“You are the king of Eldr now, Kol. I’m sorry.”
Master Eiler said something else, but Kol couldn’t hear him over the thudding of his dragon heart. The rush of scorching fire in his veins was a scream of agony. He couldn’t stay here, trapped on the balcony, waiting for the grief to swallow him in front of the headmaster and the steadily growing crowd of servants and guards behind him. His skin rippled, an itch that started in his scalp and sped toward his toes, and the heat in his chest spilled out of his nostrils in a stream of ash-gray smoke.
Without bothering to shed his clothing first, Kol gave in to the pounding of his hearts and let his dragon take him. His bones flexed and shifted, his muscles expanding. The familiar pain was a welcome outlet for the awful grief that tore at him from the inside out. He shook his head and heard the ridges along his spine clattering into place as his skin hardened into the red-gold scales of his dragon.
He thought he heard someone cry out his name, but he was done with listening. His talons dug into the stone balcony beneath him as he roared, emptying his grief and horror into the skies above. Then he unfurled his golden wings with a snap and soared into the air, leaving the castle far behind him.
FOUR
KOL STOOD BESIDE Brig on the shore of Lake Skyllivreng, facing the vast expanse of water that stretched from the base of the Urrvenskeyr Mountain far into the distant forests to the north. Before him, floating on the water, were the funeral pyres of his father, his mother, and his brother. Their bodies were wrapped in gold silk and tied with a blue cord to symbolize the Sun Mother and the Sky Father. A bronze chest filled with treasure was placed at their heads while a gold chest filled with mementos from their former life was at their feet—one guaranteed their entrance into the afterlife, and the other helped them remember the life they’d left behind.
Kol didn’t want to be left behind. He didn’t want to be on this shore, his arm around his sobbing sister, the entire kingdom at his back waiting for him to say good-bye and take up the responsibility for saving a kingdom no one truly believed could be saved.
His twin hearts beat hard against his chest as Master Eiler stepped to his side and held out a lit torch.
Brig shuddered, burying her face against him, and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head for a moment. It was the only comfort he could offer. He was a seventeen-year-old failure of a prince with the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders. He had no idea what to say or do that would give anyone—himself included—confidence that he could lead his nation to anything other than its final destruction.
Looking up, he met his former headmaster’s gaze, expecting to see pity. Instead, he saw the same rigid expectations he’d always seen. That Kol would be the cadet—the Eldrian—Master Eiler had trained him to be.
Once upon a time, those expectations had felt like a noose around Kol’s neck. Today, they were a road map for a journey Kol had never thought he’d have to take.
He straightened his spine and gave Brig one last squeeze. Stepping forward, he took the lit torch from Master Eiler with a steady hand and waded into the frigid water.
“From the Sky Father, life was granted.” His breath hitched, and he cleared his throat. Raised his voice. Tried his best to do justice to the funeral chant. To his family. “And to the Sky Father, life returns. We thank him for your journey here.”
His voice broke, and he blinked his eyes rapidly before continuing. “And we send you on your next journey with honor, with respect, and with love.”
His choked on the last word, and he had to work just to breathe as the crowd behind him repeated, “With honor, with respect, and with love.”
When their voices faded, Kol moved to his brother’s pyre. His chest ached sharply as he thrust the torch into the straw that cushioned his brother’s body. The fire caught and ate greedily at the tinder.
Moving to his mother’s pyre, Kol laid his hand on her raft and tried to speak. He wanted to tell her that nothing would be the same without her. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, he simply whispered “I love you best, and I’ll miss you forever” as he lit her straw and turned away.
Firelight from his mother’s pyre glinted against his father’s golden shroud as Kol laid his palm against the wooden planks and took a deep breath. “I know I disappointed you.” The words left a bitter taste in Kol’s mouth. “And we never understood each other. But now I have the weight of Eldr on my shoulders, and I don’t know how you did it all those years. All I can do is promise you that I will do my best. I won’t disappoint you again.”