The Return of the Dragon Queen

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  I gathered more magic and let it rise within me before I flung it at the gate. Silver fire, hotter than any man-made construct could withstand, erupted from my hands, burning through the iron gates, melting the portcullis until there was a gaping hole.

  The soldiers were waiting for us, but many were taken by surprise at the arrival of the ancient dragon. Some fumbled to pick up their weapons as archers composed themselves and readied their bows, firing a barrage of arrows into the sky. They bounced off the dragon’s impenetrable scales like feathers in the wind. Abraxas wasn’t doing anything except circling the castle, but it was enough to terrify the life out of Delacourt’s army.

  “Try not to burn down the castle,” I said to Abraxas.

  “I shall do my best.” The great dragon laughed, and it sounded like a terrifying roar as he swooped closer to the main wall.

  We dashed through the melted inner gate.

  “I’m going to open the main gate,” Rafe shouted as he ducked and spun, his sword embedding in another guard’s gut. He pulled his sword out. “Keep those archers off me.”

  It was still a few hundred feet to the gatehouse, and we had to get there without being killed. I created a wider shield and moved it around Rafe as he ran. Arrows bounced off the shield, but a shield could only protect him from flying objects and magical strikes. I could not protect him from the countless guards who had begun to realize that the Prince of Eldoren was in their midst.

  Rafe ran a guard through with his sword.

  “Tristan!” I shouted, flinging out my magic and pushing guards out of the way. But I needn’t have. Tristan was already there, fighting beside Rafe and cutting a clean path through the guards toward the gatehouse.

  Keeping my shield intact, I ran to help.

  Rafe and Tristan fought their way through the guards to the gatehouse as arrows rained down from all sides. Finally, they reached the great stone entrance tunnel, but there were too many guards to both fight them off and raise the portcullis at the same time; it required two people to raise it. I had to keep the guards off them so they could open the gate.

  “I’m over here, dimwits,” I shouted at the guards.

  The soldiers who had Rafe and Tristan backed into the tunnel stopped and turned at the sound of my voice. Their eyes widened as they all slowly recognized me, which wasn’t that difficult, especially with the massive dragon flying around overhead.

  One of the wide-eyed guards said, “Dawnstar.”

  “Yup! That’s me.” I flexed my fingers and reached for my magic.

  “How can you be here?” said another guard, fear apparent on his pale face. “The archmage had you locked up in the dungeons.”

  “A futile attempt, obviously,” I said as I stood watch over the gatehouse, shielding Rafe and Tristan.

  The rest of the guards stopped and surrounded me, but came no closer. More guards were coming for me, so I had to be quick. A few of the guards started flinging magical strikes at me, but they bounced off my shield, useless. Stretching out one hand, I picked up the guards with magic as if they were toys, and with a flick of my wrist flung them against the walls, trapping some there and letting others fall to the ground.

  Rafe and Tristan had the opening they needed and started to raise the portcullis. I created two flaming balls of silver fire in my palms. I didn’t intend on using my silver fire on human or mage soldiers unless I had no other choice, although the sight of it seemed to keep the soldiers at bay.

  I heard shouts and a triumphant war cry behind me as the gates finally finished opening and a white stallion charged past me. Declan Raingate, Uncle Gabriel’s captain of the guard, brandished his sword and led the way. I saw a myriad of colors and crests: the Rothguards, Greystones, Foxmoors, Hartfields, and others I didn’t recognize. The great noble houses of Eldoren were fighting together with the Silverthornes in service to their one true king. Once they knew their children were safe, they joined together to eliminate Delacourt. The Silverthorne army spilled inward into the outer bailey and a raging battle began.

  I fought beside Rafe, my sword flashing as we tore a path through the enemy soldiers. Magic sizzled around me as I held a shield around us both, cutting and slashing as we tried to find Brandon. Slowly the intensity of the fighting lessened, and I heard Captain Raingate’s voice over the crowd shouting orders to his soldiers. The last of Delacourt’s remaining guards and archers laid down their weapons, surrendering Caeleron Castle to Rafe.

