They’d recently returned to the White Monastery, both bearing scars from their brush with death.

  Warden Flint, Warden Onyx’s uncle, had tried to kill the two of them and the current grand warden. He’d wanted to destroy the peace treaty, and he’d wanted to take the throne of the Grey Mountains.

  He’d failed. But it turned out he’d been working with others to destroy the peace treaty. There were letters proving that. But unfortunately, they’d been unable to work out who the co-conspirator was.

  Everyone had been talking about it. Now warrior monks lined the halls, and more guards stood in doorways. He’d heard that King Alaric did not taste or drink anything that had not been tested first, since Warden Onyx had been given lysithea tea to knock him out. Everywhere Elias went, discussions abounded about who Warden Flint could have been conspiring with.

  Elias didn’t trust anyone. As far as he knew, anyone present could be a traitor.

  He looked at his stepmother.

  Elias despised her. She was definitely evil and capable of anything. But she’d always openly disliked Warden Flint. Often, she complained that he thought the Grey Mountains so superior to the other kingdoms. She’d been pleased to hear about his death. He couldn’t imagine they’d been plotting together.

  She’d also been pushing for the peace treaty with Draconia from the start, whilst Warden Flint had despised the dragons and wanted the peace treaty to fail. Their goals did not align. So why would they have worked together?

  Therefore, even if Elias wished it was her so he’d have an excuse to blast her, he didn’t actually think it was.

  “Do you have any thoughts about who might have been working with Warden Flint?” Elias asked. Maybe this would be a fruitful topic.

  Finally, Gerard’s green eye met Elias’s. “Not really.” He glanced away.

  Elias pursed his lips. He doubted that. The dragon warrior must at least be thinking about who it could be. He must have theories!

  But he clearly did not wish to share them with Elias.

  Silence followed.

  “Your brother and Warden Onyx seem very happy together,” Elias said.

  “Yes.” Gerard hesitated. “They are in love.”

  “In love?” Elias blinked. He laughed. “Well, at least something good came from all that horribleness, then.”

  Gerard frowned. “I hardly think that makes up for all they have been through. Warden Onyx was betrayed by his uncle. He is devastated. The two of them almost died at Warden Flint’s hands.”

  “But they didn’t die,” Elias pointed out. “And they seem happy. Before they seemed … less so.” He watched as Prince Luther laughed at something Warden Onyx said. “So perhaps it was worth it for them.”

  Gerard’s jaw tightened. Clearly, he did not agree with Elias’s comments. Perhaps this topic was not a good one if he was trying to win Gerard over.

  But it was true! Of course, it must all have been unpleasant for the two of them. Being attacked and almost killed usually was. But they were alive! And in love, it seemed. Surely that was worth some suffering.

  Although, how long could that love last? After all, from what Elias had seen of the two, they ran hot and cold. They’d probably be hating each other in no time.

  Still, it was probably best to abandon this topic too and find another. “I have not seen you dance at the peace assembly so far. Do you enjoy dancing?”

  “I do not dance much these days.”

  “Well, you’re very good at it, and I enjoy dancing. So I hope you will humour me and dance with me often.” He moved in closer. He squeezed Gerard’s shoulder.

  Gerard glanced down at the hand. He frowned. Then Elias remembered the first lightning bolt he’d thrown at Gerard. It had hit him directly in the chest. It would have covered his chest and perhaps even his shoulder and arm in scars.

  “Do you have scars there?” Elias asked. “Do they hurt when I squeeze?”

  Gerard met his gaze and held it properly. His eyes narrowed. “No. They do not hurt anymore.”

  The music stopped. Immediately Gerard stepped back and out of Elias’s hold. He held his head high. They bowed.

  “Thank you for the dance, Prince Elias,” Gerard said. “It has been very pleasant.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Then Gerard spun on his heels and walked away.

  Well, it seems I failed to charm him. Good thing I have the rest of our lives to try and do so.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Gerard exited his tent. He rolled his shoulders as he strode towards the massive field where the Tournament of Dragons was taking place. Around the field stood stands filled with rows and rows of spectators.

