“What does the rebel princess think about that?” Lorik asked, with an edge of curiosity, as if he deep down knew what I was going to say.
The green eyes of the crimson dragon came to me again. I saw sadness in them, perhaps regret.
“Perhaps they are victims of the wildweavers too,” I admitted after a short silence. “Good night, Moonveil,” I said, walking backward as our gazes locked for a beat too long to be accidental.
“Good night, Princess.”
As soon as I reached my room, I changed into my pajamas and slipped into bed, already knowing that sleep would not come easily tonight, that nightmares would stalk me the moment I let my guard down. I lay there for a long while after Soehl extinguished the last of the candles, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing until exhaustion finally dragged me under.
And then, one of the vivid dreams I had come to dread, claimed me completely.
I stood on a cliff above the ocean. It was daylight, and cold, far colder, than it should have been, and though I knew I was dreaming, my body shivered as if the chill were real. I tried to summon my fire magic to warm myself, but nothinganswered; the air remained dry and biting, untouched by flame. Above me, the sky burned in layered hues of blue, violet, and orange as the sun sank toward the horizon, far below, the sea churned in a deep, endless blue.
Something moved at the edge of the sky, distant and small. At first, I thought it was a bird, but it grew larger as it flew closer, its shape sharpening with every heartbeat, until I knew, long before it reached me, that it was far too large to be anything so simple.
The creature moved with ease and grace, and when it came within yards of me, recognition settled with quiet certainty. A dragon was flying straight toward me. Its scales were bright and flat, its horns short and black, and from its coloring alone I knew it was an ice dragon. It was smaller than the crimson magma dragon I had seen beyond the Veil. Perhaps younger, perhaps simply different.
It was not commanded.
Not bound.
Not a wildweaver’s puppet.
It came for me alone.
It flew straight toward the cliff, and still I didn’t move. My heart stuttered once, then steadied, and I realized with a strange, unsettling clarity that I wasn’t afraid, not truly. Awe filled the space where terror should have been, a quiet reverence that rooted me in place as I watched it descend.
The dragon landed before me, wings folding neatly against its sides. And then, almost carefully, it stepped back, as if giving me room. Even so, it towered over me.
Its eyes were blue, clear, and ancient, and when they locked onto mine, the world seemed to still.
We remained like that for what felt like minutes, suspended in silence. Then the dragon lowered its head.
I hesitated only a moment before my hand lifted on its own, fingers brushing the cool, clean scales near its horns. The dragon growled but the sound was warm, almost amused, more laughter than warning.
I jerked my hand back.
I gasped awake.
No scream this time.
I was back in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my body rigid, my breath shallow. I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink for a long moment.
I had never dreamed of dragons before, and going beyond the Veil had unlocked something new, something more profound than fear.
Chapter 20: Control
“Channel your magic,” Shakari said sharply. “Control it. You’re letting it control you.” I stood in the Hall of Mirrors, anger scorching my nerves, frustration knotting my fists. Every time I shaped my flame, it flared wildly, fueled by raw emotion, not will. Shakari and Ugo circled, eyes sharp, their corrections bouncing off the stone wall I’d built inside.
Once again, my magic was leading me instead of the other way around, all because I couldn’t shake the memory of what happened and my stubborn need to prove I could master this, if only to myself.
My thoughts kept slipping, back beyond the Veil. Scorched smoke, cold steel, roaring dragon fire, the wildweaver and the ache of it all. Yet the island carried on, untouched. Classes continued, meals served and laughter pierced the hush. There were no announcements, no warnings, and no press. One of the Veil posts had fallen, and no one was meant to know. Thecourt would bury it, of course. Fear was a contagion. The less the island knew, the easier it was to rule.
Now, standing in the Hall of Mirrors, I forced those memories down, determined to refocus. I had something to prove, not just to Shakari and Ugo, but to myself and I couldn’t afford distractions here.
“Again,” Ugo said calmly.
I drew a breath and lifted my hands.