Chapter One

Iselda

Fire burned the sky, red as my scales, hot as my fury. My fire. It darkened everything in its path. Trees turned to smoke, the river hissed beneath its heat, and shadows scattered like insects in its wake.

For an instant, before they burned, I saw the fae soldiers cheering below, thinking they’d won the day.

Fucking fae.

I roared and unleashed another stream of fire. I watched them notice me—watched their cheers snap into screams as they broke and ran for safety, but there was nowhere to run. I would give them no escape. Not today. Not after they took my sister from me. Not after they forced me into my dragon form.

They thought they could withstand me? Me—Iselda, dragon queen of Cindermarch, born of the oldest fire and bound to none.

I was fury made flesh, and now I painted the battlefield with it.

Fae archers once perched like ornaments on the cliffs now tumbled as ash. Their illusions melted in the heat of my breath, their light dimming like broken stars.

When I flew low, the ground split beneath my wings and trees bent away from me in fear.

But the fae had teeth too.

The first strike hit my left flank—cold, sharp, and seething with enchantment. Not fire. Not steel. Something worse: glamour laced with intent. It slid across my scales like oil over water, whispering falsehoods to my bones. My wing faltered, believing the lie. I howled as it tried to snap itself in half like a twig. But I held fast to the truth of myself: I was a dragon, and so was every piece of me. My wing furled, then flapped again—strong, sure, and mine.

A second strike came—brighter and crueler—a spear of silver light hurled from the treeline. It screamed as it flew, and the voice stopped me midair. Where had my sister’s voice come from? Before I could think of an answer to the thought, the spear hit me.

My wing jerked mid-beat, and my entire form buckled for an instant. Pain lanced through the membrane, but I didn’t fall.

I turned, searching for the source of the attack, my eyes slicing through magic and haze, my breath coiled tight in my chest.

And then I found them—three fae, cloaked in mirror light and leaves, hidden behind layers of trickery and stolen air. I bared my teeth as I spotted them, heat burning through my jaw, my fury sharpening to a single, searing point. They stood still now, watching me with wide, perfect eyes.

I saw fear take root.

And I answered it.

I dove.

The forest shuddered beneath my descent. Branches snapped, earth caved, light twisted. I opened my jaws and bathed the trees in flame—not once, but twice. When I flew over them again, only ash covered the ground.

Let them think their tricks could touch me. Let them learn what it means to strike at Cindermarch’s queen.

I rose again, wings thundering as they caught the air. My body cut through the smoke—vast, radiant, unmistakable. Let them see me. Let the cowards watch the sky and remember what dragons truly are.

My wings spanned wide enough to cast shadow over the valley. Scales like molten garnet shimmered along my flanks, each edged in gold and kissed by old flame. My horns curled back like obsidian crowns, sharp and regal. My claws glowed with heat where blood had tried to dry against them.

I wasn’t beautiful in the way the fae are. I was terrifying.

They built songs to silence my kind. They built weapons to pierce our hearts. And still I flew.

I searched the field for more.

Below me, the earth bore scars of my wrath—craters of fire, darkened ground, splintered trees. Fae formations scattered under broken illusions. A group tried to flee through a veil of mist, but mist is only water, and fire doesn’t fear water.

I turned my gaze toward them, flame built in my chest once more, but then I saw her. Fighting. Surviving. Alone.

Pinned by the cliffs on three sides, backed into a gash in the stone, stood a woman—hair wild, face bloodied, holding nothing but a long stick like a spear. She swung it wildly at a group of advancing fae, her stance desperate but defiant.

My eyes narrowed. Her shoulders, her eyes, the tilt of her chin—I knew them. My sister was alive.

Rage twisted into something sharper, something colder. Relief pierced my chest—but it was swallowed fast by fury. They had cornered her. Hunted her.

I tucked my wings and dove.

The wind shrieked past me. The battlefield blurred. All I saw was her, and those who would die for what they'd done.

My fire begged release. I wanted to bathe them where they stood, to reduce every fae body near her to scorched earth and bones too brittle to bury.

But my sister was with child.

I knew she would survive the blast. Her dragon blood would shield her. But the life within her?

That, I couldn’t risk.

I banked sharply, pulling the heat back into my chest, coiling it into a molten knot. It seared against my will, raging for release.

