Where Dragons Collide (Dragon Ridden Chronicles Book 5)

by T. A. White

  A rose-gold dragon stood next to Daisy in the spot Ilith had just occupied.

  The new dragon was much larger and bulkier than Ilith, with an arrogant glint in his gaze that seemed to laugh at her.

  I think that’s Blaise’s dragon.

  There was fascination in Tate’s voice. Far too much for someone who was supposed to be on Ilith’s side.

  Tate was more familiar with a few of the other dragon-ridden, but over the last month or two she’d had more encounters with Blaise as he dropped in to monitor the dragonlettes. Ilith, on the other hand, had never cared one way or another about the other man and dragon.

  Something that might have to change if he was going to be so presumptuous.

  The only thing Ilith remembered about Blaise was that he’d been there during the incident when they’d first rescued the dragonlette’s from their captors and that he and Ilith’s bonded enjoyed sparring verbally.

  Ilith snarled. Though this was their first meeting, she could already tell she didn’t like the other dragon.

  With that thought in mind, Ilith bared her teeth at the interloper.

  The other dragon-ridden from before, still in his human shape, crossed behind the rose-gold dragon, shepherding the dragonlettes away from the other dragons.

  Good. At least one of you has enough common sense to make sure the children are out of harm’s way.

  Ilith barely paid her any attention, the claws of her front and back paws sinking into the soft stone of the courtyard.

  Blaise’s wings rustled as he bounced forward a step. This was a dragon’s way of saying, ‘Let’s play.’

  A low sound built in Ilith’s throat. The kind that would raise the little hairs all over a person’s body and send their stomach crashing to their feet.

  The rose-gold dragon cocked its head and grinned.

  Tate’s sigh accompanied Ilith’s headlong rush forward. She leapt, tackling Blaise.

  At least, that was her intention.

  Blaise didn’t go down. He lifted onto his rear paws, batting her in the nose with one paw as his wings spread wide to give him balance.

  Ilith reared back and shook her head, her eyes smarting from the unexpected pain. She roared, spinning and slapping her tail into his side. How did he like that?

  Neither dragon paid any attention to the statue beneath them. Their paws trampling it further until it crumbled into fist-sized pieces of stone.

  Ilith’s movements were a little awkward at first. It had been a long time since she’d fought another of her kind, and the memories from several lifetimes ago were slow to come back to her.

  Gradually, she got the hang of it, her movements smoothing out until they felt natural.

  Blaise’s dragon, being bigger and heavier, relied mostly on brute force, an effective strategy against Ilith’s smaller size.

  She wove back and forth, using her quicker speed and more flexible body to gain the advantage.

  She’d just sunk her teeth into the rose-gold dragon’s shoulder when a thunderous roar came from the building.

  Ilith froze in place as a murderous aura surrounded her. She slowly unlatched her teeth as Blaise’s dragon held still, his gaze focused on the presence behind her.

  Ilith backed away, placing each paw precisely until she was facing the person capable of creating that heavy feeling.

  A dragon in human form glared at her.

  He was tall with short, sandy colored hair. It wasn’t until you looked in his eyes that you saw the dragon contained within. Centuries of existence lurked behind those eyes. Trials. Sorrows. Difficult choices that still haunted him.

  Until Ilith, he’d been considered the oldest living dragon-ridden and it showed. Not in wrinkles or signs of age but rather in the aura he projected.

  Blaise’s dragon edged back several steps, his head lowering in submission.

  Ilith didn’t move as the human dragon observed the destruction of the once beautiful courtyard garden.

  Marks that could only be attributed to Ilith’s claws were carved in the cobblestone. Those flowers and hedges that hadn’t been crushed were unearthed and tossed to the side. The statue Ilith crashed into was no more than dust at this point.

  Ilith and the rose-gold dragon flinched as Thora’s gaze snapped toward them. Ilith wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t. Really. The elderly deserved to be humored. That was all.

  The silence deepened as Thora stared at them. The tension growing until it saturated the air.

  Abruptly, Ilith retreated, leaving Tate to deal with the fall out.

  * * *

  Pain thrust Tate to the forefront. She came to herself crouched on the remains of the statue, her footing uncertain.

  At least Ilith had left her clothes this time. Not every change did.

  She was told experience would help with that. Admittedly, she’d gotten better over the last few months, a situation Tate was grateful for.

  At the moment, one of the only things she could find to appreciate about her dragon.

  She couldn’t believe that winged lizard had left her holding the bag. Again.

  Tate lifted her head to find Thora glowering at her.

  One eyebrow twitched and the veins in his temple bulged. Tate was no expert in judging other people’s states of mind, but even a blind person would pick up on the rage seething below Thora’s paper-thin calm.

  No one spoke for an interminable moment.

  “Would you like to explain what in the Creators’ darkest nightmares do you two think you are doing?” Thora finally asked in a controlled voice.

  Tate looked around and winced. It looked even worse viewing it with human eyes rather than from Ilith’s perspective.

  The immaculately groomed lawn had giant grooves in it. The bare dirt looked scarred and unsightly, in what should have been an elegant and peaceful sanctuary.

