Kingdom of Ashes

by Rhiannon Thomas

  “Look,” Celestine said. “Look at what you have done. You need me, Aurora. You need to join me.”

  “Never,” Aurora said. She struggled against Celestine’s grip, but she could not break free. “I will never join you. Not even if you burn the whole world away.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Iris, struggling to hold Rodric back, as he watched them, sword in hand.

  “And still you refuse to listen,” Celestine said. “You are burning the whole world away.”

  Finnegan and Nettle plunged into the square, the soldiers limping behind them. They were ash-covered, scratched, but did not seem seriously hurt. Finnegan mouthed Aurora’s name, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything except the rush of her own blood and the hiss of Celestine’s voice. Yet she saw his eyes, focused on something descending behind Celestine’s head, and she felt the heat in the air, that yearning and starving in her chest. “You are nothing without me. So look at this world. Look at the world you have created, and tell me you’re better than me. Tell me.”

  Aurora struck with her free hand. Her nails scratched Celestine’s face, across her eyelids, down her cheeks, scraping, gouging. Celestine screeched, and Aurora jerked her elbow backward, catching the witch in the stomach and twisting away.

  Aurora summoned flame, and her dragon screamed, engulfing Celestine in fire. The witch laughed and screamed, the sounds melting together as her hair crackled and crumbled away.

  The dragon landed behind Aurora, its tail curled around her feet, the heat from its scales filling the air. And Celestine grinned at them, her skin blackened, blood dripping down her face where Aurora had attacked her, hair falling away. “I can cure a little dragon burn,” she said. Her voice scratched against her throat, like it too was turning to ash. “Can you?”

  “Shall we try it again and see?”

  Rodric stepped behind Aurora, sword held out in front of him. Then Finnegan was on the other side of her, swordless but defiant, while the dragon snapped its teeth.

  Celestine tossed what remained of her hair, even as her skin crumbled away. Her grin was wider now, her lips shriveled, so Aurora could see all of her teeth. “I only wanted to help you, Aurora,” she said. “I only want a return to what is right. But I see you are not yet ready. You have not accepted who you are.” She glanced from one prince to the other, taking in the dragon, the melted castle, the flames. “You will destroy yourself, you know. Or they will. You’ll see. You’ll see how right I am.” She turned away, looking over the destruction of the square. “You want magic?” she shouted to the quivering crowd. “You want justice? You want what you deserve? Come and find me. Your new queen does not want the power that I offer, but she is a fool. If you want magic, come to me.” She twisted back to Aurora. “I am not your enemy,” she said. “I do not wish to hurt you. You shall see.” She swept into a curtsy. “Enjoy your new kingdom, Your Majesty. I’ll see you in the ashes.”

  And then she was gone, leaving nothing but the smell of burning flesh and an army of screaming dragons.

  THIRTY-TWO

  ONE OF THE DRAGONS CLUNG TO THE CASTLE’S EAST tower, its claws gorging the stone. Another gripped the city walls, and several more still swept through the sky, their wings blocking out the stars.

  “Aurora,” Rodric said. “What do we do?”

  She didn’t know. She stared as another dragon dove over the city, its breath setting several more rooftops alight.

  She had been wrong. She had been wrong about everything. She had ignored Celestine’s warnings, and now an army of dragons was burning her city away, and people were asking her for a plan. They were looking to her to save them.

  She had no time for self-doubt now.

  “Get as many people as you can into the river,” she said. “It’ll protect them, at least a little.”

  “It’s on the other side of the city,” Finnegan said. “They won’t make it.”

  “Then get people into the castle,” she said. “Down in the dungeons.” The basement room at the Alysse museum had been mostly untouched by dragon fire. Perhaps the ground would protect people here, too. She turned to the few guards that remained. “What are you waiting for? Find people, get them here. Rodric, make sure that they’re safe. Guide them, keep them calm. . . . You’ll know what to do.”

