Chapter 5 Rhianelle #3
Coral moves slowly beside me, her head low. Other wyverns and their riders watch as we pass. Alys is among them, seated on Nightshade. Her expression is unreadable as she takes in Coral’s drooping wings and halting steps. Nightshade doesn’t bother taunting Coral today.
The keeper is ready to receive us the moment we arrive.
“Tarian, I need your opinion on something,” Landon says quietly.
The keeper’s eyes move from Landon to Coral. His expression doesn’t change but something in his posture stiffens.
“Put her here,” he says, gesturing to an examination platform. It takes both Landon and me to coax Coral onto it. She doesn’t want to stand still.
“Easy, girl,” Tarian murmurs. His scarred hands move over her wings, stretching them out and moving the joints.
Coral whimpers at each touch. She keeps trying to press against me, seeking comfort.
“Shh, it’s all right.” I stroke her head, running my fingers along the ridge of her skull. “Stay put. Let them look at you.”
She settles slightly but her body remains tense. Her eyes dart between me and Tarian. The keeper presses against her cartilage with careful fingers. He is quiet as he examines her. But his eyes tell me what I need to know.
Something is wrong with Coral.
The keeper steps back. He wipes his hands on his tunic and finally looks at Landon.
“My lord. She may never fly,” the keeper says quietly.
“What?” I gasp.
Landon’s expression is pained. “I suspected that. Her wings… the structure isn’t right. The cartilage should have calcified by now and hardened. But hers is still too soft, too flexible. Without that rigidity, she can’t generate lift.”
Panic surges through me. “Then we’ll keep training. We’ll do more exercises, build the muscles, strengthen—”
“It’s not about strength.” Landon crouches down, his hand gentle on Coral’s wing. “Some things can’t be trained into existence.”
I want to argue and insist that he’s wrong. We just need more time and effort. But I look at Coral, my beautiful, earthbound girl. I see the truth in her exhausted eyes.
She’ll never touch the sky.
The realization steals the air from my lungs. My knees feel weak. Landon’s hand finds my shoulder, the mate bond pulsing with shared sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
The words break something inside me. If Landon can’t help her, no one can.
My mate is the best healer in Avalon. He’s mended broken wings, torn membranes and saved wyverns from injuries that should have killed them.
But this isn’t an injury. This is how Coral was made. Even my mate can’t change that.
There’s no hope for her.
I press my face against Coral’s neck. She smells like sand, sunshine and crushed flowers. My wyvern makes a soft questioning sound, asking why I’m sad.
“It’s all right.” I stroke her scales. “You’re perfect just as you are.”
Coral presses her head against my chest, nearly knocking me backward with the weight of it. I wrap both arms around her snout and hold her until the trembling in her body eases.
By the time we leave the training grounds, the sun has climbed above the rooftops of Volundr. Coral follows between Landon and me with her head hanging low, her claws scraping against the stones.
Every so often she glances toward the sky when a wyvern passes overhead, but she no longer chirps after them.
The silence hurts.
Landon walks beside me without speaking. He stays close enough that our shoulders nearly touch, though he makes no attempt to fill the quiet with empty comfort. I am grateful for that. There is nothing he can say that will give Coral wings.
We pass through the western market on our way toward my house. Merchants call from beneath striped awnings, offering polished metalwork, dried herbs and bright lengths of mountain wool. Coral usually stops to investigate every stall, but today she trudges obediently at my side.
I glance at Landon. “You and your warriors are still staying at the garrison?”
“For now.”
“There are empty rooms both at the Wiolant residence and in the palace.” I try to make the offer sound casual. “An entire wing, in fact. Your squadron would have more space there, and our courtyards are large enough for the wyverns.”
His gaze shifts to me, curious. “You would welcome a company of fae warriors into your home?”
“You are already welcome in my kingdom.” I hesitate, then add, “All of you are.”
I want him closer. Close enough that perhaps the distance between us will finally begin to disappear. I hope he might remember the ruined palace, the mask and the way he touched me there. The hope is foolish, especially after this morning, but I cannot force it from my heart.
Landon smiles, and the warmth of it catches painfully beneath my ribs. “I appreciate the offer. Truly. Let me speak with the others, and I will think about it.”
“Of course.”
We turn onto the broad avenue leading toward the palace district. Aelfric stands outside an armorer’s shop ahead, speaking quietly with Garrett. Both wear the colors of my royal guard, and both notice Landon at once.
Aelfric’s shoulders stiffen. Garrett’s expression remains courteous, but his hand settles near the pommel of his sword.
Landon sees it too. The ease leaves his posture, replaced by the watchful stillness of a commander among soldiers who do not trust him.
The discomfort runs both ways. My knights see a fae commander who once served the enemy king. Landon sees armed elves tracking his every movement through the city. None of them have forgotten the war simply because I have accepted him.
“I should return to my warriors,” Landon says.
The words come sooner than I want, but I understand. “You need not escort me and Coral the rest of the way. Aelfric and Garrett will shadow us from here.”
His gaze moves from them to me. “Are you certain?”
“I can walk safely to my own house.” I offer him a small smile. “Go. Your warriors will be waiting.”
He inclines his head. “I will send word about the palace quarters.”
“I hope you do.”
For one reckless moment, I think he might reach for my hand. Instead, he rests his palm briefly against Coral’s neck. She gives a low, unhappy rumble but does not pull away.
“Rest today,” he tells her. “We will find something else for you to master.”
Then he leaves, his red hair bright among the grey stone buildings until the crowd swallows him.
I watch the place where he disappears for a moment too long.
Coral nudges my shoulder, reminding me that she is still beside me. I stroke her snout and continue toward home while Aelfric and Garrett fall into place several paces behind us. Neither asks about Landon, though their silence says enough.
We are crossing the palace square when Coral suddenly lifts her head. Her grief seems forgotten as she sniffs the air, then gives an excited chirp.
“What is it?”
She pulls ahead, leading me around a row of stone pillars toward the fountain at the center of the square. I follow, expecting that she has smelled food or found another object she intends to swallow.
Then I see a familiar figure standing beside the water.
I stop.
Blaire.
For an instant, I think I must be mistaken.
She went all the way to Astefar searching for a way to save me.
My friend would have offered anything, no matter what it cost her.
Fortunately, Rainer found Landon and brought him to my bedside before Blaire could make any bargain.
The moment Landon touched me, the mate bond snapped into place and saved my life.
I am grateful Rainer managed to send word before Blaire did something reckless, like bargaining with whatever creature dwells in the forest. Blaire replied that she was safe and would be home soon.
I simply did not expect soon to mean today.
Now she is standing beside the fountain, and relief rushes through me so fiercely that my knees nearly weaken.
But then I notice who she’s standing with.
The vampire, Arescaine.
My breath catches. The dangerous creature my uncle inexplicably invited into our home stands mere feet from my best friend, close enough to strike.
I should call out to Blaire and warn her. But something makes me hesitate.
They’re talking in low voices. Blaire’s posture is tense, her arms crossed. Arescaine leans toward her slightly, speaking with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Whatever he is telling her, it is serious. Important enough that Blaire does not interrupt him.