Chapter Eighty-Nine
Waella
Tasch
The deep brown Dragon’s snout pierces through the fog, and my heart restarts as I squint to make out any details. But I’m too far away, so I take off running.
Every muscle in my body quakes as I slide over the slick blades of grass until I come to a stop next to Fray. We each stare up at the sable Dragon as she careens down, shifting until Lars can be seen lying over her back.
Shuddered breaths weave in and out of my chest as Dranea’s paws land with a thud, and Fray’s eyes crinkle in the corners as Lars grunts. Then concern billows through both of us as it seems he is struggling to disentangle himself from the restraints.
I open my mouth to ask if he needs help when Fray pats my shoulder for me to look up again.
A grin spreads across my face when Lucrea’s deep red talons pierce through the mist, pulling our collective attention until Malin is detected.
My cheeks wobble with emotion when Fray knocks his shoulder into mine as we wait for the other three Dragons to arrive.
Malin drops from Lucrea’s back while Lars fights to free himself from one of the leg restraints. Fray and I share a fleeting look of concern, as I don’t think we’ve ever witnessed Lars have a problem with his harness before.
“You okay over there?” I call out as Malin rushes over to help him.
“Yeah!” Lars yells back as he’s freed. “But only because your healer and telekinetic Guards saved my life after your broody soulmate tried to crush my chest with a boulder!”
I open my mouth to ask what he means when Malin backhands Lars’ shoulder, saying, “Varic can explain when he gets here.”
“When did you last see him?” My heart launches into my throat as I await their response.
“He was securing himself into the harness when we took off,” Lars says.
“They will be here soon,” Lucrea’s gravelly voice booms in my mind.
I nod my thanks to the ruby Dragon, while Fray squints and leans forward, seemingly studying the black leather packs Lars and Malin have tossed to the ground.
He takes a step, and I gasp as the unmistakably amethyst scales along Sutrea’s tail whip through the pillowy fog.
I plod ahead and grab Fray by the wrist with one hand while excitedly pointing where her talons and snout are visible with the other.
His smile widens beneath his mask as he takes off, tearing across the field to be reunited with his blood-bonded Dragon.
Her paws thud to the frozen ground just as Fray arrives by her side. Sutrea tucks her wing and turns to him, and his toothy grin encourages me to mirror his expression. Their reunion tugs on my heart, and the amount of emotion surrounding me is oppressive, even with the hopeful energy.
Fray steps on Sutrea’s bent knee to grab hold of the black leather pack secured over her back. Then he turns back to me once he’s pried it open to peer inside.
“What is it?” I ask, equally curious and concerned.
“It’s—” His voice breaks off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.
“Your sketchbooks,” I yell, equally choked up as he shakes his head.
“Just the most recent one I used, and…”
My chest constricts—because Sutrea saved the one containing Hendry’s most recent portrait.
And the ones Fray drew of Varic and me in the carriage, along with the messages we wrote each other.
I open my mouth to ask what else he has discovered when he raises his hand to show me a pristine black leather sketchbook just like all the rest, though this one looks—
“New.” His tone is neutral as he runs his hand over the cover.
He turns toward Sutrea and nods, apparently exchanging a private message with her.
“Blank pages to fill,” I say, and he nods while hugging it close to his chest.
I quirk my lips to the side behind the mask at the thoughtfulness of his Dragon, or whoever placed this in his pack.
My cheeks wobble as I stare at Fray patting Sutrea’s shoulder before he drops down her side to reach the ground.
Her amethyst eyes look none the wiser, yet she must have been the one who ensured he would have these—to remember, and to begin anew, with the ability to document whatever catches his eye going forward.
I turn back to the white sheet above us and part my lips to scream at Malin to give me more information as to the last known status of both Cirrin and Varic, when a deep blue Dragon’s form pierces through the thickening mist. Guilt squeezes my chest from the disappointment unfurling in my chest as I selfishly wished the scales would be emerald.
Cirrin lifts his head, and Fray’s shoulders relax as he peers up at his friend.
A strange sense of urgency overtakes my body—as if my magic detects some sort of distress in my healer.
I sprint as fast as my weary legs can carry me past Lars and Malin when Cirrin drops down from the black leather harness.
He gently pats Brea’s side when I snatch his wrist and scan his features in search of answers behind his deep brown eyes, which widen with the edge of his mask rising higher.
