Claire surveyed the battle camp that stretched out beneath her, unable to make out more than the barest of details in the dark. Shadows of white tents, ant-like bodies moving between them, supply wagons fringing the outskirts. Very few braziers burned and cook fires were kept to a minimum, all in the hopes of going unnoticed.

They were two days away from enacting their plan, ridding the world of wild dragons once and for all. Months and months of preparations had culminated into a short sting of events that could go so, so wrong. Everything would be ruined if Kane's dragons spotted them. With each passing day, the pressure mounted. Often, it felt like the lid on the kettle was about to burst free.

How the other Drengr weren't losing their minds, she couldn't say.

King Talon's massive body banked; his right wing pointed towards the ground, sweeping around, bringing them full circle towards the open field used by the Drengr for take off and landing. Her stomach swooped. A giggle slipped from her lips, followed by eager chills that raced up her arms. Talon's body hummed in response beneath her legs, a deeply pleased vibration. Sometimes his antics were purposefully done, just to get a response. But even when they weren't, he loved her reactions, loved sharing his favorite part of life with her.

"I always told myself I was happier alone," he mused, reading her thoughts. "I believed it, too. Until you came along..."

This is how it was for mates. Even though they hadn't mated yet, the contact of her skin against his scales connected their minds together. They shared a bond, one that spanned across time and space.

"Having you in the sky, having you, period, illustrates the lie I was living," he added.

King Talon had been mateless for a very, very long time. Hundreds of years had passed, and in that time, he'd grown into an admirable king. Albiet, a king with a fierce temper. Most people were terrified of him. Those who weren't couldn't bear to look him in the eye, couldn't bear to see the scars that covered his face. But Talon had more than surface scars. His scars were bone deep, a result of the losses he experienced when his parents died, and the inability to find a mate.

Most Drengr found mates within their first hundred years of life. A few found them later. But Talon was in his late three-hundreds. He'd come to believe he'd never find that special someone to spend his life with. He'd accepted it. He'd lied to himself, told himself he was better off alone, better off ruling by himself.

"Sometimes..." she said, voice tentative. "Sometimes we tell ourselves anything to make a situation lighter. But those are the worst lies."

"Indeed. So...would you like to talk about what's troubling you?"

Damn it. How perfectly she'd backed herself into a corner with that one! She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"I was going to ask, regardless," Talon added, descending towards the field.

They'd made a habit of flying together the past few nights. With all of Talon's obligations, she got little more than a few stolen minutes with him, otherwise. Passionate kisses in passing, a few caresses here and there, smoldering looks from across the command tent. This was their way of coming back together.

Even as the ground approached, his black scales melted into the darkness. They were the epitome of stealth, completely unnoticed against the inky blackness of the starry sky overhead. It was a clear night, blotted by the occasional fluffy cloud glowing white. Tonight, the moon was low on the horizon.

"I'm not sure discussing it would make much difference. Our plans are set," she said. The truth was, she'd been troubled over the matter since learning their plans, back in Esterpine. The more time she had to consider, the ickier she felt.

While she'd studied under the tutelage of the Sprites—an ancient Sprite named Pelwyn, to be more specific, and a stuffy noble named Lord Aolis Marquin, who was mostly useless—Talon and those closest to him had worked together to devise a plan to reclaim Fort Squall. Kane had stolen it right out from under their noses, displacing all those who lived in the fort, killing Drengr and Riders alike. Even Reyr's twin brother, Lord Davi and his mate, Emmy, had been killed, leaving Reyr heartbroken. Driven from their home, the fort's occupants traveled south, partly on foot and partly by ship, to the safety of Kastali Dun. The city of Squll's End, however, remained in the clutches of the wild dragons, cut off from the rest of Dragonwall.

It had been of the utmost importance that they reclaim it.

Talon's body touched down, powerful legs and forearms drumming along the ground at a fast pace before slowing. His claws dug into the field's earth, stopping them entirely. She held still, then exhaled. It was always jarring, going from the sky to the ground.

