Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Adragon flew at my side, wings of mist and gossamer brushing my face as we soared over Akalla. A crown of a thousand horns grew from his skull, sweeping back to run down his spine, his tail a fan of light.
We passed over the tarn…over the mountains…swooping low over Jhazra Eyrie before rising back into the sky, the sun beating down on our scales.
Heading south with every beat of our wings.
The sea shimmered before us, waves wine-dark, and the gossamer dragon passed them over—spreading his wings wide, and casting a shadow across the land.
The shadow spread, like a drop of ink in water. The lights of the eyries extinguished. The mountains crumbled where they stood.
I beat my wings frantically, but the shadow drew me down. The wind had ceased to exist. The fire in me had burned out.
The great ghostly dragon spiraled over the earth, casting the shadow everywhere he flew, and he finally landed in front of me. Feet sinking into the shadow, which crept over him like a living thing.
Consuming him. Devouring the light inside him.
He leaned forward, staring into my eyes as the shadow crept up over his face. “Sera, it’s time to wake up.”
“Fly away!” The shriek tore out of me, and the shadow poured into my mouth—invading me, swallowing me whole.
“Wake up.”
I blinked, sitting bolt upright and panting for breath. Rhylan knelt in front of me, one hand on my shoulder.
I was lying on the floor, tangled in a blanket that someone had draped over me, sweat coating me in a fine sheen.
The dream was already fading. I remembered a dance of dragons calling me from above, urging me to join them in the sky…and then what?
It slipped away, so much mist in my fingers. All I remembered was…terror. The sensation of drowning.
I rubbed sleep from my eyes, stretching the sore muscles in my neck.
“You didn’t seem like you were having a good dream.” Rhylan rubbed my neck for me, and I leaned into the warmth of his hands.
“Strange. Myst gave me something to help.” I blinked hard, trying one last time to recall the dregs of the dream, but there was nothing left of it.
“You should’ve come for me.” Rhylan sat next to me, pulling me onto his chest and stroking my hair. “I would’ve helped.”
I plucked at a loose thread in his trousers, frowning. “No. Not with things as they are. Is she…?”
“Alive and…well enough.” Rhylan pressed his lips to my hair. “Myst threw me out of her room. We’re to give her peace right now. Your Ascendant will let us back in when—when she’s ready.”
Despite whatever night terrors had gone on in the dream, I felt much more refreshed than usual. I remembered with clarity every detail of the night before—but it was like a numbing fog had been draped across my mind, allowing me to hold those details at arm’s length without being devoured by panic and fear.
“Rhylan, are you really fine with what I did?” I pulled the thread again, afraid to meet his eyes.
I didn’t deserve to have him look at me ever again. Not after making his sister a Naga.
He took my hand away from it, wrapping his fingers around mine, and tilted my chin up. “I was useless down there. My mind was…not mine anymore. I’m glad you’re with us, Sera. Because you did what I should’ve done. If I wasn’t frozen and fucking useless,” he spat.
I sat up, alarmed by the vitriol in his voice. “For gods’ sakes, Rhylan, you’re so far from useless—”
“No,” he said bitterly, cutting me off. “All I could see was my…my mother and Loralei. I wasn’t there, Sera, I was seeing something totally different. All I could hear was the screaming in my head. Kirana was dying right there, she needed me—and I wasn’t there. Not in my mind.”
I fell silent, tightening my fingers around his. I had seen the look on his face…a dragon screaming in silence.
A dragon whose eyes—and mind—were a thousand miles away.
“That’s not…the first time it’s happened.” His voice was low, almost indecipherable. “In Zerhaln, when you fell—all I could see was blood. I didn’t see anything else. I came back to myself when I was on the ground, I think. Everything else was just…gone.”
He pulled me in again, burying his face in my hair. “You did what needed to be done. What I would’ve done if I’d been—fuck. If I hadn’t been useless. Don’t second-guess yourself. Kirana’s still with us, and that’s all that matters. That’s all.”
I slipped an arm around his shoulders and cradled him against me. He rested his head on my chest, cheek warm on sternum, and I stroked his hair like he had done for me before, from the crown of his head and down his back, over and over in a soothing rhythm.
“All right.” I cupped his cheek, holding him closely. “Everything will be fine.”
