A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,28
through her, crackling, buzzing, roaring for eternal pain and glory. She had been burned. She had lain for days in a temple, bandaged and crying for vengeance. She had tamed her fire, and now she soared through it, a goddess of inferno.
Bodies littered the streets below, the fire stripping flesh from bones, leaving blackened skulls that gaped. A scattering of dragons still flew, only for her phoenixes to hunt them, tear them down, and feast upon them. The rest huddled in the tunnels below, but Solina knew she would burn them too. She knew every twist and cavern in those tunnels. She had spent so many hours in their darkness, stoking her fire with Elethor.
Do you hide there now, my prince of tears? she wondered. Will we meet again this night, after all these years?
Elethor. The very name sent pulsing memory through her. She still remembered his birth. She had been only five, an orphan raised in the king's court, a timid girl still so scared of the world. When King Olasar let her hold the babe, she vowed to forever love him.
And I love you, Elethor, she thought. I loved you when I held you as a babe. I loved you in our youth, when our lips touched, and our hands felt, and our naked bodies pressed together. And I still love you now, even as I burn your home.
She dived toward the palace. It shimmered between the flames, its columns like bones. Her claws hit the cobblestones, splashing fire. She shifted, sucking the flames into her. Her wings drew in, forming arms. Her fire twisted, formed flesh and bones, and soon she stood upon human feet. The last tongues of fire pulled into the firegem around her neck, where they danced. She clutched the amulet and smiled, looking around at her old prison.
Requiem's palace. The place where they raised me… and where they burned me. She ran her finger across her line of fire, the scar that snaked down her face, between her breasts, and along her thigh. But their fire can no longer hurt me.
The columns rose around her, two hundred feet tall, carved of white marble. Between them, the birches blazed and crackled. When Solina was young, these columns had seemed so large to her, colossal monuments kissed with starlight that would never bless her. Orin and Elethor, like brothers to her, could become dragons, fly above them, soar so high the columns were as mere twigs to them. They had offered to carry her upon their backs, but Solina had always refused.
To ride you would mean I'm a cripple, she would think, fists clenched. I am a proud Tiran, a desert daughter, a princess of the ancient Phoebus Dynasty. We do not ride dragons.
"We kill them," she whispered.
Several phoenixes landed beside her, flaming and shrieking, their fire pounding the cobblestones. They shifted, flames pulling into their firegems, and soon stood before her as men clad in pale armor. They saluted, slamming their fists against their breastplates. Acribus stood among them, chief of her warriors, his armor bloody and his arm bandaged.
"My lady Solina," he said and bowed his head.
She stared at his blood. "The wound Princess Mori gave you is still bleeding. You need it stitched."
He bared his chipped, yellow teeth. "Princess? You mean a lizard whore. She will bleed worse when I catch her."
Solina shrugged. "Call her what you like. Hurt her how you like. You can cut off her freak finger, if it pleases you. Just don't bleed to death first."
Seven years had passed since she'd set foot in Requiem, but Solina had never forgotten Princess Mori, or the Lady Lyana, or any of the other girls who would torment her.
Mori was only a child then, Solina thought, but I remember how she'd pity me, a mere Tiran who could not become a dragon.
Lyana, meanwhile, had been only a snotty youth, a bookish girl whose nose was always upturned and whose father—Captain of the City Guard—would pamper her. Lyana too always looked down upon me, Solina thought. She saw only an orphan, an outcast, a cripple.
She clenched her jaw. Acribus will hurt them well. They will hurt like I hurt. We'll see how they pity me when Acribus thrusts inside them, when he cuts them, when he feeds their fingers to the dogs.
As if he could read her thoughts, Acribus licked his lips with that ridiculous white tongue of his. It always looked to Solina like a snake nested in his mouth.