The Dragon and the Queen by Kaitlyn Davis

Prologue

The seer lay in bed listening to the creak of old wood and the slap of waves as the ship rolled with the ocean. The inky blackness behind her closed eyelids was her only respite from time. In here, the world was calm. In here, the days and years and centuries stood still.

"Mira."

His voice drew her back the way it always did, and she turned toward the sound. He stood in the doorway, his body lithe and strong, the golden skin of his bare arms smooth and his long hair a deep bronze. One step and everything shifted. Wrinkles marred his brow and white scruff covered his chiseled cheeks. Another step and time turned further still, leaving his skin sagging and his spine bent. Another step, another age, on and on, until he was across the room. The ship around him blurred too, the walls shifting from freshly stained grains to algae-covered planks to nothing but rot with holes. Everything stopped the moment he threaded his fingers through hers.

"Zavier?" She blinked the visions away and stared into his hazel eyes, the one constant in her ever-changing world. No matter how old her magic made him look, his gaze remained the same—steadfast and loving, her anchor in the storm. "What's going on?"

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Come. They're waiting for you."

He'd told her. If she could only just remember, but the hours bled from one to the next, leaving her unsure of what was real and what had happened only in her mind. Even as he helped her to her feet, she couldn't remember which stage of life was now and which was merely a flash of things to come. She lived a thousand lives every single second, shifting through time the way one might flip through the pages of a book, the world always in flux.

Zavier led her through the ship, keeping one of his broad eagle wings wrapped around her shoulders to fight the chill. Her homeland had been a warm place of constant sun, but this new world they found themselves in was turning gray. At least that's what he told her. As they made their way outside, the sky shifted, hazy then clear then opaque, premonitions of things to come.

"The mages have begun construction on a floating city," he explained as they walked toward the bow. "They're bringing the survivors here to begin the new world, and news of the prophecy has spread. They want to meet you. They want to hear it from your lips."

Stopping beside a damp railing, she huddled closer to his warm chest. Through the translucent mist, a jagged isle topped by thick forest came into view. Surrounding it on all sides was a vast array of ships, some old and some new, some fit for royalty and some no more than rowboats. Above them all, magic lit the skies.

But even with Zavier so close to her, out in the open like this, her power stole her sight. When she blinked, the forest was gone, replaced by an imposing castle built straight into the rock. Homes and bridges and walkways covered the seas. And there were people, so many people, looking drawn and forlorn. Suddenly, orange blazed against charcoal black. The castle was engulfed in flames as raging fires filled her gaze and cries split her ears. A deep roar made her shiver—she'd heard the terrifying sound too many times before. Golden power glittered through the air, the sort that still made her tremble in both awe and fear. The beasts were there. They were coming. This time they'd win.

That’s not now, she tried to remember. That's later—much, much later.

"Mira," Zavier whispered, his breath tickling her cheek as his voice drew her back. She tightened her hold on his fingers and blinked the future from her eyes. The forest returned, and the odd grouping of ships, and the small force of mages trying to build a new world from the utter devastation of their old one. "Stay with me."

She was trying.

"The seer," people murmured as they neared.

"The chrono'kine."

"The prophetess."

The rainbow aura lighting the skies dampened as faces turned her way and the world fell silent, nothing but the subtle crashing of waves as her ship cut through the sea. There was no need to confirm who she was in a crowd of mages. The truth was clear. The rosy spark of her magic glittered across her cheeks and her arms, covering every inch of her skin. Once, in a time that felt so long ago, she'd had a certain amount of control over the power. But that was before she and Zavier had sacrificed so much, before she'd succumbed for the sake of saving them all. Now, it always simmered beneath the surface and leaked from her pores, as vital as breathing.

A man on a gilded ship stepped forward, a crown gleaming on his brow. He was no aethi'kine, that much she knew. They'd all been killed in the fighting. But it seemed he was a king nonetheless.

"Welcome to Da'Kin," he called across the sea, the wind carrying his voice as yellow ignited along his fingers. "This is the start of the new world. It's not much now, but one day it will be a grand city."

Fire flashed across her sight.

She swallowed and tightened her hold on Zavier's hand, forcing the vision away. By the end of this king's lifetime, it would be a grand city, in scope if not substance. He would be long dead before the day it burned to ash. There was no point in dashing his dreams now.

"That it will," she said, keeping her voice kind.

The man grinned as his gaze swept across the ships and sea, no doubt seeing something else entirely. "We've all heard the words by now, prophetess. They travel faster than the breeze, but still, there would be no greater honor than to hear them upon your lips."

The words.

She knew exactly which ones he meant. Aside from Zavier and a few major players, they were the only other constant in her shifting world, whispered across time and sewn into the fabric of fate, laced with hope and promise. She'd written the full story down once, long ago, back when there'd been paper and ink, before the presses had crumbled and the libraries had burned and the world had split, leaving nothing but dreary ruin here below. She'd kept a diary, housing all her deepest secrets within its fragile leather binding. But it wasn't meant for this gray existence upon the sea. Deep caverns and dry underground caves would keep it preserved until the day it was meant to be found. She could see the moment now—a woman’s hands reaching overhead as silvery eyes flashed across the dark.

"Mira."

She returned to the present and the many faces angled toward her, breathless with anticipation and desperate for a little bit of hope. She'd crafted her visions into a poem, something short and easy to remember, but the words had gained a life force of their own. They would exist across the ages, passed down from generation to generation, a prayer whispered not to the gods but to heavy hearts in need of lifting. The world below would remember. Despite the desolation, they would carry her visions with them until the day came to see them through.

The seer shared her prophecy.

When it was done, cheers rang across the skies, but she was somewhere else, hundreds of years ahead, her thoughts still on her diary somewhere far above. A picture formed of a man with soft lavender eyes and deep onyx wings. The space around him was hazy and in flux, not yet settled. His future was uncertain, but one thing was clear.

The fate of her diary somehow lay with him.