The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)

Udug flies off with one fully functioning wing, cradling his injury.

The stench of charred flesh and seared muscle accosts me as I lean over the Galer. Burns cover more than half of her body, her skin completely gone along one arm and part of her neck.

I hold her unwounded hand. Her return grip loosens, her breaths wrenching gasps. Her suffering drags up my sorrow over Rohan’s death. Once again, I can do nothing.

“Opal,” I scratch out. “I’m sorry.”

Her pained whimpers lessen, and her focus turns inward with startling intensity. The battlefield drifts off to another world. “I can hear them calling.”

“Who?”

“My mother and Rohan. They’re waiting for me.”

I press her hand over my heart. “You should go to them.”

“Yes . . .” Opal’s torso jolts wildly, one final protest of her physical anguish, and her gaze empties of life.

My chin drops to my chest. Anu, let her family receive her. I grant myself a moment of grief and let her go.

The battle continues at my back, but my hearing still rings with Opal’s final breaths. I will not leave her out in the open for our enemies to revel over. I carry her to Ashwin and set her behind the boulder. He lays my jacket over her middle, covering her wound.

Flashing flames draw my attention to the front line. Kali and Brac exchange fire blasts with Kur. The First-Ever Dragon will wear them out. Bhuta powers are limited. His are eternal.

A rock crashes into our boulder. I crouch over Ashwin as rubble pelts our backs. Asag pummels us with more splintering rocks. The boulder shielding us cracks from his repeated hits.

“Can you swim?” I ask Ashwin.

“Yes. Why?”

I grab a stone and toss it at Asag. It pings off the brute’s chest. He extends his huge chest and growls.

“I don’t think he likes that,” Ashwin says.

“Run for the lake!”

We take off for the shore. I stay right behind the prince as a buffer between him and the demon. We pull ahead of the lumbering Asag, and I am knocked off my feet by a flying rock.

I fall forward, my bones jarring, and roll onto my back. Asag stomps on my chest and leaves his foot there. Something snaps inside me and releases pain. My spine presses into the ground and seals off my breath.

Ashwin runs into my side vision and swings his khanda at Asag. The blade clangs against the rock giant. Asag shoves the prince away, then removes his foot from my chest, only to aim his next stomp at my head.

A hand shoots through the demon’s thick middle.

Princess Gemi yanks out a fistful of rocks. Asag tips backward in a slow-motion fall. Gemi sweeps him up in a wave of summoned dirt and heaves him into the lake. He smacks the surface and sinks underwater.

“So that’s how you vanquish a demon,” Princess Gemi pants, hands on her hips.

“Evidently,” I croak, clutching my torso. Asag broke at least one of my ribs.

Gemi lifts Ashwin and hangs on to him. He will be safe with her. We need to vanquish three more demons, and I am not losing another soldier tonight.

“Stay together,” I tell them as I fetch my sword and take off for the main battleground.





33

KALINDA

Kur will not be moved. No matter where Brac and I throw our fire, the demon god steps farther from the lake. The evernight will prevail if he gains more ground. I feel it in my gut.

Brac discharges another heatwave at the serpentine dragon, his unique orangey flame weaker than his last. Our powers do not penetrate Kur’s scaly shell. We will soon lose the convenience of our soul-fire with this useless strategy.

Nature-fire feeds off the trees, lighting the battlefield. Serpents dance in the flames, swirling and twirling happily. Their flickering eyes trail me, worshipful and adoring in our mutual love of the light. I stretch my fingers to them.

My friends, I have missed you.

Fiery tendrils shoot out and encircle my body, hot and heady. I call them to action.

Create me a helpmate.

The nature-fire hisses, and more flames zip from the wildfire. They whirl and fasten together, combining ferocity. A monster forms between Kur and me, a serpentine beast that rises to the demon god’s great height. The nature-fire mimics the First-Ever Dragon’s proportions and builds a blazing dragon of his girth and stature with short legs; a sleek, proud neck; and a snappish snout. The fire dragon glows every color of Burners’ powers—vivid white, sun yellow, scarlet—and inside the sweltering beast flickers a heart of sapphire.

I marvel at how rapidly and seamlessly the nature-fire melds into a tangible creature of one mind and purpose—to obey my command.

Brac lists back on his heels. “When did you learn to . . . ?”

“Guard my flank.” My dragon lowers, and I mount it, absorbing the heat without suffering any injury. For I am fire, and fire is me.

Riding atop the immense dragon, I am eye to eye with Kur. His gaze flashes. “You think you can use fire against me? I am born of fire and venom.”

I lean into my dragon, preparing to ride. “I am born of the stars, and I will see them shine again.”

Push him to the lake. Let’s take back the heavens.

My fire dragon drives its head into Kur’s chest and muscles him back. Kur sidesteps and breathes flames. I duck behind my mount’s head. The column blows past me, but his venomous fire rips small holes through my dragon.

Brac throws heatwaves at Kur’s front feet. He bats Brac away with his talons, flinging him into the dark.

Fly!

My dragon launches into the sky. Kur chases us with a blast of white-blue cold-fire. We evade him by flying higher.

Kur lunges at my dragon’s neck, clamps down with his jaws, and throws us to the ground. Everything jostles and trembles as we roll. I struggle to hang on until we are upright again. My dragon crouches, the path we rolled over scorched. Kur ejects more cold-fire at us, tearing new gaps in my dragon. The solidity of the flames beneath me begins to disperse.

As Kur gathers a finishing blast, an astounding sight appears.

Elephants? In the Alpanas?

Green-clad Janardanian warriors ride them, boasting their green-and-white dragon cobra flag. Mathura and Chitt ride together atop an elephant with ivory tusks. The herd stampedes onto the battleground. Land barges—large slabs of stone over rock wheels—roll to a halt. More elephant warriors charge off the barges into the front line, machetes raised.

They shake the ground, loosing the dirt at Kur’s feet and hauling him toward the gate. Kur’s tail crests the cold water. He vents a gut-rolling roar and blows fire at the forward row of elephant warriors. I watch in horror as his venomous cold-fire consumes rider and beast alike.

I hunch into my mount, fury boiling through me. Get him!