“So awesome!” a recruit shouted from behind Tauran, the rest of the crowd bursting into cheers and laughter.
While they were distracted, Tauran slipped away. By the skies, he’d kill for another drink.
CHAPTER 6
Tauran knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t stop it.
He was home. Not in his family home in Syena, but in the Solar Tower. Sunlit and spacious, the entrance hall stretched out before him with its reflective marble floors and high, painted ceiling. He scaled the stairs easily. In no time at all, he was on the top nesting floor. The comforting sounds of resting dragons echoed all around and below him like a lullaby. Farther down, Falka’s and Andreus’ voices rose in a heated argument. Tauran tried to ignore it. Hoped that if he could just will the sounds away, he could stop what he knew would happen next.
Tauran paused in the center of the domed room.
There she was.
Itana.
Her black scales glittered in the morning sunlight filtering through the open balcony doors when she raised her head and greeted him with a rolling coo. When she spread her wings, the claws of each wingtip touched the walls. She looked like a goddess in the flesh, and the sight of her tore Tauran’s heart to pieces as he approached her.
She bowed her head. When he reached out, her nose pressed gently against his palm.
Her scales were smooth and sun-warmed, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Tauran knew it wasn’t really her he felt, but the memory of Valeron from the day before.
“I miss you,” he said, and was met by silence. His words hung in the cavernous hall. “I’m so sorry.”
In the next moment, he was on her back as she strode onto the balcony.
He should fly away. Leave Valreus. He didn’t have to be here when the fight broke out. If he left, he could save her.
Itana spread her wings. The alarm blared.
Excellor, Falka’s massive titan filled his vision. “Mutiny! Protect the guard!” Falka’s voice was full of fear. All the dragons were in the air, now. Andreus was above him, his dragon’s bared teeth catching the light before they closed around Itana’s throat.
Tauran woke with a pounding heart. Something warm and wet ran down his temple. Lifting a hand, he smeared it against his skin. He hadn’t cried in years. He pressed his palms against his eyes. It was just a dream. Just a stupid dream.
A low rumble reverberated in the building. Tauran shifted toward the window. Distant thunder? Or an earth tremor? Quakes were rare in Valreus.
The sky was slowly lightening, the sunrise still hidden beneath the horizon. Tauran felt wide awake, remnants of the nightmare still uncomfortably vivid. It would be useless going back to sleep, only to be woken by the sun within the hour. Instead, Tauran left the bed and dragged on his trousers and boots and a simple short-sleeved shirt. It would be another hot day. Placing a kettle on the stove, he opened the can of ground voralis root he’d bought the day before and made a cup of tea to help shake the remainder of sleep from his mind, then left the apartment and headed into the streets.
After healing from his fall, the doctors had told him he had to walk, preferably twice a day. For a while, Tauran hadn’t wanted to, the pain in his leg and the people giving him odd looks on the street keeping him in his rooms. He’d paid for the comfort and vanity a few weeks later, forced to shamefully drag himself to the nearest physician, near delirious with pain from a knee that would no longer fully stretch. They’d told him the harsh truth. If he didn’t start following his physician’s advice, they might not be able to undo his next mistake.
Still, Tauran preferred to walk in the mornings when there were fewer people in the streets. Some days, their looks hardly bothered him. But then a mother would drag her child across the street as if his limp was evidence he had the rolling fevers, and Tauran would return home feeling more a freak than ever. A walking stick would ease the discomfort in his leg, sure, but at the cost of his dignity.
Tauran crossed the street to Watercress Avenue, lined with beautiful well-kept apartments with pale yellow facades and window sills framed by flowering plants. Only a few lights were on in the pre-dawn twilight; fishermen preparing to set out on the lake,