  But Gerard’s gaze fixed on Senta and Princess Dorothye above, battling it out in the cloud-filled sky. Their roars echoed. Teeth bared. Wings flapped. Claws raked against scales. Blood dripped.

  Gaze still on the fighting, Gerard walked towards the grandstand, which held royals, nobles, dignitaries, and some high-ranking monks. The other stands surrounding the field held city folk. And on the cliffside above, overlooking the field, stood even more onlookers.

  Cheers and cries filled the air as his sister fought their cousin.

  As Gerard drew closer to the grandstand, Senta and Dorothye circled each other. Gerard had no doubt his sister would win. Although Dorothye was a competent fighter, she was no match for his sister.

  The Tournament of Dragons had been set up as part of the courtship rituals. The eight dragons who would marry, or had been married, as part of the peace treaty would compete, along with eight other dragons. This tournament allowed them to show off their strength and skills for their spouse or future spouse.

  It had been his father’s idea. It would be a knock-out tournament, where only the winner of each round would progress to the next. In the end, the last two dragons would meet in the finale.

  Dorothye flew straight at Senta. Senta opened her claws wide. At the last second, Dorothye swooped down and away. Senta could have given chase, but Dorothye flew out over the crowd. Senta would not risk knocking her into the cheering civilians.

  Apparently, wind sorcerers were on standby, ready to blow away any dragons into the air if they looked like they were about to land or knock into the onlookers. That would result in an immediate disqualification.

  But that should not be needed. The dragons competing today were seasoned warriors. They should not be aiming to knock the other dragon into the onlookers.

  Now back in the air over the middle of the field, Senta flew straight at her opponent. She opened her jaws wide. But she did not spew dragonfire. Dragonfire was also against the rules today, in order to avoid causing serious harm to the dragon contestants.

  Dorothye swerved, trying to dodge. But she wasn’t fast enough. Senta’s teeth bit into Dorothye’s yellow, scaly throat. Her claws pressed into Dorothye’s chest. Dorothye roared as the blood trickled.

  Of course, injuries were expected. This was a dragon battle, after all. But there was an attempt to avoid serious harm. Around the field, healer doves stood, ready to step in and use their healing skills and magic to treat the dragons once the battle was done.

  Senta and Dorothye spiralled through the air, Senta’s teeth and claws biting deep. Using her body weight, Senta managed to rotate them so she was the one on top. Dorothye slammed into the ground. The earth trembled.

  Releasing her claws and teeth, Senta flew up, circling the field, roaring and spewing dragonfire now that the battle was over. Applause thundered.

  Senta had won. Dorothye had hit the ground first.

  Gerard clapped. Dorothye shifted, and the healer monks ran out to see to her.

  Once finished celebrating, Senta landed, shifted, and took a robe from a servant. She ran off the field at the same moment Gerard reached the area in front of the grandstand.

  “Gerard! Did you see? I won!” Senta called out.

  “I did. Congratulations!” Gerard clapped her on the back. “I had no doubt you would win.”

  “And Luther won his battle too!” She smiled.

  There had been some suggestion that Luther should sit out the tournament, since he’d recently suffered an injury to his leg during the fight against Warden Flint. But Luther had protested. It seemed he’d been right to.

  “What about Konrad?” Gerard asked. “How’d he do?”

  “He won. Which means he fights me next.” Her eyes glinted. She pointed at Gerard. “But all three of us have won our first rounds, so make sure you don’t lose yours. If you do, you’ll let the family down.” She laughed.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to lose.”

  Cheeks flushed, her hair disarrayed, Senta turned towards the grandstand. She waved. The crowd yelled and screamed.

  But Senta only had eyes for Lady Elizabeth Juniper, who bounced on her feet, clapping Senta’s victory.

  Juniper wore a green velvet dress, her dark curls pulled on top of her head. She stood in a roped-off section before the grandstand, reserved for those betrothed or already married to those competing today. Cushions and chairs were scattered around. Servants provided food and drink.

