Chapter 39
Sage
A gust of air crafted from the powerful downthrust of Von’s incredible wings sent my hair twirling as he shot from the ground. In his wake, amber and sandalwood clung to me, wrapping me in his rich, masculine scent. I had missed the smell of him so much.
Missed him so much.
Vatara let out a small noise, and I rushed to her side. I ran my hand over her beak, petting her. “Lift your wing for me and let me see.”
Slowly, she did as I asked. I brushed my hands along her neck, stroking her softly as I moved down to her lifted wing.
Walking under it, I ran my hand through her silky feathers, feeling for the arrow.
Finally, I found it. In comparison to the massive wing, four times the size of me, the arrow didn’t look much bigger than a sliver, but it was where it had landed that impacted the gryphon’s ability to fly. It was right at the elbow joint.
Gently, I wrapped my hand around it. Her watchful eyes connected with mine, and I said, “I’m going to remove it now. This might hurt.”
She nodded in understanding.
Swiftly, I pulled it out, and she let out a pained screech. I tossed the arrow on the ground.
“Shhhh, sweet girl. It’s done now. It’s over,” I reassured her, rubbing and patting her side as I inspected the wound. Ichor wept from the injury, but to an immortal gryphon, I doubted it would be fatal.
I moved back by her head, my fingers stroking the soft, silky feathers on her forehead. Holding her gaze, I said, “Thank you for getting us here. I am indebted to you.”
She let out a melodic whistle, the sound of it magical.
Twigs snapped to my left and I twirled, a ball of flame emerging from my hand.
As soon as I saw who it was, I put it out.
“Folkoln,” I breathed in relief.
He walked toward me, my sister in his arms. Her face twisted in pain as she applied pressure to the wound in the crook of her elbow, blood oozing from it.
The wound had appeared at the exact same moment Vatara had been hit by the arrow.
However, on my sister’s arm, much smaller than Vatara’s wing, it looked much worse.
I rushed over to them. “Thank you for catching her.”
“Of course,” Folkoln replied. “It’s good to see you, Sage. ”
I smiled. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s good to see you too.”
“Fucking hell,” Artemesia moaned. “Why do arrows have to hurt like such a bitch?”
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Folkoln purred. A smirk twisted his lips, making his snake bite piercings look even more wicked.
The way he looked at her . . . he was smoldering at my sister.
I sharpened my gaze. Pinned him with it. “Don’t even think about it.”
“A bit late for that,” he said, his shoulders performing an unapologetic shrug. The action caused bits of smoke to break off from his tall, muscular body.
“Put her down,” I snarled.
“Alright,” he said, looking down at her as she writhed in pain.
I waited. Nothing.
Folkoln made a strange face. But he didn’t budge an inch.
“Folkoln,” I grated. “I need to inspect her injury.”
“How strange,” he spoke quietly, more to himself than us. His dark eyebrows shifted together. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself. Then, they lifted. Onyx eyes met mine. “I can’t feel her emotions.”
“Considering that’s what you feed off of, it’s probably a good thing. Now—” I gestured to the ground. “If you would be so kind.”
Still, nothing .
“What’s your problem?” I asked.
“I can’t,” he said, pulling her closer into him.
“For fuck sakes, Folkoln, quit playing around. She’s in pain,” I hissed at him. My power shifted, just beneath my palm. I’d shove a blade into his abdomen if he didn’t hurry up and comply. This was ridiculous.
“I am,” Artemesia moaned.
“Folkoln,” I said, taking a step closer to them.
His top lip curled back, and he bared his teeth at me, a deep, low growl emitting from his throat.
Swiftly, he cut it off, shaking his head as if he were trying to free himself of whatever demon had possessed him.
Lids sprung open, his black eyes flaring wide.
Then his arms fell down to his sides, like they’d lost all of their strength, and he dropped Artemesia as if she were a scalding-hot potato.
She landed with a heavy thud .
I rushed to her, kneeling beside her. I glared at Folkoln, my mouth about to form a word, but she beat me to it—
“Asshole!” she moaned as she rolled over onto her side, curling into herself.
“What the fuck?” Folkoln snarled in shock as he looked at his hands. His face shifted to my scowling one then to Artemesia’s pained one. As if he were afraid of her , he took a step back. Then another. “I’m going to help Von.” His wings flared out behind him, and in a blur of smoke, he was gone.
My sister groaned. “What is wrong with him?”
“Many things,” I said honestly. On a good day, Folkoln’s actions were strange, but like Von, there was always an angle to what he did.
Typically, it was so he could feed off emotions.
That’s what I had suspected he was doing.
But then when he snapped his teeth at me like a predator guarding its meal . . .
I knew that look.
