It was built from the bones of dragons, a graveyard turned into a castle. The great hall was formed of a ribcage, walls first made of leather and then stone and smaller bones. The wide, gaping maw of a skull was fashioned into a gate for the courtyard. Spines were used for the defensive outer wall while wing bones keep towers upright and tails were turned to stairs. Bones between stones, fragments of a history long forgotten and used to build a future by Ímar, a prince exiled to the island where he bonded with a dragon.

But his story was long ago and this is mine. I am the last of the Uí Ímair princes to live within the castle he built from the remains of his dragon’s ancestors, and I have long been told that he would never have approved of me. There are still nights where I wonder if he ever imagined that his line would come down to me, and it’s a thought that the spirits of the castle latch onto as I stumble drunkenly through the castle with Helene.

The daughter of the commander of the dragon knights, she’s beautiful—her dark hair tumbles around her shoulders as she refuses to allow me time to dwell on morbid thoughts of mad, dead kings who killed themselves or the dragon graveyard we made a home out of. Her eyes are a clear blue, shining with such delight as we share a bottle of apricot brandy that I suspect she doesn’t know the bottle’s origins.

A specialty batch from the year I was born, a second summer prince to bless the isle and upcoming harvest. Ímar would have been pleased about that, at least. He was summerborn as well, as were his three children. But he killed himself, driven mad by spirits, and I doubt he’d be pleased about how people whisper that I’ll do the same one day.

Helene pulls me to her when we reach the outer wall, kissing me deeply and pulling me again from thoughts of a long-ago king. I laugh against her, hiking up her skirts to put my hands against her legs. One of her stockings slips, and she shoves me away with a sigh. I take the bottle from her, stepping back as she lifts her skirts to adjust her stockings. She smirks as I watch her and I grin, tilting my head to the side as I ogle her legs. Rolling her eyes, she straightens and her skirts tumble around her legs again as she holds her hands out to me. I pass the brandy back to her and take her hand, pulling her farther out along the wall. The guards stationed along it glance at us, at the pair of dragon knights that follow us, but none stop us as we run until I can run no more and I’m kissing her again to hide how breathless the running has made me.

I’d rather be breathless because of her.

We walk along the battlements, peeking between merlons to guess what lies at the bottom of the wall in the darkness—the lake, upturned bones, rocks, flat earth. It could be anything with how dark it is under a new moon. She giggles as we guess, threading her fingers through my hair and teasing out the knots that the wind puts into it. Twice, we ask the dragon knights behind us for their opinions of what lies below, but their quick, sure answers make us stop asking and play our game amongst ourselves again.

“Rocks,” a dragon knight says once, interrupting me as I try to make Helene guess again. His voice is tight enough that Helene and I both look at him. “Jumper’s Pit.”

Helene’s hand on my wrist flexes then. She laughs, slightly too loud, and takes the brandy from me. “Are we truly so far out?” she asks, stepping away from me before drinking.

I almost follow her.

I rest a hand against a merlon instead and lean out, peering into the dark. “I thought we might have to go a little farther before reaching it,” I say.

“You know the wall as well as them?” she asks, coming up to my side. I take the brandy back and drink.

“Well enough. Their lessons were better than mine.” Both dragon knights visibly relax as I walk on. Jumper’s Pit stretches for five embrasures and I count off seven just to watch them relax even more. No chance of me jumping tonight, not as many thought I’d do when Talorc died.

Someone will be sending Senach out after me soon enough, if they haven’t already requested he be found.

I reach for Helene. She smiles and takes my hand, letting me spin her around the walkway. When I press her up against a merlon, she laughs as I kiss her. I kiss her jaw, her neck. She sighs and hums and pulls me close, wrapping her arms around me and tilting her head back. We pass the bottle of brandy back and forth again, leaning against the merlon. I pour it into her mouth once, careful not to spill it—and when some inevitably does spill, I lean down to lick it from her skin. She giggles at that, her fingers running through my hair as I kiss a trail down her neck, down to her breasts. I kiss my way up the other side of her neck, ignoring the awkward shuffling of the dragon knights behind me and scraping my teeth over her skin slowly. When I bite down, she moans softly.

“What do you think is down below now?” I ask, lurching away from her to climb onto the embrasure.

