Chapter 3
Three
Iwas laughing before the shock had fully set in. “You flew a long way for a joke.”
But I didn’t feel the laughter. It was like a statue had taken my place, using my voice, moving my mouth, and all I could feel was bewilderment and horror combined.
Become Dragonesse?
With Rhylan as my Drakkon?
Never.
He was the reason I was here. My life had been snatched away by his testimony, and now he had the gall to ask such a thing.
My breath was taken by the boldness of it. He couldn’t have made it worse if he’d actually punched me in the gut.
His eyes flashed, fists clenching and unclenching. “This isn’t a joke. I have a genuine proposition for you.”
I flung the comb to the ground. “No. I’ll just start climbing now.”
It was suicide, but it was better than listening to Rhylan taunt me. I stepped to the edge of the eyrie, searching the nearly vertical shale slopes by starlight, and my stomach lurched as I saw just how far below me the ground really was.
“You don’t have to truly mate bond with me,” he said from behind. “We will pose as a mate bonded pair and take Koressis Eyrie together.”
That got my attention. I spun around, reaching out to hold a column, staring at him like I’d never truly seen him before. “What? Are you out of your godsdamned mind?”
He had to be.
It was draconic Law, laid down by Larivor and Naimah, that only a mate bonded pair could take the throne. From the very first dragons, no unmated pair had ever gained the royal eyrie.
And, more to the point, there was a Law for what would happen if an unmated dragon attempted to take it: they would be denounced by all the Houses, and sentenced to death for defying the will of the gods.
What he was proposing wasn’t just unthinkable; it was impossible.
“You could learn to ride without the mind-speech,” Rhylan said, gazing at me evenly.
“Ride without…without the mind-speech,” I repeated in wonder, unable to tear my eyes away from him. I saw no hint of a lie in them.
My gods, he was serious.
Even for a mate bonded pair, a great deal of trust went into riding a dragon. A rider literally put her life in the dragon’s claws every time she rode him; it would be all too easy for her to slip and fall to her death during battle.
The mind-speech was necessary for a pair, as necessary as breathing air. I couldn’t fathom pretending a mate bond, let alone the one absolutely critical necessity in becoming his rider.
He shifted a little, eyeing me warily.
“What do you want more than anything in this world, Sera?” he asked.
“Varyamar Eyrie.” I said it without thinking. I didn’t have to think; that name was always on the tip of my tongue.
It was the one thing I’d dreamed of, all these years in exile. I wanted my home, the eyrie where the Silvered Embers had been born, and to bring our House back from shame. Now, thanks to the Interregnum and my father’s great mistake, I had a chance to do so.
Most of all I just wanted to live in the eyrie I’d always known. In the years of living on Mistward, I’d kept my homesickness close to my heart.
Only in the deepest, quietest hours of the night would I allow myself to examine it, to take it out and polish it like a precious jewel, knowing that if all hope was taken from me, I’d begin to fracture, and eventually shatter.
My hope had never died. It had guttered like a candle many times, and banked so low I thought that maybe the fracture had already begun. But in the end, I was always able to scrape out one tiny coal of hope and relight my candle.
The news of my father’s death had turned that candle into a torch. I could finally go home.
Varyamar was just across the sea, calling me.
Rhylan stared straight into my eyes, holding my gaze. I felt that same tiny flutter I’d felt when I was fifteen, and he had been everything I wanted in a dragon.
I crushed that flutter ruthlessly.
“I can give you Varyamar,” he said evenly. “I know you despise me. Consider that I…dislike you as well, but I’m willing to put that aside for what I want. You have too ancient a bloodline to overlook, the blood of two royal Houses, and that makes you my best hope.”
That hurt, more than a little. I had done nothing to him to deserve any animosity. Nothing at all.
“And what do you want? What do you get out of this?” I edged away from the drop, no longer quite so inclined to attempt a thousand-foot climb. “My gods, we’ll be executed for pretending. It’s genuinely the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”
But Varyamar felt closer than ever. That little jewel of homesickness within me sparkled, calling my name.
