Flicker

  Flicker

  A Crown of Fae Novella

  Sharon Ashwood

  Contents

  Flicker

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Fae Children’s Rhyme

  Afterword

  Shimmer

  Excerpt

  Also by Sharon Ashwood

  About the Author

  Flicker

  A Crown of Fae Novella

  Sharon Ashwood

  FLICKER

  When hope is just a flicker, trust a dragon to light the flame.

  Fliss is the youngest princess of Bright Wing, a tribe of dragon shifters defending Faery against the enemy Shades. She yearns to fight, but now she’s stuck at school far away. The situation is ridiculous. Intolerable. How can she save the world when she’s forbidden to fly after curfew?

  The school at Penriva House is far outside the battle lines. The students are safe, or so everyone believes. But Shades attack Fliss before she arrives at the school, and now there are signs the enemy is hiding just beyond its walls. When the headmistress ignores the evidence, Fliss has to wonder whose side she’s on.

  Terrified, Fliss is unsure where to turn with the secret she uncovers. There’s no clear way to save her newfound friends, much less herself. Does Fliss run, or risk all and fly into battle, one small dragon against a host of perilous foe?

  1

  This story takes place many years before the events of SHIMMER.

  The tale takes place in the Faery Realm.

  Fliss had never flown so far, nor for a reason she hated more.

  Wind buffeted her wings, but her temper gave her strength. She was the youngest princess of the Bright Wing dragon shifters, the air fae who had ruled the skies for as long as stories were told. At fourteen years, she was still a birthday or two away from joining her brothers and sisters in the defense of Highclaw Castle and its beleaguered mountain kingdom.

  “You’re too small,” her father, King Vass, had pointed out last month, just after the first autumn frost.

  “But I’m very fast.”

  King Vass had wrinkled his brow, the lines deepened by fatigue. “Fast is good. So is agility. Sadly, we need dragons, not dragonflies. You’ve been sheltered from the war.”

  Annoyance—and a touch of foreboding—had tightened her chest. “Give me a chance.”

  “I am. You’re about to get more opportunity than you understand. Pack your bags, sweetling.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re going to school. Penriva House is far from any battles and the headmistress is one of the best water mages ever to weave a spell. You’ll be perfectly safe and get a first-class education besides.”

  School. She huffed a plume of smoke. What king’s daughter went to a common boarding academy? Proper princesses had tutors and drawing masters. But that was the very reason her father had chosen Penriva House, where the students were from good but ordinary families.

  She’d found the place on a map and promptly stormed from the room in horror. She might as well be exiled. Penriva was on the southeast coast, well into the domain of the water fae. There would be no other dragons there, much less family. She wouldn’t know a soul. Worse, she wouldn’t be Princess Flissatania when she arrived—just plain, unimportant Fliss.

  “That’s the point,” her father had said. “Living as an ordinary student will be an adventure.”

  “How?” she’d replied darkly.

  “Imagine acting in a play for months on end. It’ll be fun.”

  Fliss had recognized a sales job when she heard one. This was her father’s way of putting her in hiding, and she hated it. Dragons were meant to defend and protect, not cower in the shadows.

  So now she banked through the scattered clouds above Celador Forest, following her older brother, Telkoram, through the sky. He was huge and black where Fliss was a pale cream spotted with caramel. The air was sharp with the promise of frost while autumn shadows grew long across the green land below. She thought she could smell the salt of ocean air but, so far, no flock of sea birds confirmed it.

  Her luggage had gone ahead to the school so they could travel light. Besides the two royal dragons, there were four seasoned guards covering their flanks and tails. The flight had left at daybreak and followed the Ildaran River, only stopping to rest once they’d left the mountains. From there, they’d used the Fleetfoot River as their guide toward the coast.

  As Fliss scanned the forest below, she saw fewer pine and fir trees and more splashes of yellow and orange among the leaves. Small farms nestled in clearings and low-lying marshlands flashed silver as they passed overhead. The land was changing with every wingbeat, and already she felt hideously far from where she belonged.

  Leaving her family behind was like abandoning part of her own flesh. As the youngest of nine, there had always been a sibling nearby. Had been. With the war, her world was changing too fast. Fliss turned her face into the wind, letting the breeze dry her tears before they could fall.

  The brush of her brother’s wing against hers jerked her attention back to the present. Telkoram turned to regard her, concern in his golden eyes. She’d drifted from her position in the flight, risking a mid-air collision. Embarrassment twisted in her chest. It was a sign of fatigue—Fliss was proud of her speed and agility in the air, but she was a sprinter. Long distances required a staying power she didn’t yet have.

  To her relief, Telkoram dipped toward a hilltop. It was high and bare, with only a few scrubby bushes clinging to its sides. One by one, they angled their wings and dropped, stretching out claws to break their momentum once they touched grass. Fliss forced herself to land lightly and stand straight, though her wings ached as she folded them. Nerves tingled, fading in and out of numbness as her flight muscles cramped. Still, she forced herself to study the lands below. This was where she’d be living.