"Claire, this is war," Talon said, his voice overly soft.

"I know." She clenched her teeth together, shifting against his scales, hesitating. Never mind that she wasn't a child to be coddled, which was slightly annoying. Because of course she knew they were at war. She knew better than most.

"I wasn't trying to sound coddling," he huffed, a plume of smoke leaving his nostrils. He held still, waiting for her to dismount. But once she did, their minds would unlink. She'd still be able to speak with him; that was an ability unique to her, one that had first come at as a huge surprise. The difference was, she wouldn't be able to sense and read his thoughts, emotions, and everything else that came with being fused together.

She took advantage of their one-mindedness, sweeping over the spires of his mind. He was...sad, she realized. Sad that his mate had to witness this brutal side of the Drengr race. Sad that things weren't easier. But he was also resigned, his mind made up. There would be no changing it.

"I know..." she said again, this time omitting the tightness that had previously crept into her tone. "It's just that..." She shook her head. He already knew exactly how she felt. He'd seen it in her thoughts, plain as day, while they flew together.

She exhaled, letting her shoulders fall heavy. There was nothing to be done. Only the hopeless acceptance that she was left without a choice. Left to accept something that bothered her.

She swung her right leg over and slid down his body, gracefully leaping onto the ground. It was a maneuver she'd perfected. But no human would ever look as good or effortless doing it. Her time with the Sprites, the strength of their magic, her magic, humming in her blood, had leant itself to added traits. She didn't tire as she once had. Her body was fit and lean, muscles honed from more than sparring practice. She could jump higher, run faster, move easier.

Her contact with Talon broke. He immediately shifted, falling into step beside her as they walked across the field, towards camp. A beat of silence fell between them before she said, "What if we give them an ultimatum?" This was the question that had been ping-ponging around in her mind for days.

Talon stopped, taking a gentle hold of her arm, turning her to face him. His hands clutched her upper arms, rubbing up and down. "You cannot reason with wild dragons. They do what they want, as beasts do."

She worried at her bottom lip. That wasn't entirely true, and she knew it. She didn't blame Talon and the rest of them for holding a grudge against these beasts. But she didn't like that they assumed dragons were only capable of bloodshed. If that were the case, Talon wouldn't even exist. The first Drengr, Vigilance, wouldn't have happened.

But...Talon didn't see it like she did.

Her chest sank, hopeless frustration strangling her throat. "Talon..."

He lifted a brow. Even in the darkness there was enough light to throw his scarred features into sharp relief. Scars that always reminded her of the steep price he'd paid, hundreds of years prior. She'd been 'Talon-ing' him a lot lately.

"What about the first wild dragons who forged this kingdom?" she asked. "Hm? Reyr once told me about Vigilence—King Eymar—about the way he gathered others around him. Banded together, they defeated Rage. They were once wild dragons, and they weren't evil."

Talon exhaled through his nose and dropped her arms, his own now hanging limp at his sides. "I understand what you are trying to say. It's not the same. These dragons, Ice Clan dragons, aren't them, Claire."

"I...I know that," she snapped, trying not to let her emotions show. Trying and failing. "But, how can we assume they're all bad? This... this is the last of their race, Talon. We kill them, and there won't be any left. All the wild dragons that ever existed will be gone, completely gone, wiped out."

"Extinct. Yes. As they should be."

"Talon!"

"Claire!" He threw her name right back at her in the same tone. This was agitating him, putting him on edge. The stress of their situation here in camp was making it easy to upset someone who was normally a stone fortress. "How will you explain to the dead of Belnesse, to the families of all those who have lost loved ones to the dragons' senseless burning and pillaging, to those who managed to survive, that you feel the dragons deserve a second chance?"

"I don't...that's not..." Claire opened and closed her mouth. But he was right. Everything had become so very complicated. The people of Dragonwall craved justice—deserved it, even. There were monstrous wrongs to atone for.