She gasps, stepping forward. I lean against the merlon as I peer over the edge, and she almost shrieks my name, clasping her hands over her mouth to smother it. The dragon knights spring forward and then freeze, glancing at each other.

I drink more of the brandy before laughing and standing with my arms spread wide. The wind tugs at my hair and coat, and they don’t know what to do with me.

Helene’s braver than most. She climbs up next to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and stepping back with me. “Nothing but darkness, Bridei,” she says, turning me around to face her. She kisses me gently, fingertips of one hand against my jaw. The other hand clutches at my coat. “Do you think anyone is in the courtyard? We should see. Perhaps some of the dragon knights will be training.”

“They never train on a Solstice,” I say, kissing her nose.

No lessons and no training on a holy day, only a guard duty for those who volunteer. Helene knows that. She grew up around the dragon knights as much as I did—more, with her father taking over the command of them. But I allow her attempt at distraction as she directs my mouth to hers again, pulling me away from the edge. As we kiss, I glance at the dragon knights watching us, the guards who have crept closer to help them, then step back and look into the darkness again. Helene starts to step with me, gripping my arm tightly with both hands, but one of the dragon knights pulls her back by her skirts hard enough that she lets go of me to tumble down onto the walkway, landing in a heap with both dragon knights.

Senach appears from the shadows between torches then.

He stops, taking the scene in—Helene and the dragon knights being helped up by guards, another two guards inching towards me, and me on the wall. I glance at the guards curiously—they might actually try to pull me down, but most are usually too fearful to knock me over and send me into the darkness—then stare at Senach. He’s not on duty, but he’s in his Solstice armor anyway—black leggings and a dark blue tunic under light, black ceremonial armor carved with a dragon breathing fire. The leggings are tight enough to show the musculature of his legs, while the tunic sleeves and his armor hide the muscle that cords his arms. Sapphires glimmer in the torchlight along him—the eyes of the dragon on his breastplate, drops of them hanging from his ears.

I can’t read his gaze when he looks at me, but I salute him with the bottle of brandy anyway. “She’s got a dragon’s balance,” I say, glancing at Helene as I drink again. The bottle’s nearly empty by now. “How long do you think mine will keep?”

They say there was dragon blood in Ímar’s children, blood that’s kept throughout his line.

“Not long if you keep drinking,” Senach replies. “Come down from there.”

“Tooth and claw, I should have listened to Lunete and ignored him,” Helene mutters as she brushes her skirts off.

Senach winces as he walks over to lean against the merlon next to me. He looks me over slowly, paying particular attention to my feet and the edge.

“Apologies, Helene,” I say to her. She snorts, shaking her head, and I lean against the merlon to smirk at Senach. “She tried distracting me with kisses, and it almost worked. Why have you never tried kisses, Senach?”

“I prefer not to kiss people who are riotously drunk,” he answers dryly. “You are going to fall. Come down.”

I meet his gaze evenly as I drink deeply from the bottle and step back, closer to the edge. “Come up. You can’t grab me from there.”

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He presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyeing the battlement and how I stand. I hum and walk across the embrasure as I wait for him to rise to my challenge, counting the steps from one merlon to the other—four—and peek over the edge once more. Senach sighs and climbs onto the embrasure, throwing his arms up as I spin towards him. One of the guards gasps. But my feet are sure despite the brandy and Senach catches me. I laugh, fumbling against him as I try to stay upright with my head still spinning. He grips my arms tightly, letting out a breath slowly.

I settle for leaning against his chest instead of being upright and offer the brandy to him. “One of my father’s best.”

He’s never been one to turn down a drink from me and he doesn’t now, drinking as he eyes me. There’s some thought turning over in his mind as he glances at the bottle, the pale orange wax that declares its origin. I take the bottle back and straighten up away from him before he can say whatever the thought is, drinking as I look into the distance this time, not the darkness below.

A dragon flies across the sky, twisting in the air and blocking out the stars.

I hoot at the dragon, startling one of the guards into swearing. “Come fly over us!” I call out, waving for it. Whichever dragon it is, it flies in lazy circles over the bonding field and ignores my calls if it can hear them. The guards mutter to themselves behind us as I grab Senach’s sleeve. He steps up to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Is that Aedín out there?” I ask, resting my cheek against his shoulder.

“This late? The grandmother is in her nest like the old ha—” He cuts off with a flinch, inhaling sharply.

