“Dannik, what⁠—”

“It was foolish of us to believe that there was nothing beyond Drukkar’s Sea,” he continued, his lip curling in a mocking, sad smile. “I have a feeling that we know nothing at all and that we will pay for it in due time.”

My brother took my hand again. “You need to have strength, Klara,” he said, trepidation in his eyes. “More so now than ever before.”

“Why?” I asked, hearing a thread of warning in his tone. “Dannik, what’s happening? You’re scaring me.”

“They’ve asked for you.”

“What?” I asked, thinking I heard him incorrectly. “Who?”

“The dragon riders.”

All my breath left me. Dannik’s grip tightened around my palm.

“Their leader. He asks for you at the East Gate.”

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Chapter 3KLARA

They came every year.

On the tenth month just after the shadow moon.

Sometimes with many dragons, sometimes with just a mere few. But they always came. Every year they left almost as quickly as they’d arrived.

Only this year, they lingered.

I felt the palpable tension in the air, thick like heavy, black smoke, when I stepped beyond the East Gate. My legs froze, my feet not catching up quick enough, and Dannik caught my arm before I tumbled to the tightly packed dark brown earth.

The East Gate, unlike the well-manicured and paved northern entrance, looked out across the wildlands of Dakkar in all of its raw, unforgiving beauty. It was an entrance used primarily by Vorakkar—the horde kings—or the Sorakkar—the kings of the outposts—when they entered or exited our capital city.

I’d snuck through it often, a secret not even Dannik knew. And sometimes I sat out on the wildlands long into the night, uncaring that sand and dirt streaked my hair from the winds, as I listened to the quiet and felt a peace I’d never known within the confines of Dothik. I missed the wildlands. I missed my mother.

For a moment, my eyes fastened on the blackness of the night, only lit by bright starlight. Tonight, however, the shadows of the mountains seemed ominous and the vastness to them seemed insurmountable.

The clearing had been made with lines that no one dared to cross. Bright torchlight illuminated the wide circle, my father and his legion of guards on one side, protecting the council, the Lakkari, and my half sisters, and a line of strangers on the other.

Behind them, a great dragon seemed to materialize out of the darkness. I felt my chest go tight, shock piercing through my lungs like a dagger.

“Strength,” Dannik whispered into my ear. A reminder. A softly spoken word, and yet it seemed amplified as I stared in the golden eyes of the dragon that I recognized. My scar gave a mighty throb, and I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling that panic and confusion rise in me, hearing my mother’s hushed horror as she’d tried to quiet me in her arms.

“Dannik…” I said, my tone a strange mixture of a plea and a realization. It can’t be true…because then that would mean it’s all real, I thought.

I felt my brother’s grip on my arm tighten before I felt him step in front of me.

The dragon roared, so sudden and violent that it trembled the earth beneath our feet, and I heard the startled cries from my father’s council. Dannik froze. I heard a breath loosen from between his lips.

On the wildlands, I heard the other dragons respond. Now we knew they were there, hidden in the darkness, the weight of them shaking the earth as they stamped their limbs like a warning rumble. It sounded like thunder.

Then all at once it went quiet. Not just quiet…silent.

“Zaridan recognizes you, aralye,” came the voice.

My eyes snapped open, fastening on the male who had stepped forward into the circle, breaking away from the line of the dragon riders that had come this night. Familiar eyes met mine, and all at once, I remembered the strength and warmth of his hand on my arm, leaving behind a glittering black dust.

It was him.

The danger I’d sensed in the marketplace with him only seemed amplified with the dragon looming over his shoulder.

“My wonder is if you recognize her,” he continued, never taking his eyes off me on his approach.

“Zaridan,” I whispered, blinking, the name stretched out on my tongue.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guards trying to right my father, who’d fallen over at the dragons’ chorus of roars. Alanis stood away from my stepmother and Lakkis, who were safely hidden behind a circle of guards. My eldest sister was standing next to the Laseta Kalliri, the priestess’s lips pressed together as she regarded the stranger, her beautiful gown stained by dark earth at the hem.

“No,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t.”

“She denies you, Zaridan,” the male announced, his eyes never leaving mine. A maelstrom of colors were swirling in his eyes, all reflected in warm torchlight.

Behind him, the dragon stomped and her hot breath blew into the circle, blasting my hair away from my face and snuffing out all the torchlight until I blinked into the darkness, my hand scrambling to find Dannik’s.

“Get them lit!” came Alanis’s hiss to the guards.

“She is one of the ancients, you must understand,” came the stranger’s voice, amplified in the dark, and I saw those glowing golden orbs behind him, fastened on me, stealing my heaving breaths. “Proud in her bloodline. All of the Elthika are. But Zaridan has lived much longer, and she deserves your respect.”

“I…” I trailed off, and the torches began to light, one by one again, until I saw the male, standing closer than he’d been.

There were nine others behind him in a line. They hadn’t moved an inch, but all of their hands rested on the hilt of a blade at their hip. All were dressed in varying colors—dark greens and blues, silvers and blacks—but all of them wore the same scaled clothing that this male wore. Armor, I realized now. And they weren’t pyroki scales. They were dragon scales.

“I believe she does,” I replied, lifting my chin. I pressed my fingertips to my brother’s hand and gently stepped away from his grip, approaching the male. “Yet you give her name so easily for one to be respected.”

“Names should not be hidden, Dakkari,” the male rasped, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. Surprised that I stepped beyond my brother’s protection? “Names should be feared.”

“Then what is yours, dragon rider?”

The edge of his lip lifted. He moved. I heard the creak of leather on my brother’s hilt as his hand tightened on his sword.

The stranger circled me, and I stiffened when he ran his hand over my waist, sliding it down until it cupped my hip. That palm dragged over my backside, and when my brother made a sound in the back of his throat, I shook my head, my hand gesturing for him to stay away.

This male was sizing me up. Studying me and inspecting me, like I was something for purchase at the market.

His palm was searing through my thin dress. Strong and sure. When I looked down at my waist, I saw the same black dust glittering in the torchlight, smearing across the white material. A mark. A warning.

He came to stand in front of me, and it took everything in me to hold my tongue, to not swallow too loudly, to not tremble beneath his gaze. His hand cupped my cheek, tilting back my face so he could inspect my scar. Internally, I cringed though I held still. I couldn’t stand anyone to look at it. The curtain of my hair hid it, and I always made sure it was partially covered except when I was alone in the confines of my room.

But this male could do whatever he wanted to me with a dragon at his back. I knew that. Dannik knew it. Even my father knew it—the Dothikkar, the king. I imagined he was watching the exchange closely and carefully…but he would not interfere. Not like I feared Dannik would.