His brow creased, lip drawing up in a hint of a snarl before he mastered himself. “I want Prince Tidas’s head, and there is nothing I would not do to get it.”
Gods, I wished I could be alone with my thoughts. For four years, the world had gone on without me…and I had no idea of the playing field I was walking into.
What had Tidas—that soft, sulking dragon—done to have Rhylan slavering for his blood?
He had always been nearly the perfect prince in my mind, the favored son of the Razored Cinders. It wasn’t until I’d first seen Rhylan in the Koressis Training Grounds that I’d understood the truth: Tidas was weak, whiny and expectant, not a prize, but an anchor that would pull me under.
For a dragon who expected the world to fall swooning at his feet, he didn’t have the bravery to back up his inflated ego.
On the other hand, he had mated with Yura, my cruel, ruthless sister. With our arrangement broken, he had still claimed the highest-ranking mate he could find.
And she would make up for his weakness ten-fold.
I’d started pacing without realizing it. Rhylan remained still, gaze following me back and forth as I wore a path in the dust.
He cleared his throat. “This is what I propose: we pretend we are a mated pair. With our Houses combined, we have the sway to form a Court.”
A Court was more than one House in alliance, and almost as necessary as being a mate bonded pair to claim the royal eyrie. It would be the might of a Court in its entirety—the right of might, an underpinning of dragonblood society—that would capture and keep the throne.
I was sure that even as we spoke, Yura and Tidas were doing their best to form their own Court. I could only hope that the Jade Leaves’ aversion to her—and the Shadowed Stars’ own contender—would buy me time.
But Obsidian Flame and Silvered Embers…we were both of ancient bloodlines as well. Any House would pause to consider the benefits of such an alliance.
“We can take Koressis with a Court of our own,” he said, his gaze flicking out to the night. I paused in my pacing, watching the sky for any hint of an approaching dragon, but when Rhylan relaxed, so did I. “All I want is for Tidas to spend his last moments understanding what he lost. I want him to know he’s been ruined.”
Rhylan was a mystery to me, but that was a motivation I could understand.
I finally stopped pacing, looking back at him. “If I agree to this—if—I want Yura. She’s mine to destroy.”
He paused so briefly I was sure I’d imagined it. “Done.”
Gods, was I really considering this? That ‘if’ had felt weak, even to me.
But I had spent years dreaming of going home. I’d grown up knowing I would mate bond to a powerful dragon, and inherit Koressis Eyrie.
But I had been wronged.
My promised prince, mated to another. My House, shamed and left to rot. My throne, now circled by vultures.
Everything I’d worked so hard for, stolen for a crime I didn’t commit.
I could have my revenge for a stolen life… and all I had to do was pretend.
With my worst enemy.
“Who keeps Koressis?” I asked abruptly. “When you have Tidas’s head—”
Rhylan made a brief motion with his fingers, like he was flicking away something of no consequence. “I will abdicate as Drakkon. We will sever our supposed mate bond, I will return to Jhazra Eyrie, and you will be free to bond to another dragon. We need never speak to one another again.”
I nodded, thinking it over. It was extremely rare to sever a mate bond—supposedly impossible, in some cases, when the bond was strong enough—but theoretically, it could be done.
The ‘theoretical’ part was nerve-wracking, as I’d never actually heard of a successful severing, outside of one of the pair dying, but…
I would possess both Varyamar and Koressis.
And Rhylan would be a distant memory.
But could I pretend to like him long enough to convince other Houses to join our Court?
Doubtful.
“How badly do you want to see Varyamar again?” he asked, eyes glinting. “Or would you rather see Dragonesse Yura on the throne?”
If Yura became Dragonesse…I swore I would climb Koressis Eyrie with nothing but my own claws to make her bleed for it.
I bared my teeth at him, furious that I was actually considering this. “Gods, Rhylan, do you realize we’re not going to convince anyone? The thought of even pretending to be your mate makes me want to vomit.”
He raised an eyebrow, brushing nonexistent dust off the blackened scales covering his shoulder. “I’m willing to put in the effort to get what I want, even if it means pretending to be the adoring mate of a spiteful, half-wild draga.”
