The pain and embarrassment lingers inside me and I clench my fists, wondering why he’s been ignoring me all this time. He obviously made time for Cassandra. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Jorgen seems fine and he obviously has this whole situation under control. I want him to look at me, but he doesn’t and I’m hurt by his indifference. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help my stupid emotions.
Even if he were interested in me, his father would never accept it, because technically, according to the Eastern World, I’m not a mage. Besides, everyone knows Wyverns aren’t considered the real dragons – our magic is far less superior. If only they knew the real truth…
“Ladies and gentlemen prepare yourself for a sword battle – The brave and powerful Jorgen III and Falcon from Kirkdust clan,” Thayer shouts and everyone starts clapping.
The guards start pushing people away to create space for the duke and Falcon. I shift in my seat, filled with bitter disappointment, suddenly wanting to be back in my chamber. Lucas is probably somewhere in the crowd and I wonder if he’s been thinking about me at all.
Jorgen’s wearing a silver armoured jacket, gripping his sword in both hands. His silver hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, looking fierce. Falcon’s black hair’s ruffled by the strong wind and his sword has a black leather handle embodied with symbols I don’t recognise, most likely from Laehori.
Roshan, the guard in charge of Jorgen’s army in the castle, gives them both a sign to go ahead with the battle. For a long moment Jorgen and Falcon measure each other with their eyes. Then Cassandra’s guard attacks first, racing through the pavement and attacking unexpectedly. Both swords clash against each other, sparks flying and the battle officially begins.
“Falcon’s a fierce fighter, keep watching him, shifter girl, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two. No one’s ever beat him in a sword challenge,” Cassandra says, leaning over to me and I wonder why she’s not cheering Jorgen on. She should show him some support. Wretched woman.
I watch realising Cassandra’s right. The duke’s struggling to keep up with Falcon’s stride. He keeps attacking from every angle, pushing Jorgen to the right, swirling the sword in his right hand like its weight doesn’t bother him. My own blade in the chamber is much smaller and I’ve never had a chance to use it. Jorgen’s been training, using swords for years, but it seems like Falcon’s much more skilled than him. Thankfully, Falcon isn’t using magic, it’s purely a physical challenge. Cassandra’s guard’s forcing Jorgen to back away towards the crowd, and a look of panic slightly flashes across his face. He grips his sword with both hands, and spins around attacking from the side. At some point, Jorgen loses his sword and Falcon pushes him to the ground. The crowd gasps with terror when Falcon’s blade lands on the pavement, just inches from Jorgen’s head. He manages to roll to the side avoiding it.
“It looks like my son hasn’t been training for a while,” Hans critically points out, and I shift in my seat again, with my heart suddenly in my throat. The incident in the mountains must have taken its toll on him and Falcon must sense he has an advantage.
Moments later, Jorgen manages to get to his sword, jumping back to his feet. Then when Falcon tries to spin around, Jorgen kicks him in the back of the head with his left foot. The mage slams on the pavement and bares his teeth at the duke like a wolf.
Minutes later, Falcon attacks again, roaring and striking with his sword, but Jorgen’s defending himself well again. Looks like he’s back in the game.
It’s a display of skills, not a life or death challenge, but Falcon doesn’t seem to care about the duke’s safety. He manages to cut his arm, and the crowd gasps again, seeing the duke bleeding, holding his arm. Flacon laughs and Jorgen wipes the sweat from his forehead, bowing towards the crowd, confirming he’s all right. He’s a great actor and not a bad fighter.
Their swords collide again, and Jorgen’s losing a lot of blood, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. At some point he races over to Falcon, makes a one hundred and eighty degree spin and manages to hit the mage with the end of his sword. Flacon goes down, and for a moment he’s lying on the ground, struggling to lift himself up. My pulse is racing – I’m so proud of Jorgen, he seems resistant to any pain.
Cassandra half stands up looking concerned for her guard; she obviously didn’t expect him to lose. Jorgen approaches Falcon who’s slowly trying to get up, breathing hard.
