Chapter 13
Everly
The next time we woke, it was to an entirely different sort of chaos.
Draven barely had time to contain the force of his mana, or his frustration, as my sister burst through the adjoining door between our rooms.
“Generally, the purpose of a door is that you knock on it before entering,” Draven bit out before I could even fully open my eyes.
Two of the wolves let out low whines of agreement while Batty hissed and burrowed deeper between my neck and my pillow.
Wynnie shot Draven a scathing glance. “If you’ll recall, my estate was rather short on doors in the endless days I spent nursing you back to life.
I grew rather attached to the concept. What even are barriers between a person and that person’s sister, who showed up covered in ash and pulsating with mana while granting exactly zero explanation a mere few hours ago? ”
Whatever rest I had eked out, it was clear Wynnie had gotten even less.
There were deep purple circles standing starkly against skin that was several shades paler than its usual warm-brown hue.
Her silverblonde locks were still damp from the bath, which meant she had spent the entire night at the infirmary.
“I’m sorry,” I began, just as Draven scoffed.
“If the door between our rooms is too tempting for you, the dungeons are always an option.”
Wynnie crossed the distance, settling next to me on the bed like these were her suites and not the ones belonging to the Frostgrave King. “Ah, but if I was in the dungeons, who would take care of all the soldiers dying from a monster that shouldn’t exist?”
I raised my eyebrows, and she waved a dismissive hand.
“Your compendium was still open. Anyway, worry not. I’ve come here so you can tell me all about what’s going on, and if King Frostarse doesn’t care for my presence this early in the morning, he can feel free to be elsewhere.
” She turned to give him a smile that was all false sweetness.
“Surely there’s some kind of royal duty for you to fulfill outside of this bed? ”
I fought to keep my expression neutral, torn somewhere between laughing at her utter disregard for the male feared by several kingdoms over and wanting to cry at the reminder that there were, indeed, so many things he needed to attend to if not for the small matter of being chained to his volatile wife.
His gaze lifted to mine in a silent question.
Could he let go? Would my mana run wild again if he did?
It didn’t feel nearly as out of control as it had last night, but that didn’t make me safe to be around.
Still, we couldn’t live like this. Draven was the king of Winter, for shard’s sake. He couldn’t remain glued to my side every minute, not with frostbeasts tearing across the court and his best friend in the infirmary, and the goddess only knew what my uncle was planning for us all.
I forced down the tight bloom of panic with a sharp inhale.
That was one of the many things I had thought about in my long, sleepless hours the night before.
We needed to know the limits of my control. It would be better to find out now than when it was too late to try.
So I took careful stock of myself, the unfamiliar feel of my mana humming low and uneasy beneath my skin. It was contained… for now. Leashed in a way that I hadn’t felt last night.
I gave Draven a small dip of my chin.
“Then perhaps the two of you can return to your chambers, unless your sister would enjoy the show of watching me dress.”
Wynnie let out a low, humorless laugh. “I just spent hours in the infirmary and several long years married to the oldest lord in the kingdom before that, so you can put to rest any concern that the sight of your flaccid male-noodle will upset my delicate feminine lady constitution.”
For a single, silent moment, I wondered if Draven would make good on his threat to throw Wynnie in the dungeons after all. Sheer annoyance flared in his mana, edged with something that felt just a little bit like murder.
I pulled my arm away, testing the waters as I tapped Wynnie’s side for her to move off the bed… to escape to my rooms before Draven decided to unleash his wrath after all, however little concern she showed for that possibility.
“No one would accuse you of possessing any delicacy, Lady Noerwyn,” he responded flatly. “Nonetheless, I’ll await your departure as soon as you report on the Visionary.”
Wynnie’s features softened, despite the demand in his tone.
“There’s been no change. Amias believes her mana has kept her in a stasis to fight off the creature’s poison. Lord Soren was with her when we left.”
He nodded, though I felt the mix of panic and grief through the bond.
Indecision warred within me, but he didn’t find my presence especially comforting right now anyway, so I followed my sister off the bed.
Batty remained firmly nestled into my neck, her tiny wings stretched out like a tiny makeshift scarf.
I was intensely grateful that I had donned one of Draven’s shirts before climbing into bed last night, so the additional awkwardness of shuffling nakedly to my rooms was avoided at least.
If not the terror.
With each bit of distance I put between us, I took stock of the power kept at bay within me, relief washing over me as nothing flared up to murder us all.
“Keep the door cracked,” he growled.
That was fair. His mana could reach me easily then, without blasting through the door and risking harm to us on the other side.
I nodded as Wynnie narrowed her eyes. I shook my head at her, silently telling her to wait. She pursed her lips, a reluctant acceptance that she would be grilling me the moment we were behind the not closed door.