I had many things I could say in response to that, but I simply shook my head. “You want me to ride without the mind-speech. I’m going to end up dead long before we make it to Koressis, let alone Varyamar.”
Rhylan inspected his nails, nostrils flaring. “All this whining is unbecoming. You understand that you are not my only choice, right, Serafina?”
Ice formed in my middle.
All those dreams of vengeance and home, slipping away.
“Maristela of Shadowed Stars is an eligible princess.” He stared at me like he was disappointed in me. “I could always make her my Dragonesse.”
“Why didn’t you? It would have saved you a flight.”
Rhylan grinned, all sharp white teeth and flashing eyes. He smiled like he held the sun inside him. “Because you hate me enough to keep the ruse from going to my head. I can still walk away when it’s over.”
I scoffed, but he had a point.
We loathed each other, although I wasn’t sure what I had ever done to him. With that utter abhorrence between us, there was no danger of a true mate bond.
We all got what we wanted. I, Varyamar and Yura. He would kill Tidas.
I would remain Dragonesse, the title I’d been born to, while he would walk away.
And all I had to do was stop complaining for a few minutes and figure out how to make the impossible work.
I exhaled slowly, watching my breath rise in a white cloud and drift off into the night. The wind carried it east, towards the Empty Sea, like it was pointing me home.
I could do it for home. I would risk it all, even my life, for a chance to go back.
“Forget Maristela,” I said, turning around to face him. “I can pretend.”
Rhylan’s slow smile was enough to turn me inside out. All I had to do was let the animal attraction of a draga to a dragon do the work for me, and keep my mind separate.
My mother would have approved of such cold calculation.
He held out his hand.
I took it and shook on our agreement, ignoring the warmth and roughness of his calloused palms and focusing only on the spirit of the agreement.
I’m coming, Varyamar.
Rhylan released me first, dropping my hand like a hot coal. “Eat and sleep, then. The ruse begins at dawn.”
I spentthe night in the storage room, wrapped in dusty old blankets, and wished I could have just slept in my cave.
Even with the doors to the rest of the interior locked, there was something bone-deep disturbing about an abandoned eyrie. There were miles of empty halls and rooms beneath me, threaded throughout this mountain, all of them cold and dark and lifeless.
Somewhere in those depths was the corpse of an Ascendant. I wondered how long this eyrie had been abandoned and forgotten.
It was like sleeping inside a dead body.
I dutifully ate the plain travel-food Rhylan had packed for me, washing down bread and dried beef with small sips of water.
Even that fare was much better than I’d usually get. My stomach knotted a few times, unused to the amount it was taking in now, but after a rest I’d eat a few more bites.
I needed to fill out quickly. Nobody would take a bony little draga seriously, not against my willowy, gilded sister, nor Maristela.
Afterwards I slept restlessly, waking almost every hour to check the doors, as though I expected a ghost to open one and walk through.
Rhylan remained outside on the eyrie’s outer platform, beneath the open dragon door. He claimed he was keeping watch for Kalros, but it was just as likely that he was avoiding my presence.
When I emerged from the interior, my hair mostly combed out and tied back, the gray pack over my shoulders, I found Rhylan glaring out at the horizon again.
I didn’t bother to ask if he’d slept well, because I didn’t particularly care. There were circles under my own eyes from the restless night in the eyrie.
Instead I began working on another piece of bread, nibbling dried berries for the extra energy. The tangy taste of cloudberries from northern Akalla made me salivate almost uncontrollably.
“We’re flying to Jhazra Eyrie first,” Rhylan informed me, still frowning at the mountains of Mistward. “We have to work out the specifics of our bond before we’re seen anywhere else.”
I desperately wanted to fly straight to Varyamar, but once more, I could concede to his point. If we were to run across members of any other Houses, they’d take one look at us right now and know we weren’t bonded.
“We also need to practice flying without the mind-speech,” he continued, and I shot him a sharp look. “I’m not carrying you across the sea. You’re going to ride.”
I grimaced, turning away so Rhylan wouldn’t see my expression.
“Don’t make that face. If we don’t practice, this won’t work.”