  A king for another time, she had thought. He was certainly the right king for this. Rodric grabbed her hand and squeezed. His face was ashen with fear, but his expression did not waver. “I’ll do everything I can,” he said.

  “I know you will.”

  He hurried away, racing toward the nearest group of cowering people. He rested a hand on the back of one girl, pointing to the castle with the other. The girl nodded and began to run.

  “Finnegan, you have to stay out of sight. If anyone realizes who you are, they’ll blame you. I don’t want you hurt.”

  “And you?” Finnegan said. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to stop them.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “You can’t. Celestine said they were drawn to me. If that’s true, then anyone near me is in danger.”

  “Then I’ll be in danger,” he said. “I’m not leaving you now.”

  “No.” She pushed his hand away. “I have to do this alone.” Last time Finnegan had supported her like this, he had been burned by the dragons; he had almost died. She couldn’t risk it happening again. “You know more about dealing with dragons than anyone here. If you won’t stay out of sight, help. Tell people what to do. But don’t let anyone try to fight the dragons. And come back alive.”

  He pulled her up on her toes, pressing his lips against hers in a fierce kiss. “You too, dragon girl,” he said. Then he turned and ran.

  The air was thick with smoke now, the stench of fire. The dragons screamed, and the people screamed, and crowds shoved toward the castle, and Aurora could feel all of it, the panic, the rage, the desperation.

  She needed to think. She could run out of the city, luring the dragons with her. But the city would be destroyed before she reached the gates. She needed to control them, needed to force them down. Make them sleep, as she had once intended.

  That plan had been based on delusions. She had never had any connection with the dragons, beyond the shared existence of their magic. She had wanted answers so desperately that she had woven her own, and her blindness had hurt Finnegan, it had given Celestine more power, it had brought the dragons to burn Vanhelm and Alyssinia.

  She had achieved everything she’d wanted. She’d saved Finnegan, learned more about her magic, got rid of the king. She had been so convinced of her connection with the dragons that she’d ended up forging one herself. But things were never supposed to end like this.

  And the dragons had not intoxicated her, not in the way she had assumed. She had not been overwhelmed by her connection to them or their magic, had not been turned into someone other than herself when the creatures were near or when she used that magic. Her giddiness, her fascination, her recklessness . . . it had all been her. She had not been in danger of corruption. She had already been corrupt.

  But now she had the connection she had wanted. Now she had to use it to help. She searched the burning square for a vantage point, but the only good place was the castle, and she could not lead the dragons there with people hiding inside. King John’s pyre was already burning, as were the houses around the square. But the fountain she had destroyed at her wedding was still there, half rubble, left as a monument to her wickedness. She scrambled onto it and closed her eyes, searching for the sliver of dragon heart inside her, reaching for the magic she felt filling the sky.

  There. Heartbeats pounding beside her own. She tugged them closer, and fury raced through her, stealing her breath. She felt the fire, and she wanted to burn with it too.

  Stop it, she thought. You have to stop. But her desperation only seemed to drive them onward, spurring their rage, spurring her rage too
. The city deserved to burn, didn’t it, for what it had done? Why should she worry for them?

  She shoved the thought away, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. What had Finnegan said in the practice room, all those weeks ago? You couldn’t think about magic, just as you couldn’t think about walking and expect your foot to move. Her connection with her own dragon had been instant, effortless, an instinct that she had never questioned. She could not command the dragons with her thoughts. She needed to feel it. Calm.

  She thought of the moment in the park, when her magic had felt so easy, so freeing, and of the love and happiness she had poured into the kiss that healed Finnegan’s burns. Another dragon screamed, and she squeezed her eyes closed to help block out the sound. If she wished to calm them, she had to be calm herself.

  She took a deep breath, in and out. Her heartbeat slowed. And once she felt that calmness, she searched inside herself for the dragons again. Their rage still burned, but she held it back, refused to let it overwhelm her. They stood in equilibrium for a moment, feeling each other’s presence, the power there. Then she reached out, pushing that quiet toward them as she had once sent out tendrils of flame.