Each step into my own rooms was tenuous, filled with the blind panic that my mana would change its mind, rearing up the moment I left him. Or was it just panic at leaving him, like some part of me wasn’t sure he’d be there when I got back?
I’m not the one with a history of disappearing, Morta Mea.
I froze as the words reverberated through the bond, equal parts accusation and reassurance.
Had he pushed the thought the same way I pushed the vision, I turned to face him, eyebrows raised as he lounged against the headboard. Yes, he had done that on purpose.
Now I just had to hope that I hadn’t been accidentally sending him mine.
“Everly?” Wynnie’s voice tugged me back to her. “Did you hear me?”
I shook my head, apologized softly, and turned toward her as Draven rose from the bed with cautious, measured movements.
“I asked what happened to you yesterday,” she said. This time, I caught the raw edges of her voice.
My sister had always been a healer at heart, but between the blood she’d scraped from the walls of her estate and the sheer amount she’d been forced to see yesterday, I knew it was taking a toll on her, even if she hadn’t been worried about me.
And I also knew she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
Between the tight set of her shoulders and her bloodshot eyes, it was clear she was still processing everything in that way of hers, so I resisted the urge to ask about her in turn.
Instead, I exhaled slowly and stared up at the ceiling before forcing myself to speak. “I went to see the Dragon.”
She froze, and Batty nestled a little closer to me, burrowing further into my hair as if to remind me that she had been just as upset about my excursion.
My throat tightened when she didn’t immediately respond, and her words from before echoed through me. Honesty, always.
So I told her everything from the moment I sent her away with Lumen until I saw her again in the infirmary. About the terror I felt as I watched the Dragon shift form, the way he spoke into my mind, and the images he’d shown me from my mother’s visit to him so long ago.
I told her about the endless flames and the crushing weight of mana and the fear of not being able to control it…
“I thought he could help. With my mana. With… everything.”
Anything.
My sister’s expression softened, though her pale brows were still furrowed in concern.
“So… what are you going to do now?”
I had thought about that at length the night before, and the ideas only solidified as I retold my story to my sister.
Familiar emerald eyes flashed in my mind, followed by the comforting scent of steel and moss-soaked forests.
The Dragon did nothing without purpose, yet he had shown me my mother, the only person in the world aside from him who knew exactly how and when and why my mana was bound, and one of only two people alive who knew what it was to possess the Dragon’s power.
I told myself that was the only reason I needed to see her—to talk to her, not just because our only time together in a decade had been marred by the presence of my uncle and the oppressive weight of all my doubts.
I had believed in my soul that she was dead, had grieved her, and hadn’t even gotten to celebrate the fact that she was alive.
Regardless, I needed to find a way to get in contact with her.
And this time, I wouldn’t let her retreat behind silence or half-truths, no matter how much she believed she was protecting me. I loved her, but I refused to keep stumbling in the dark.
I met my sister’s questioning gaze, the pale twin of my own, debating what to tell her.
I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t want to broach the subject of the Skaldwings without so much as a warning to Draven when things were already so tense between us.
Fortunately, my stomach intervened, emitting a sound that was not unlike the growling of a rabid frostbeast.
Wynnie blinked, then let out a small snort.
“Well,” I said flatly. “Surviving until breakfast sounds ideal at the moment. Then, who knows. Maybe I’ll scream a little? Cry afterward? The potential for complete mental breakdown is really limitless.”
Wynnie smirked, pushing a lock of hair away from my forehead.
“I see. I like these plans. Perhaps I’ll join you? I’ve had a nice breakdown brewing for, oh, a few months now at least.”
I gave her a dip of my chin. “Absolutely. One never wants to spiral alone. It’s much better with company. And who knows, if we’re lucky, maybe a pack of Tharnoks will join us. I’ve heard they’ve been rather busy these days.”
“Yes, the exhaustion must really be killing them…” Wynnie added, pursing her lips. “Perhaps… a self care day is in order?”
“For us or for them?” I asked.
“Both, obviously. We want them at their people-eating best, after all. Where will we get our trauma if they all collapse from over… exertion…” she wheezed out the last part, trying and failing to suppress a giggle that was equal parts mirth and hysteria.
I nodded like that made sense. “Face masks and day drinking, it is.”
All at once I saw hideous scales covered in high end lotions and tiny braids in their sparse tufts of coarse fur. Maybe she did as well because we both lost it the moment our eyes met.
We devolved into a fit of manic laughter. The reality of our situation settled over us in layer after oppressive layer that resulted in choked wheezes and snorting giggles as our sanity cracked entirely.
Shards, it was ridiculous, borderline deranged, even… But somehow, in this moment, unraveling together was the only thing that kept me from completely breaking.