The tension escalates as everyone’s holding their breath when the duke raises his sword, as if he’s ready to behead his opponent. Seconds drag and I wait, seeing determination in his eyes; he wants to prove to everyone he isn’t weak.
Then Jorgen smiles, drops his sword, turns around and starts walking away towards the crowd.
My heart skips a beat when I see Falcon shoot back to his feet, glaring at Jorgen.
“Well at least, there’s going to be something worth watching now,” Cassandra comments and I realise Flacon’s planning to shift to save face. I’m struck by absolute horror as I watch how his body begins to shake, while every muscle strains to break free. Even the crowd’s able to sense something’s about to happen. Pulses of energy are spreading through every shifter on the square; tingling begins at the back of my neck and down my spine. Panic settles in the pit of my stomach because Jorgen still doesn’t realise what’s going on, he’s not even looking at Flacon anymore. Now that his beast is gone, he’s not able to sense the danger.
Falcon’s body starts changing shape; he lets out a growl, then an inhuman roar, going down on all fours, arching his back. My blood starts pounding in my ears, panic and power’s rushing throughout my entire body, leaving me dizzy.
Finally Jorgen turns around, but Falcon’s already spreading his enormous black wings, turning into a stunning dragon right in front of everyone in the square. I’ve never seen such a beast; his skin is black as tar and eyes golden like the sand of Brunne desert. The duke pales, dropping his sword, quickly realising what’s going on, but it’s too late. He’s not in control of the situation anymore. Falcon’s trying hard to save himself from further humiliation – he’s challenging Jorgen to unleash his beast – the beast that no longer resides within him.
I jump back on my feet, and summon my dragon, generating irresistible streams of energy deep inside in my core. The magic starts filling every cell in my body, thumping in my ears.
Someone shouts at me to wait, but I don’t listen. I run over the stage and jump down to the pavement. Deep inside me, my inner beast is aware that it’s time to play and my skin starts stretching. Easing back around, I ignore the pounding in my ears, and focus as my body begins to change shape.
I’m already shifting when Falcon’s dragon starts rising above in the crowd. No one’s paying attention to Jorgen. Wild instincts take over, my skin stretches tight over my muscles–burning and sweltering.
The pain steals my breath away, but I already feel the growing horns over the line of my spine. My human senses are lost and soon I’m a Wyvern, the dragon who looks over the crowd from the sky above. Some people are cheering, others applauding. Moments later, I join Falcon even higher above the crowd.
Hopefully, I’ve managed to draw attention away from the duke, and he doesn’t need to worry about shifting. Two dragons won’t battle against one, it wouldn’t be fair in any way, shape or form. I work hard to fly higher and higher, just as Falcon releases fire, roaring and snarling somewhere to my right. His beast must finally realise it’s not Jorgen chasing after him, but another shifter–me. Wyverns are the only red beasts in the Eastern World, so there’s no doubt he recognises me. I see him staring at me, batting his enormous wings to keep himself suspended in the air. I’ve never in my life seen a dragon release so much streaming magic; his energy’s wild, dark and deadly. His dragon scales are shiny and black. Falcon’s beast has larger horns and tiny spikes running across his jaw.
Opening my jaws wide, I release a splash of fire, flying higher as my fire magic begins brewing inside my core. Falcon’s flying towards me and
I’m trying to brace myself and ready for an attack … if he attacks at all.
I move faster, flying even higher, attempting to give myself more time and accumulate enough strength to release my fire.
This was only supposed to be a show for the crowd, but it seems Falcon’s beast has other plans.
He continues chasing me as I fly towards the castle, circulating around the towers, planning to play with him for a bit. His anger and fury’s so transparent, I feel it in my bones. His beast tries to grab me with his back legs, releasing a stream of deadly fire, but he’s too slow–too clumsy. I drop down a few feet, sensing my fire magic’s on the verge of breaking free, and I’m afraid to lose control.
