Kingdom of Ashes

by Rhiannon Thomas

  “No,” she said. “No. Right now, it’s exactly where I want to be.”

  But as they settled down to sleep, she imagined that she could feel the dragons, their heartbeats pounding against her skin.

  She ached to slip outside, to see them glow in the dark sky, but she did not dare to leave. A sliver of common sense remained, telling her no, she must stay. She must wait.

  But they called to her, long after she closed her eyes. And all she could think was tomorrow. Tomorrow she would see them again.

  TWENTY-ONE

  FINNEGAN WOKE HER EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, with one gentle hand on her shoulder. She sat up, stretching her stiff back muscles. “Up the river today,” Lucas said.

  “Hope you enjoyed the shelter,” Finnegan said. “I doubt we’ll find anything like it once we get close to dragon territory.”

  “Then how will we sleep tonight?”

  “With caution,” Finnegan said. “We’ll keep watch. If the dragons get close, we’ll have to have a sudden swim.”

  Aurora had never swum in her life. “All right,” she said. She hauled her pack onto her shoulders.

  The walk north proved exhausting, the mountain growing so slowly on the horizon that they seemed to be walking in place. Aurora slipped her hands through the reeds as they passed them. They prickled against her skin.

  The dragons were large in the sky now. Aurora could make out the points where their wings met their bodies, the claws on their legs. She watched as they soared through the air.

  One of the dragons landed close enough to make the ground rumble, almost throwing Aurora off her feet. She looked east, where the dragon shook its wings, its tail thrashing from side to side. It stared back at her. Even from a distance, she could feel its eyes, cutting down to her heart.

  Aurora gripped the dragon necklace, imagining she could feel the heat of the dragon’s blood glowing inside it.

  As they walked, Aurora kept thinking back to that tattered wanted poster, to the words scrawled across the paper. Witch, they had called her. They would see how witchlike she was now.

  Their group settled on the riverbank as night fell, sitting as close to the water as they could without falling into the mud. Aurora lit a fire.

  “I’ll keep watch,” Aurora said, after they had eaten a scanty meal. “I don’t think I’ll sleep anyway.”

  She half expected someone to argue, but Finnegan nodded. “Wake us the moment you hear anything,” he said. With the prince in agreement, Lucas could do little to protest. He and Finnegan lay on the hard ground, blankets wrapped around them, and Aurora urged the fire out. They did not want to alert the dragons to their presence overnight.

  Aurora hugged herself with her own blanket, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Hundreds of stars blinked above her, never-ending spatters of light as far as she could see, and she tilted her head back, taking in every one. She had expected the night to be eerily quiet, for the stillness to creep into her bones, but even this desolate place bristled with sound, once she got quiet enough to listen. The wind tickled her ear, and she could hear the soft splashing of the river as it tumbled over stones, Lucas’s soft breathing, the way Finnegan shifted on the ground. This was a different kind of sleeplessness, she found, as she curled her legs beneath her and stared across the river. It was stillness that wasn’t really still at all. The world was breathing around her.

  The river reflected the moon, creating a second sky, blurred and distorted. She clutched her necklace, running her finger along the ridges of her dragon’s wings. Finnegan shifted again, his blanket falling to rest against her side. Even though he did not speak, she knew he wasn’t asleep.

  “Can dragons see in the dark?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Finnegan said. “No one’s ever tested it.” The blankets rustled, and he sat up. “They can create their own light though.”

  “Yes,” Aurora said. “That’s true.” She pressed her thumb against the dragon’s feet, as though it were perched on her hand, about to fly. “You’re not sleeping.”

  “Couldn’t,” he said. “I can take watch if you like.”

  She laughed softly. “Not afraid, are you?”

  “What’s there to be afraid of? Man-eating dragons? Not me.” He shifted closer. His hand rested on hers, fingers sliding into the gaps between her knuckles. She didn’t know how he had found it in the dark. She could make out the outline of his face, the shape of his nose. She couldn’t tell if he was smiling.