  Beside Juniper stood Elias, watching Gerard. Elias always watched Gerard. Gerard inclined his head in greeting. Elias smiled at him.

  Gerard struggled to understand Elias. He’d expected the man to act with disgust at the announcement of their wedding. He’d imagined hostility and outright anger. He’d expected Elias to behave like Luther, so obviously displeased with his future spouse.

  But instead Elias had done none of that. He’d smiled and been pleasant and respectful.

  However, Gerard couldn’t actually believe that the lightning prince was not disappointed to be marrying him. He is just hiding how he truly feels.

  Gerard kept expecting … something. A flippant insult. A rude passive-aggressive comment. Overhearing Elias complain about how ugly Gerard was. Something to reveal how miserable he was to be marrying Gerard.

  “I feel sorry for whoever it is he marries.”

  Gerard’s hand clenched. Albert’s comments should not have hit like they had. But the words kept echoing in his head. The problem was, Gerard knew many people thought like Albert. And he knew many would be horrified to marry him.

  At least Elias hid that feeling. Gerard thought he might have underestimated Prince Elias. Perhaps Elias really did care about doing his duty and ensuring the peace treaty succeeded. He’d been unable to fight in the war. Perhaps he wanted to prove himself now.

  And that was a good thing. So they’d get married. Act with decorum and respect. That would be enough.

  But will Elias continue to be dedicated to our nuptials once he sees all my scars?

  “I’m going to return to my tent. I need to rest and prepare to beat Konrad.” Senta turned and strode in the direction of the tents. “Good luck, Gerard! Don’t let us down!” Then she looked towards Juniper.

  The lady ducked beneath the rope that sectioned off the reserved area and walked with Senta. They held hands. Elias watched them go.

  What is he thinking?

  Gerard looked away and out over the grandstand. His father sat between the queen consort and the necromancer he’d taken an interest in. King Alaric and the necromancer leaned towards each other, engrossed in conversation.

  Gerard glanced at his stepmother. Her hands lay clasped tightly in her lap. She stared straight ahead. The grand monk sat beside the queen consort. He talked to her, perhaps trying to distract her from her husband’s behaviour.

  Warrior doves stood at attention amidst the grandstand. The grand shield, the head of the warrior monks, scanned the crowd, hand resting on her sword. They were all on alert as a result of Warden Flint’s attack on Onyx and Luther.

  On the night of their betrothal ball, Elias had said some rather silly things, seeming not to fully understand how devastating it must have been for Onyx to be attacked by his own uncle. He’d made light of Luther and Onyx’s ordeal. But of course, Elias could not understand what fighting for your life was actually like.

  Elias was by no means a perfect partner. Still, he was more than Gerard had expected.

  Gerard examined the Draconian guards on duty. After the recent attack, Gerard and Senta had brought in more of them to provide extra protection in the White Monastery. Now the king and queen consort always had guards with them.

  Gerard had had some push-back from the grand shield on the increase in the number of Draconian guards. But eventually she’d relented.

  Is whoever worked with Warden Flint here today? Are they in the grandstand, plotting against the peace treaty?

  A trumpet blew. Gerard turned. The herald stood in the middle of the field. She lowered the trumpet from her lips. “In the second-to-last battle for round one, Prince Gerard will face Lord Amsel. Prepare yourselves.”

  The crowd roared. Lord Amsel stood about forty feet down from Gerard in front of the grandstand. The man disrobed.

  A servant approached Gerard, ready to take his robe. Gerard’s fingers reached for the green sash. He hesitated. From the corner of his left eye, he could see Prince Elias clapping.

  Why would my father suggest such an event? Why would he suggest something that would require me to disrobe in front of everyone?

  But King Alaric had never cared about Gerard’s scars.

  At least, he no longer did. He’d initially worried that Gerard’s loss of half his eyesight plus his injuries might impact his ability to fight. But once Gerard’s wounds had healed and he had learnt to fight with only one functioning eye, Gerard’s father had stopped worrying.