I snort. “She didn’t like whatever you were about to say, did she?”

“She did not,” he says, taking the brandy from me again to drink. I envy much about the dragon knights, but not always the bonds with their dragons. They tell me the dragons are often quiet in their minds, but there are times when they make themselves known—such as when Senach tries to tease Aedín and she doesn’t like it.

I take the bottle from him again with a quiet laugh, and he steadies me as I drink, watching that dragon in the distance.

“She also doesn’t like you endangering yourself like this,” Senach says softly.

“She dropped me the last time you convinced me to ride with you,” I reply, indignant now.

“She was playing.”

“I hate flying with you,” I say, stepping away from him. We both know I’ll say yes the next time he asks me to.

He starts to smile, probably ready to voice that thought himself, but then I stumble.

I trip over my own feet, grasping at empty air. The wind rushes up to meet me as the guards cry out. Senach lunges forward, snatching me from the edge. We stare at each other with wide eyes and I grip his arms tightly to hide the shaking of my hands.

“Do you want a repeat of what happened with Agathe?” he hisses.

I go still, blood draining from my face and brandy slipping from my hand. It thumps against the battlement hollowly, rolls to the edge and falls off into darkness. He brings his hands up slowly, cupping my face. I close my eyes.

“Come down, Bridei,” he says, gentle now. “Don’t make me bury you.”

I lean forward until my brow rests against his. “That’s a cruel swipe,” I whisper.

“But it’s working,” he whispers back, pushing me towards the walkway where everyone still waits and watches us.

I scoff, opening my eyes as I step forward. Two guards step up immediately to help me down, one holding me as I stumble and try to get my feet under me while the other aids Senach. Helene has a grim expression as she speaks softly with one of the dragon knights. I smile at her, but Senach takes my arm tightly and leads me away before she can see it. I nearly trip again, tugging on his sleeve, but he never slows and I fall against his side instead. His dark hair blows across his face from the wind and I reach out, tucking it behind one of his ears. He glances at me.

It’s too dark to see clearly now, but I know those eyes well enough—a summer sky blue, a bright and clear morning threaded with the dark night. His pupils are like his dragon’s, vertical slits or dark orbs, and they thin into slits now as we walk back into the castle and are met with sconces full of bright dragonfire. I sigh, blinking against the light. This hall is empty, full only of tapestries that tell of our island’s history. I look away from the tapestries, not remembering which tales these tell and not wanting to know—there’s a hallway somewhere full of ones that tell of the war that killed my father and brother, and those are only full of pain.

My gaze goes to Senach again instead—in time for him to shove me against a wall. I gasp softly, startled by the sudden force. He crowds in close and I don’t push him away.

He starts adjusting my clothes.

I frown and watch him, curious. “What are you doing? The court has seen worse from me.”

“I am assuming your uncle wants you to at least appear sober,” he says.

I grimace. “What does he want?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Oh,” I say dully, relaxing against the wall. Senach glances at me, but I ignore his look and stare at the wall across from us. He rests his hand on my arm until I look at him from under my lashes. “I’m fine,” I say, pushing away from the wall and into his space. He doesn’t step back, letting me bump against him. “Is he in his rooms?”

“The great hall,” he answers as I try to step by him and trip over his foot this time. He steadies me. “Everyone’s still in there.”

“Can’t be too bad then.”

“Agathe’s father has been speaking to him.”

I flinch. “Still, he’s summoning me in front of everyone. He doesn’t do that if he wants to chastise me.”

Senach hums as he holds his arm out to me, ever the dashing and handsome knight. I take a deep breath before accepting his arm, leaning against him as we walk down the hallway. His cheek brushes against the top of my head—and then he sighs.

“Hopefully he doesn’t smell the brandy,” he says quietly.

I hide my grin against his shoulder. He shakes his head.

The halls of our castle twist and turn, and slowly we find more people as we approach the great hall. Courtiers spill from it to find privacy with each other, but they all watch us. Even a few engaged in trysts in shadowy alcoves stop and stare, whispering to each other once we’ve passed them. I give a few withering looks, making them turn away, but one person’s mouth falls open in surprise when I trip over a thick rug. My head pounds. Senach just keeps walking, forcing me to stumble along until I can regain my balance. I mutter a curse at him, then fall against his side hard enough to make him stumble.