"I know that's not what you meant," he said at last, his tone softening, "but that's how our people will see it. Being a ruler is the hardest thing you will ever face—making decisions like this. Our kingdom comes first. It always will."

She swallowed down the rest of her arguments like stale bread.

Maybe that's what was happening here? She was failing to be a good ruler? Failing to accept the difficult decisions expected of her? Her stomach dropped straight to her feet, leaving her flushed. She balled her hands into fists. Talon was probably right. The reason she was struggling to accept this decision, to accept that this was how things had to be, was her own shortcoming. One she needed to deal with, promptly.

There hadn't been time to prepare, to learn the role and what was expected of her. She was already living it. In killing Queen Jade, even though she hadn't wanted to, she'd become queen in turn. A Spriten queen. And she wasn't even sure she could handle it.

As if reading her thoughts, Talon hesitated, then said, "Come, love. It's getting late and I still need to meet with the Dwargs." He placed a hand at the base of her back and nudged her into motion.

Defeated, she meekly allowed him to guide her through camp. Perhaps it was a good thing they weren't yet mated. Her mind was awash with indecision, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to hear any of it. She hated this feeling, being annoyed with him over this. She refused to believe that all dragons were bad. What if there were dragons in the remaining ice clan that had felt obligated to act with the majority? What if there were dragons in the clan who hadn't been given a choice? What if this was simply their nature and they couldn't help what they were?

No, that wasn't right either. They weren't rabid animals. They had intelligence, a good deal of it. They knew what they were doing, most of them, anyway. All of them? Ugh. Why was she so conflicted over this?!

She considered her own world. Considered the dinosaurs, since that was the closest thing she could relate them to. Were these dragons just big, misunderstood Taranassuarss Rexs? Definitely not. She almost snorted at the thought.

Still, it simply seemed like a travesty to eradicate an entire race. Was she wrong to feel this way?

You should never feel wrong for trusting your instincts. For trusting the will of your heart. Your intuition makes you who you are, Claire. If you abandon it, you'd be trying to be someone you aren't. Never apologize for who you are...

Cyrus gave her the validation she craved. Suddenly, she could breath again. Things immediately felt lighter. Was he right? She wanted him to be. Needed him to be. But that didn't change how she felt overall.

Still, it was a blessing having him in her mind...mostly. Except, perhaps when he said things she didn't want to hear. He'd sacrificed his soul to be with her, to guide her, all those many months ago. He'd swept into her life like a surging rip-tide. In the mere week they'd spent together, they'd grown close. And as he'd breathed his dying breath, he'd gifted her his soul in the form of a kiss. Sometimes she hated his selflessness, hated that he'd sacrificed so much for her, for Dragonwall. But ignoring him would be a waste of his efforts, and she hated that even more.

She would not squander what he'd done.

She and Talon entered the command tent and found it blessedly empty. Talon turned to her, circling her waist with his large hands, pulling her against him. His eyes darted between hers, searching in the silence. A frown formed at his mouth, pulling on some of the scars there.

"I need to meet with the Dwargs," he reiterated, sounding almost reluctant. "But if you need, we can talk about this more later?"

"No it's...fine." At this point, talking wouldn't amount to anything. Not when his mind was made up. "Will you be out all night again? I mean, it's okay, I'm not...I was just wondering." The last thing she wanted was to pressure him, to make him feel obligated to spend time with her. That wasn't at all what she was implying. She simply wanted to know if he'd be there or not.

"Probably out until early morning," he said. "Meetings with the Dwargs, then checking on the progress in assembling sets of armor, ensuring our various wings are doing all right. Making the rounds—all that. Would you like to join me?"

She should—she knew she should. But she'd been in meetings all day and was utterly exhausted. He must have seen it on her face.

"You don't need to be there, Claire. Get some sleep. I want this to be easy for you. I'm not trying to throw you in the lake before you can swim." He placed a palm over her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone. She shuddered, shivers racing down to her toes, heat following.

