Lucyan wondered if the elven prince had been spending his last hours at the Keep with Tariana, as he had been doing with Dareena. Then he quickly shoved that thought out of his mind before it started producing images he’d rather never see.
Pain rippled through Lucyan as his body stretched and grew, trading skin for scales and teeth for fangs. But with the pain came power rolling through him like thunder. As he reared up on his hind legs and stretched his wings to their full span, he couldn’t help feeling like a god, even knowing that he was still puny in the face of the real dragon god. Was this how his father had felt every time he’d shifted? Had he let the power go to his head and turn him into an avaricious wretch who had nearly brought down their kingdom?
The thought sobered Lucyan, and he lowered himself back to the ground. He would not let that happen. Ever. A man who let himself be blinded by power was a fool, and not worthy of wielding it.
“Are you done showing off, then?” Ryolas asked dryly, looking him over. “I’d like to get on, if it’s all the same to you.”
Lucyan huffed, lowering his belly to the dirt and stretching his wings out so Ryolas could climb up. The elven prince could pretend not to be impressed, but he saw the awe in his eyes and the caution in his gait as he approached. Lucyan held still as Ryolas climbed on, waiting until the prince was seated between his wings. He didn’t want to accidentally impale the elf on his spikes—Tariana would murder him.
Satisfied that Ryolas was safely situated, Lucyan gathered his weight in his legs, then launched himself into the sky with a powerful flap of his wings. He soared fifty feet, then flapped again, his wings straining as he pushed himself higher into the sky. Finally, he caught a draft, and snapped out his wings to ride the current, letting it propel him east.
To Shadowhaven.
“Phew.” Ryolas let out a breath of relief. “That was far more intense than I’d expected.”
Lucyan chuckled, the sound coming out like a rumble. “Watch it,” Ryolas scolded. “If you laugh too much you might knock me off my seat.”
Pussy, Lucyan wanted to say, but alas, he could only speak to other dragons when he was in dragon form. Dareena hadn’t been this twitchy when he’d carried her. But then again, Dareena was the Dragon’s Gift, and she trusted him with her life. Ryolas was an elf, and elves were never meant to ride the wind. Perhaps Lucyan could forgive his apprehension.
As they soared across the terrain, barreling forward at far faster speeds than one could ever hope to achieve on horseback, Lucyan pondered the mission ahead. He’d packed illusion amulets for himself and Ryolas—the two of them would pose as humans, since any attempt to pretend to be warlocks would immediately be foiled if either were called upon to perform a spell. Lucyan hoped that Ryolas’s resistance to metal was as strong as he claimed; the stuff was everywhere in Inkwall. The warlocks were very proud of their magical prowess, but they put equal amounts of energy into developing machinery and new technologies. They considered themselves an advanced civilization and viewed Elvenhame and Dragonfell as antiquated, perhaps even barbaric.
It bothered Lucyan greatly that the warlocks had not only managed to become a thorn in their side without them noticing, but that the thorn had also dug deep, heading straight for the heart. That they were not aware of Shadowhaven’s plan to pit them against the elves told Lucyan that their spymaster was focused on the wrong thing. Perhaps that was not entirely his fault—his father’s enmity against the elves had undoubtedly distracted Shadley from keeping a better eye on the warlocks. Now that their attention was focused on the correct enemy, they would not allow such a thing to happen again.
The border between Dragonfell and Shadowhaven came into view just as dawn crested the horizon, caressing the land with her delicate fingers of pink and gold. Lucyan put on a burst of speed and flew over the border. Hunting for a place to land before he was spotted, he caught sight of a small herd of goats grazing in a clearing in the middle of a thickly wooded forest. He tucked his wings at his sides and dove for the clearing. He thought he heard Ryolas yell, but the wind roaring in his ears masked the sound, and hopefully no one below would hear it either.
The goats saw him coming from a few hundred feet up and bolted, bleating in terror. But one of them had a lame leg, and Lucyan snatched him up in his claws seconds before he landed. The animal struggled in terror as Lucyan touched down, its hooves kicking against his scales, and Lucyan quickly broke his neck to silence him.
“By the gods,” Ryolas said in a shaky voice as he dismounted. “Were you trying to kill me? A little warning would have been nice!”
Lucyan snorted as Ryolas stumbled about the clearing on shaky legs. His skin was paler than usual, his eyes round with shock. Dumping the dead goat on the forest floor, he shook out his wings, then shifted back into human form.
“How was I supposed to warn you?” he asked, pulling his clothes out of his pack. “I can’t speak, remember?”
“There are other methods of communicating,” Ryolas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Perhaps we could develop some sort of signaling system.”
Lucyan shrugged. “I suppose the idea is not without merit.” It could be useful when they were carrying Dareena. “Let’s table that discussion for later. I’m starving.”
The two of them started a fire, then hung, skinned, and gutted the animal before placing it on a spit. Ryolas had brought some herbs, which he rubbed into the meat, and soon enough, a heavenly smell filled the clearing. Naturally, the scent drew some predators—a bear, a wildcat, and a few coyotes came around the clearing. Ryolas reached for his bow on all three occasions but had no call to use it. As soon as Lucyan met their stares, the animals turned tail and ran.
It didn’t matter that he was in human form. They could all sense the dragon within him, now that it had been awakened. He was the superior predator, and they knew it.
It took a few hours for the animal to cook, so Lucyan and Ryolas took turns watching it while the other napped. It was hard to sleep while hunger gnawed at him—all that flying had made him ravenous—so Lucyan was grateful when Ryolas finally called him over and told him the food was ready.
“Mmm,” Lucyan said as he bit into the meat. “This is delicious. Those herbs you brought did the trick.”
Ryolas smiled. “The blend is courtesy of Basilla,” he said. “She has loved cooking from an early age, even though it is beneath a lady of her station.”
“Really?” Lucyan rose an eyebrow. “And the cook lets her?”