  Aurora looked away, staring back up at the stars, searching the horizon for any hint of a dragon. Red streaked across the sky.

  “There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” she said. “About any of this. Why did Rodric wake me up? I don’t love him, not the way true love should mean. He doesn’t love me. And even if it was true love . . . why would Celestine give me that? Why would she make that the thing that woke me?”

  “Maybe she was lying,” Finnegan said. “Maybe it was something else.”

  “But then what was it? Luck?” She rested her chin on her knees. “I guess it fits. It makes things seem so simple. The good savior, awoken by true love, letting everyone live happily ever after. People can imagine I will save them without imagining me doing anything at all. And then when it isn’t true love, when it doesn’t all fit together, it’s so easy to imagine me as the villain instead. Because I’m not really a person to them. I’m just a piece of the story.” She twisted her body so that she half faced him, her knees colliding with his. She strained to make out his expression in the dark. “Do you remember that rebel in the dungeons, back in Petrichor?” she said. “Tristan. I’m sure Nettle told you all about him.” Still Finnegan did not speak. “I thought I liked him,” she said. “I thought he was my friend, because . . . because he was kind to me, and joked with me, and was far from the castle and all that I was supposed to be. But it’s like . . . it’s like I made him up inside my head. In reality, he was quite different from what I thought. He wanted to use me, like all the rest.”

  “Is that what you think of me?”

  “No,” she said. “I hated you when I met you.” So arrogant, so confident, so certain he knew everything about her. “It’s nicer, thinking you hate someone and then realizing they’re not so bad after all.”

  “Not so bad?” he said. “You’re too kind to me, Rora.”

  She knocked him with her shoulder, making him sway backward. “I’m being serious, Finnegan,” she said. “I don’t—I know you. There are no illusions there.” It was too easy to be honest, here in the dark, where she couldn’t see his expression, where her knee pressed against his and their hands clutched together.

  Finnegan was not her true love. He had climbed those dusty, winding stairs, and he had pressed his lips against hers while she slept, hoping that their future love would awaken her. And Fate had rejected him. He was not her hero, not the man to rescue her.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t choose him. The thought shivered through her, all the possibilities that Finnegan presented. Nothing promised, nothing fated. Just them.

  Now Finnegan looked away, staring out into the sky. Was he looking at the redness too? Could he make out the dragons, right on the edge of the world?

  Tomorrow, those dragons would come under her control. A betrayal of Alyssinia, perhaps, to help their enemy . . . or a betrayal of King John, the man she hated anyway. That power, that fire, would be hers. If she wanted, she could take the kingdom for her own.

  Until someone came to overthrow her. Until their distrust burned into rebellion again.

  “I’m glad I get to be the enemy,” she said. Her voice scratched her throat. “I never wanted the throne. I don’t want to rule them.”

  Finnegan looked back at her, and she could feel his eyes burning into hers, despite the dark. “Then what do you want?”

  This, she thought, but that was one truth too far, one simple word that could not escape, even in the darkness. “I don’t know,” she said instead.
“I just know—I’ve spent my whole life letting people tell me who I have to be. And they hate me anyway. I want space to be myself. To do things for me.”

  “You’ll have it,” Finnegan said. “When this is over, you’ll do whatever you want to do.”

  She found herself nodding. Her free hand clutched the dragon pendant, that simple, unexpected gift. “Finnegan . . .” She lingered on the word, uncertain what she wanted to say next, uncertain if there was anything to say. She shifted on the ground and found her thigh pressing against his. She dropped the necklace, dropped her hand onto his leg.

  Everything she wanted was so impossible, so indistinct, fire and life and adventure, dreams half-formed and always far away. That, and Finnegan. Impossible, wonderful, untrustworthy Finnegan, someone she knew so little about but couldn’t avoid, couldn’t stop thinking about or being near, someone who made thrills run across her skin every time he looked at her. She shouldn’t like him, she knew that. She shouldn’t want anything to do with him. But should and shouldn’t had become so tangled over the past few weeks, and all she knew for certain were her instincts, the part of her that wanted to whisper secrets to him in the dark, the part that screamed at her to move closer and closer still, to tangle herself in him and let him swallow her whole.

