4. Kian

Chapter 4

Kian

I hated my job.

Everything about it was a test of my patience. There wasn't a single facet of my burden that I enjoyed. For the last two hundred years, I had been the king's right hand, and as the right hand to a bound king, I'd been stuck doing the dirty work.

Served me right, I supposed. Had I stepped in two centuries ago, none of us would be in this mess. But I didn't, and now look where I was—flying off into the unknown for some slip of a thing that would probably die before she could be of any use.

Like always.

While someone had to find a witch that could break his curse— our curse —there were only so many Luxa to be had. Each one barely survived the first trial, let alone lived to tell about the rest. And still, as soon as my king sensed another one, I was off to some far reach of the continent to pluck up another witch like a daisy.

And just like those poor, wilted flowers, they died far faster than if I had just left them alone.

That's not to say I didn't love my king—I did. I wanted to fix what was wrong in our kingdom, wanted to break the curse put on him by a self-righteous witch too powerful for her own good.

I just didn't want to watch another one die and not be able to stop it. I didn't want to watch my king suffer any longer.

But most of all?

I just wanted this to be over.

The war between the Perder Lucem and Credour had raged since before my king had been bound. The witch who cursed my king thought binding him would end it—that it would save the continent.

If anything, it made the war rage longer—hotter—than it would have if both sides had just killed each other and been done with it. Perhaps all our magic wouldn't be tempered by the king's curse, or refugees wouldn't be pounding at our gates.

Maybe the outlying provinces wouldn't want to defect with every missive they sent asking for more aid than we could give them.

This mission was one of the worst of them all. A potential Luxa was stuck in the belly of the beast, at the heart of Direveil, right in the guild's clutches. The mountains were crawling with Lumentium , so even if I did find her, she was likely poisoned to the brim with the magic-stealing ore mined from the heart of the mountain range that hadn't existed a century ago.

"Stop pouting."

Xavier's taunt echoed through my head as I soared toward the coordinates King Idris gave us. Luckily—or rather, unluckily, given his prying—Xavier could only read my thoughts in this form. The last thing I needed was him snooping around my brain when I was on two legs.

"I'm not pouting. I'm contemplating my life choices. And mind your own thoughts, asshole."

Flicking my tail in his direction, I banked left and gained altitude. Idris had seen her in the belly of the mountain, hanging from a rough hook like she'd already been found. If we got there too late, she wouldn't make it out of that mountain alive. If we tipped our hand, we'd die under that mountain with her.

Our only hope was that Arden continued to be the consummate prick he'd always been and still thought it was funny to burn witches at the stake.

Xavier cut through the air below me, scanning the lower mountain range just in case the coordinates were wrong, his pale-white scales catching the first rays of the coming dawn. But something tugged me to the north, a sense that we might be on the right track this time.

"This way. She's this way. Can you feel her?"

I beat my wings harder, moving faster toward that pulling in my chest. While dragons had always been the most bound of the species, we were also the most drawn to our would-be saviors. My king might be the only one who could see the Luxa in his visions, but he only sent Xavier and I out on these missions because we were the only ones who could feel the pull of the Luxa.

Something akin to hope filled my heart for the first time in a very long time. We were miles away from Direveil, but I could feel her. None before her had been this strong. None before her had summoned us from such a distance.

"I can, but don't get too excited. She's hurt. Bad."

Gnashing my teeth, I pulled forward, streaking through the sky as I followed the invisible thread toward the injured witch. Then the clouds parted, and Direveil came into view. The small woman had been tied to a blackened stake embedded in a roughly flattened peak of the tallest mountain. Even a mile away, I scented her blood on the wind, the heady perfume of it frightening as it called me forward.

"Blood. Too much of it."

I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know, and my chest squeezed at the thought of what would happen if we couldn't get to her in time. She was our one shot—I could feel it.

"Like I said. Don't get too excited."

It was rare that I was the hopeful one and he was the pessimist, which did not tell me good things about this situation.

"Watch my back and keep a lookout for dragon bolts. I'd like to avoid a Lumentium arrow in my hide."

