Chapter 26 #2
Dry leaves blow along the parapet that connects the central spire to the west palace, and vines creep along the stone.
It’s almost eerie while also being painfully familiar.
I used to run through this walkway, the dragon toys my father carved me in my hands.
I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to finally shift into my true dragon form.
And when I finally did, when my emergence day came, I flew to the top of the golden spires and roared as loud as I could.
A juvenile squeak at the time, though my mother pretended I was the fiercest golden dragon she’d ever seen.
“Hey.” Larellin squeezes my hand. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “It’s just … memories.”
No doors are locked, nothing barred. Everything inside the palace is covered with dust, the furniture dilapidated, the tapestries in tatters. But there are piles of armor here and there. Bracers and weapons. Gardbraces and helmets.
Brin drops to his haunches and rolls a helmet to face him. “Black Wings markings.”
“Each one of these is a fallen DragonKin?” Fyan asks as we climb the sweeping stairs to the royal quarters.
“Yes.” I halt when we get to the balcony, my legs almost giving way when I see the too-familiar golden helm.
“Brother?” Rivon asks. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t speak, the words too heavy to utter.
“It’s your brother Harestes’ helmet,” Larellin says softly as she rests her head on my arm. “This is where he fell.”
She’s already adept at reading me, our bond strong enough for her to eavesdrop on my thoughts, on my feelings.
“Thank you, my treasure.” I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her tightly to me as my brothers gather around.
We stand in silence for long, long moments. Nothing is left of Harestes beyond the golden helm. He has long been with my parents in the eternal. Even so, I grieve for him anew. I was never able to give him his proper rites, never able to say goodbye.
Faraday grips my shoulder. Then Fyan grips his, and Rivon grips Fyan’s.
Strength flows through us, the power of our line, the power of our dragons.
We lost everything here in this palace, but this palace is also the place where we can start again.
We can rebuild the DragonLands. We can make our brother proud.
My gaze lifts to the entryway, to what lies beyond.
“You can do this.” Larellin looks up at me, trust and love in her eyes. “I know it hurts.” She looks at my brothers. “I know it hurts all of you to be here again, to see what became of your old home. You must remember this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.”
Gods, what did I do to deserve such a mate? I kiss her hair.
“Come, it’s not much farther.” One of the golden doors hangs off its hinges, the other dented from Sela’s assault. I push through them, sun streaming in the wide windows along the sides of the chamber.
I force myself to keep walking, to keep trudging the familiar path to my parents’ chambers. A wind whistles along the eaves. Otherwise, the air is still.
When I reach the antechamber, my steps falter. And when I see my mother’s diadem lying on the white stone floor, I drop to my knees.
“Vander!” Larellin kneels beside me.
I reach for the diadem, the large green jewel in the center still bright despite its age.
“Was it hers?” Rivon asks as he and the others kneel.
“The circlet of the Golden Horde,” Brin says from behind us. “Every DragonKin queen has worn this for as long as the histories have been recorded.”
I stare at it. Even now, I can see it atop my mother’s head, nestled in her golden hair, the oval gem shining from every facet. The green of her eyes. The green of mine.
“She wore it whenever she left the royal chambers.” I reach out and run my fingers along it.
Reverently. Fully aware of the pain that rips through me as so many memories flood back.
The last one most of all, the way she begged me to save my father instead of her.
Her sword lies on the stones, the hilt pure gold, the blade the finest silver.
Just as much a work of art as the circlet.
“Don’t go to that dark place,” Fyan meets my gaze. “You know none of us blame you.”
“And you shouldn’t blame yourself,” Rivon adds.
I can’t form any words in answer, not when sorrow clogs my throat, my mind.
“Vander.” Larellin tiptoes along the bond, her words like the stroke of a warm spring breeze. “You must let it go. For you. For your brothers. For me.”
“She wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer, Vander,” Faraday says.
“I don’t remember her as well as you do.
She’s just a … a bright spot in my mind, in my memory.
Like I was lucky enough to brush against the sun and feel its perfect warmth, that’s what she is to me.
But I know she wouldn’t blame you. None of us ever have. ”
“She would want—”
“She wanted you to save your worthless father.”
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat. Pushing Larellin behind me, I spread my wings to protect her.
“You failed then, and you’ll fail now.” Sela’s venomous voice winds through the palace. “The crown is mine.”
Rivon eases to the side, his shadows engulfing him as he disappears. Fyan and Faraday take up defensive positions on either side of me, their wings unfurled.
“Vander?” Larellin’s voice is small, afraid.
“She won’t claim you.” I grit my teeth. “I swear it.”
“The mortal?” Sela laughs. “She’ll be mine too. All of her. I’ll feast on her atop your dead body. How’s that sound?”
Larellin’s heartbeat pounds, the bond alive with her terror.
Sela’s voice comes from everywhere, some sorcery amplifying it. Underneath the sound, I hear footsteps and the flap of wings. She’s brought what’s left of her army.
“Hide!” I yell down the bond. “In the bedroom, there’s a secret compartment in the back right corner. Press on the wall panel and it should pop open. Hide there now. I will come for you when this is over.”
“Vander, don’t leave me.”
“I must, my treasure.” I whirl and kiss her hard. “But I swear I won’t fail you.”
She kisses me back, tears wetting her cheeks. “I know.”
“Go.” I push open the bedchamber doors and ease her inside, then close them behind her.
“Here we are again.” Sela strides into view, at least four of her warriors behind her. “Déjà vu. I love it.” She grins.
“How’s that wing?” I taunt. “I wonder if perhaps it served as a snack for the garthook when it fell to the ground.”
“I don’t need two wings to defeat a pest like you.”
“It’s a front,” I tell my brothers. “Look at her. She’s weak.” Sela’s face is drawn, her skin pallid. Losing a wing is like a mortal losing a limb. But worse, far worse. Our wings are our magic, our link to the sky.
“Even a dying snake can still strike,” Rivon calls from the shadows. “Be wary.”
Sela stops a dozen paces away, her gaze dropping to my mother’s diadem.
“Memories. Sweet, sweet memories. Gods, I’d wanted to cut her throat for ages.
All those lectures about making the DragonLands a place of peace and plenty for all who seek to live within its borders.
” She bares her fangs. “The DragonLands are for the strong. Not mongrels.” She flicks a look of disdain at Brin.
“Not weak bloodlines.” She eyes me. “These lands are mine.” She grins again.
“Just like the mortal hiding behind you. She’s mine, too. ”
“You won’t touch her.” I reach down and take my mother’s sword, the grip singing against my skin. It feels right. As if it’s been waiting for me.
Sela flicks her forked tongue at me. “That little mortal is so sweet. Like honeysuckle, isn’t she?”
“This is your end, Sela,” Brin chides. “What have you gained from your treachery?”
He’s distracting her. Without a sound, Rivon lunges from the shadows and drives his dagger into the soldier at the very rear of her formation.
“I’ll gain your head on my mantle.” She shoots back right as her soldiers launch themselves at us, their swords and claws hungry for blood and battle.