I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) Marc Secchia (most read books .TXT) 📖

and politics of the Archipelago to make much of a judgement. Ariamyrielle had revealed that her labour for the Human was not popular in all quarters, but exactly how the draconic power hierarchy worked, apart from the structure being matriarchal, they had no idea.

Was something afoot, or a-paw? Almost definitely. Should have pressed her for details while they had a chance.

The city had no gates, but several times they caught sight of squads of soldiers with red-feathered helms rushing about, and dark, oily smoke rose from three locations. Suspicious.

Azania said, “Why don’t we go down into the city to see what’s going on? They’re used to Dragons being around, from what Aria said. We find the Palace, but instead of me introducing myself as a Princess, why don’t you pretend to have an urgent message for Azerim, or the King and Queen? Let’s see how they respond. I’ll stay in the background.”

“Good. That’s better than any of my ideas so far.”

“You had ideas?”

He mimed blowing through his empty paw. “Lots of nothing.”

“That’s unlike you – but if I know you at all, you need information to feed that brain. I think I’ll wear my grey travel cloak and my desert veil. If anyone asks, I’m in mourning.” As he began to raise his head, she placed a cautioning hand on the side of his muzzle. “Wait. Those Dragonesses aren’t out of sight as yet. You’re unusual enough to attract attention.”

“Highly attractive. That’s me.”

“If you say so, o scaly hulk of conceit.”

After forty minutes on the wing, the Dragonesses disappeared into the westering suns. Azania donned her veil and drew up the hood of her nondescript travel cloak.

“Best paw forward, Dragon. Fly casual.”

Ah, her favourite saying for times such as these, when the odour of trouble filled the air, but they chose to fly directly toward it anyways. As they neared Zunityne, it became more than clear that the city was under the control of the red-feathered soldiers, but no obvious battles raged, so it was impossible for visitors to tell who was actually in charge. Sailing over the harbour, they observed many heads turning to track their progress. Agreeing on the most impressive-looking building, a mansion painted the colour of the sky, with red roof tiles and many gorgeous colonnades, they landed outside of the gates – a deliberate choice both for social niceties, and practicalities. The grounds held many tall trees and little space for a large Dragon to land or take off.

Azania slipped down immediately, as agreed, and kept pace with him as he strolled up to the heavily-guarded gates. Tiny shadow. Hulking brute.

These were not a friendly bunch by any means.

“Greetings,” he called amiably. “I bring an urgent message for King Azerim.”

Despite the tropical climate, his announcement introduced a most wintery nip to the air.

A soldier wearing golden epaulettes upon his natty crimson blazer stepped forward and saluted smartly. “The King is not present, Dragon.”

“Oh. Where’s he gone?”

Bleak glares. Hands hovered near the pommels of swords.

He said, “I do apologise. We seem to be rather late; the rest of our group just left, I believe?”

“Aye. They’re bound for Mykita Lair, with the rest of your kind.”

The soldier’s glare suggested he ought to know exactly where that was, and why they were going there. It also managed to invite them to depart forthwith; all in all, a decidedly eloquent operation for a mere glare.

Aha. So, they knew where the Wave Dragonhome Dragons had flown? Interesting. Mykita lay on the next and last major island West, the trailing heel of the Archipelago. He opted to make an amiable bow, something Humans did – but this only deepened their frowns.

Ugh. Mistake?

King and Queen, Azania’s voice tickled his ear.

“My good fellows, I do hope you can help,” he said, with a pacifying grin. Two dozen brown-skinned soldiers contrived to become as pasty as Hamirythe white at the sight. “Could I perhaps deliver my message to the King and Queen? I have heard they were ill –”

“They are, and are taking no visitors!” the leader barked. “Give it to me. I’ll see that the message is passed on.”

“It is of a somewhat … sensitive nature,” Dragon temporised. “I’m – well, dash it all, this is so awkward. I’m late for Mykita, you see, and I’ll get into serious trouble if I don’t catch up. You know what those Dragonesses are like!”

To a man, they flinched. Hmm.

Good angle, Dragon, Azania spoke again. Back to Azerim …

Extending his every sense and trying for his best pleading tone, which did not come easily to a Dragon, one might argue, he added, “Perhaps I might catch up with the younger King, wherever he has gone? Could you please – I wouldn’t normally ask, but I’m new at the job and if I don’t get this right – you know.”

He made a cutting gesture across his neck.

The hard-eyed leader had the nerve to guffaw. “Too right. You’ll find our King has departed to attend Aria Seaspray’s – nuptials, I think you Dragons call it?”

“Oh,” he said, trying his best to look like Blitz the Fritz, confused and gormless.

Not hard. Nuptials!

Rip out his hearts and toss them to the Sea Serpents! Please, by his sire’s egg, by all that Dragons held sacred, let this news earthquake not be true …

“Over at Mykita Lair!” the soldier said impatiently. “You’ll have to give it your best to be there by sundown for the ceremony – good luck, Dragon. You’ll need it!”

His men laughed nastily.

Mount up, Azania, he said, very quietly. “Thank you very much. You’ve been most helpful.”

The soldier saluted flippantly.

Dragon parked him at the top of his menu, main dish. Filthy liar!

Sensing the Princess’ weight upon his neck, he waited a second for the click of her