His lashes brushed my skin as he closed his eyes. We lay curled in silence, the quiet so intense I heard my own heart thumping against him, pounding in my eardrums.
But no matter what I said, if I told him everything would be well a thousand times, I didn’t believe it. This felt like a temporary reprieve.
Like a part of the dream Myst had given me…a little bubble of peace before the world was shattered.
And I was loath to shatter it, though I needed to tell him the things…the terrible things I had remembered. The time for holding back was over.
But with his head pillowed on my breasts, his breathing soft and steady, his arms around my waist…I couldn’t do it right now.
I wanted to preserve this tiny sliver in time for as long as possible.
It lasted an hour, not nearly as long as I’d’ve wanted, but a soft knock on my door roused Rhylan. He sat up, giving me a crooked smile as the door swung open, and Nilsa stepped in and bowed.
“A letter from Lady Elinor has arrived, your highness.” She looked paler than usual, eyes rimmed with red. She gave Rhylan the letter, and left us.
I glanced at the deep blue seal as Rhylan cracked it open, and rested my chin on his shoulder to read the looping handwriting.
“Doric and Elinor are calling for a meeting in the Circle? Tonight?” There was a frown in Rhylan’s mutter, though I couldn’t see his face. “To discuss a ceasefire and potential alliance…with the Shadowed Stars?”
“This smells like another trap. But…” I sighed, draping an arm around his neck and pressing my palm flat against his chest. “Chantrelle must realize they’re too severely outmatched in might to present their case at the Second Claim. Any Court they create has only two Houses. It’s not enough.”
“If we allied long enough to destroy Yura and her ambitions…” Rhylan paused, and without warning, his fingertips erupted into claws, punching right through the parchment.
“Yes. She’s the one who matters now.”
He took several calming breaths until his claws retracted, and smoothed the crumpled letter. “Do we trust them?”
I caught a whiff of peppery violet perfume from the letter. Did I trust Chantrelle not to renege on any agreements we made?
No. Not in the slightest. She was too vindictive, too arrogant.
But after what Yura had done…I would hold to the adage of the old Houses: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
“Of course we don’t trust them. But we’d be foolish not to consider uniting until Yura is dead. You’re one dragon, Rhylan,” I added softly. “I am the only one left of Silvered Embers. We need these alliances. I have no army, no others of my line to support me. Without more Houses, our Court will fall.”
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and I kissed a slow trail over his exposed throat. My hair spilled over his chest, obscuring his fresh silver scars.
“Tonight, then. We’re to meet at the Circle before sundown.” He exhaled, lashes fluttering. “I don’t want to leave Kirana, but you’re right. We need dragonbloods. We need armies.”
“That’s my big, strong dragon.” I nipped his earlobe, and managed to pull a more genuine smile from him.
“If I’m the brawn, you’re the brains.” He turned his head, eyes glimmering as our lips met.
I sat up, reluctantly pulling my hands from his warm chest. “I haven’t done too well on that front, but maybe I can make it up to you by securing half the Great Houses of Akalla tonight.”
As much as it galled me to have to play nice with Chantrelle, we needed this tiny speck of hope. It was as deep a need as the air we breathed.
Without hope that we could win, we had nothing.
And if we had nothing—Yura would continue to walk the earth, defying the Laws of the gods, committing atrocities…delving into things better left untouched.
I unwillingly dragged myself out of Rhylan’s arms and into the bath. But this was not to be a Claim, or an official convocation, so I pulled on fresh leathers instead of a dress, buckled my sword at my side, and slid daggers into my armguards.
Instead of pinning my plaits in a crown, I secured my hair in a high ponytail, letting the streaks of silver shine amongst the black. The end of the tail swayed against my lower back as I walked.
Kirana’s room was locked tight, and I sensed my Ascendant’s presence within. I hesitated at her threshold, my knuckles raised to the door, but ultimately, I let my hand drop.
Kirana needed to sleep for now. It would be at least several days before the dragon’s blood had finished working its changes on her; she needed peace and rest far more than she needed status updates.
And if we could give her the good news of an alliance upon her awakening… all the better.
Rhylan was in the eyrie, already shifted, his horned head turned to the open southern windows. I stroked his shoulder before I went to work on buckling the harness around him, and when that was done, I checked the logbook.
