltguard, Skysinger Wyndward. His Majesty awaits you in the throne room.” His eyes linger on me with barely concealed suspicion.
“Lead the way,” Voltguard says, her voice commanding even when she’s following orders.
I glance back at Zephyros, who watches me with one ancient silver eye, that wicked scar cutting across it.
—I will be right here. Remember what you are.
The royal guards form a box formation around us, ushering us through the castle’s cavernous halls. Their boots strike the marble floors in perfect unison while my own footsteps fall deliberately out of rhythm. A small rebellion, but it’s all I have right now.
Castle Stonefall hasn’t changed since my last visit during the Rite of Flight. It’s still all cold stone and faded tapestries depicting battles where humans triumph over monsters. How convenient they never show the monsters that look like us, like Cindergrasp.
The massive doors to the throne room swing open. I square my shoulders and enter with my head high.
King Craven Stonefall sits upon his throne, a scrawny figure practically swallowed by the ornate seat of power. His narrow crown sits askew on his limp blond hair. He doesn’t even bother to acknowledge our presence as Voltguard and I strike our fists to our opposite shoulders in salute.
My eyes dart to the beasts flanking his throne. Two enormous dogs. No, not dogs. These creatures look more wolf than hound, with rippling muscles beneath thick fur and jaws that could snap a man’s arm like kindling. Nothing like the pampered hunting hounds he kept at Eastwatch Manor last time he summoned me for a visit.
I bite back a laugh. Is this supposed to frighten me? After battling Screechclaws and being abducted under a mountain?
“Nice pets,” I mutter under my breath so only the Commander can hear. “Compensating for something, Your Majesty?”
Voltguard shoots me a warning glare. She’s not amused.
The King continues to ignore us, examining his fingernails with practiced disdain. I feel my temper rising like a storm tide. This pathetic man holds the power to threaten my life, yet he can’t even muster the basic courtesy of a greeting?
I clear my throat loudly. “I believe you summoned me, Your Majesty? Or was this urgent royal command just another whim you’ve already forgotten?”
Voltguard stiffens beside me. The guards’ hands move to their sword hilts. But I’m done playing nice with men who think they own me.
“Do you have a death wish?” the Commander hisses.
My insolence finally draws the King’s attention. His shifty gray eyes find mine, and his face flushes crimson. He springs to his feet, fists trembling at his sides like a child about to throw a tantrum.
“You dare?” he hisses, his voice thin and reedy. “You dare speak to your King with such disrespect?”
