Chapter 11 Rhianelle
Inotice the blood first.
Tiny spots of it, dried dark against the pale stone of Coral’s sleeping area. At first I think she’s injured herself during training. Perhaps she accidentally scraped herself against the rough cliff face. But when I run my hands over every inch of her body, I find the source.
It’s from her back.
Some scales along her spine are missing. I notice more are loose, lifted at the edges, raw pink skin visible underneath. My fingers hover over the damaged areas, afraid to touch. “Coral, what happened?”
She makes a guilty sound low in her throat and turns her head away.
Panic floods through me. I need to tell Landon.
I know he’s back because I saw Dorcha in the flight yard earlier. He’s been checking on us more frequently, the golden string drawing him to me even when he has a dozen other duties.
I press my forehead to Coral’s neck. “I’ll be right back.” She makes a low sound of protest as I pull away.
My feet are already moving. The corridors blur past me and I take the stairs two at a time. A pair of soldiers flatten themselves against the wall as I rush past. One calls after me, but I barely hear him. My thoughts are filled with the blood beneath Coral’s scales.
Landon will know what to do.
My mate has spent centuries among wyverns.
He understands every movement of their wings, every shift of their tails, every sound that leaves their throats.
The golden string hums louder with every step, pulling tight in my chest. His quarters are just around the next corner.
A guard posted outside opens his mouth but I push past him, my hand already on the door.
I do not knock.
I find him in his room, bent over a stack of reports. They’re covered in his handwriting, information from fae traitors who hate the Fae King and his mistress. I worry constantly about the danger Landon places himself in by spying on Avalon. I’m scared that one day the king might catch him.
He looks up when I burst through the door.
“Rhianelle? What’s wrong?” His chair scrapes sharply against the floor as he rises.
“It’s Coral,” I say, catching my breath. “She’s bleeding. Her scales are coming off.”
Landon is on his feet immediately. The reports scatter forgotten across his desk. He’s already following me toward the door before I can say another word. We move quickly through the corridors.
My heart pounds in my chest. Coral is waiting where I left her, her body still turned away from me. Landon kneels beside her to examine her injury. I watch his expression shift from concern to something darker.
“We need to get Tarian here,” he says quietly.
Word spreads fast in the residence. Landon’s legion arrives before Tarian does. They begin gathering around us. Theo comes first, drawn by the urgency in Landon’s voice. Glenn and Kieran follow him into the enclosure. Eacharn remains near the entrance, his expression grim.
Their wyverns crowd the open courtyard beyond them. Pyraxis lowers his copper head, watching Coral through the doorway. Even Nightshade makes a low, unsettled sound.
I move closer to Coral.
The legion has never made any secret of its distrust of me. Their words are usually polite enough, but I see the questions in their eyes whenever Landon stands beside me.
Now none of them look angry.
Theo’s guarded expression softens as he studies Coral’s damaged back. Glenn and Kieran lower their gazes, as if the sight is too painful to watch.
Even Eacharn, who once called Coral a runt to my face, looks away when he sees the missing scales.
No one speaks. The silence is worse than their usual coldness.
Alys enters last. Her eyes move from the drops of blood on the stone to the missing scales along Coral’s spine.
“Oh, little one,” she murmurs and steps forward.
She reaches into the leather pouch fastened to her belt and removes a small tin. I watch her approach with my shoulders squared, waiting for the barb that always follows her presence. Instead she kneels beside Coral and unscrews the lid.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Fireweed salve. We use it when harness straps rub against the scales.” Alys opens the tin, releasing the cool scent of mint and crushed herbs. “It will soothe the raw skin until Tarian comes.”
I stare at her. Alys has never offered me anything except hostility. The gesture startles me.
Coral presses herself against my side. Alys looks at me before touching Coral, waiting for permission.
I nod.
Alys spreads a thin layer of balm across the exposed skin. Coral shudders, then slowly relaxes beneath her fingers. She examines one of the loosened scales without pulling it, her touch careful enough that Coral barely flinches.
“There,” Alys whispers. “That should ease the burning.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Alys nods once, but the haunted look on her face scares me.
The others remain nearby instead of returning to their duties.
Glenn brings a bowl of water. Theo kneels several feet away and speaks softly to Coral until she raises her head to look at him.
Kieran sends someone to retrieve her favorite treats, though she turns away when he offers the chicken strips.
That frightens me most of all. Coral never refuses food. I tighten my arms around Coral’s neck. Landon’s gaze finds mine. Pain travels along the golden string, but he says nothing.
We wait.
Each minute stretches longer than the last. I pace from one end of the enclosure to the other, listening for footsteps in the corridor. Whenever Coral shifts, I hurry back to her and examine the damaged scales again, terrified that another one has fallen.
Alys remains beside Coral, refreshing the balm whenever the raw skin begins to dry.
The salve has eased some of her discomfort, but she still turns her head to nose at the damaged scales. I pull her snout away gently. She lets me. Minutes pass.
By the time the keeper arrives, I’ve counted seventeen missing scales. Coral shifts her weight, uncomfortable under our scrutiny.
Tarian lifts loose scales with gentle fingers and checks the raw skin beneath. But I can feel that Landon knows the truth. The golden string pulses with dread.
“Your Highness.” Tarian straightens and looks at me. “I need to show you something.”
“Show me what?” I ask.