He had scribbled in our destination and departure time, in such a hasty, illegible scrawl that Viros was sure to have an apoplexy over it when he reviewed what we’d done. I winced, and pointed to it.
“Is this what you call proper documentation? Honestly, Rhylan.”
The dragon snickered at me, the tip of his tail thrashing.
“I’m coming.” I mounted easily, settling myself in the saddle and stirrups and wrapping the reins around my wrist before I reached down to pat him over his knotted scars. “Ready.”
With hope in our hearts, we launched into the sky and turned south.
With my hair streaming in the wind, I kept my hand pressed to Rhylan’s back, drawing strength from his warmth and the power beneath his hide. The hours passed quickly, my heart in my throat the entire time, my nerves wrestling with that undefeated tendril of hope curling through me.
In a few short hours, we would have the power to end this.
To avenge Loralei… and Kirana, for what had been done to her.
For what I’d had to do to her.
Yura would find herself backed into a corner, more dangerous than ever, but even she couldn’t stand against all the Houses united against her.
My pulse sped up as the golden spires of Koressis came into view, shining a bloody red as the sun dipped towards the horizon. Rhylan ate the distance with his wings, until the gleam of the Circle was visible far below.
There were already dragons in place on its pearly stones. Even from such a height, I recognized the icy blue scales of Doric, Gaelin’s white spines, and the vivid emerald green of a Jade Leaves dragon. Tyria stood at his side, regal and aloof.
Rhylan dove, spiraling downwards—a vague memory brushed against my mind, a dragon spiraling to earth, shadows beneath his wings—and landed lightly near Gaelin.
But the snow-scaled dragon—our ally—did not acknowledge us. I glanced at Maristela, and when the draga’s eyes met mine, she looked away just as quickly.
The first tinge of disquiet touched my heart with icy fingers.
Tyria was to our left, her son curled protectively around her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the other side of the Circle, where a rider and her dragon waited.
As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she was Asura, Maristela’s younger sister and the new princess heir to the Shadowed Stars. She had the same dusky scales, her hair a paler shade of blonde, but she stood the same as Chantrelle: straight-backed, chin high.
Cyran, her mate, was streamlined and long-bodied in his dragon form, ivory-scaled, soft cream-colored feathers growing in a crest from his brow and jaw, and along the edges of his wings.
Both of them were no more than eighteen—fresh from the Training Grounds. Untested, untried dragonbloods.
All the draga were wearing leathers in their House colors, bristling with weapons.
Disquiet became fear, my chest tightening painfully.
Of all the dragonbloods present, Doric alone shifted into his male body, and I dismounted so Rhylan could follow suit. We remained at the edge of the Circle, just out of earshot of Gaelin and Maristela.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Doric said under his breath, lines of tension radiating from the corners of his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Elinor sent us a message from both of you. That we were to discuss a potential alliance against Yura.” I stayed close to Rhylan’s side, unable to stop my eyes from flicking nervously between Gaelin and Maristela, and Tyria—dragonbloods who had never had any reason to show hostility towards us, and now refused to acknowledge our presence.
“She’s been blocking me out for three days now. All I get from her is fog.” Doric’s angled brows were pulled into a scowl. “And I never sent you a message. This isn’t a fucking alliance discussion, it’s a Judgment.”
My too-tight heart didn’t just stutter. It seemed to stop entirely, ice spilling through my limbs. Rhylan was a statue at my side.
He looked at Rhylan, the scowl giving way to uncertain confusion. “It’s not true, is it?”
“Rhylan,” I breathed. Flames of fury simmered in his gaze, his muscles vibrating with tension. Doric backed away a step, then another, confusion becoming incredulity.
It had been a trap. And I had led us right into it.
Rhylan reached for me, scales spilling over his skin, already beginning the shift—
And a shadow eclipsed us, casting the Circle in darkness. The beat of wings thundered in my ears as I reached for him.
The thing that ripped him out of my grasp was a true dragon. A mountain with wings, a leviathan plummeting from the sky.
Illiae, the Ascendant of the Shadowed Stars.
My fingertips just touched Rhylan’s, and then he was torn away, gripped in bronze talons as long as swords, their razor-edges gleaming.