I landed like a falling star, my claws crushing two of them beneath me with a crack that split earth and bone. My tail swept behind me, smashing through stone, while my head snapped toward the others, hurling them away like wind-scattered leaves.

I rose from the crater I'd carved, wings flared, body arched protectively between her and them.

Then I let the fire go.

It roared from me in a furious tide, engulfing the ones who hadn’t already fled. Their screams were brief. Their bodies, briefer.

But it was too late for silence—shouts had already risen nearby. I heard horns. Voices. Movement.

A squadron was forming, ranks tightening, weapons drawn. With that many, even I could be cornered.

I turned to Serenya, my sister, battered but unbowed. Our minds found each other in the storm of thought. Let's go, I said, the words shaped by will and instinct. Climb on my back. I will get us out of here.

But she didn’t move. Her eyes flashed. “I can’t,” she shouted back. “It’s time.”

Time?

No—it couldn’t be. She wasn’t due for another three days.

“The egg has fallen,” she said, her voice taut as her hand pressed to her belly. “It’s coming, Iselda—now.”

I turned back toward the squadron. Their formation was complete. Shields locked. Magic pulsing in their hands. They would be upon us soon.

We cannot face this alone. Not from down here, I told her. We leave. Forget laying the egg. You will give birth instead.

But she shook her head. The look in her eyes was one I knew too well, the one she wore when her mind had settled and wouldn’t be moved.

“The son of House Virelor will not be born dragon-touched,” she said. “He will rise from an egg. A true dragon. As he was meant to.”

Fury and dread clashed within me. We would die here if we stayed. And still—I saw that look.

She wouldn’t yield.

Can you turn? I asked her.

“Yes,” she answered. “But my wings... they’re dead. I can’t fly.”

I looked around the jagged space where the cliffs met the valley floor—tight, uneven, stone-locked.

This place won’t hold us both, I said.

I turned to face the squadron. They were almost upon us now, their formation steady, their shields tight together, designed to resist fire.

I opened my jaws and scorched the earth between us, carving a line of flame into the stone, a barrier of heat and ash that would buy us seconds, no more. Then I pulled the fire inward, and let the dragon in me retreat.

The transformation tore through me—bone grinding, wings splitting into nothing, talons curling into fingers. Scales shrank back into skin. Heat coiled into my core and stayed there, humming beneath the surface.

When I opened my eyes again, I was crouched in blood and smoke, bare feet and naked on scorched stone, my breath ragged.

I looked at her. “Do it,” I said aloud. “I will protect you.”

*******************

Pre-Order Fury and Wind

Paperback | Ebook

** For Ebooks: A link with the book and instructions to download it to your favorite reader will be emailed to you on release day

Prefer to Pre-Order the Ebook on Amazon? Click Here

 

 

Chapter Two

Iselda

Serenya transformed.

It broke something in me to watch. Her wings—those great, gilded wings that once cast shadow over the skies of Cindermarch—curled inward as she shifted. Entire chunks were missing. Torn away, burned, or blasted by fae attacks.

She had been a glorious dragon. As large as I. As fierce.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, or fight in this battle, but she’d come when she heard the eastern flank had collapsed. When the message reached her, she didn’t wait. She flew and opened a path for our forces to retreat. She saved them.

And now she would fall for it.

I swallowed the thought, hard and hot. No. I wouldn’t think like that.

I was Iselda of Cindermarch. Firstborn of the throne of flame. Raised by fire, forged for war. I had carved my name into legend long before a crown ever touched my brow, and no one would take my sister from me while I still drew breath.

Serenya lowered herself to the stone. Her claws curled into the earth, wings trembling as she shifted into the pose—arched neck, tail coiled, chest heaving. I knew that stance. The egg was coming.

I stepped forward, and the battle caught up.

The fae surged over the rise, vine-wrapped energy twisting in their palms, their armor wreathed in light. My fire met them first, but it broke against their shields. Had I been in dragon form, they would’ve burned. But in this form, my fire was too weak. Not enough to tear through their defenses.

So, I stopped breathing fire. And I started using magic.

Fire didn’t only live in the body; it lived in the land itself, breathing life into the world, running through its veins as if it were a dragon.

The air around me thickened. I reached down into the old heat buried in my blood, into the voice of the land beneath Cindermarch, the molten current that ran through my bones. I lifted my hand and called the fire not from my throat, but from the earth.

