Dragon Empress

Chapter 4

Normal people didn’t risk the destruction of the world when they wielded.

Keriya went to the table where Rikoru had piled a neat pyramid of scrolls. She unrolled one and found that, like many older texts, it was written in runes she could understand. These ancient letters were the same ones she’d grown up with in her hometown of Aeria.

“The Origin of Valemagic,” she breathed, her fingertips tracing the title. Inhaling the musty scent of old parchment, she began to read.

Hours and hours she sat there. It was lucky she’d gorged at lunch, because dinnertime came and went. Rikoru’s scrolls contained little substance—mostly they recounted legends of valemagic’s mysterious guardian, the Dragon Empress. Keriya already knew the information they presented.

She is the god and guardian of Pure Valemagic.

She dwells in the Broken Vale at the crown of the world.

Only those who know the way may find her home.

Therein lay the conundrum. Another conundrum. Or perhaps the same one, because the problems that prevented Keriya from rescuing Valaan also prevented her from completing the last four items on her To Do list:

9.

Find the Dragon Empress

10. Master valemagic

11. Free the dragons from their Spider

12. Defeat Necrovar (for real this time)

Valemagic was, and always had been, the answer. It had crafted Keriya’s life, shaped her destiny. It had given her the power to speak to dragons and save the world.

Or destroy it.

The last time she’d wielded valemagic, she had fallen victim to its seduction. It had seized control during her final battle with Necrovar, whispering to her, spurring her to do tremendous and terrible things. In her desperation for victory, she’d used it to siphon energy from every living soul on Selaras.

She didn’t trust herself to use it again, not in her current state. For a year-and-a-half she’d been seeking information that would help her find the Dragon Empress, so she could learn to master the fathomless power in her soul.

And still she had no answers.

Her brush with destruction horrified her. More horrifying still was the fact that she longed to feel valemagic surging through her veins. She yearned for her heart to chime in tune with the pulse of the universe. She longed for it like a drowning man longs for air.

Keriya gave her head a vigorous shake. “I need therapy.”

“The palace infirmary employs several psychologists,” came Master Rikoru’s scratchy voice. He emerged from the stacks, glaring at her. “And it’s nearly midnight. Off with you!”

“Can I take this one?” she asked, waving a scroll.

His bushy white brows stormed together. “You haven’t returned the last ones you borrowed!”

“Yeah, because I’m trying to figure out how to save the world.”

Rikoru tossed his hands in the air and stumped away, conceding defeat. Clutching the scroll, Keriya embraced her source and teleported one final time.

Faint spots winked across her vision when she arrived outside Viran’s room. Dizziness and a hint of nausea stole through her. She swayed, leaning against the door frame. All in all, she hadn’t done much wielding. There was no reason to be this exhausted.

“I’ve been busy,” she murmured, making excuses to the empty hall. “I had a long day.”

Yet it felt like she’d accomplished nothing. So she would tack the To Do list up in the bathroom again and take it with her tomorrow, hoping tomorrow would reveal the answers she sought.

Composing herself, Keriya turned the knob and eased the door open, thinking Viran would be asleep. He wasn’t. A merry fire crackled in the hearth, and he was up and about, cleaning.

“Clean the room,” she moaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t clean the room.”

“I’m doing it,” he said as she shut the door.

“I’ve had cleaning on my list for weeks, months, and I haven’t done it. I haven’t done anything, and I . . .” Keriya’s throat tightened. Her chest heaved with pent-up, broken breaths.

She stamped down on an irrational surge of adrenaline. Heroes didn’t have panic attacks—it was not on the list, not part of the itemized schedule. She fought to normalize her breathing, identifying familiar, calming scents: the smell of books. A hint of fresh snow wafting through the open window. Viran, whose aroma was a mix of summer and sand and magic.

He was suddenly in front of her. He placed his hands—one flesh and blood, the other a dwarf-made metal prosthetic—on her shoulders. “Keriya, I don’t mind the mess.”

“You do. You hate messes.”

“But I love you. So I’ll tolerate your mess, as long as it means you’re here.”

She buried her face against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her, and the weight of her impossible tasks lifted from her shoulders.

“Any luck with your research?” he asked, stroking her flyaway hair with his human hand.

“No. And the stupid gala’s in seven days—six, now—and Belbreeze will be parading me around, telling people I’m the Master of Valemagic, when in reality I’m too scared to wield it for fear that I’ll kill everything on the planet.”

Viran tensed, and Keriya’s heart broke. He was one of her victims. He’d allowed her to siphon his magic and use his energy. In doing so, she’d nearly unraveled him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back to stare up at him. “I’m not going to wield it, and Belbreeze knows that. I’m not going to touch it until I’m sure I can control it.”

Viran planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m not worried about that. I have faith in you, drackling.”

“I just don’t want anyone making promises on my behalf,” she murmured.

Promises I can’t keep.

The power to fix everything tingled at the tips of her fingers, yet she couldn’t use it. That didn’t stop her from wanting it, wanting more. Wanting with every thread of her being.