  The fire softened. The frantic pound of their hearts calmed to a steady beat.

  She opened her eyes. The dragons had paused. The people below still screamed, but the sound was warped, far away. The dragons were all that mattered, the bond between them, this world of peace and fire.

  But they could not stay here, she knew. Not when they were so powerful, not when the very idea of the dragons had corrupted her before. Not when Celestine could influence them too. She had to make them sleep again, for now, at least.

  She breathed slower, deeper, letting her tenseness wash away. Sleep, she thought, and she felt it too, felt the heaviness in her bones, the weariness of an ancient beast.

  But if she had to feel the magic, feel the connection, how could she make them sleep without sleeping too?

  She felt a surge of panic, and the dragons screamed. She could not sleep again. She couldn’t fall back into that oblivion, couldn’t open her eyes to find another new world, lose everything she had gained and start again. She would not sacrifice herself, not like that, no matter what it meant. She wouldn’t.

  But there were other ways, she thought. She took a deep breath, focusing on the calm again, pushing for control. Dragons could not exist without magic. They needed the power in their hearts, the power she now seemed to share.

  But could she do it? Could she use her magic to destroy so much beauty, so much life, no matter what destruction they had caused? She would become everything Celestine said she was meant to be. Powerful. Destructive. Arrogant in her attempts to bend the world to her will.

  The dragons shifted, her own doubt rattling them. She took another deep breath, letting the thoughts float through her head, emotionless, detached. She had told Orla that she could never do that, but she had been so wrong, about everything. She had already become the person Celestine wanted her to be. She had brought the dragons here. It was her responsibility to stop them. And she had already proved that she wasn’t as good as she believed.

  So she reached past the calmness, reached for each flicker of fire, letting her own magic caress it.

  Calm, she thought. Calm.

  And once she felt it, once she believed it, she seized that flicker of power, all but the part that was her dragon, the part that was hers, and she ripped it away. Ripped it toward herself.

  The dragons shrieked, not their usual screams of wrath and fire, but that ear-splitting cry she had heard in the cavern, like the thing they loved most in the world had been torn from them. They cracked and burned, screaming, still screaming, while flames exploded around Aurora, whirling, dancing against her skin. She fell to her knees, the fire scorching her throat. The world was burning and red.

  Then the flames were gone, and the dragons, too, all but the one she had rescued and brought across the sea. For a breath, everything was still.

  Ashes floated on the breeze across the empty square.

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE REMAINING GUARDS LAID OUT KING JOHN’S BODY in the throne room. Iris stood over it, eyes fixed on her husband’s face. She seemed, at most, vaguely satisfied, like she had been proved right about some inconsequential matter.

  Rodric paced the room, reaching the thrones and then turning on his heel again, all restless energy and confusion.

  Aurora could still sense her dragon, circling the castle. The one remnant of their power, unless more had remained across the sea. A legend that Aurora had bent to her will and then torn apart.

  Aurora could not think about it now. Not when the kingdom lay broken at her feet.

  “Rodric,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “Am I all right?” He shook his head, as though astonished by the question. “My father tried to kill me today. Twice. My mother killed him. My home was attacked by dragons. And you reappeared out of nowhere and used magic to fight them. Am I all right?”

  “I’m sorry,” Aurora said. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

  “Abandoned me?” Rodric stopped pacing, only a few feet from her. “You didn’t abandon me. You did what you had to do. And things worked out, didn’t they?”

  “The city is burning,” she said. “People are dead, dragons attacked—”

  “But it’s a start,” Rodric said. “The start of a new world. Like we said we wanted.”

  Aurora suddenly had the overwhelming urge to hug him. Her arms twitched. She could not find the energy to take the step, but Rodric seemed to understand what she meant. His arms slipped around her. For once, his embrace wasn’t stiff or awkward. For a moment, she felt safe.