  That wasn’t all. There was a dent in the wall Ilith had crashed into, along with several shattered windows. A fact Tate hadn’t noticed until this exact moment.

  “You did say to keep the children entertained,” Tate started.

  Thora’s expression froze as he stared at her with something she thought might be disbelief. It was hard to tell sometimes with him.

  “Really, it’s his fault.” She pointed at the rose-gold dragon. The dragon startled, sending Tate an incredulous look that she ignored. “He showed a handful of gems to all these dragonlettes and told us to steal them. This is the logical outcome.”

  Tate’s nod emphasized her words.

  If all else failed—shift the blame. It was a motto that had always stood her in good stead.

  The rose-gold dragon reared onto his hind legs, his form shrinking in seconds. The bearded man who’d stood guard earlier was left in the dragon’s place.

  Jacob, the other dragon, and the rest of the children, stood off to the side watching with interested gazes.

  Out of the corner of Tate’s eye, she saw Dewdrop and Jack jog up, a little out of breath as they took in the destruction.

  Older than he looked, Dewdrop’s real name was Daniel, but Tate had been calling him Dewdrop almost from their first meeting. He’d taken a liking to it and now rarely answered to anything else.

  Like his name suggested, he possessed a youthful face that always reminded Tate of the first dew on a crisp morning. Refreshingly innocent in a way he used to his advantage.

  More often than not, people underestimated him; not seeing the danger masked by his pure features.

  Like many in Aurelia, whether they admitted it or not, Dewdrop’s ancestors were descended from sleepers. Those locked into slumber after the great war between the Creators and the Saviors. Like all sleepers, his family possessed strange abilities. In his case, his voice was his most powerful asset. Able to incapacitate or kill based on his whim.

  That lethal killer had the cheek to flash Tate a thumbs up as he gave her a goofy grin.

  Tate frowned at him but didn’t have time to give him the response he deserved as Bla
ise strode over.

  “You’re not putting the blame for this on me,” Blaise said. “This was your idea.”

  “It was not.”

  “Who said that we should exhaust the children?”

  Okay. He had a point there.

  After weeks of semi-careful study, Tate noticed the children seemed more stable when they were tired. It was as if the dragon felt the same exhaustion and was forced to retreat into slumber, giving the children a much-needed break from the constant strain on their minds.

  Dragons were never meant to be paired with those whose minds and bodies hadn’t finished developing. Already considered dangerous, such a situation provided a conflagration rife with insanity that would pose a threat to anyone in the immediate vicinity.

  It was why children who had the misfortune to bond were put down. Always.

  Only Tate had managed to prevent that turn of events. It wasn’t the children’s fault they’d ended up in this situation. Kidnapped, tormented, only to finally have a dragon stuffed in their bodies. They deserved a chance at life and happiness.

  For now, it seemed to be working.

  To the surprise of everyone involved, the children found Ilith a calming presence. When she was around, they were less volatile. More like the children their human bodies were.

  It was why Tate and Ilith set up regular times to spend with them, hoping to stabilize their minds enough that they would have a chance.

  Tate’s theory was that they could outgrow the madness if their minds were given the opportunity to develop.

  The only problem was that too many powerful people had taken an interest in the children. Some sought to use them. Others were looking for the smallest of reasons to justify their execution.

  Tate was here to ensure neither happened.

  It helped that Thora, for all his sternness, and the rest of the dragon-ridden were wholly committed to the dragonlettes health and safety as well. Present circumstances excluded.

  “Everything was under control until your dragon barreled into mine.”

  Technically, it was true.

  “Ilith was threatening the dragonlette.” Blaise gestured at Daisy, who stood next to Jacob.

  Her brother, Jack, folded his arms across his chest and nodded several times in agreement with Blaise.

  Tate scoffed. “She didn’t even touch her.”

  “She wanted to. My dragon was being proactive. There was every chance your dragon would try to toss her off another cliff.”

  “That’s right. What he said,” Jack yelled.

  Tate sent Dewdrop a plaintive look, mentally urging him to get control of his friend. He was ruining her perfect plan to shift blame.

  Dewdrop shook his head, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his laughter.

  No help was coming from that quarter, Tate realized with an internal sigh. Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised.

  Dewdrop had a crush on Daisy, and he’d been acting as a mentor of sorts to Jack. The boy was younger than both of them by several years. Only around eight or nine. He’d gotten caught up in the same events that made his sister a dragon-ridden.

  Jack wasn’t a dragon-ridden, but he was changed nonetheless. They simply didn’t know the full extent. Yet.

  He also didn’t trust Tate or—more specifically—Ilith, especially where his sister was concerned. It had something to do with throwing Daisy off a cliff. A total misunderstanding in Tate’s opinion.

  “She wasn’t going to do that,” Tate said defensively.

  Dewdrop started to wheeze.

  “Really. She only did that once. I’m sure she has no intention of ever doing something like that again.”

  Dewdrop wheezed harder. Tate cut him a sharp glare.

  A threatening rumble from Thora forestalled her next comment. Tate and Blaise snapped to attention.

  “I don’t care why it happened or who is at fault.” There was something in the way Thora held himself, an inherent threat stemming from the dragon at his core that said his control was very precarious right now.