Xavier peeled off, circling the mountain, his scales nearly disappearing in the growing sunlight as I darted for the mountaintop. The stink of fear was nearly stamped out by the perfume of her blood, but none of it compared to the call of her power.

Midnight hair blew in the howling wind as bright-green eyes speared into my soul. Face twisted in fear, she weakly struggled against her bonds, her feeble thrashings only making the wound in her middle pour more and more blood.

A growl rumbled from my chest, the sound meant to caution her to stop, but it only served to make her struggle more.

Understanding finally dawned. Every Luxa we had ever encountered had been relieved to see a dragon. Each one had looked upon us as a savior, even though they were supposed to be ours. This woman, however, had been raised in the guild's clutches, their propaganda likely poisoning her mind against us.

A dragon wouldn't be a savior here.

A dragon would be death.

Warily, I dropped to the edge of the mountaintop, stilling my wings as I slowly stepped forward. Rage streaked across her beautiful face, and she let loose a guttural, unholy scream as if she were a dragon herself, ready to breathe fire and lay waste to anything in her path.

This was the difference between the witch in front of me and all the others who'd come before her. In the face of death, she screamed, not in fright but in rage, and not backing down an inch.

Honestly, I was a little impressed. She considered me her enemy—as her coming death—and still, she fought against her bonds as if she were ready to take me on, even in this form.

Carefully, I reached out with one single talon and raked the razor-sharp nail against the ropes, freeing her from the stake. Her own people had tied her there, yet she still feared me. She wilted to the ground, the scent of blood blooming like a perfume of death around her, akin to a shroud.

That didn't stop her from grabbing the closest rock and tossing it at my head. It bounced off my hide with little more to show for it than the black dust blending in with my scales. Green eyes blazing, she roared at me again. Trying to scare me off this mountain, maybe? But my mission was her, and she was coming with me one way or another.

My chest rumbled again, and she dug her fingers into the dirt, seeming to hang on as she braced like she was waiting for me to breathe fire or gobble her up. What had those filthy liars told her about dragons? In what world would we attack an already-injured woman? As far as I knew, no one had eaten anyone in centuries.

"That's enough of that. I'm not going to harm you," I thought to her, irritated we couldn't communicate in this form.

Her head whipped up, those brilliant green eyes boring a hole in my chest, as though she understood every word I'd said. I reached out to her, cradling her battered body in my claws before clutching her to my chest. Finally, the itching underneath my scales seemed to settle, and I let out another low rumble. It was almost like a purr, which was a sound I'd never made before in my life. The faint scent of fuel followed her, and I realized had I come any later, she would have burned. A second later, the first tangible rays of dawn hit the glass lantern resting on the ground next to the blackened wood.

Instantly, the ground itself ignited. But over the roar of the fire and howling of the wind, the metallic ratcheting of a mechanism being readied to fire reached my ears. I clutched her tighter, careful not to crush the tiny witch, and leapt from the mountain's edge.

Louder than the wind or fire, the witch screamed as I tucked my wings, following the cliff's face to reduce drag, before I banked left. When I leveled out, her screaming stopped, and her petite body slackened.

Probably for the best.

"I've got her, but they're readying the bolts. We need to get the fuck out of here and get her healed up, or she won't make the trip back."

What I didn't express through my thoughts was I couldn't use my abilities with her in my grasp. Not this Luxa. She was tainted with so much poison I could sense it leeching my power.

This was not good.

Xavier knifed through the sky beside me as the screech of a bolt cut through the air on my right. "They aren't readying anything. They're firing. On your left."

Listing right, I dove, heading for the trees. I couldn't camouflage, and with the sun streaking through the sky, I would be a giant target. The trees, however, could provide a bit of cover if we could ge?—

Searing pain ripped through my left wing, and I clutched the witch to me tighter. That burn would turn into a raging inferno of agony soon enough.

"I'm hit." Fuck.

"Get to cover, dammit."

But I didn't know if I'd make it to cover. The air displaced next to me, and I dove faster toward the trees to avoid getting skewered, my entire left side burning from the poison of the bolt. A small clearing barely big enough to land appeared, but I wouldn't make it without damage—either to me or the witch in my clutches.