“Come with me. Outside.” He gestures toward the door, and Landon takes my hand as we follow him out of the room. We leave Coral alone in her enclosure.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“Watch,” Tarian says quietly.
We position ourselves where we can see through the doorway but Coral can’t see us. I feel foolish standing here, spying on my own wyvern.
We wait in silence.
Coral shifts and turns around before settling down.
It is so quick I almost miss it. Her head snakes back and her teeth catch the edge of a scale. She worries at it, pulling until it comes free. A bead of blood wells up in its place.
“No!” I lunge toward the room but Landon catches my arm.
“Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “She’ll just do it when you’re not looking.”
I stare at Coral who has already turned to another scale, picking at it with the edge of her teeth. My stomach turns. “Why is she doing this?”
Landon’s hand is still on my arm. His grip is warm and steady but I barely feel it.
“Frustration.” Tarian’s voice is flat.
“She can feel something is wrong with her. The other wyverns fly and she can’t, so she...” Landon trails off, watching as Coral picks another scale loose. “She takes it out on herself.”
“Make her stop.” My voice cracks. “There must be a way to make her stop.”
“There isn’t.” He releases my arm and moves closer to Coral.
I follow him back inside.
“I’ve seen this before,” Landon says, examining the damage. “In wyverns who are injured and can’t fly anymore. The frustration builds and builds until...”
“Until what?” I demand, even though I’m afraid of the answer.
Landon looks at me and his eyes are full of sorrow. “Until it kills them slowly. They pick themselves raw, stop eating, and waste away.”
I sink down beside Coral, my hand finding her neck. She leans into my touch, and I feel the tremor running through her body.
“It’s one of the most tragic things I’ve ever witnessed.” Tarian’s jaw tightens. “A creature meant for the sky, destroying itself because it can’t reach it.”
Outside, I hear the cry of a wyvern in flight. Wild and free and everything Coral will never be.
“There has to be something we can do,” I whisper.
Landon is quiet for a long moment. “In cases like this, most of the time we...”
His voice catches. He looks at Coral, then away, unable to finish.
Hope sparks in my chest. “What? Anything. I’ll do anything.”
But he won’t say it.
“End it.” Tarian says it instead. “Now. While she’s still young. A quick death, painless and merciful. Better than watching her suffer like this for months, maybe years.”
The world tilts. I stare at him, certain I’ve misheard. “What?”
“Rhianelle...” Landon starts.
“You want me to kill her?” My voice rises.
“It’s not murder,” Alys says carefully. “It’s mercy.”
“No.” I’m on my feet now, putting myself between them and Coral. “Absolutely not. I won’t do it.”
Tarian steps forward. “Listen to me—”
“Don’t touch her!” The word echoes off the stone walls.
Coral whimpers behind me, distressed by my tone. I force myself to lower my voice, but my hands are shaking.
“Coral isn’t suffering,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s happy when we walk through the gardens. Treats still make her dance in circles. At night, she curls up beside me and makes that little purring sound.”
Landon’s expression doesn’t change but something flickers in his eyes. The mate bond twists between us, tangled with anger and hurt.
Tarian sighs. “I’m trying to spare you both this pain.”
“Then spare me your advice.” I step closer to Coral, one hand resting on her head. “She’s mine.”
We stare at each other. His jaw is set. Mine is too. Neither of us blinks.
“As you wish,” the keeper says. “But when the suffering gets worse, and it will, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Tarian closes his satchel and rises. He gives Coral one final, sorrowful look before turning toward the doorway.
Alys lingers beside Coral for a moment. She sets the tin of balm on the stone near my feet.
“Use it twice each day,” she says quietly. “More often if the skin begins to crack.”
Alys reaches toward Coral, then stops before her hand can touch the little wyvern’s head. Her fingers curl into her palm.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers before leaving.
Landon hesitates. He looks at me, and I see the conflict written across his face. The mate bond pulls tight between us and aches. But he doesn’t say anything. He just follows Tarian and Alys out.
Then he’s gone.
I’m left alone with Coral, who has already turned back to picking at her scales. The soft sound of tearing makes me flinch. I pull her head into my lap, gently restraining her.
I understand what Tarian means. I have seen Rainer end the suffering of animals when nothing else could be done.
He did it for noctrals whose legs were shattered, whose bodies were too broken to rise.
Even for Judge, the old hound who had slept beside his chair for years.
Rainer wept when he buried him, but he never allowed the dog to suffer simply because saying goodbye hurt too much.
There is courage in that kind of mercy. I know there is.
But Coral is not dying from some mortal wound. Tarian wants me to end her life because she cannot fly. Because she was born without the one thing every wyvern is supposed to possess.
That is not enough.
Still, his warning follows me into the silence. Tarian is a wyvern keeper. He has spent years caring for creatures like Coral. Landon did not argue with him. Neither did Alys. They all looked at Coral with the same terrible pity, as though they already knew how this would end.
What if Tarian is right?
What if the frustration grows until the happy little creature I know disappears? What if she tears herself raw, stops eating, and suffers while I keep her alive because I am too selfish to let her go?
The thought makes my arms tighten around her. I do not know whether refusing is brave or cruel. I only know I cannot make that choice now. Not while Coral still leans into my touch.
“I won’t let them,” I whisper against her head. “I won’t give up on you. I promise.”
Coral makes a soft sound and my heart breaks all over again.