“What have they been whispering lately?” I ask, plucking at a loose thread on his tunic sleeve.

Senach glances down. “You’re an outrageous drunk,” he says, frowning and swatting at my hand. “As bad as your grandfather, you seduce everyone you can—” Not everyone, I think, staring at him. “—and you belong in a brothel in the Lower City.” I snort, but he continues. “You’ll kill yourself one day and probably drag others down with you when you do. Maybe the king. Definitely me.” We stop just before the doors to the great hall, both of us staring at the carved wood before he looks at me solemnly.

I smile, resting my chin against his shoulder. “Is that all?” I ask softly.

He turns to hold my face in his hands again, as he’d done on the wall. I lean into his gentle touch, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting. His thumbs move over my cheeks slowly. I love it when he touches me like this, even when I’m riotously drunk. Some holy relic to be cherished. His fingers tangle up in my hair as he steps closer and pushes me back. I open my eyes, staring at him as my back hits the wall.

“They call you wretchedly beautiful. You have your mother’s beauty and her fierceness. Last of the Uí Ímair princes and with the best traits of your lineage,” he says softly, letting one hand rest against the wall next to my head as he crowds close. Something whispers at the edges of my mind, a tangle of voices that call for me to follow them. Senach’s gaze darts to the wall. I turn my head—his hand and my head rest against a rib bone.

“Did you know some say these bones belonged to Ímar’s dragon?” I ask. They also say the dragon bones that hold our castle up drive dragon riders to madness and death.

“That’s the first thing we learn the truth of as dragon knights,” Senach says dryly.

I almost smile, staring at the bone. The bones had already been old by the time Ímar used them to build the great hall. His dragon was honored with a garden after his death, a great big beautiful thing full of summer flowers and birdsong in the mornings.

“Did you believe all the silly stories you were told at bedtimes as a child?” Senach asks, thumb moving along my cheek.

I lean into his touch, smiling softly now as I look at him. “Talorc wouldn’t let me.” My smile fades as I wonder if he would think the same of me as everyone else. I push away from the wall and duck free of Senach.

He frowns.

I ignore the frown and walk to the doors, straightening my coat and pushing my hair over my shoulders to hang down against my back. The guards posted there nod to me, but I only turn a blank expression on Senach. He’s still frowning like he can read my thoughts. But he gestures for me to walk in, falling into step behind me on my left. I clench my jaw as the people here fall quiet and step aside for us. They know who we seek, and they open a pathway directly to him.

King Cináed stands next to a window, watching swans on the lake below as he speaks with Queen Dowager Muirenn. They both turn as Senach and I approach, neither showing much expression until I bow. Cináed’s eyes narrow as my mother’s jaw clenches—the bow is just deep enough to avoid mocking, but too shallow to be properly respectful. It should be deeper for both of them. But I don’t trust my balance with how much I’ve drunk, and it’s shallow enough to keep me on my feet even if I’m sure Senach’s likely ready to come to my rescue and hold me upright should I tilt too far. People murmur to one another around us as I straighten, pushing my hair over a shoulder again.

“I have decided what’s to become of you,” Cináed says, mellow voice carrying over the murmurs. “Bridei, son of Muirenn and Eógan, you are to be exiled and taken from Dál Macha in two days. Celebrate the time you have left.”

The room falls deadly silent.

My breath catches in my throat.

Courtiers around me stare in surprise, as does my mother. I stare at Cináed, unable to make my tongue work. Of all the things he could say, exile is nothing I have ever expected to hear. Not from him, not while he remains childless and me his only heir. I glance at my mother, but she only stares at him as fury flares to life in her golden eyes. I open my mouth to speak, praying to the gods and spirits that drink and shock have not made my tongue too heavy, but nothing comes out and I close my mouth. This is . . . This is . . .

I look at Senach.

He stares at me, not Cináed. He steps forward, reaching for me.

I turn on my heel and shove my way out of the great hall before anyone can say anything else. People are slower to step aside this time, and their grand Solstice outfits are a blur as I move. Someone flinches as I snatch a bottle of wine from a table. I drink from it as I walk through the doors. I don’t know where I’ll go—the outer wall again, or maybe a tower this time—but I won’t stay here. Maybe I’ll bully someone into sparring with me in the courtyard.

No one stops me.