She flung him across the Circle. The speed of a creature her size—it seemed to defy all the laws of nature, that something so enormous could move like a lightning strike.
Rhylan hit the ground hard and rolled to a halt. He lifted his head, lips curled back over his teeth, blood pouring from his nose and coating his chin.
I moved like a dreamer caught in the bonds of a nightmare, taking one step before something heavy crashed into my back.
My knees hit the iridescent stones hard, my teeth cracking together from the impact. Hands clamped down on my arms, a foot planted itself in the small of my back and drove me to my stomach, and I snarled up at my captors: Cyran and Asura.
I hadn’t even seen them move. All my focus was reserved for Rhylan, rising to his feet as he stared down the Ascendant, her dusky, bruise-dark scales quivering with rage.
“Pretender,” Asura said coolly, wrenching my arm behind me.
Chantrelle stepped into the Circle from a footbridge, Elinor at her side, a tiny smile on her lips. Unlike the rest of us, she had not worn leathers; layers of thin silk whispered as she walked.
She stopped as she passed Rhylan, surveying him with a look of distaste. “Hold him down,” she told Illiae, and the Ascendant circled Rhylan.
He turned his back on her, running for me, eyes aflame with scarlet fire.
But she charged at him like an avalanche, a beast of starburst eyes and fangs; she brought one clawed hand crashing down onto him, driving him to his knees. Illiae drove him downwards, crushing his chest against his thighs, her talons caging him.
I struggled against my captors, unable to slash at them, my arms twisted and brought up behind my shoulder blades. Sharp pains ripped through my muscles.
Rhylan raised his head, eyes wild as he watched Asura and Cyran force me down again.
We stared at each other across the Circle, panting, and I sent a silent apology to him.
This was all my fault. I was no master of the game, only a pretender to the throne.
I had brought him to this.
“Enough of this,” Chantrelle said with disgust. “You all know why I’ve brought you here. I’ve called for a Judgment, so you can see the liars—the lawbreakers—your allies truly are. You are fools to back them, when there is one here who has a true claim.”
Tyria finally moved, resting a hand on Cai’s shoulder. She gave Chantrelle a glacial stare. “What Law are they supposed to have broken?”
The Lady of the Shadowed Stars raised her chin, pulling something familiar from her pocket.
She’d kept the damn strap she’d cut from our saddle. The hook gleamed, as sharp as an accusation. “Only a bonded pair may lay Claim for the throne—and they are not a bonded pair. What draga needs a wyvern harness to ride a dragon?”
She held it up, turning in place, ensuring everyone saw the damning hook.
“I cut this from his saddle while the pretender slept in my eyrie. No Dragonesse could possibly have need of such a thing—let alone any draga of good breeding.”
Tyria’s brow raised a fraction. “That is inconclusive, Chantrelle.”
“That’s far from the only evidence. Elinor.” Chantrelle nodded to her niece, folding her hands behind her back.
I stared daggers at Elinor as she stepped to the middle of the Circle. She wiped her palms against her white leathers…but that was the only sign of her nervousness as she prepared to give her testimony.
Rhylan met my eyes from across the stones, half his face blocked by Elinor’s legs, but I saw the crimson spark in one eye. The all-devouring coal that threatened to burst into flames.
It vanished as the Illiae applied pressure to his back, forcing his head down.
“They do not have the mind-speech,” Elinor announced. “I observed this myself. He allowed her to fall in the attack on Zerhaln. There is no connection between them, no bond.”
“He’s far from the first dragon to have a rider fall!” Doric snarled. “Elinor, what are you doing?”
She gave him a pleading look, but her jaw was set. “I know what I saw. And…and there’s one more.” She waved to the footbridge, and even from my position on the ground, chin forced to the stones, I saw the tiny draga slip into the Circle.
Mykah. She looked around with wide eyes, her shoulders hunched as she crept to Elinor’s side. The sight of Rhylan in the cage of Illiae’s claws nearly stopped her in her tracks; when she saw Asura and Cyran astride my back, she did stop.
Elinor smiled at her reassuringly. “Come forth, Mykah.”
The draga hesitantly obeyed.
“Now tell us…” Elinor leaned forward, bringing herself eye to eye with the younger draga. “You saw them in Zerhaln, yes?”