A line of flame cracked open before me, racing toward their ranks like a living scar. The ground howled. Their elemental ward shattered in its wake, and they screamed.

I moved as steel met fire. Their attacks danced—vines that cracked like whips, blossoms that burst with noxious gas, petals sharpened to blade-edge. I dodged one and shattered another with my bare palm. One struck my side, and I felt the cold bite deep, but I didn’t slow.

This wasn’t about killing them. This was about buying her time.

I roared—not with fire, but with will—and the world answered. The flame bent around me like a cloak, and my fists burned gold. I met them in their charge, and I broke them.

But there were too many.

For every fae I felled, two more took their place. The ground was slick with char and ash, roots torn free by fire, petals burning mid-air like dying embers. They came in waves—feral, laughing, beautiful in that terrible way the Verdenthorne are.

A thorn-lash wrapped around my leg while another burst against my shoulder, the sap in it acidic, searing through flesh and nerve. I bit back the cry and slammed my fist into the earth—flame surged upward in a ring around me, hurling the closest fae back.

My arms ached, my breath came ragged, and cuts streaked my side. Smoke clung to my skin, but I didn’t fall. I would not fall.

They waited for me to burn out, to exhaust my fire—but even if I did, they would bleed first.

I rose again, staggering to my feet, surrounded by scorched earth and the ruined blooms of Verdenthorne magic. For a breath, I stood—tall, defiant, bloodied and blazing. A queen in ruin, but still a queen.

Then they came again.

More of them, cloaked in vine and venom, slipping through the smoke. I struck, I burned, I broke—yet still they surged. Their magic lashed across my arms, my side, cutting deep, stealing pieces of me with every blow.

I was falling. Still fighting—but falling.

Then, through the storm, a voice spoke in my mind.

He is here. Protect him. Serenya said.

A roar echoed above me—her roar. A wave of dragon fire poured overhead a second later, searing the sky in a blinding arc of gold and crimson. Her flame tore through the fae ranks like divine wrath, stronger than anything I could summon in this form. I felt its heat pass over me, a wall of power.

Then—abruptly—it stopped.

A pain split through me, raw and consuming. A severing of something deeper than flesh, something bound in blood and breath. The connection between us—the tether that had always been there—was gone.

I turned to see Serenya’s great body collapse to the side, her head sagging, and her wings limp. And beside her, nestled between her claws, was the egg. It shimmered like it had been spun from starlight and flame, iridescent and veined in gold, larger than any I had ever seen. The surface pulsed faintly, not with heat, but with life.

The son of House Aeryz had taken his first step into the world, and I was the only one left to protect him.

I should’ve run. I should’ve snatched him off the ground, transformed, and flown from that cursed place. But the pain was too strong. The shock went deeper than flesh, and I couldn’t move, not while the echo of her death still rang in my bones.

I had lost my sister twice today—once when I thought she was dead, and once again, right in front of my eyes.

Vines struck in that instant of stillness, slithering from every side, curling around my legs, my arms, my throat. They wrapped me with sharp intention, thorns biting deep. I roared, aching to transform, but their magic was strong, and in that moment, mine was not.

The dragon in me recoiled, curling back inside, shying from the grief, from the weight of loss.

The vines pulled tighter. I braced, half-expecting the final blow, when the wind changed. It came with a whisper. Then a gust. Then a voice.

“Duck.”

I dropped instinctively.

A rush of air howled overhead—sharp, precise, and controlled. The vines around my throat snapped, and the ones on my legs shredded like paper. I twisted, rolling free as a figure dropped into the clearing with the grace of a seasoned warrior.

He moved like wind wrapped in muscle and steel, sweeping a blade of shaped air across the ground, severing three fae whips in a blink. His hair was the color of smoke and his smile was infuriatingly calm.

I knew that beautiful face. How many times had it distracted me during the negotiations?! He was Prince Auren of Stormrest, and a fucking fae.

I didn’t stop to wonder why one of them was helping me. There was no time. I snapped free of my grief, let it feed my fire, and I struck.

He surged left, and I went right. We moved like old soldiers who had trained for this together, though we had never fought side by side before.

He summoned walls of slicing wind, knocking back fae archers that had taken perch above us. I dragged flames from the earth and turned it into blades, cutting through thorned warriors who came too close. His laughter rang through the chaos, wild and sharp as his wind. My fire followed in his wake like a hunting beast.