Gods, did he have eyes in the back of his head?
He left me there, bringing the darker pack out of the interior and closing the door behind him.
As much as I disliked him in general, I was pleased that he closed the door quietly and respectfully. The eyrie had been unpleasant to sleep in, but the Ascendant somewhere below us deserved respect, even in death.
He opened the pack, and I was taken by surprise as he began to pull out coils of rope instead of food.
A lot of rope.
He looked up at me and met my eyes for the first time that morning. “I couldn’t bring the gear all the way from Jhazra, so we’re going to practice with this.”
Typically, once a dragon and draga had bonded, the dragon was outfitted with a custom saddle for his rider. Growing up, I had seen everything from basic leather tack to full ceremonial armor for dragons.
This was…absurd.
Think of Varyamar. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out. Think of home.
For a moment I could almost smell the jasmine and morning glories of my ancestral eyrie, and that made up my mind.
There were no flowers on Mistward Isle. I would brave riding a dragon with a rope to smell that again.
“We make reins out of it.” I picked up a coil of heavy rope, running my fingers over the coarse fibers. “It won’t be comfortable, but we can do it.”
“I knew you’d come around,” he said, with a smile that made the corners of those heart-flame eyes crinkle.
“Just shift already. Daylight’s burning, and if Kalros is still out there…” I let it go unfinished. He could take on Kalros himself—but not with me on his back.
He took the rope from me and rapidly tied several knots that made my eyes spin. I couldn’t begin to replicate what he’d done, but I was left holding a massive lasso of rope.
But Rhylan wasn’t done. I gritted my teeth as he held the lasso, refusing to relinquish it to me.
“We need to work out a basic communication system that won’t be obvious,” he said, and I nodded.
“Clearly.”
“If you see incoming dragons, nudge me with your left heel. If you feel that you’re slipping, nudge me with your right.”
“And if I do slip, just scream all the way down and maybe you’ll catch me in time.”
He surprised me again when he favored me with a broad grin. I could almost believe he didn’t loathe me when he smiled like that. “I’m fast.”
“What if I want you to speed up, or land, or rise?” I asked.
Rhylan’s grin died as quickly as it’d come. “No. I make those decisions. You’re going to have to work more on the fa?ade, pretending that our minds are seamless.”
I didn’t like that much at all. A bonded pair communicated all things through the mind-speech, from the omnipresent trust for each other, to their movements, the wind, the thermals.
He was my only choice; I’d have to figure it out.
“Understood,” I said crisply, taking the lasso.
Rhylan ran his hands through his dark hair, giving the sky another once-over. “Well…I suppose it begins now. From this moment on, we must assume that we’re watched. Enjoy the flight, darling.” His lips smacked a mocking kiss at me.
He stepped back and began to shift, even as I made a gagging sound.
Maybe this morning was a little too early to begin working on the charade.
Within moments he stood before me in his full dragon form, just as impressive as he’d been in the Koressis Training Grounds.
Rhylan had caught the eye of every young draga in those days. Now he was bigger, his head fifteen feet above the ground, all four clawed limbs thick with muscle, his wingspan wide enough to blot out the sun.
Every inch of him gleamed the inkspill, glossy black of his House’s lineage, from his scales to the spiraled black horns crowning his skull. He was a true scion of his line.
Gods, any unmated princess would fight me to the death with tooth and claw, at this very moment, for the chance at a mate bond with Rhylan.
Those coal-banked, simmering eyes peered down at me, and he tilted his head a fraction to the right.
“I was just admiring the view, you gorgeous beast.” I leered at him mockingly, and he turned his head and made a harsh coughing sound in imitation of my gagging, each of his teeth as long as my hand and shining brightly. “Oh, you don’t like it, either? What a surprise.”
He lowered his head, and I threw the end of the lasso over it, tugging the ropes until they cleared his horns.
It took serious attention to detail and more than a little sweat to get the makeshift reins in place. My stomach had started quivering well before it was time to actually climb onto his back.
He let out a low growl, as though wondering what I was waiting for as I stared up at his ridged shoulders.