Amusement and confusion flow back to me through our connection as he turns to look up at the sky at the same time a Dragon screeches from above.
“I’m fine, Tasch,” Cirrin assures me. “Go to him.” He gestures toward the clearing with his chin, and I turn toward the area I assume they will land. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, though I know Varic will admonish me for doing so.
Panic strikes my chest as I slowly start plodding in that direction.
Because what if Varic didn’t make it? What if he isn’t on Minea’s back?
No. Minea would never abandon him.
Unless he’s dead.
He could always be transporting Varic’s corpse.
I shake my head and frantically scan the fluffy white line as my mind fills with doubts as to the status of the rider who had better be secured to Minea’s back—alive and unharmed.
My brows furrow as a soft pinkish-red dot emerges from the fog, burning brighter the closer it drifts, while dispersing the cloudy vapor around it. My heart leaps as the ember grows closer, appearing just like the one that found me in the crumbling Throne Room.
All breathing ceases as this embodiment of Varic’s love for me draws nearer.
Its deep-pink and amber hue casts a trail of light as it sails toward me and lands on my chest with that prickly warmth spreading outward—the sensation which grows even when the ember is no longer visible.
The familiar flushing spreads out, then rises, signaling that Varic is close enough for his eyes to be roving my being.
With a feeling I now know to mean he is near enough to send his love to find me.
I feel it now more than ever as my pulse kicks with the need to see him. To show him I feel it too. But I don’t have to wait. He didn’t.
My lungs pull in the frigid air, and I conjure the threads of all he means to me, then weave it into a tightly wound tendril.
Only once I feel every bit of it do I send it out, where I nervously scan every inch of fog.
Time slows down as I wait with the thrum of his own love coursing through my veins.
Equally comforting and alarming me—a placeholder to keep my company until he finally returns to me.
After what feels like days, or hours, Minea’s bright green scales finally burst through the fog. I don’t say a word, nor do I dare to spare anyone else a glance—I just pivot and jog closer to where they seem to be aiming.
My lungs scream from this rare burst of exertion as I force them to take in more frigid air until I halt with a cough from the burning in my esophagus.
Minea hovers so close I can nearly see Varic, but the damned Dragon’s wings obscure him from view.
Then my heart jolts in my chest when a pair of polished black boots slide over Minea’s side, already freed from the restraints despite the Dragon having yet to land on the ground.
I freeze as I take in the shape of those legs. That back. The mess of windswept waves. Yet I still can’t seem to move as I stare at Varic’s form when he drops to the ground, just before his Dragon’s paws crush the icy stalks of grass under them.
My breath catches the moment he turns, and his impossibly bright brown eyes meet mine—the exact thing I needed to reanimate my body.
I grab hold of the mask and tear it off my face, then wipe the grit and grime from my skin before dropping it.
I refuse to be hidden from him. I need Varic to see me.
To know that I am here and this is real.
That we made it out alive. Together.
Choked sobs tear from my chest as he rips his own mask off, and my chest shudders when his widened grin beams back at me as I take a step closer—then pause when an eerie sensation descends over my being.
Because this is all too perfect. Unlike how anything has gone for us up to this moment.
Not earlier this evening, and certainly not now.
I cannot trust it. This cannot be real. It’s too easy to be anything we’re experiencing.
There must be something wrong. Something we all seem to be missing.
So I turn and scan the tree line while Varic stares back at me with his brows knitting in the center.
And while I fail to find any sign of threat, it doesn’t guarantee our safety.
There could be something lying in wait, and with our luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a group of beings ready to take us hostage. Or worse.
Varic stumbles as he takes a step forward, and I narrow my eyes with fury coursing through my veins, because he’s unable to put all of his weight on his right leg when he goes to move toward me again.
Who in the fuck hurt him?
Force magic crackles from the ends of my fingers and rage marries my fury. This power within me seeks vengeance—sparking and building—preparing to attack whoever did this to him.
I swear to every God in existence, I will siphon the life from anyone who thought they could get away with hurting him.
Yet something in his gaze tugs on my chest, and the magnetism that is Varic draws me in with the strength I’ve been fighting for as long as I’ve known him. Because I need to be there for him. I need to help him.
I need to hold him close and take care of his needs for as long as I am living.
My rage dissipates with my breath the more my love for him expands as we consume the distance separating us, after so many years of being ripped apart, when Varic and I—we belong together.