A split second later, I fly backwards, confusing Falcon’s dragon and using the air to my advantage. He’s spinning around in a circle, attempting to see where I vanished. My throat burns and I let go of a painful roar, releasing a wave of flames. The fire rages throughout my body, ten times stronger than ever before. Falcon’s beast is slower than Sebastian’s–he doesn’t realise what’s happening before it’s too late.
He can’t escape my flames, my fire magic that I’m desperately trying to control. Falcon’s dragon has nowhere to escape, he’s stuck in front of the northern tower when my flames reach him, burning his beast. Fire slips into his heart, spreading slowly throughout his thick muscles, inflicting an enormous amount of pain. He loses his balance, and I roar, pulling away knowing I can’t kill him–I won’t kill him.
A roar of agony breaks out across the sky and Falcon’s beast begins spiraling fast toward the ground. At some point, he manages to break his wings free, landing on the pavement with much less magic, rolling over onto his back. The crowd screams – people are moving away to avoid Falcon’s dragon. I circulate above the stage, filled with adrenaline and magic. I fly low, finally touching down on the ground, and slowly shift back into my human form. The world around me is spinning away and I struggle to keep my balance. My fire magic drained me, but I hear the crowd applauding and screaming. Seconds later, Lenin and Jetli are pulling my hair, dancing on my arms.
“That was amazing, Astri. Your dragon … wow it kicked arse!” Lenin shouts into my ear, dancing like crazy.
I glance at the stage, but I don’t see Jorgen anywhere. Cassandra’s standing, staring at me from the distance, and anger overshadows her features. I move my eyes to Thayer who seems delighted with the show.
Several heartbeats later, Hans approaches the edge of the stage clapping enthusiastically.
“Bravo, bravo. Miss Harlam, I must say I didn’t expect to see your beast today. You’re a true Wyvern, strong and maybe even the most powerful in the entire Eastern World. Your fire is extraordinary–it’s no wonder why my son can’t stop talking about you,” Hans says, shaking his head, looking at me, mesmerised, like he can’t believe I’m standing right in front of him. I glance back at Falcon who’s back in his human form, steam’s rolling out of his armour and the burning smell of flesh drifts through the air. His back and arm are severely burned, and healers are already running towards him.
I’m so relieved I was able to control myself, that I didn’t kill him. Thank Hommis. Cassandra looks as if she could murder me at any second. She’s pissed Hans is praising me and my dragon. I want to smile at her obvious disdain, reveling in her ignorance of my dragon’s abilities, but it’s better to let her sit and fume. She’ll show her true colours eventually, without any help from me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve just seen an incredible spectacle of fire. Astri Harlam, the duke’s assistant, defeated a stronger and much older dragon from Laehori!” Thayer shouts and I smile, knowing the people of Rivenna are truly cheering for me. I search for Jorgen, but he’s nowhere to be seen. At least no one’s suspecting anything, because everyone’s focused on me.
I walk up to Falcon who’s struggling with pain; patches of his skin are badly burned, and his clothes are torn. One of the healers is trying to help him, but he pushes the mage away. Then he spots me, baring his teeth, and breathing hard.
“Wyvern’s aren’t the real dragons. You used dark, forbidden magic,” he spat, but I don’t care what he thinks. It was a fair battle and he can’t swallow the fact that I beat him at his own game.
I turned everyone’s attention from Jorgen, who would’ve been exposed otherwise. Falcon’s still shouting insults my way, but I turn around, seeing Jorgen in the distance. He’s standing in the entrance to a black tent away from everyone, watching me. His expression is unreadable and the people are still applauding and shouting my name. I smile and head over to see if my plan worked, just as he disappears inside.
Chapter 20
The kiss.
I run towards the black tent, passing Cassandra on my way; she’s heading towards Falcon. He was blazed with my fire magic, but he’ll be fine. Maybe the scars will remain, but I was only defending myself from his fire.
My heart tripped up a little as I looked around, searching for Jorgen, wondering where he disappeared to. The space around the tent is empty, everyone’s by the stage now, waiting for another exciting surprise that Thayer had arranged earlier on.