Vines couldn’t catch me now. Petal-blades shattered before reaching us, and the air turned into a storm.

We were fury and wind, flame and steel.

At first, they fought back, but seeing one of their own break through their lines must have stunned them because they began to break. Many turned to flee, and the few that remained were either wounded or afraid.

One of them, bloodied and snarling, snapped at Auren as he passed. “You’ll pay for this, Storm Prince.”

Auren only grinned, wind curling around his fingertips. “Get in line.”

I rolled my eyes at his answer, then turned to my sister. Other dragons would retrieve her body later, but I wanted to say goodbye now. At her honoring, we would laugh and dance to show her we were still here, that the world she died protecting was all right. But here… here, I could perhaps cry.

I took two steps and froze. The egg was no longer where it was.

Trembling, I darted forward, my eyes scanning the charred stone, the scattered ash, the blood-marked earth. Maybe the wind had knocked it somewhere. Maybe it had rolled from her side. But no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find it.

I spun around and stormed toward Auren. “Where is it?” I snapped.

He blinked, mid-turn, his grin faltering. “Where is what?”

“My sister’s egg!” I shouted, louder now, voice cracked from fire and fury. “Where is it?”

His smile vanished completely. And he said, “I didn’t even know there was an egg here.”

“Liar,” I snapped. “Fae lies.”

My skin burned. I felt the heat rise up my spine, scales beginning to form down my arms, across my shoulders. My magic howled with the urge to shift, to tear something apart. But just as I drew breath to let the change take me—

“I can find it,” he said.

I held myself back. “What?”

“I said I can find it.” His voice was calm now. The wind curled gently around him, ruffling his clothes, whispering at the edges of his hair. “The wind is my friend. It tells me things.”

I stared at him. “Is this another trick? Another fae lie? Or will you actually help me?”

His eyes sharpened, the humor gone. He turned to my sister and sorrow painted his face. “She was a good woman, your sister. I thought she was still alive, but it seems I was too late.”

I blinked. Was that why he stepped in? To help her? That wasn’t an answer to my question though. “I appreciate you feeling that way about my sister, but I don’t have time to grieve. So, will you help me or not?”

“I will help,” he said, looking at me, “but I will do it for her, not for you… And because children have no place in our war. If the fae took her egg—I’ll get it back.”

*******************

Pre-Order Fury and Wind

Paperback | Ebook

** For Ebooks: A link with the book and instructions to download it to your favorite reader will be emailed to you on release day

Prefer to Pre-Order the Ebook on Amazon? Click Here

 

 

Chapter Three

Auren

I looked at Serenya, and for a breath, I didn’t believe she was gone.

She lay in soot and stone like a broken monument, her wings curled like a broken flag, one shredded, the other barely there. She’d died hard.

Why is it always the good ones?

She was the only one in every summit who had ever tried to make her sister listen. Even my brother believed she was the voice of reason between storms. I’d watched her try to mediate, try to pull Iselda back from her fire-raging brink more times than I could count.

I remembered the day I fought her, when my wind clashed with her fire. She nearly killed me that day, but when she saw a handful of her people in need, she abandoned her clear shot and turned for them. She didn’t care that killing a prince would have made her a legend, or that I was in full breach of every war protocol between our kinds. Only her people mattered. Only their lives counted.

Now she lay dead on the stone, and all I could think was: why her? Why not her sister?

“Auren!”

Iselda’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts, and as I saw her again, I remembered why we didn’t like the dragons.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, jaw tight. “Find the egg… Now.”

I smiled—because of course I did. “Don’t order me. You’re not my queen.”

“And I’m glad that I’m not, but you said you will help. So stop smiling, and do it. This isn’t a joke.”

“Fine.” I nodded and closed my eyes. “But remember, a joke isn’t the only reason to smile,” I said quietly Then I reached for the wind.

I breathed slowly, grounding myself, opening to the movement all around us. The breeze curled against my skin, then lifted—curious, expectant.

“Show me what was taken”, I whispered to it.

The wind stirred, first gentle, then grew with purpose. It spun around me in a spiral, listening, learning. Then it shot away, chasing what I asked for.