  A crowd had gathered in the middle of the main bailey as Rafe and I made our way forward. “What’s all the commotion about?” Rafe asked as Eldorean soldiers made way for their king.

  The ground before us was strewn with blood and grime, which wasn’t surprising given the battle we had just finished. But what was even less surprising was Tristan standing over a cowering Brandon Delacourt, his flaming sword at his throat, while the last four Drakaar lay strewn in the dirt around them, heads severed from their bodies.

  Rafe raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him and gave me a quick glance. “Well, I, for one, am glad the dark prince is on our side.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  Captain Raingate came forward, taking Brandon Delacourt into custody.

  Tristan moved toward him, his swords still flaming in his hands. “I can execute the traitor right now.”

  But Rafe stepped between them. “No! Put him in the dungeons. He will be tried by the council.”

  “He is a traitor. The only punishment is death,” Tristan growled. “Why wait?”

  Rafe looked at me and smiled. “He really likes using his swords, doesn’t he?”

  I chuckled. Tristan huffed and sheathed his swords, leaving Brandon to Captain Raingate, who took him away to the dungeons.

  “That was quite a feat you and your fae prince pulled off there, Aurora,” said Rafe unexpectedly. “Thank you for your help. But I would appreciate it if you could ask your dragon to take a nap somewhere else.” He lowered his voice, just in case Abraxas could hear us. Which, in fact, he could, but Rafe didn’t know that. “He’s making my men nervous.”

  My eyebrows rose as I surveyed the courtyard. Rafe was right. Abraxas had actually seated himself in the middle of the castle courtyard and proceeded to take a nap. I knew he wasn’t asleep, but the guards and soldiers scurried around him as they went about their jobs, one eye fixed on the massive, scaly body that seemed to have taken residence in the outer bailey of Caeleron Castle.

  I rolled my eyes and smiled ever so slightly as I tried to hold back laughter. “I’ll see what I can do,” I offered and strode forward to speak to the ancient dragon.

  One big eye opened, the color of burnt honey. The dragon’s amethyst scales glistened in the noonday sun as I approached. I was right—he wasn’t asleep, just enjoying scaring the life out of the palace guards.

  I put my hand on his snout. “Thank you for everything you have done.”

  “I am at your service, Dawnstar,” said the ancient voice in my head. “But I fear a malignant presence in the castle. You must leave soon.”

  “I will,” I agreed. “As soon as we get Rafe crowned as King of Eldoren. We still need their army if we are going to defeat Morgana.”

  “Be careful,” said the great dragon, and much to the horror of everyone around us, Abraxas got up, roared, and bounded into the sky.

  The Rightful King

  The coronation was a grand affair as coronations usually are, and it was held in the ancient throne room at Caeleron Castle, where all the kings and queens of Eldoren had been crowned since the days of Dorian the First. The great hall had been repaired with a little help from Penelope and me. For now, glamour held it together, but it would eventually have to be fixed the traditional way.

  Nobility from all over the kingdom had gathered, dressed in their finery. Voluminous skirts in silks and satins, swirled with vibrant colors and embroidered with gold and silver thread, attached to bodices studded with pearls and precious stones. I looked around at th
e throng of bodies and happy, smiling faces. Each one of these people had been willing to go against their king, and there were very few who had actually helped him. The nobility of Eldoren were fickle at the best of times, putting their own interests above the good of the kingdom. And without Silverthorne here to help and advise, Rafe was going to have his work cut out for him.

  I stood on the side of the dais near the throne along with Penelope and Tristan. I had glamoured myself some suitable clothes for the coronation: a demure dress of creamy satin, lightly adorned with snowy pearls on the neckline and waist and along the edges of the long bell sleeves. I wore a delicate pearl and diamond tiara that Rafe had sent for me to wear during the coronation.

  Brandon was in the dungeons where he belonged, but Lilith had disappeared. Calisto’s broken body was found in the east wing of the castle, devoid of life. Lilith could now be anywhere—or anyone. Tristan, Penelope, and I were on alert in case she tried anything during the coronation.