Not without…

Xavier roared, letting his flaming breath loose on the treetops. The heat of his fire, coupled with the magic in his form, disintegrated this section of forest, a blackened spot on the landscape just big enough for me to land safely.

Flaring my wings felt like I was being turned inside out, but I managed to get to the ground without crashing. Still, the moment I touched down, the shift took me, shrinking my body to that of a regular man. Luckily, I was able to set the witch on the ground before I was lost to the change, my bones snapping and cracking as a new pain took over my body.

Xavier snatched me up, shoving both me and the witch into the cover of the trees. The Lumentium turned my shift into one of the most agonizing experiences in the last century, the unhealed wound a problem for later.

If there was a later.

Panting in the dirt, my body reformed, if a little broken, the telltale cracks of Xavier's change reaching my ears.

"For the love of the gods, tell me you have your pack," I groaned when the snapping stopped, hoping he packed an extra pair of clothes. Laying naked on the forest floor with bracken digging into my ass cheek wasn't my ideal way to spend a Saturday morning.

The slap of leathers hitting me in the face was my answer. "You're lucky I came prepared, or you'd be swinging in the wind all the way back to Tarrasca. Now get over here and help me stop this bleed."

I shoved my legs in the leathers and got to her side. The witch didn't rouse as Xavier peeled back her filthy tunic to reveal her wound. The bleeding had slowed a little, which I couldn't help but think was a bad thing.

"She's filled to the brim with Lumentium . I don't know how much I'll be able to help her," he rumbled, his brow pulled tight. "Here." He pointed to her hands. "Hang onto her. The healing will hurt."

My eye twitched as I put her small hands in mine, knowing a Luxa's hands were the most dangerous part of them. The witch was so tiny and delicate that it made the pulling twinge in my middle just a touch sharper. Slithering beneath my flesh, the ache for her burned brighter. She was nothing but skin and bones, her cheeks so sharp they could cut glass. How had she survived this long? How had she gone undetected in the belly of the beast?

With power like hers, she should have been killed years ago.

Then Xavier placed his hand over the mottled pale skin of her abdomen, and a spike of rage produced a low growl in my chest.

My closest friend's eyebrows hit his hairline. "She's not ours," he whispered, his pointed gaze on my fingers wrapped around hers, his own dragon shining from his eyes for a split second. "She will belong to him—not us. Never us. Get it through your head now before he can smell it on you."

But the animal raging underneath my skin had his own opinions on the matter. Even quieted by the still-not-healed Lumentium wound, my dragon wanted to rip her from his hold and clutch her to my chest where she belonged.

But Xavier was right.

This witch would never be mine, no matter what my dragon wanted. And if I still desired our kingdom's survival, I would accept it.

I had to accept it.

A bright, blinding-white light poured from their point of contact. Xavier's magic differed from mine in the same way his scales did. More adept in the healing arts—even with our powers muted by the curse—he poured his power into the witch.

Her eyes flashed wide, the sclera and irises brighter than the sun instead of the brilliant green of before. Her scream tore through the air as her back bowed off the forest floor, the agony from healing something I was acutely familiar with. I held her down while Xavier finished the healing, his hands denting into her flesh as he willed more power into her. His white hair and pale eyes glowed bright with his magic, but it took everything he had.

Then her screams quieted, her eyes closed, and she wilted back to the ground. A part of me thrashed inside at the thought that maybe we were too late. Xavier slowly peeled his hand from the wound as it sluggishly knitted itself back together. But none of her other injuries followed suit, leaving a thick pink scar where smooth flesh should be.

Sweat dotting his brow, Xavier dropped to his ass in the dirt. "I've done all I can. She'll live, but she must heal the rest the old-fashioned way. And we're grounded. It will be a long walk back to Tarrasca if we can't find some horses."

My mission was to find the Luxa, and I had.

Now, I needed to return her to King Idris.

Gritting my teeth, I removed my fingers from her skin, ignoring the ache in my chest that worried over her—her body not so much as twitching.

She wasn't mine. She wasn't ours. She was his .

If she could survive the trials.

I really hated my job.