"Okay," she managed to croak. He had a way of making her forget everything when he looked at her like this, touched her like this. His hand slid to the back of her heck, wrapping around her, fingers twisting into the base of her chignon.

An uncontrollable sigh fell from her mouth as his lips molded to hers. His mouth was soft, firm, warm. It roved over hers until she fell into him, all her frustration melting away in an instant. Her lips parted and he swept in, then growled and pulled away, eyes flashing with darkness, with eager want. He followed up with a simple, chaste kiss and stepped away. "Sleep well, love," and then he was gone.

***

The forest spread out around her, its cool, dim light surrounding her like an old, familiar cloak. A path appeared, not so different from all the other paths she'd once taken, its dirt a sandy brown, bracketed by lush foliage dotted with glowing fauna. She glanced around, then looked down at her self and frowned. "What the...?" The words died on her lips.

She was in her nightgown. Why was she in her nightgown?! Had she been sleep walking from the Crystal Palace? Would Koldis be looking for her?

Come...

A disembodied voice beckoned, and her feet moved without her consent. The trees thinned and spread until she saw it. The King Tree. She blinked, looking down at herself again.

You carry a troubled mind, Queen. I have witnessed seventeen queens come and go. All of them carried troubles that often felt too great to bear.

She exhaled. Seventeen?

Speak your mind.

"How am I here?" she breathed.

Is that truly your most important question? Amusement colored the Tree's words.

"No," she croaked. Far from it. "I don't suppose ruling is as easy as asking you what I should do?"

Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. There was a brief hesitation and then, I have advised seventeen queens throughout their reign. Only two ever saw fit to completely disregard my advice.

She snorted. "Is this how things will be, now that I'm queen? You give me a running history of all the others?"

Forgive me, but I take pride in the role I've played. Now, ask that which is heaviest.

"Okay..." She swallowed. "What should I do about the dragons?"

Hmm...The tree appeared to ponder her question. Time stretched. It could have been a minute, an hour? What does your heart tell you? it said at last.

"That it's not right to senselessly kill all of them? That there might be some worth saving? Maybe? And yet, maybe they're all evil. Maybe my heart is too soft? Too trusting?" She frowned. "Maybe Talon was right. Maybe this is war and I need to accept that some decisions will hurt. But...I can't quite put a finger on it—why I disagree with this? Is it because of the method? Because it's underhanded? Because it's like fighting an unarmed person who sits at a disadvantage? And then—"

She stopped herself from saying more.

You have given me many questions, Queen. But I asked for one. The most important.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. This felt like a riddle, one she couldn't bear to fail. As a newly crowned queen, even if it wasn't a crown she planned to keep, she wanted to succeed. She wanted to be the best queen that she could be.

No, that wasn't quite right either. Deep down, she wanted to be perfect, flawless in her rule. She wanted to prove that despite coming from a human world, despite her meager years of life, her young age, she could do this job as well as, better even, than those who'd come before her.

"What do I do?" she said at last.

That.

She immediately knew it was the question the tree had been waiting for.

You have a choice ahead of you, Queen. I have lived through the reign of seventeen queens. All of them were given choices. All of them were allowed to choose.

"And some of them didn't always choose correctly," she mused, more to herself than the Tree. Queen Isabella, when she played God with the Drengr race. And more recently, Queen Jade, when she refused to pass along her mantle well past her time.

"What are my two choices?" She asked, lifting her chin.

You may do nothing, let things play out as planned, or, you may act.

She snorted. Great. Really?

"And if I act?" She pressed.

Ah. That, then, is a different matter.

She picked at her bottom lip with her teeth. "You once told me that to snuff out an entire race was to eliminate future potential."

There was a mental snort followed by, I believe I worded it more elegantly than that.

Ahh. So the king tree had a sense of humor.

"I should try to save them, then? What if most of them aren't worth saving?"