  Getting Rafe secured on his throne was a step in the right direction. His army would be invaluable to us, especially now with the added threat of the blackened iron. I wondered what was going on in Brandor and if Santino had succeeded in convincing the other emirs to shut down the mines.

  “Have you heard anything from Santino?” I asked Penelope as we stood watching the procession.

  Penelope shook her head. “Not yet, but I am expecting a raven any day now.”

  Finding and stopping the shipments of blackened iron was a priority. If Morgana got blackened iron to the dwarves and convinced them to make weapons for her, then the fae would face extinction in battle. Morgana already had a good many dwarves working for her, but she still needed their forges in Stonegate to make the truly powerful weapons that could bring down Izadora’s Elite.

  I looked over at Tristan standing beside me, as handsome and dangerous as ever in a black doublet faintly embroidered with steel-gray thread. I had to glamour his swords invisible because, as usual, he refused to leave them behind in his room. I had given up arguing about it; he never went unarmed. If Morgana could make weapons that could take down Tristan, what chance would the rest of the fae have?

  “After the coronation, we will meet with Rafe and the leaders of the rebels to devise a plan to move forward,” said Penelope.

  The herald announced Rafe’s arrival, and a hush fell over the space as he entered the throne room, looking every inch a king. Dressed in the regal coronation robes of purple velvet edged with ermine and with the Eldorean crest embroidered in gold thread as a motif all over the robe, he walked down the crimson-carpeted aisle of the massive room. The crowd cheered for their king, who had been willing to sacrifice his life and his crown to save his people.

  Rafe ascended the stairs of the dais slowly and turned to seat himself on the gilded throne. Danica stood in the front row of the guests on the opposite side from me, gazing up at Rafe. I had to admit, when she was dressed up with her long dark hair elegantly styled, she looked beautiful, with sensual curves that filled out her tight blue satin dress better than I could have.

  Rafe gave her a quick smile, and my heart sank. He never even glanced at me.

  I looked at Penelope, who was watching me out of the corner of her eye. She put her hand on my arm and leaned over to speak softly to me. “The tiara you are wearing belonged to Rafe’s mother. It was one of her favorites.”

  I tried to smile at her blatant attempt to make me feel better, but the truth was that Rafe had probably sent me the first tiara he found. They all belonged to his mother anyway, and it wasn’t like anyone else was wearing them.

  Two priests from the temple of Karneth were waiting on either side of the throne, dressed in stately white robes lined with silver and pearls. One of them held the heavy crown of Eldoren on a velvet cushion the color of ripe blueberries.

  The priests began the ceremony, reciting prayers from their ancient book. They placed the crown upon Rafe’s head amid the cheering of Eldorean nobility.

  It was done. Prince Rafael Ravenswood was now King Rafael the Seventh.

  The feast was spectacular, and I knew how much work had gone into preparing everything for the coronation. Even in this time of war, the preparation had been meticulous. Footmen brought out gleaming silver trays of Eldorean delicacies and circulated glazed honey tarts and fragrant meat-stuffed pastries. The tables were piled high with trays of flaky breads and berry-glazed poultry cooked in figs and rosemary, along with roast pork, summer berry pies, and delicious-looking buttercream cakes.

  The nobility danced the night away, happy in the knowledge their children were safe and the rightful king had been restored to the throne.

  One happily drunk noble tottered over to our table with some of his friends, who were also quite intoxicated. “Who let this monster into the palace?” he slurred, glaring at Tristan. “You fae scum should not be allowed into our lands.”

  Tristan slowly pushed his chair back. As he got up to face the drunken lord, his midnight-blue eyes started to swirl with silver sparks. I knew from experience that was never a good sign.

  I got up from my chair and stood in front of him, facing the young lord, who I recognized as Viscount Steele, the same lord I had danced with at my first royal ball at the Summer Palace. It now seemed like a lifetime ago, and I had changed a lot since then. “I think you should leave, my lord,” I said politely, keeping my voice even. I didn’t want to cause a scene at Rafe’s coronation.