  Tate held still. She was fairly sure between Ilith, Blaise and Jacob, they would be able to defend themselves should Thora lose control of his dragon, but she’d really rather not test that theory.

  “My peaceful sanctuary is ruined. Worse, your actions have drawn attention. The Lord Provost’s people are already on their way.”

  Tate’s gaze slid sideways. That was a problem.

  She wasn’t an expert but given what she knew about the jumpy nature of the powerful people who hung around the palace, she suspected they’d have a problem with two dragons battling it out not far from the emperor’s home.

  “How did they find out so quickly?” she asked.

  “They extended the reach of the alarm in headquarters,” Blaise answered.

  The alarm was meant to alert those in the palace should one of them take on their dragon shape. Tate was sure the reason for its existence was because of Thora who had little control over his dragon. His dragon was ancient, but age wasn’t always the advantage it would seem.

  Tate had only seen the physical incarnation of his dragon once. She hadn’t felt threatened, but she suspected that was more Ilith’s influence than anything. He’d called her queen before simply ignoring her.

  Since the dragonlettes had taken up residence, the alarm had gotten a workout, resulting in several visits from the emperor’s people or the Lord Provost’s.

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Tate asked.

  Blaise’s expression was cocky. “I thought it was obvious.”

  Tate resisted the urge to snarl at him. She didn’t need another mark against her.

  “There’s going to be an inquiry.” Her grimace grew more pronounced as she mentally cringed. “It’s going to take all day.”

  There was always an inquiry after someone took on their dragon form, but Tate didn’t usually have to deal with it. That fun task fell to the dragonlettes caretakers.

  Only this time because she was the one to become a dragon, she’d have to deal with the whole troublesome task.

  Tate groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Ilith, I’m going to kill you.”

  Her dragon didn’t respond from where she was curled in a ball along the small of Tate’s back.

  For the first time since he’d stepped outside, Thora relaxed. It seemed Tate’s disgruntlement gave him pleasure.

  Annoying bastard. She’d be more irritated if she didn’t kind of deserve it.

  “Also, I’m docking your pay until the courtyard has been repaired,” Thora added.

  This time Dewdrop was the one to protest. Money was king for her friend. As a former pick pocket and someone who spent a considerable amount of time on the streets before meeting Tate, he considered her paycheck serious business.

  Since her money was used to support Dewdrop, Night and the twins, along with Tate, she didn’t object to his protestations.

  This would hurt him far more than it hurt her.

  His glare told her he blamed her for this. Fair enough. While Tate wasn’t the one who escalated the situation, she was responsible for Ilith’s existence. That meant all consequences fell on her head.

  “He’s here,” one of the children cried. “The candy man is here.”

  The rest of them swarmed the two people making their way around the house and through the ruins of the garden.

  Ben crouched to meet them, spreading his arms as the children piled on top of him, their eager hands searching through his pockets.

  A member of the Lord Provost’s guard, an organization tasked with upholding the emperor’s law, Ben was there when the children were rescued. Since then, he’d become a frequent visitor over the last few months whenever one of the children turned into a dragon.

  He always brought candy or other gifts or treats. Not a bad tactic to earn his way into their goodwill.

  Today, a new face accompanied him. A woman with military straight posture that projected confidence and strength. He
r hair was chin length, the cut flattering. She stood apart from Ben and the children, observing everything with sharp eyes.

  Hot fury splashed Tate’s senses as Blaise went still. It was like he was a spring someone had wound up. One touch would snap his control, leaving only death behind.

  Tate was careful as she shifted to give him more of her attention, not wanting to trigger him by accident.

  Her caution proved unnecessary.

  She could probably have drawn a knife and attempted to cut off his head for all the attention he paid her. Every bit of his focus was locked on the woman. Rage and hate burning in his gaze.

  His jaw was clenched so hard it was a miracle he hadn’t broken his teeth. Still, he managed to grit out two words.

  “Dragon slayer.”

  TWO

  Tate paused in the act of putting distance between her and an angry Blaise.

  Dragon slayer. Not a promising sounding title. Something that suggested a bringer of death—and quite a painful one at that.

  Not exactly the sort of person you wanted around your vulnerable, slightly unstable dragonlettes.

  Blaise wasn’t the only one who had a problem with the woman’s presence. There was an unnatural stillness in the way Thora held himself while Jacob looked murderous—a rare expression for a man who’d shown little emotion since his rescue from the same people who’d turned the children into dragon-ridden.

  Despite the aggression pouring off the dragons in front of her, the woman remained unruffled.

  Tate couldn’t help but admire her poise. In the same position, Tate would have been quaking in her boots.

  “Children, come this way.” Jacob gestured toward himself, no trace of the agitation from moments ago. His expression was gentle but firm against the children’s protests. They obeyed reluctantly, making a show of dragging their feet.

  Dewdrop drew Daisy and Jack behind him. They were the only ones who hadn’t run to Ben the moment he appeared.

  Tate couldn’t help feeling proud of him. To others, Dewdrop was nothing more than a former street urchin. A pick pocket with a sarcastic mouth, bad temper, and flexible moral code.