Jorgen’s most likely still furious with me and that’s why he’s nowhere to be seen. I want to reassure him that no one knows or suspects anything.
A split second later, someone grabs me and I’m pulled behind the tent, surrounded by horses and carriages.
“You were amazing out there,” a familiar, raspy voice whispers into my ear and before I can take a proper breath or even figure out why the hell Jorgen’s acting so strange, he brings me close to his chest.
Then, his lips are on mine and everything I’ve ever thought about this moment collides into a billion different pieces. The kiss is hard, intense and literally sucks the oxygen out of my lungs.
He pulls me closer and my brain cells melt away–all normal brain activity ceases to function. The doubts, the voice of reason and the hatred is no longer there, because for the first time in my life I don’t have any reservations about this moment. The heat floods through me, spreading through my bloodstream and my heart’s going into cardiac arrest territory. His lips are devouring me so intensely, and I let him–oh Hommis, do I let him. His hands move down to my buttocks and I suddenly feel something hard between my legs. The flames of desire are messing with every inch of my skin. Denying myself this pleasure was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to endure, and now I realise it.
When he finally pulls away it’s only for a second, just to take a few deep breaths.
“Beautiful, you’re the most beautiful and bravest creature in the Eastern World,” he says and I’m part my lips, unable to respond. His hands feel like flames on my skin–his lips curving against mine.
This is the most magical moment of my life–I’m drowning in his presence. Touching him and kissing him is like burning with a fever and the static charge of his touch seems much more powerful than I ever expected.
I have no idea how much time passes, but it feels as if we’re kissing for hours, but eventually the voice of reason shakes me back to reality.
I back away from him, breathing hard, tormented by guilt and resentment. My chest keeps rising and falling in rapid movements, and his eyes latch onto mine with hope. There’s a storm of emotions coursing through them and I’ve never felt so confused in my life. The sudden dizziness is making me lose my mind. I bring my fingers to my swollen lips, asking myself what the hell’s wrong with me. This shouldn’t be happening; Jorgen’s going to marry Cassandra and only yesterday I was kissing Lucas.
My body wants to move closer to him–his eyes are still fixated on me, not seeing my scar anymore. I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but no sound comes out.
He takes a step towards me and I back away and he doesn’t move another inch. His expression is filled with hunger and anguish at the same time. A cold shiver crawls over my spine when we both stand still, staring at each other, and neither of us know what to say o
r do next. Seconds later, he disappears from the tent, leaving me completely alone.
I can’t believe it, Jorgen kissed me and then he just left.
I breathe, and keep on breathing asking myself, what the hell did I just do and why did I push him away? Fire pounds in my skull, and a sudden rush of desire forces me to go after him. I shake my head, telling myself that he chose to disappear afterwards. Shortly after, I run my finger over my lips, experiencing his warmth all over again. I hear the crowd applauding and the noises from outside are making me question my own sanity.
I try to pull myself together, but it’s extremely difficult when my entire body is literally on fire. I need a shower or maybe dive into a pool of ice cold water. Eventually, I leave and get back to the stage, acting as if nothing happened, but my mind keeps flashing back to our moment, the kiss that pushed me over the edge and made me forget who I am.
Now the duke is back with Cassandra, and he doesn’t even acknowledge me when I sit in the seat next to Hans. His body twitches slightly, and my skin seeks further contact. My mind still cannot process what happened back there. He kissed me, told me I was beautiful and then just vanished without a word. I felt his passion burning through me and now I can barely function, while my heart’s jackhammering in my chest.
I let him touch me, knowing he’s destined to be with another woman. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Jorgen, I’m rather bored. Maybe you can show me around, and I really need to check on Falcon. His burns were severe and I’m tired of sitting,” Cassandra states, sounding uninterested, still fanning herself with that colourful hand fan. She glares at me with annoyance and tosses her blond her behind her. She shouldn’t care so much about Falcon. He’s going to be all right. Jorgen doesn’t even look at me and every inch of me becomes painfully aware of his indifference. Hans keeps clapping and cheering for the street dancers who are performing in front of the stage.