  After all, they were just battle scars. Nothing to be ashamed of.

  Gerard wished he could see them like his father did. After all, he should not care about his appearance. He was the dragon warrior prince. He was a powerful fighter. A strong leader.

  “It is such a shame. He was once so handsome.”

  And the person who had said that had only seen Gerard’s face.

  What will everyone say when they see all my scars?

  His hands gripped the soft, smooth fabric of the sash. He gritted his teeth.

  With a harsh exhale, Gerard tugged on the sash. He yanked the robe from his body, practically shoving it towards the servant, bearing his entire body with all its markings for everyone to see. And judge.

  Was Elias staring at him? Was he horrified?

  Heat flushed through his body. Unable to stop himself, Gerard glanced towards him. Elias had stopped clapping. His face remained blank, eyes tracing Gerard’s body.

  Was that disgust in his eyes? Revulsion?

  Gerard couldn’t tell.

  He turned away. He tugged off his eye patch and threw it at the servant. He no longer wore his mother’s ring on a chain. He’d taken it off the night his father had told him he’d marry Prince Elias. He’d not put it on again.

  He strode out into the field. Lord Amsel walked out too. They faced each other.

  “Ready?” the herald yelled.

  Gerard nodded. So did Lord Amsel.

  “When I blow my trumpet, shift and fight.” The herald lifted the trumpet to her lips. She blew.

  Gerard shifted, suddenly desperate to fly and fight. He had rage to work out.

  Chapter

  Twenty

  Elias gaped. Fuck me.

  The dragons crashed in the sky. Claws tore and gripped at scales. Roars vibrated through the air. Necks and tails swung. Wings beat.

  Gerard drove Lord Amsel back, claws scratching at his torso. Lord Amsel bellowed.

  Of course, Elias had seen dragons fighting before. Many times. But all those times, he or his allies had been the focus of the dragon attacks. He’d been too focused on not dying and instead bringing down the dragons to appreciate the majesty and strength of the powerful beasts flying above. And he’d never seen a dragon fighting another dragon before.

  Lord Amsel bit at Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard swung his thick neck, smashing it into the side of Lord Amsel’s head, dislodging him.

  Then Gerard stretched his claws and dug them into Lord Amsel’s white, scaly stomach. Lord Amsel bit his neck. The two locked together, spinning through the air towards the ground. But before they hit the earth, they both released their holds on the other, pushing back and flying into the sky.

  Elias didn’t blink. He didn’t draw breath. He just watched, hands clasped in front of him, nails digging into the backs of his hands.

  The two flew, mighty wings flapping, as they watched each other. Muscles tightened and moved beneath gleaming scales. Gerard roared, and the sound sent a shiver down Elias’s spine.

  As he fought, Gerard kept angling his head to keep the other dragon in view of his left eye. In human form, Gerard always wore an eye patch. In dragon form, the right eye appeared glassy and white. And the fern-like scars from Elias’s attack looked even more like lightning against the green scales.

  Gerard lunged, smashing into the purple dragon. He gripped one wing in his claws and wrenched, tearing the membrane. Blood spilled. Elias gasped.

  Already Gerard had pulled back, flying up and above, directly above the other dragon. Lord Amsel tried to right himself. His wing that had just been released struggled to flap.

  Gerard dove straight down. His claws drove into Lord Amsel’s back and injured wing. He pushed him down with brutal strength and speed.

  Lord Amsel struggled, trying to break free. Gerard leaned down and bit his neck. Lord Amsel cried out a moment before he hit the ground. The thud resonated through the earth, and Elias felt it deep in his bones.

  Elias jumped and applauded.

  Gerard released the grip of his teeth and claws. He flew upwards, circling the field high above. He opened his jaw. He lit up the sky with orange-and-gold dragonfire.

  I’m going to marry him! I’m going to marry that magnificent dragon!

  He felt light-headed. He yelled until he ran out of air. Around him, the crowd chanted, “Dragon Warrior! Dragon Warrior!”