I opened my eyes, and she was standing only a few steps away, hands on her hips, brow lowered, eyes fixed on me. I looked back and… Huh, I thought, realizing she was beautiful. Not the fae kind of beauty. She wasn’t symmetrical and lacked the polished perfection my people prized. But there was a rawness to her I couldn’t explain. She was sharp, rough around the edges, and despite being naked, covered in ash and blood, she stood as if draped in the finest gown.

“So?” she asked. “What now?”

“We wait for the wind to return,” I said.

“How long?” She asked, and again her tone was commanding. Perhaps, if we were in bed, I would have liked that, but here, she doesn’t have the right.

“It depends on how far they are already, but it will come back soon. I’m certain of it.”

Wait, was I just thinking about being in bed with her? Is it because she has no clothes on?

“Soon isn’t good enough,” She began pacing, muttering to herself as she moved back and forth. I didn’t hear everything she said, but it all seemed to revolve around one subject. “I should turn. I should go after them myself. I should burn their trail down to stone and ash.”

Part of me liked seeing her torture herself, but it would do her no good. “Do you even know which direction they went?” I asked. “They could be near. Or as far as their realm by now.”

She spun on me, eyes blazing. “And you could be delaying me, so they escape.”

I snorted without meaning to. Now she was accusing me? “If I wanted to do that, I would have just let them kill you.” I met her stare, unblinking. “The gods know the world would be better without you in it.” I bit my lips. That was too far. I shouldn’t have said that.

Fury simmered behind her eyes, and her mouth opened like she meant to speak, but no words came. It closed again, her lips tight.

We stared at one another, locked in heat and silence.

I didn’t look away.

Strange how her intense gaze—and the fact that her mouth was finally closed—made her look even more beautiful. She was tall, almost as tall as me, and curved in all the right places. She would be perfect to cuddle with. Flutes above! What’s happening to my thoughts?

I pulled my gaze away from her body and to her hair. Dark and singed at the ends, it clung to her sweat-damp skin. Ash streaked her cheeks like warpaint, covering half of her lips. I wanted to step forward and clean them for her. I would try with my fingers first, but if that didn’t work, I would…

I looked away. I had to. This wasn’t the right time to have these kinds of thoughts, and she wasn’t the right person to have them about. But I wasn’t fast enough. She had clearly noticed something in my eyes, and what she did next told me she wasn’t happy.

Her skin began to change. Scales bloomed along her collarbone, spreading down to cover her breasts, then curled over her hips—elegant, metallic, purposeful.

She shouldn’t have covered herself, though, because for some reason it only made me want her more. Of course, I knew the illusion wouldn’t last. The moment she opened her mouth, all that heat would crash. She had a dragon’s temper and a queen’s arrogance. And I hated both.

A tingle tickled my skin, soft as breath, but it wasn’t because of her. My wind had returned. It curled around me in a slow, spiraling embrace. It didn’t speak in words, not exactly. But what it saw, I now knew too. The path it had taken, the scent of ash and cold stone, the trail of magic left behind—it all became memory. Mine.

“I know where they went,” I said.

“Which way?”

I pointed, and she didn’t ask for more. She simply transformed.

I stumbled back a step as her body shifted—skin splitting to scales, limbs reshaping with violent grace. Wings unfurled like banners of war. I’d seen dragons. I’d fought them. But the sight of her—so close, so vast—still settled awe like stone in my chest.

When it was done, she looked down at me with one burning eye, then bent her wing low to the ground.

“You want me to climb?” I asked.

She huffed smoke in response. Her impatience was seeping even through her dragon form.

I hesitated, but not for long. I glanced one more time at her wing and climbed. It wasn’t easy, and after nearly falling twice, she adjusted the angle at which she furled her wing. I ran up and grabbed onto her spikes, settling myself between four large ridges at her shoulders.

Now that—that was something no fae had ever done before.

She took two heavy steps and soared. The ground fell away in an instant, the wind screaming past my ears as her wings caught the sky and pulled us upward. I clung to the ridge of spikes along her back, knuckles white, legs locked. My whole body tensed like a bowstring.

I’d let the wind carry me before, but this was something else.

She climbed with purpose, with fury, her wings hammering the air. Every beat felt like defiance. And I held on for dear life.

It was terrifying.

But then—she leveled.

The world opened beneath us. Mountains like cracked teeth. Rivers like glass. The ruined battlefield now only a smear of black against the green.

