Thread of Darkness

Ch. 16 a life in shadows

Kane Hillsbrook glared at the dozing dragon.

"Get up, you stubborn brute."

Hellart cracked open one large golden eye, ruffled his red wings, and rolled over. Kane cursed under his breath. Early morning light filtered into the cave, illuminating shiny white bones scattered around the floor. Sheep, probably. Outside, he could hear the rhythmic slap of water against rock, smell the brine and exotic flowers.

He could also hear other riders taking off, their whoops carrying over the Gongo Islands and the shimmering azure sea. A dragon let out an elated roar.

Unlike his own mount.

Hellart looked more likely to yawn than roar.

Kane lifted the saddle. "Just one lap around the Island, Hellart. I'll even give you a cheese scone afterwards." Still no movement. Screw it. "Two cheese scones."

The dragon perked up an ear, as if to say, I'm listening.

Kane decided to play his final card. "Vulcan and Egan are flying today. Don't you want to knock those pompous pricks out of the sky?" Hellart shot to his feet, snorting a puff of flame. Kane grinned. "That's my boy."

Still, Kane felt a little bad as he slipped the saddle over Hellart's head, carefully working around his scarred skin. Generally, he tried to avoid mentioning Egan; the other dragon had been brutal to Hellart when they were hatchlings, biting and scratching and hitting him with his spiked tail whenever the trainers weren't looking. It was why Hellart had been such a grouchy bastard at training camp.

They'd hated each other, at first. Kane prayed to every god he knew whenever he was forced to ride Hellart; conversely, the dragon did his best to toss Kane off his back and into the sea on multiple occasions.

Now, Kane brushed his mount's scarred skin. Hellart scowled, nipping at his hand. Don't baby me, he seemed to say.

Kane tutted. "Touchy, touchy."

He swung onto Hellart's back. His dragon crouched back on his hindlegs and then exploded into the sky, his wings beating in powerful strokes.

They hugged the coastline, following the sweep of white sand. Palm trees and salmon-coloured houses unfurled below them, bordered by thick jungle. In the distance, Kane could just see the bulbous white top of the Grand Palace. The onion palace, some locals called it, although none would ever dare say so in front of the High Lord.

"Flint!" a voice called.

Kane twisted in his seat. Alfie and Mack Agnirian were flying towards him, identical grins plastered on their faces. But then again, Kane thought, everything about them was identical: rich brown skin, dark hair, and shocking lavender eyes. Alfie was a little quieter and Mack a little cockier, but the differences ended there.

"Took you long enough," Mack called. "Busy with that shopgirl?"

Kane smirked. "No crown today, old man?"

"I'm not that old."

This was true. At twenty-two, the Agnirian twins were only five years older than he was. But Kane also knew how to push Mack's buttons.

"I'm amazed you still have all your teeth," Kane called. "You're practically geriatric."

Mack lunged, his mount snapping playfully at Hellart's tail. Kane squeezed his left leg twice — roll over — but he needn't have bothered; Hellart was already somersaulting out of the way, looking far too pleased with himself.

Kane patted his dragon's neck fondly. Cocky little shit.

"How's your uncle?" Kane asked, more seriously this time.