“Shut it, I’m going.” He had flattened himself as much as possible, making it easier for me to climb up his arm and settle myself in the dip between his shoulder blades. His scales were warm, silky and iron-hard at the same time.
I panted for breath, my head spinning from the mild exertion, and gripped the reins with hands that were already sweating. I had to squeeze him tightly with my thighs to stay in place. The ridges of his scales jabbed into my legs with every tiny shift I made.
All I had to do was make it to Jhazra Eyrie, and I’d get a proper harness. This was horrendous.
The mountain I rode lurched beneath me as Rhylan rose to his feet. He extended his wings, and I adjusted myself to accommodate their motion, patting him gently between the shoulder blades when I was settled again. It wasn’t in the basic system he’d worked on, but if he couldn’t figure out what I meant, then the whole thing was clearly flawed.
Before I took my hand away, I looked down at the broad expanse of his back, the scales now catching the sun and gleaming with a sheen of midnight blue.
There were rounded, silver scars between his shoulder blades, thick knots of flesh nestled against his spine. Six of them, forming a constellation of silver against the night sky of his hide.
Before I could ask what had caused them, he launched into the air, each hard flap of his wings a boom of thunder echoing in the mountains.
My stomach felt like it was left behind in the eyrie, along with most of my other innards. I gripped the reins so tightly my fingers ached, doing my utmost best to not shriek when I slipped backwards a few inches.
Rhylan leveled out, circling the next peak. With my heart pounding so hard I tasted blood, I scooted back into place with a white-knuckled grip on the rope.
“Doing fine!” I shouted, but the wind tore my words away.
Thiswas why the mind-speech was necessary.
As of right now, I was not remotely fine. Every flap of his wings made me feel like I was going to plummet straight off his back, the natural sinuous motions of a flying dragon like trying to ride a living, breathing wave.
He climbed slowly, circling in increments until we were well above the mountains, and by that time I’d calmed enough to actually look around me. My third eyelids blinked into place once they began watering from the wind.
Mistward Isle was a long, bare chunk of godsforsaken rock set in the middle of the Empty Sea, and now it was rapidly vanishing beneath us. I could see the deep blue of the ocean in the distance to the east, the grayer, choppier sea we would cross to return to the mainland of Akalla to the west, and the expanse of black wings on either side of me.
A fist squeezed my heart.
I had spent years in the Koressis Training Grounds, practicing for when I would become a mate bonded rider. Back then, I’d always believed my first flight would be a victory with my mate, who I’d daydreamed would be Rhylan.
How ironic that my first flight was on Rhylan…a dangerous, rigged flight, without the mind-speech, without trust, without even friendship.
“We don’t always get the things we want,” I whispered to myself, letting the wind take the words away.
I might not have a bonded mate, but I would have my birthright. I could have that much, at least.
We flew in silence for half an hour, and I’d nearly gotten used to the sensation of open air all around us as we glided out over the eastern coastline of Mistward. The waves below us spumed like fine lace, frothing over the rocky gray shore, and the depths of the sea here were as barren as the island itself.
I glanced back once, in the direction of Farpost. I could hardly believe I was leaving. Never again would I have to lay eyes on this hellhole, where I’d scraped out my survival on my own for years.
My mother was buried beneath those cold rocks.
I felt a pinch of guilt at leaving her behind, but she would have slapped me for that sentiment, would have told me to harden my heart.
Sentiment had no place in the life of a draga destined for more.
I blinked at several black specks in the distance. It was only when one wheeled, revealing a flash of crimson, that I realized what they were.
I thumped my hand on Rhylan’s shoulder, giving him a sharp nudge in the side with my left heel. “Dragons to the south! They’re far off but following!”
He turned his head enough to glance back at me, his growl unheard but felt. His entire body rumbled beneath mine.
Then he lurched, beating his wings harder and picking up speed. My stomach flipped mercilessly as he sped over the ocean, leaving the island behind in its veil of perpetual mist.
My fingers ached terribly, the rope already burning my palms. I leaned forward, eyes focused not on the ocean, not on the terrible island we were leaving behind, but on Akalla, on Jhazra, on Varyamar.
On my future.