I have found with most things, that the act of making a choice is the only deciding factor needed. There is a place in the Gable Mountains, south of Esterpine, a place once occupied by the Forest Clan. Its hatching grounds are undisturbed, the only remaining hatching grounds in the kingdom. Princess Taylynn knows of it. It would be a place of refuge, a place for a new start. It might be exactly what is needed.

A...what? She opened her mouth to ask for clarity.

Claire...

She blinked and the forest wavered.

Claire! Someone gripped her shoulder. Her heart kicked up, hammering in her chest. She whirled around, looking behind her, but nothing was there. The forest faded. Claire!

"Claire!"

She sputtered awake, eyelids fluttering, to find a familiar pair of warm, brown eyes staring down at her. Saffra's face swam into and out of focus. She blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the tent. Clarity returned.

She sat up and Saffra's arm fell away. "There you are, I'm sorry to wake you but..." Saffra bit her bottom lip, indecision written on her face.

"No. No it's...I was having a weird dream. It's okay."

"That's...that's why I'm here, actually. A vision."

Claire's heart skipped a beat and she scooted across the furs, giving Saffra space to sit. "What did you see?"

Saffra's eyebrows pulled tight. She picked at the hem of her tunic, pulling at a loose thread. "I saw the dragons."

"You...the dragons? But, is everything okay? The plan?"

"It's all fine." Saffra licked her lips. "What if I made a mistake?" The question came out as an uncertain, low whisper.

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"I saw...I saw a...a cave. Eggs. I saw eggs. Nearly a hundred of them, all different colors. And then I saw the dragons. Claire, there are pregnant mothers among them."

At Saffra's words, her stomach dropped. "Babies?" She whispered. "Hatchlings?"

"I...I think. Some of it was disjointed but...what if...what if what I've done...I've killed them, Claire. Babies. I know they're going to grow up to be killing machines. Blood thirsty beasts. But right now, they're just babies inside of eggs in their mothers' bellies. And...and that blood is on my hands."

"Shit," Claire swore under her breath. She surged to her feet, then began rummaging around in her belongings. "Help me dress."

Saffra didn't argue, helping her to slip a gown over her body, the one she'd word when she first arrived at the battle camp. She then began belting on her weapons. She'd need to look every measure the Spriten queen she was, if this was to work.

"What do you mean to do?" Saffra asked, hesitance clouding her voice.

"I mean to give the dragons an ultimatum."

Saffra took a step back, her warm eyes darting over Claire, over the cloak she wrapped around her body, the one Taylynn had given her to help disguise her.

"But...you can't. If you warn them, our plan could be ruined. I don't want the babies to die, but I also don't think we can afford to fail."

"There isn't much time." Claire stepped forward and took Saffra's hands in hers. Their warm palms melded and she squeezed the woman's fingers, twining them in hers. "Do you trust me?"

Their eyes remained locked. Silence passed before Saffra nodded and said, "I do, Your Majesty, with my life, with all that I am."

Claire's breath froze in her chest, momentarily, then she exhaled. Saffra's words left her speechless. But there was no time to relish in the way they made her feel, or the worthiness that she wanted so desperately to deserve.

She nodded, then dropped Saffra's hands. "I have to go. There isn't a moment to lose."

"But...King Talon? Does he know you're leaving? That you're doing...whatever it is you're about to do?"

She swallowed down the guilty lump in her throat and shook her head. "I don't think he'd allow me to leave. Well," she snorted, "if I truly wanted to go, I probably could. But, no. He wouldn't like it. We'd argue. And...as good as we are at fighting, it's a fight I'd rather have when I return. In the mean time, everything proceeds as planned. If he notices my absence, tell him I will explain when I get back. But do not tell him what I'm doing. I'd rather tell him myself. I must go."

Before it was too late.

"But...how?" The king's prophetess stood scowling, disbelief evident. "How will you reach them before the poisoners do?"

A smile spread across Claire's lips. Perhaps Saffra had forgotten how she'd gotten here. "Tourmaline, of course. Because I am queen of the Sprites." With that, she left Saffra gaping after her in the tent.  

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