Mykah nodded, and Elinor’s smile slipped a little. “You must say yes or no with your own voice. This is a Judgment against lawbreakers.”
“Yes,” Mykah whispered, the sound barely audible.
“And you were the one who saved Serafina from the fall.”
“Yes.”
Elinor’s shoulders had relaxed as Mykah’s whisper grew a little louder. “Good. Now, did you notice that they did not seem to have a connection? That they spoke sensitive conversations aloud, when the mind-speech would have sufficed?”
Mykah’s doe eyes drifted back to me, her brows wrinkled. The next second felt like an eternity, the little draga’s mouth open to say the words that would damn us.
Doric had been right…she was a spy.
“No.”
My heart skipped a beat. I fought my aching neck muscles to raise my head, staring at the girl.
Elinor’s smile wobbled. “Let me rephrase that: did you overhear conversations that would not otherwise be spoken aloud between a bonded pair?”
Some of the uncertainty had left Mykah’s gaze. She set her lips, eyes hardening, raising her pointed chin in the air. “No. They seemed perfectly bonded to me, my lady. You fell off Doric once, and I don’t see anyone Judging you.”
One of Elinor’s eyes twitched, her claws flexing.
Oh, that stubborn little wyvern-rider.
Despite Doric’s claims that Mykah was a spy, even he seemed taken aback by Elinor’s line of questioning. “This is ludicrous,” he told his mate, his eyes glacially cold. “Did you talk her into giving false testimony, Elinor?”
Elinor straightened up, giving him a filthy look. “You can go, Mykah. There’s no need for you any longer.”
I didn’t think I imagined the flash of hurt in her eyes at those words, but she crept only as far as the footbridge, her eyes bouncing between Rhylan and Elinor.
I silently thanked her, regretting even the few seconds I’d spent believing she was a spy. I hoped she could get out of this without reprisal for her defense of us.
“I didn’t talk her into anything,” Elinor spat at her mate. “I asked for truthful witnesses.”
Doric’s nostrils flared. “Then why haven’t I been able to speak in your mind for three days?” he asked quietly. “Why block me out, if you’re not plotting with the lady of your House?”
Her lip curled. “There’s a very simple way to test this. Unless you want to be ruled over by a liar. They’ve broken the Law, Doric! They have no bond or claim!”
“Then test it.” Doric folded his arms over his chest, but the look on his face as he gazed at his mate was not far off from hate. “I’ve known Rhylan for far longer than you. He’s not the kind of dragon to lie about this. This is just a powerplay for her sake.” He jerked his chin at Asura, who hissed softly under her breath. “Aren’t you two close friends? If you want testimony, let me give it: when Maristela was excommunicated from her House, it wasn’t sympathy I heard in your head, Elinor.”
She stared at him, fists clenched at her sides. All eyes were on them, the other dragonbloods’ expressions torn between disbelief and barely-concealed impatience.
I flexed my fingers, attempting to reach for my armguard daggers, but my extremities were tingling, going numb from their painful position at my back.
“None of that.” Cyran’s heel ground into my spine. I winced, biting back a pained sound.
Maristela’s soft voice came from behind me. “We don’t believe you either, Elinor. This isn’t a Judgment, it”s a backstabbing.”
If none of them believed her…we could still get out of this alive.
But Chantrelle did not acknowledge her eldest daughter. She simply pushed Elinor aside and crushed my hopes with her next word.
“Give her the word, then.” To the rest of the assembly, she held up a hand. “You will all know this word. It was signed at the bottom of the declarations of Judgment.”
I saw knowing looks settle over faces that had been skeptical only a moment ago. There was a secret word…which Rhylan would not be able to pluck from my mind.
It was futile. Hopeless. The wriggling fear in my brain bit down, accusing me: this is all your fault. You didn’t try hard enough. You only hoped, when you should have willed it. You could have saved his life.
It’s your fault. Your fault, your fault, your fault.
Elinor knelt next to me. Asura and Cyran hauled on my arms, dragging me upright. She leaned in to cup her hand against my ear, and whispered, so softly he would never be able to hear it, “Traitor.”
