“What is the meaning of this?” the master of ceremonies managed to recover his voice to ask.
The man tilted his head just slightly and smiled something wicked. “My name is Fordham Ollivier, prince and heir to the House of Shadows. And I have come to enter the dragon tournament and reclaim what was once stolen from us.”
4
The Punishment
“Gods,” Kerrigan breathed out.
She ground her hands into her eyes. This couldn’t be happening again. It just couldn’t. She didn’t want to see the future. She didn’t want to know that things she had seen in her weird dreams and visions would come true. And she had no idea what would happen now that they had… again.
None of them had ever particularly spelled out rainbows and sunshine. It usually meant some bad luck for her and that a lot of people would die.
“Ker, you okay?” Hadrian asked in that calm, authoritative way of his.
Sometimes, the only person who really understood her was Hadrian. Even though they fought and she drove him crazy with her antics, he was always there when she needed him. No matter what.
She shook her head but slowly peeled her hands away from her eyes. “This is a nightmare.”
“They’ll figure it out,” he said confidently.
They would. Of course. But it spelled disaster.
The last time someone had entered the dragon tournament against the wishes of the Society, thousands of people had died in the protests. If Kerrigan had seen this prince in her vision, she could hazard a guess that he spelled similar disaster.
Clover arched a penciled eyebrow. “Headache?”
She nodded. “Now that the ceremony is over, we should probably get you out of here. Don’t want Moran to find you here.”
“I want to look at the dark prince a little while longer,” Clover said with a wink. She nudged Darby, who dipped her chin in embarrassment. “He’s quite nice to look at.”
Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“Absolutely not,” Clover said. “I admire the women too. Look at the head warrior in Galanthea this year, Darbs. I sure do like when they dress up in their gold-plated armor.”
Darby coughed into her hand and shot Kerrigan a look of panic.
“Clove, come on.”
“Hey, Kerrigan,” a voice sounded behind her. “Is everything all right?”
She sighed softly and turned to find Lyam hovering nearby. Lyam used to be a part of her inner circle with Darby and Hadrian. They’d been close for years. In fact, he was the first person she’d ever flown with. He had an even bigger rebellious streak than she did. He wanted the skies for himself, and he’d do anything to have it.
But everything had changed in the last year. He started tiptoeing around her. He withdrew from all his rebellions. And he constantly worried about her. He followed her out to the Wastes and tried to drag her back to the mountain. The whole thing was embarrassing enough… if he hadn’t confessed his love for her.
“Everything is fine, Lyam,” Kerrigan said.
“You never came back last night. I went looking for you.”
She breathed out through her nose. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You look like you’ve been fighting again.” He reached up to touch the spot on her eyebrow, but she pulled back, and his hand dropped. His cheeks tinged a soft pink.
Gods, she wished she could go back to when there wasn’t this awkwardness between them. When he’d just been the other daredevil in their quartet.
“Lyam! Kerrigan!” Mistress Moran cried.
Both of them snapped to attention. They’d heard that tone one too many times from the keeper of the House of Dragons.
“Yes, Mistress Moran,” Lyam said.
“Why am I not surprised that it’s you two who are in trouble?”
Lyam glanced her direction, a half-smile on his lips. He shot her the look. She had to stifle a laugh. This was the Lyam that she knew and had grown up with. The one she had always gotten in trouble with. Who she’d weather any storm with.
“You two will follow me to the mountain,” she said in exasperation. She turned to Hadrian, who apparently she hadn’t realized had disappeared this morning to collect her. “Hadrian, darling, would you mind getting everyone else back to duties for the afternoon?”
“Of course,” he said, always the mask of decorum.
He rounded up the rest of the Dragon Blessed. Kerrigan noted Clover slipping out past Mistress Moran. She had a knack for disappearing at just the right moment.
Mistress Moran snapped her heels together and then marched back toward the mountain. She was dressed in the flowing black robes of the Society and had been the head of the House of Dragons schooling for as long as anyone could remember. Her face had lines in it, and her hair actually had wisps of silver. For a Fae, that was almost completely unheard of.
Kerrigan and Lyam had taken much pleasure in finding ways to add to that over the years. As Mistress Moran constantly reminded them.
Kerrigan grinned as they entered the mountain that was her home. She could weave her way through the maze of corridors and climb her way up into all the dragon eaves. So few were accepting of a half-Fae girl here, but it still felt more like home than anywhere else.
Mistress Moran dragged them both into her office. “You were both out of your beds last night. Explain yourself.”
Kerrigan kept her mouth shut. No explanation would be satisfactory for Moran. Fighting in the Dragon Ring in the Wastes? She might as well tell her that she’d completely lost her mind. Moran might believe her more.
“It’s my fault,” Lyam piped up.
Kerrigan raised her eyebrows. Since when did Lyam take the fall?
“Explain, Lyam.”
“I snuck out last night to go to a tournament party,” he said solemnly. “Kerrigan tried to stop me because we had to be here so early. Eventually, she came with me to keep an eye on me. But there was faerie punch.”
Mistress Moran’s lips pinched.
“Our senses were addled, but it’s my fault, not Ker’s.”
What in the gods’ name was he talking about?
“How magnanimous,” Mistress Moran said dryly. “Unbelievable, considering the amount of trouble you and Kerrigan get into. But magnanimous all the same for taking the credit for it.”
Lyam winced at her words.
“Kerrigan?” Moran asked.
She just shook her head. Literally nothing would excuse her.
“Very well. You are both on dragon cleanup duties until the Dragon Blessed ceremony. That’s one week and no fussing,” Moran said crisply.
Lyam and Kerrigan groaned in unison.
“But, Mistress Moran—” Lyam began.
She held her hand up. “I don’t want to hear it.”
A knock sounded at the door behind them, and then a small figure peered inside. She might have been diminutive in stature, but she was all grace and dominance. A leader of the Society and last dragon tournament’s adjudicator. Also, one of Kerrigan’s closest allies within the mountain—Helly.
“Mistress Hellina,” Moran said, jumping to her feet, “how can I help you?”