And in that moment, as the wind steadied and I no longer feared falling, I felt the awe. From up here, it felt like the land belonged to us. No wonder dragons thought the world was theirs alone.

The flight wasn’t long. They’d gotten relatively far, yes—but distance was nothing to her massive wings.

I pointed down at the place the wind had shown me and shouted over the rush of air, “Down there!” I wasn’t sure if she heard me, so I shouted again. Then, twice more. But then she started circling, her wings cutting graceful arcs above the land, her massive form turning slowly, as if searching.

Then she dropped.

The landing came fast—a thundering crash that slammed through my spine. I was thrown from her back, and hit the ground hard, a jolt of pain spiking through my ribs. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

By the time I groaned and rolled to my side, she was already transforming, scales retreating, limbs folding, skin returning. The dragon was gone. Iselda stood in its place.

I pushed to my feet, wincing, and marched toward her. “Did you have to do that?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “To a fae? Yes.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off. “Where are they?”

I looked around. We hadn’t landed in the exact place the wind had shown me, but we weren’t far.

“This way,” I said, pointing and starting in that direction. Arguing with her would get us nowhere anyway.

She followed without another word.

When we reached the spot, my heart slammed so hard it felt like it had tripled its pace. “Shit,” I muttered. “Shit. Shit.”

Iselda narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed, wondering whether I should tell her, but I figured she deserved to know. It was her nephew they took after all. “They had a mirror gate,” I said.

She arched her brow. “Aren’t those rare?”

“Very,” I answered. That was bad. Only the highest of fae had access to a device like that, and if one was here, then word of my interference would soon reach Maelira.

Iselda frowned, suspicion sharp in her eyes. “How do you know?”

I pointed at the ground. The grass had been burned in a perfect ring, but not by fire—by light. The stone beneath it was polished smooth, unnaturally so, and faint shimmer marks flickered like cracked reflections.

“Nothing else leaves a mark like that,” I said.

She didn’t look angry at the revelation, and her hand cupped her chin in thought. “Can you still track them?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. Then paused. “But—"

“They’d be in the castle by now,” she said, interrupting me, and there I saw disappointment in her eyes.

I shook my head. “No. Mirror gates are dangerous to the realms. They can only be used outside the borders. And once they go through, they’ll have to carry the device back on foot. It won’t be fast.”

Hope lit behind her eyes. “Then we can still catch them.”

I exhaled slowly. “It’s one thing to help you in battle, Iselda. I never liked Verdenthorne anyway. But they’re still fae. And sneaking into their realm? That’s treason.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then said quietly, “I understand. I didn’t expect that much from you anyway.” Then she turned, scales already beginning to ripple across her skin.

“I’m going to regret this,” I cursed under my breath. “Wait.”

She paused, looking back.

“You don’t know where around the border they went. And once you fly in, they’ll know a dragon is there. You’ll never make it out alive.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ll either save Serenya’s son or die trying.”

I ran a hand through my hair. My brother’s going to hate me for this.

She met my eyes, clearly waiting for me to speak.

“Fine... I’ll help. I promised that much.” I glanced at the horizon. “But it’ll take longer this time. The wind Probably has to go as far as their realm, but it’ll find them.”

*******************

Pre-Order Fury and Wind

Paperback | Ebook

** For Ebooks: A link with the book and instructions to download it to your favorite reader will be emailed to you on release day

Prefer to Pre-Order the Ebook on Amazon? Click Here

 

 

Chapter Four

Iselda

Night draped itself over the forest like a wet cloak, the scent of rain still clinging to the leaves. Droplets fell steadily from the branches, tapping softly against puddles that mirrored the fractured glow of the moon. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, sharp with the clean promise that comes after a storm.

For once, I was grateful for the rain. It washed the battle from my skin. But I was also glad when it stopped.

A restless urge to spread my wings and fly toward Verdenthorne burned inside me, but Auren said we needed to wait in the forest for his wind. Part of me wanted to believe he was lying, but I couldn’t push away that odd tug urging me to trust him. So, I sat on the ground, resting against a fallen tree limb. It hurt to sit, so I checked if one of my wounds had reopened.

Ah. There it is. I had missed a small gash below my arm that hid behind the side of my breast. It no longer bled, but it burned at the slightest touch. I raised my index finger and released a small flame from its tip, letting the heat concentrate until the flame turned red with a bluish glow beneath. Then I ran it over the wound. I winced as the fire reknit my nerves.