  Her heart beat so strongly that she could feel it in the back of her throat.

  Everyone else had always said stop, but Finnegan said go. Fight. Rage. Think. Cry. Kiss. Be free.

  Why should the one place she stopped be around him?

  She leaned closer. His hair tickled her nose, and another strand caught the corner of her lip. She hesitated, lingering millimeters from his ear. His free hand shifted too, resting on her knee, pulling it closer.

  She shifted again, her hand sliding upward to steady herself against his neck. The new wisps of hair there tickled her skin, hidden under the longer strands at the back, and she wrapped her fingers around them, barely daring to breathe.

  Finnegan shifted his head toward her, so that his nose almost touched hers, his fingers digging into her knee possessively, but he did not move to kiss her.

  Her lips brushed the corner of his, missing her target slightly in the dark. She giggled, unable to help herself, and shifted forward again, fingers pulling his head to meet hers. One kiss, quick and light. Undemanding. She pulled back. His breath warmed her lips. Her other hand wrapped around his shoulders, and she kissed him again, deeper, firmer, until one of his hands found her hair and the other pressed into the small of her back and she was clambering closer still, the certainty burning within her that any distance was too much, that she would combust if she stopped. She had never kissed anyone like this, her desperation and inexperience growing into something that was hot and clumsy and fierce and forever.

  Around her neck, the dragon burned red.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE DAWN SENT TENDRILS OF FIRE ACROSS THE SKY. Aurora had barely slept, not for the hours that she kissed Finnegan, the whole world forgotten, and not when Finnegan finally smiled and said that she should sleep. He kept watch, and she let him think that she slept, but eyes open or closed, all she could do was relive their conversation, all she could see were Finnegan’s eyes in the dark. Memories of the kiss blurred together, so that she could feel it on every inch of her skin. She never wanted to leave this moment, even if it meant never sleeping again. She had slept enough for several lifetimes.

  But she didn’t let Finnegan know that she was awake. She wanted time to remember as well as to act, to relive every sensation and scorch it into her memory. The watch changed, and when she finally sat up and balanced her chin on her knees, Lucas did not comment.

  She stood, stretching her legs. With a nod to Lucas, she strode away, back along the bank of the river. She needed a moment of privacy, at least. A moment to catch her breath.

  They would face the dragons today, but she wasn’t afraid. It felt right to be out here, to plunge into dragon territory with little more than conviction, like those kisses in the dark. Ill-advised, but right.

  She dipped her toes into the water, savoring the chill.

  When she returned to the camp, Finnegan was awake, and all trace of their presence had already been packed away. Finnegan and Lucas were talking together in low voices, but when Finnegan saw her approach, he smiled. It was a mix between the softer look he had given her that last day in the library and the excitement that shone in his eyes every time he spoke of dragons. Aurora looked away. It was harder to face him and their kiss with the sunlight growing around them. It felt like it should belong to her now, to her memory and to the dark, and seeing Finnegan reminded her that it was his as well. It made her feel self-conscious, like her bones were too big for her skin.

  She swung her pack onto her shoulders. “Let’s go, before the day gets too late.”

  They walked in silence, for an hour, and then another, no one commenting on the death in the air.

  The noon sun blazed overhead by the time the ground started to slope upward, loose stones skidding under their feet. Every breath burned now.

  They climbed the mountain in silence. Aurora’s legs ached with exhaustion, but she forced herself to stay quiet, taking step after painful step. The waste spread out below her.

  Then the ground started sloping downward again, falling away under their feet, a steep plunge into the heart of the mountain. “Well,” Lucas said, as they paused on the edge of the descent, peering into the darkness. “This is it.”

  “Have you ever been here before?” Aurora said.

  “Once,” Lucas said. “Only once.”