  “You want me to leave?” he spat, his eyes red and puffy as he looked at me with contempt. “You are the one who brought this monster here. Do you even know what he did to our people?” He grabbed my hand. “Come away from him, you are one of us. Stay away from the filthy fae.”

  I didn’t move as I held his stare. His eyes moved downward and widened as he looked at where his hand was, probably only just realizing what he had done.

  My eyes narrowed, and my hand lit up with silver fire—only a spark, but it was enough to reduce the insipid lord to a blubbering idiot. He let go immediately, squealing in pain as his flesh sizzled. He stumbled backward, cradling his charred hand as I stalked toward him and caught him by his collar.

  The throne room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The nobles didn’t move as they watched the scene unfold. Rafe did not interfere.

  “You call Tristan a monster,” I growled, my voice reverberating around the room, “because he fought a whole garrison of soldiers in fair combat and defeated them. The real monsters are the mage soldiers who brutalized, raped, and murdered a defenseless fae woman just because they could.” I let go of his collar and he stumbled backward, the new leather soles of his boots slipping on the polished marble floors. “If I were there, I would have killed the whole group myself.”

  The lords and ladies started arguing among themselves as Viscount Steele backed away into the crowd, surrounded by his minions.

  “Enough,” said Rafe, standing up from his throne, and the crowd went quiet. “Prince Tristan is our guest here at the palace, and if anyone has a problem with that—” his eyes narrowed, and his voice was pure steel, “—you are free to leave now.”

  Everyone bustled about, whispering and going back to their seats, but no one left the throne room except the viscount and his motley crew.

  Tristan came up behind me and whispered in my ear. “Thank you for standing up for me. You didn’t have to, you know. I can take care of myself.”

  I turned to face him. “I know, but I didn’t want you splattering the viscount’s remains all over the new carpet,” I said with a grin.

  And the dark prince smiled back at me for the first time since we had reached Eldoren.

  I was about to sit back down and finish my dinner when I finally spotted Vivienne in the corner of the room. She moved to the entrance and slipped away from the festivities.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said hurriedly to Tristan. I had to try to make things right. I couldn’t bear the fact that she wouldn’t even speak to me, and I
missed my best friend. I followed Vivienne out of the room.

  Vivienne scurried through the brightly lit corridor as I called out to her. “Viv! Wait.”

  She didn’t look back. She turned a corner and kept on walking at a fast pace down a more dimly lit corridor lined with arched windows, one of which was open, letting in a chill. Thunder rumbled outside as lightning flashed over the castle, lighting up the passage in an eerie white light. Pelting rain beat against the windows as I followed her, my heart beating wildly. I had to explain why I had left without saying goodbye. I wanted her to know I would be there for her. There had to be a way to make this right.

  “Viv, please. Just hear me out.”

  She stopped abruptly, her back toward me as I hurried forward, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Viv, please, let me expl—”

  She turned.

  There was a flash of red light that temporarily blinded me. I raised my arm to shield myself. An agonizing pain burst through me, and I felt as if the cold wind had seeped into my very bones. A void opened within me, and I felt a wrench, as if some sort of cord had snapped inside. I staggered backward, dread chilling my heart and pooling deep within me.

  Vivienne stood before me with a dagger in her hand.

  She had attacked me.

  Terror gripped me when I saw the amount of blood running down my arm, a gash that exposed the flesh all the way down to the bone. The pain hadn’t registered yet, but my dress was soaked in blood. I looked at her in horror. “Viv . . .”

  But it wasn’t Vivienne who looked back at me. Her eyes were gleaming black coals devoid of white.

  “Lilith,” I gasped, gritting my teeth as the pain hit me. I clutched my arm, trying to get my bearings and heal myself. “What have you done to Vivienne?”

  “There is nothing you can do for your friend now—she’s gone,” the Dark Queen sneered, her voice raspy and otherworldly. “If you kill me, she will die.”