It wasn’t perfect. Only the fire of Cindermarch could deconstruct and rebuild a dragon’s body to its flawless form, but I didn’t mind carrying a scar for a while.

The damp scent started to bother me, so I let a wave of heat burst from my body. At once, the air dried, and I felt better.

“Seriously?” Auren said.

I turned my gaze to where he squatted a few paces away, opposite a pile of wood.

“What?” I asked.

“Couldn’t you have done whatever you just did, like, fifteen minutes ago?”

I looked at him, not sure what he was talking about.

“Didn’t you see I’ve been trying to dry the wood for the past twenty minutes so it would catch fire?”

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do?” I asked. “I thought you were playing a game to pass the time.”

“A game?” His eyes widened for an instant, then he burst into a laugh.

I raised my brow. What did he find so funny? He didn’t comment though. Instead, he adjusted something inside the pile, picked up two stones, and began tapping them together for sparks. Sometimes, he would stop and laugh again, then continue.

Rolling my eyes, I threw a small ball of fire at the wood, and it caught fire.

“Thank you,” he said, settling down on the other side of the fire, leaning back against a stone worn smooth by wind and time.

I studied him in the flickering light, trying to set my feelings aside and decide—rationally—whether I could trust him. The answer was obvious: I could never trust a fae. But he had rushed to my aid, fought beside me, and now he was here, willingly helping me chase something he had no reason to care about. That had to mean something.

My gaze lingered longer than it should have.

I remembered that moment on the battlefield when he looked at me—not just with awe, but with hunger. I’d seen the heat flash in his eyes, and had shielded myself by instinct, covering the parts he liked to see with scales. But part of me hadn’t wanted to. It had ached to stay bare, to let him look, to let him want. That same part stirred now. A slow, molten urge to pull the scales back and feel that gaze again.

But I didn’t move.

I wouldn’t feed that primal hunger—not now. That was the dragon in me, the side that fed on raw emotion.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

I blinked, realizing he was talking to me, but he continued without even waiting for my nod.

“I’ve always wondered about how it feels.”

“How does what feel?”

“Being a dragon,” he said. “And a person. Two things at once. What’s that like?”

The question caught me off guard. Was it genuine curiosity or fae trickery? They had a way of saying what you didn’t expect, just to get what you didn’t know they desired. But when I looked at him, his eyes held no deceit. Just a strange, quiet sincerity.

So, I answered. “I’m not two things,” I said. “This is me. And the dragon is me too. We’re not separate. We’re two sides of the same coin.”

He smiled faintly; his gaze focused on the fire. “Except one side of that coin is far larger than the other.”

I watched him curiously. He was about to betray his entire kind to help an enemy. His brother—King Vaeren—was a man of honor, but even I knew he would side with the law against his own blood. And yet here Auren sat, calm, smiling, like it was nothing. How could he do that?

“You still haven’t thanked me, by the way,” he said, dragging me out of my thoughts.

“For what?”

“Saving your life. Helping you.”

Well, I was thankful, but I hadn’t asked for his help. “That decision was yours,” I said. “And so are the consequences.”

“Such a dragon thing to say,” he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes. “At least I don’t garnish my words with fakeness like the fae do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being kind with your words, Iselda.”

“Kindness,” I said, “is telling the truth.”

We looked at each other then, the fire snapping between us, eyes locked like it was a dare.

He smiled again, and this time, it made me pause. For an instant, I felt my fire flicker, and the warmth I sensed didn’t come from within. It came from him. Fuck, I thought. How could I let a fae make me feel like that?

I studied him more closely, my eyes tracing his form in the firelight.

He was beautiful, but of course he was. The fae often were. But his beauty wasn’t delicate like most of theirs. It was sharper. Wilder. His hair was wind-tousled, dark, and smooth. His jaw was all angles, his lips too curved for someone who smiled so often, and his eyes—storm-gray and lined with a quiet kind of mischief—watched the world like he was always one breath from laughing.

He looked like trouble. The kind of trouble I enjoyed when I was younger and had to abandon when I became queen.

I exiled the thoughts from my mind. I had no time for things like that. Only the egg mattered, and once I had it, we’d go back to what we were—enemies. I would meet him on the battlefield, and I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

“I need to sleep,” I said, shifting my gaze back to the fire. “Wake me when your wind returns.”