  She took a deep breath, letting the hot air fill her lungs. She could still feel the heat of the night before, of Finnegan’s hands on her waist, the way the necklace burned against her skin. Dragon girl, he had called her, over and over again, whispering it into her ear, letting it loose under her skin. She would not be afraid.

  “Maybe you two should wait out here,” she said. “It’ll be safer for me alone.”

  Finnegan laughed. “Since when has splitting up ever been a good idea? If something went wrong when you were alone, you’d be dead. We’re coming with you.”

  “Then remember,” she said. “Leave the dragons to me.”

  Her walk turned into a clumsy run as she gained momentum. The men’s footsteps followed.

  The cave grew darker and darker as they descended. Sunlight peeked through the entrance, but Aurora could see nothing in the cave itself, hear nothing, as though the rocks were absorbing all hints of light.

  Aurora held out her hand, thinking of kisses in the dark, of lives betrayed. She summoned a small ball of flame, casting orange light across the walls. She could see the features of the rock now, the contours of Finnegan’s face as he moved to walk beside her, but the area beyond seemed darker as a result. More threatening. The flames flickered with uncertainty, but she frowned, forcing the magic to hold.

  “Seems risky,” Lucas said, “bringing a light here.”

  “It’s risky anyway,” Aurora said. “At least we can see if anything approaches.”

  They picked their way over more sliding stones, down and down and down. Then the path twisted and split. She could not see the bottom of either tunnel, so she chose the one on the left, the one that was less steep.

  “Think you can send the light ahead?” Finnegan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  As soon as she tried to nudge the light away, it flickered and weakened, the burning in her chest slipping. In the park, it had all been so easy, but she could not sustain it under the oppressive stone. She shook her head. “I’ll go first,” she said.

  Finnegan clutched her free wrist, but he did not stop her.

  Heat rushed toward them. Aurora flinched as a dragon catapulted up the tunnel, its scales shimmering red, its eyes glowing like smoldering coals. It stopped a few feet from Aurora. It had to hold its wings tight to its body to fit in the cavern, but Aurora knew that it was small, nothing compared to the beasts they had s
een. Its head wove back and forth as it stared at them, mouth half-open. Aurora’s light glittered off its razor teeth.

  It could destroy them all in an instant, burn them away so that no trace of their existence remained, but for one heartbeat, and then two, it simply looked at them, as though curious why they had come into its domain.

  “Girl . . .” Lucas said.

  The dragon snapped its head at the sound of Lucas’s voice, and its lips curled back.

  “Hello,” Aurora said, her voice soft, soothing. She stepped forward, holding the fire aloft. “Hello. Look at me.”

  The dragon looked back at her, and it paused, as though trying to puzzle her out. Aurora met its gaze, and a shiver of terror and excitement ran through her. The fire grew.

  Finnegan tightened his grip on her arm, but Aurora pulled away. The dragon looked at him, its tail smacking against the wall, but Aurora stepped forward again, her free hand outstretched. “Hello there,” she said. “Hello. We’re no harm. We’re not going to hurt you.” The dragon lowered its head, inch by inch, until Aurora could feel its hot breath on her skin. The light in her hand fizzled out. She barely noticed. She had no thought for anything but this creature, the majesty of it. She knew, she knew, deep in her bones, that it would not hurt her. It was as fascinated with her as she was with it.

  She trailed her fingers across the dragon’s nose. The scales were smooth and cool to the touch, as though the dragon gave off so much heat that it had none left for its own skin.

  And Finnegan didn’t matter. Lucas didn’t matter. The chaos in Alyssinia, all the hatred, the expectations . . . none of it mattered, as she ran her hand along this impossible creature’s snout, hypnotized by the feel of it, the lines of every scale.

  “Hello,” she said.

  The dragon watched her.

  “Careful, Aurora,” Finnegan said.

  The dragon shifted again, eyes settling on Finnegan. Aurora’s hands stroked its nose, trying to pull its attention back to her, but it was focused on Finnegan now, on the intruder in its domain.