“How can I help?” asked Viran, pulling her thoughts away from magic. He gazed at her with such tenderness that her frustration melted.

“Just hold me.”

Keep the nightmares at bay.

Viran pulled her close, and Keriya clung to him more tightly. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve someone like Viran, and she had no idea why he continued to tolerate her messes.

Because he thinks I can do it. Find the Dragon Empress, master valemagic, kill Necrovar.

Viran was counting on her. All her friends were. The whole of Selaras was.

Keriya could not fail them.

CHAPTER TWO“Moderation in temper is a virtue; moderation in principle is a vice.”

~ Candra Greybark, Seventh Age

Five years ago, Fletcher Earengale had been a peasant in the lowest social caste of Aeria, scorned and ridiculed by the village Elders.

He chuckled. If only they could see me now.

A telepathic thought bloomed in his mind. The words were as clear as if Khyvette had spoken aloud.

he replied.

The wind snatched a contented sigh from Fletcher’s throat and carried it into the clouds. Yes, if only the Aerians could see him soaring on a dragon, wielding power—both magical and political—he’d never dreamed of. He and Khyvette were defenders of peace and justice, keeping Allentria safe.

Khyvette observed as they passed a harbor hidden beneath a rock overhang. They’d ousted the invaders from this bay over a year ago, with help from their friends and several new allies.

Fletcher asked.

She twisted her serpentine neck and shot him a meaningful glance. Her amethyst eyes gleamed in the morning light, but did not glow. Glowing eyes indicated the presence of necromagic—and as fantastic as it was to believe, Allentria hadn’t been plagued by necromagic in months.

The sparkle faded from Khyvette’s gaze as they swooped past a swath of ground where bloodblossom sprouted. True to its name, the tiny crimson flowers soaked up nutrients from c*****e. The battle that had taken place on this shore had left many bodies. Bloodblossom thrived here, as it did on many old battlefields across Allentria.

As they banked around a mountainous peninsula, Cinder Isle came into view. On schedule, a bright flash bloomed to the west of the mainland half of the city, a league beyond its sandstone walls. Fletcher waved, and Khyvette angled toward the rocky bluff where they met with Keriya most mornings.

“My new plan is ready,” Keriya announced the moment they’d landed.

Khyvette crouched, and Fletcher vaulted over her shoulder—no mean feat, seeing as her shoulder was nearly three heights tall. He landed in a nimble crouch and straightened.

“Let’s hear it,” he said. To Khyvette, he added telepathically,

she replied, though she didn’t sound hopeful.

With the air of an artist presenting a masterpiece, Keriya clapped her hands together, then spread them wide. “First, I master valemagic.”

Fletcher nodded, indulging her. She spoke as if that part of the plan didn’t require its own complicated plan to accomplish.

“Next, I summon Necrovar from the Etherworld. He’s weak, I’m strong. We fight, I destroy him.”

“And . . . how exactly does this differ from your previous plans?”

Keriya began pacing, hair snapping in the temperate breeze. “Necrovar is the dark half of Pure Valemagic. I thought killing him would destroy the balance, and in turn, the world. But we got along fine without Necrovar’s power for ten ages while he was imprisoned in the Etherworld. With him gone for good, Selaras would be better. I can make it better.”

“Would you even be able to weave a spell like that?” he asked, frowning.

“Of course. Once I master valemagic, I’ll be able to do anything.”

The confidence with which she spoke was off-putting, and Fletcher heard a hidden note of hunger in her voice. It wasn’t even in her voice—he was picking up on her emotions.

He wasn’t powerful enough to mindspeak with anyone apart from his bondmate, but he often caught flashes of Keriya’s feelings on the telepathic frequency of valemagic. Perhaps this made sense. He shared a bond with her, too: one born of fifteen years of friendship.

“So, Khyvette.” Keriya turned to the dragon. “On a scale of one to this-will-destroy-the-world, how’s my new plan?”

“It’s a solid eight,” Khyvette said in a flat voice. “Possibly a nine.”

“Oh.” The triumph slid from Keriya’s face. “But why—”

“You know I can’t explain why.” They had this same circular conversation every time Keriya begged for information. “The Dragon Empress is valemagic incarnate. So long as her power lives in my soul, I am f*******n from sharing her secrets.”

“It’s okay,” Fletcher said quickly, eager to prevent the possibility of an argument. “We’d never ask you to do anything that would compromise you or put you in danger.”

“I am always in danger. As a bonded dragon, I can no longer wield my valemagic, yet I remain beholden to its influence. I have all its drawbacks and none of its benefits.”

That statement struck him like a slap to the face.

Khyvette wrinkled her snout in concern—the draconic equivalent of his signature nose scrunch. she asked silently.

The familiar, endearing expression settled Fletcher’s nerves.

He laid a reassuring hand on her leg.

So did I, he realized. It had never registered with him how much Khyvette had sacrificed when they’d bonded. She’d given up unimaginable power for him.