It was the exact same one Von had given me hundreds of times before. Particularly when I tried to squirm away from his relentless tongue, my mind gone squirrely from too many orgasms. Like he hadn’t drank his fill. Like he hadn’t had enough of me.
It was possessive, protective. Primal .
It was . . . the bond.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Artemesia panted, blue eyes shifting to mine.
“I’ll tell you later,” I sighed, turning my attention to her arm. I held out my hand. “Let me see.”
Artemesia complied, and I inspected the wound. It was a clean, deep puncture, the surrounding tissue swollen and covered in blood. “How do things like this work with you and Vatara?”
“When she heals, my arm will too,” Artemesia answered.
“How long will that take?” I asked, releasing her arm.
“As long as the arrows were not dipped in dragon’s blood powder, it shouldn’t be very long. Vatara heals rather swiftly.”
The space between my eyebrows crinkled. “Dragon’s blood powder? ”
She gave a small nod. “Dragons were wiped out during the War of the Creators. The empress had their carcasses taken to Avolonia, in hopes of recreating the species, but to this day, she has been unsuccessful, a failure some have taken notice of. Anyway, she had her stygian forgemasters harvest what they could from the mythical creatures—scales, bones, teeth, claws, organs. Everything. While experimenting, they discovered when dragon blood was left to dry, not only did the consistency change, but its abilities were altered too. The blood that kept the immortal creatures alive, when dried and ground into powder, became lethal.”
“How so?” I questioned softly, watching as Vatara came over to us. She laid down and placed her head on the ground beside Artemesia, setting her worried eyes on her.
Artemesia took a breath, wincing. “It cuts off immortality and prevents healing. Ultimately, making the vessel die.” Artemesia held up her arm, eyeing her injury. It looked smaller than before. It was healing, which meant—
“No dragon’s blood powder,” Artemesia sighed in relief, dropping her head back on the ground. With her good arm, she reached up to rub Vatara’s head.
“If the empress had the carcasses of the dragons taken to Avolonia, what became of their souls?” I wondered.
“In truth, nobody seems to know, although nearly everyone has a theory. Some think the emperor cast them into the other realms, sending them away with everyone else, while others believe the empress collected them and has them all hidden somewhere.” Her eyes shifted skyward as she continued to pet Vatara.
“I think they returned up there, becoming one with the stars once more, from which they were taken.”
Head shifting, I followed her gaze.
Like the river searching for the ocean, I looked for Von.
My breath faltered.
Four warriors surrounded him, reminding me of the recent memory I had recovered of him in the arena. He still moved with that same precise skill, every swing intentionally placed, never missing his mark.
You can have an army of ten thousand, but it is the brave acts of one that will bring them home , spoke a strong, male voice from a time long forgotten. That, my dear daughter, is the warrior.
My brow furrowed. Was that something my father had once told me?
If so, why didn’t his voice sound like . . . his?
In the distance, across the lake, flame arrows shot into the sky toward the winged horse riders. I looked down, tracking where they had come from. Through the trees I could see them—
Harper. Ryker. Lyra. My heart performed a mighty kick, emotion choking me up.
It was really them.
“Sage,” sniffled a voice from behind me.
I knew that voice.
It had been there ever since we were children. Strong and steady.
Unable to stop the tears from bubbling up, I turned around. Kaleb walked toward us. He looked exhausted, like he’d been dragged through a forest for weeks on end. And yet, he was here, before my very eyes.
“Kaleb,” I choked out his name.
We raced toward one another, embracing and sobbing.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Kaleb spoke through his tears.
“Me too,” I said, sounding equally as pitiful as him.
Pulling back, I wiped at my wet cheeks as we smiled at each other like idiots.
“I have someone I need you to meet,” I told him, taking his hand. I pulled him over to Artemesia. “Kaleb, this is my sister, Artemesia. Artemesia, my brother, Kaleb.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Artemesia gritted her teeth as she got up, wincing as she put too much pressure on her injured arm. I rushed to her side, helping her. Kaleb came over.
When she was standing, she killed the distance between her and Kaleb and tossed her good arm around him, giving him a tight hug as she whispered, “Thank you, Kaleb.”
“For what?” he asked, hugging her back.
“For taking good care of our sister.”
There was something full circle about this moment, about seeing Artemesia paying Kaleb respect. It made my heart proud. Warm.
My lips wobbled. I sucked them in, trying to get ahold of my sappy self.
Gently, Kaleb pulled back, his eyes puffy and swollen from our sob fest. He placed a hand on Artemesia’s shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of her first.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
And then all three of us were sobbing.
I knew from that moment on, regardless of blood or birth, of parents or origin, the three of us would forever be connected.
Family.