  “Why did you come back?” Rodric said into her hair. “You had escaped. You didn’t need to come back.”

  She looked up at his earnest face, filled with concern for her, the face she had run from, the prince she cared for but could never love, could never feel for in the way people expected. The prince who genuinely believed that she should not have helped him. “Of course I came back,” she said softly. “Your father . . . he had to be stopped.” She squeezed tighter, just for a breath, then stepped away.

  “Do you think Celestine will still be a threat? Will she bring more dragons to attack us?”

  “I don’t think she’ll attack again,” Aurora said. “And I don’t think she intends to be malicious to us, not yet. But who knows what trouble she’ll cause, when people go to her with their wishes?”

  “It does not matter. She is not your greatest concern.” Iris was still standing by her husband, still staring at his body, but her voice rang out across the room. “She can be fought with magic. The people won’t be dealt with so easily.”

  “Dealt with?” Aurora said.

  “Do you think you can control them? Things have been on the brink of revolution for so long. Chaotic for decades. And now they have been attacked by dragons, now the king is dead and two witches claim to rule. My husband called you a traitor, and you might well be, as Vanhelm provided you support. You are a foreign invader now, claiming to be a princess. And trust me, they do not take kindly to foreigners.”

  “Then Rodric can rule,” Aurora said. “Someone they can trust—”

  “Oh no, Aurora,” Iris said. “You cannot overthrow the king, call him a usurper, and then put his son on the throne. If you are who you claim to be, it has to be you. Or else things will fall apart again.”

  “Things have already fallen apart.”

  “And you have made it your job to put them back together. No one else can repair this now.”

  A figure at the side of the room laughed. Aurora had forgotten that the false her, John’s decoy, was there, seated on the floor, dressed in tatters. She had a fierce look in her eyes. She stood now, still laughing. “Would you like me to do it, Your Majesty?” She swept into a mocking curtsy. “Princess Aurora, at your service. But you can call me Eliza.”

 
“Eliza,” Aurora said. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

  “As you should be.” She was almost skeletal under her rags, worn down by days or weeks in captivity, but Aurora could see why John had chosen her. She had something regal about her, a command and a dignity that Aurora herself had not possessed. Her expression matched that of the girl in the wanted posters, a little haughty, passionate, ready to fight.

  “I’m sorry,” Aurora said again, and she was. “I’m glad I got here in time to help.”

  “I wouldn’t have let him kill me,” Eliza said, but her voice shook. Aurora didn’t ask how she had planned to stop them.

  “I’m glad,” Aurora said. “I wouldn’t want anyone’s fate to rest on me.” But that was part of what being queen would mean. It was part of her curse. Part of her magic.

  Aurora glanced at Iris. She had looked up from her husband’s body, and was watching the exchange with sharp eyes. “Rodric,” Aurora said. “Why don’t you find Eliza somewhere to stay? I need to speak to Iris.”

  Eliza frowned. “Dismissing me already?”

  “No,” Aurora said. “We’ll talk soon enough.”

  Eliza swept into another mocking curtsy, her head bowed, perfectly balanced despite her stick-thin legs and rag-like dress. “Until then, Your Majesty.” Rodric gave Aurora and his mother a more authentic-looking bow, and then led the still furious-looking Eliza out of the throne room.

  “I would watch that one,” Iris said. “She might be dangerous.”

  “No,” Aurora said. “She’s just angry. I would be too.”

  “It is not how a princess should behave.”

  “Then it’s a good thing she’s not really a princess.” Aurora walked slowly toward the queen, the woman who had guided her and imprisoned her, so powerful yet powerless. “You stabbed your husband,” she said. “Why?”

  Iris stared straight back at her, no guilt on her face, no pain at all, not even resignation. It was the same slightly pinched yet dignified expression Aurora had seen her wear again and again. The expression of a queen. “He was going to kill my son,” she said. “He may have already killed my daughter. It was too much.”