I stared at Rhylan, willing the word across. Thinking TRAITOR, TRAITOR, TRAITOR as loudly as I could…
And there was only silence in my mind. No one but me was screaming in there.
“Well?” Chantrelle demanded imperiously, voice shrill, her fists clenched at her sides. “What is it, Prince Rhylan? If you haven’t broken the Law, if you are truly bonded, you should have known the second Elinor spoke to her.”
The second dragged on, each taking a thousand years.
I stared into those cinder-filled eyes and stopped thinking of the key word. It was useless, pointless, and I wasn’t going to spend my last minutes alive trying to prove Chantrelle wrong when she was in the right.
I would only think of true things, the things that mattered.
I love you. I would burn them all for you, if only I had fire. I would take you away from all this, if I had wings. I love you with everything in me and I only regret that we didn’t have more time. That I didn’t have the will to make it happen.
I hoped he could read that in my eyes. That even without a bond, he had felt a fraction of what I felt for him.
“Are you going to answer?” Chantrelle’s voice had grown shriller than ever.
Our allies had started off strong, unbelieving of her claims—but now they drew back. Disbelief, confusion, and outrage clouded their once-certain expressions.
Doric looked…almost heartbroken. Rhylan had been his closest friend for years, and he had shattered his trust.
Across the Circle, Rhylan slowly shook his head.
Chantrelle exhaled slowly. Her smile returned, eyes bright. “You see? They are not bonded mates! They have no claim to the throne.”
Tyria was shaking her own head, lips turned down with disappointment, but she said nothing.
No one here would speak for us. The Law was clear.
“There is a penalty for attempting to seize a throne you have no right to.” Joy and victory throbbed in Chantrelle’s voice. “A penalty for lying to your allies, and forming a Court under false pretenses. Your lives are forfeit.”
Elinor straightened, nudging Asura aside. Her sweaty hands adjusted their grip on me, holding me in place so firmly, I couldn’t move an inch if I tried.
The prickling sensation of a thunderstorm had returned to my skin, pinching at my nerves: the storm was here, breaking overhead, all the consequences I had feared finally coming to pass.
“First, the murderer’s spawn,” Chantrelle announced. “It is only correct that the rightful Dragonesse should carry out the sentence.”
Against all odds, a laugh bubbled out of me, though nothing was funny at all. Of course she would take my head first; she likely had a plan in place to find a way to pardon Rhylan, to excuse him from the death penalty she’d gladly give me.
After all, she had other daughters, other nieces, who might want a prince of their own one day…but it was better that he lived. If anyone were to be sentenced to death, it should be me.
Asura drew her sword, the blade gleaming bright as quicksilver, droplets of light beading on its razor-sharp edge.
At least it would be fast and clean.
The painful prickling grew more intense as I stared at that light, knowing it would be wet and red soon, diminished with my death. My body knew it had reached the end. Soon it would feel nothing at all.
I stared at Rhylan as my captors forced me back to my stomach and I struggled uselessly against them. I didn’t want his last sight of me to be of fear and surrender.
“From ashes to embers to flames,” I whispered, staring into his eyes, wishing I could have spoken those words to him when it still mattered.
It was all my fault for throwing away our chances. For refusing to see the obvious: that we were meant to be together.
But Rhylan…he did not speak the words back to me. He could not speak.
His lips were drawn back, revealing the startling white of lengthening fangs against his bloodied face. Scales coated his body, the blue of his eyes burned away by fire.
The shadow of the blade moved across the stones as Asura raised it high, positioning herself for a clean downward cut.
The storm-prickling became a chill, then a rush of heat. In the litany I was sending Rhylan in my head—that I loved him, that I would wait for him at Nakasha’s Gates—something else came through.
Something that wasn’t mine.
A blinding tumult, a rush of noise and blazing white light and fury. Wordless screaming.
The sensation of the world tilting sideways, and I saw Rhylan through my eyes…then I saw myself through his.
As Asura reached the peak of the sword’s ascent, Rhylan erupted, and we ripped our way from under Illiae’s talons—
The Ascendant’s blood rushed in a tide across the Circle, wet on our claws—
Asura brought the blade down—
And all I knew was the thunder of wrath in my mind, battering off the inside of my skull.
SERA!
TO BE CONTINUED IN
COURT OF EMBERS