  As in all of Faery, humans and fae lived and worked side by side. Below, a swineherd shaded his eyes to see the dragons looming on the hilltop. The human’s interest was no wonder, since Telkoram was the size of a large farmhouse. They were lined four abreast, with two of the guards still circling above to patrol the skies for danger. The man’s obvious awe made Fliss preen a little, making sure the fading sun caught the shimmer of her scales.

  Her respite was short-lived. Telkoram gave a faint rumble, pointing his nose toward the south. Fliss felt her stomach plummet. Far in the distance was Penriva House, familiar from the sketch her father had shown her. There was no mistaking the distinctive roofline, with its pointy stone towers. Her exile was drawing near.

  So was a bank of dark clouds. Fliss drooped as the wall of darkness rolled toward them with uncanny speed. She hated flying in driving rain. Even through a dragon’s tough hide, it was like being pelted with needles while trying to navigate through a mass of heavy, dark wool.

  Suddenly Telkoram launched into the air, his huge wings spreading with the sound of thunder. The two guards who had landed with them followed suit, one sleek and gray, the other the dark blue of mountain shadows. Fliss sprang after them, alarm conquering her fatigue. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but her spine tingled with warning.

  As she climbed the sky, she tasted something new in the wind and understood her brother’s haste. A putrid tang made her gag, as if the air itself was decayed. Only certain magic—foul, hateful magic—made her recoil that way. That smell was the signature of their enemy, the Shades. The war was following them.


  Terror made her cling to the space right behind her brother, matching his every move as if she held his tail between her teeth. It wasn’t easy. Telkoram was dipping and weaving, disguising their path with a series of evasions. Nervously, Fliss craned her neck, wondering where the enemy might be hiding. Her part of the sky was still blue and bright, with no clouds to hide in. That should have given her comfort, but it made her feel exposed.

  Despite their erratic path, the dragons kept the inky clouds to their right as they raced to Penriva. The mass of darkness seemed to be shrinking as it grew more intense, like a hand closing into a fist. Stranger still, the clouds were moving contrary to the wind, as if to force the dragons away from their destination.

  Fliss struggled to keep panic from freezing her wings. Her speed had long ago been eaten away by fatigue. Now her muscles were leaden, every action punctuated by a tiny, exhausted pause. No doubt sensing trouble, the guards drew nearer, ready to close in. Fliss desperately wished she was stronger. It was plain she was slowing them down.

  The sun slanted low, blinding her as they circled closer to the river. Something swooped out of the bright halo of light. Fliss had a glimpse of bronze feathers and talons—and then chaos.

  The guard to her right spun suddenly, the sweep of his dark blue tail striking her flank as he fell. He tumbled in a flurry of wings and teeth, tangled with the huge eagle that had him in its grip. The claws were as long and sharp as Fliss’s fangs, and the bird tore into the guard without mercy.

  The attack was so swift and silent, Fliss wasn’t sure the others even knew it had happened. She roared a warning. Hers wasn’t the bellow of a war drake, but it was enough.

  Telkoram wheeled, seeming to hover for a moment like a dancer in the air. Scudding storm clouds veiled the sun, turning the light the color of pewter. The black dragon inhaled, seeming to swell, and then let out a stream of flame. Ragged orange fire blazed, striking the eagle square on its back. The stink of sulphur filled the air. The bird shrieked, a bone-jarring cry that sawed through Fliss—but nothing else happened. It should have been ash but, if anything, its lustrous bronze plumage just grew brighter.

  Disbelief made Fliss falter. A firebird! It was a creature from the far south—one she’d always believed a myth.

  The other guards dove after the bird, the sleek gray dragon in the lead. With a cry of rage, the eagle dropped its mangled prey. Fliss looked away, suddenly sick.

  Telkoram flew beside her, nudging her toward the school with his huge, horned head. He wanted her to fly as fast as she could, making her escape while the others fought. No, Fliss thought bitterly, I’m not a coward. I refuse to run.

  Yet before that day, she wouldn’t have believed anything could hold its own against Bright Wing warriors. The bird was only half their size, but it was utterly savage. Worse, it was immune to fire—their best weapon. Given the stink of foul magic in the air, she could only draw one conclusion—the Shades had finally found a weapon to use against dragons.

  Shrieks and roars spiraled up from the battle, vibrating on the wind. Telkoram snarled in fury. The eagle had broken free of the guards and was arrowing toward them, murder in its amber glare. Telkoram put his body in its path, blocking Fliss from the firebird’s sight. Her brother bellowed, needing no words to convey his order. Go. Fly.

  Fliss exhaled smoke, signaling her distress. The storm’s unnatural gale tossed her like a leaf, and yet Fliss was pinned in place by sheer horror.

  Her brother angled closer, nipping her ear. Go now. Flee. Be safe.

  She was out of choices, exhausted, and afraid. Back and shoulders screaming, she swooped toward the school and fled, one wingbeat straining after the next. Lighting forked overhead, sending a wave of prickles over her skin. Panic made it hard to breathe.

  Thunder boomed. She wanted Telkoram’s big, comforting presence at her side—but he was somewhere behind her. The reflection of his flame burnished the belly of the storm clouds.