***

I woke to a hand covering my mouth.

Instinct surged, and I nearly breathed fire, but when I opened my eyes, it was Auren.

He held a finger to his lips. “Someone’s here,” he whispered.

I pulled his hand away slowly and matched the volume of his voice. “So… we kill them?”

He shook his head. “I can’t fight every fae that comes our way. I’m still one of them.”

I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t care what he wanted, but then again, I needed his help. “So, what do we do? Hide?” The word dripped with sarcasm. Dragons didn’t hide.

He nodded, clearly thinking I was serious.

I rolled my eyes as he gestured for me to follow. “There’s a hollow behind that rock,” he said, voice low. “I think it might fit us both.”

We crept toward it, the air tense, each step too loud in my ears. Halfway through, he glanced back and whispered, “Try to be quiet.”

“I’m being quiet,” I muttered. Though in truth, I didn’t know how. I’d never had to sneak anywhere. A queen goes wherever she wants, whenever she wants.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before crawling in after him, but he urged me forward with a glance and a quick flick of his fingers.

The hollow was tighter than I’d thought. We had to squeeze in, shoulder brushing shoulder, breath mingling. The stone was cool and close, forcing us to shift and press together, closer than I liked. Not that I could do anything about it.

Then I heard footsteps, light and regular. There was no threat to the sound of their feet. These people were just walking. And as they drew nearer, the still night carried their calm conversation.

“But then she said I couldn’t go to the inn if I didn’t finish my chores,” one voice said.

“And what did you tell her?” another voice asked.

“I said, ‘Woman, I hunt the meat and bring it to this house. If I want to go to the inn, I’ll go to the inn.’”

A third voice quickly added, “And he’s been on the road since that night.”

A burst of laughter nearly escaped me but I quickly put my hand on my mouth to contain it, which made me brush against Auren again. I was tired of being in this tight place with him, though I didn’t know whether it was because I hated confinement or because I kept hoping he would wrap his arm around my waist.

I started to move. These people weren’t dangerous, and I doubted they meant any harm. But the movement put me face to face with Auren, and I saw how his face had changed. His jaw was tight, his expression taut. He really didn’t want to be seen.

That struck me. Harder than it should have.

Helping me… it wasn’t a small act for him. It was treason. Maybe even exile or death. I already knew it meant all of that, but I hadn’t thought about it from his point of view. Would I have done what he did, had the roles been reversed? Would I have done it knowing it could cost me everything?

I knew the answer to both questions, and it was a hard no. Not for a fae. Not for an enemy.

At that angle, there was just enough space behind me to take half a step, but I kept my feet where they were, letting my scales rest against his chest, my gaze level with his lips as I bit the inside of mine.

The tension in him eased slightly as the footsteps and voices faded, dissolving into the night like mist under the sun. Only then did his eyes meet mine, and I saw a flash of surprise there. Yet he didn’t move. He could have stepped out, but like me, he stayed where he was.

It made me want to understand him, to make sense of this fae prince who chose to help a dragon. The war between our kinds was so old that we were hatched with hatred in our blood. I could only assume it was the same for them.

So, who was Auren?

“Huh,” he said suddenly. “You actually smell good. I didn’t expect that.”

I blinked, fury replacing my blood. “Why? What did you think I’d smell like?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Ash? Fire?”

I shoved at his shoulder, making just enough space to squeeze past him and out of the hollow. The night air felt sharp on my skin as I straightened, dragging in a breath.

Fucking fae.

“What? It was a compliment,” he said, scrambling out after me.

I turned to scold him, to tell him I didn’t need his compliments, but he was no longer with me. He was standing still, eyes closed, like he was each time he listened to the wind. So, I waited.

When he opened his eyes, the smile was gone. “I found them,” he said. His voice was steady and serious. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this? We’ll have to go into the Verdenthorne realm.  And in there, they’ll have everything they need to kill you ten times over.”

I didn’t hesitate. “I already told you—I’ll do anything for my nephew.”

*******************

Pre-Order Fury and Wind

Paperback | Ebook

** For Ebooks: A link with the book and instructions to download it to your favorite reader will be emailed to you on release day

Prefer to Pre-Order the Ebook on Amazon? Click Here