  Terror jolted Fliss as the bird swept in from the right. It was on a path to intercept her, feathers shedding light as if it were sculpted from flame. This time, though, Fliss saw the fine webwork of shadows encrusting it like ash. That was the poison of the Shades, the mark of magical corruption controlling the eagle’s will.

  The gray dragon streaked in, landing a mighty slash of its spiked tail before diving away. The eagle dropped, rolling in the sky to deliver the guard a stab of its beak. Fliss roared in anger, unleashing her own flicker of flame.

  The bird’s head jerked her way, eyes intent, but Telkoram had caught up. Her brother snapped long fangs on its wingtip, pulling it up short. The eagle kicked out with its huge talons, and the fight was on.

  Fliss bolted. The knowledge that she was striking out alone welled up like a cold tide, threatening to choke her from the inside. The failing light made it harder to see where she was going—and it made her own pale form visible against an increasingly dark backdrop. The odds were mounting against her.

  The eagle screamed, but this time there was no answering roar from the dragons. A second passed, and then another as she waited for their defiant call. When she could stand it no longer, she risked a backward glance. The bird was briefly silhouetted against the rising moon—and coming her way.

  None of her dragons were in sight. What had happened?

  Fliss had to think fast. She’d made it across the river but she still had a long way to go. There was no way she would reach the school before the firebird caught her. The only option was to hide.

  Fliss dipped toward the treetops, using her small size to dodge between them. It was cover, but not enough. A triumphant cry sounded straight above her. She’d been seen.

  Fliss played the final card she had and dropped to the ground. Branches whipped her hide, tearing at her wings as she struggled to fold them tight. The noise of her descent was a deafening cacophony of cracking wood that sent sleepy sparrows fluttering into the air. Finally, Fliss thudded to the loam-scented earth.

  The forest floor was dark, rustling trees blocking out the last of the fading light. Fliss collapsed to the ground, limp with fatigue. She found just enough strength to shift out of dragon form. Pain swept up her limbs in rippling waves, the sudden feeling of lightness making her dizzy as her body mass melted away in seconds. Her skin itched and burned, then a sudden prickle in her sinuses made her sneeze. At last, she flexed her fingers and toes, adjusting her sense of where she began and ended.

  Above the treetops, wings flapped like a whistling tornado. Fliss rolled to her hands and knees, trembling with hunger and an acute need for sleep. And warmth—she realized with dismay that she had no clothes.

  None of that mattered if she didn’t find safety. Quickly, she crawled into the shelter of the undergrowth, small enough now to hide from sight. She bowed her head, letting her long, dark hair hide her pale face.

  The wingbeats went on and on as the eagle tore at the treetops in frustration, letting out a shriek of rage. Fliss burrowed into the bed of ferns until she was sure not a single inch of skin showed. After what felt like a month, the eagle abandoned the hunt, leaving only a single red-tipped feather in its wake. The sudden silence rumbled with retreating thunder. Thankfully, the promised rain never came.

  Fliss waited a long time before she stirred—and then she straightened gingerly. The pain in her back remained, reminding her that she’d flown far more than usual. Slowly, she crept from her hiding spot, the soles of her feet tender as she stepped on the stones and pine needles littering the ground. She half-expected the eagle to return the instant she rose, but it was looking for a dragon, not a girl. Stealth would be her weapon until she could find Telkoram and the school.

  Fliss wavered a moment, suddenly unsteady. Now that she wasn’t about to die, more worries flooded in. What had happened to her escort? Her brother? Visions of Telkoram’s grin—the impish one he saved for Fliss—hovered in her imagination. In that picture, his dark eyes met hers, measuring her courage. Was she dragon eno
ugh to look after herself?

  Tears threatened, pinching the back of her throat, before she swallowed hard. Unless she planned on a night in the cold, her only option was to find a path out of the trees. She hadn’t gone a hundred yards before she froze.

  A large, shaggy wolf stood in her path, studying her as if she were a leg of lamb.

  It licked its chops.

  2

  The wolf was long legged, its coat a shaggy gray the hue of smoke and starlight. Fliss studied it, making note of the subtle tension in its stance. The beast stood a stone’s throw away, just close enough to hear it sniffing the air. Something in its yellow eyes spoke of curiosity as much as the need to hunt.

  Fliss forced her hands to remain loose at her sides. Any threatening move would prompt an attack. At the same time, curling in on herself would be a sign of weakness, and that would make her prey. Too bad, because standing tall left every inch of her bare human skin exposed to the night wind—not to mention biting insects. Fliss clenched her chattering teeth and tried not to shiver. The wolf stood on the narrow trail that maybe—just maybe—would lead her out of the woods. Unfortunately, the path was hemmed in by thick vegetation, which meant sneaking past the beast was not an option.

  The wolf shifted its weight forward. The motion was slight, but Fliss tensed. She was conspicuously unarmed—not to mention undressed. Sadly, shifting to dragon form wasn’t nearly as quick as returning to her human skin—she’d be dinner long before she finished the job. Misery welled up, constricting her throat. Where was Telkoram?