Chapter Thirty-Four
Asher
T he first five days consisted mostly of reading. I found myself skipping through books, desperately seeking any information. Nearly all the books had a sort of personal tone to them, as if they were written by those who experienced the events. It made everything sound skewed and unreliable, which proved true when I found two books that told the same story differently.
Only once did I explore, the temptation of the single door across from the library proving too much. I had made the decision to take a small peek while Wrath napped in our chambers, and I slid the door into the wall with the hopes of remaining unseen. When I had entered the room, I was graced with what almost appeared to be an office. There was glass everywhere, just as there seemed to be throughout the palace from what I had seen. A glass desk sat in front of a wall with glass shelving—books and rocks and glass symbols of the sky littering them.
The teal sun was setting, casting its bright rays upon the room and lighting it up with a haunting glow. To the left sat four enormous pillow-like spheres, the thick cushions set in a make-shift circle atop a white and black rug that depicted the night sky on one half and the light of day on the other. One was silver, one purple, one white, and one pink. A glass mug sat in front of each, clean by the looks of them. I walked over, not taking in the rest of the room as I honed in on the purple one. When I reached it, I bent my knees and brushed my fingers across what had to be velvet. Adding a bit more pressure, I found myself dipping forward.
My hand had sunk into the odd cushion, the inside beneath the velvet almost feeling like beads. Standing up, I straightened my long-sleeve cream dress before finally looking up to take in the rest of the room. There on the far wall, above a tall panel of glass that seemed to be protecting a pile of logs prepped for a fire, were four paintings. They were stunning, the portraits so life-like it almost felt as if the beings were watching me.
On the left was a male, his ebony skin standing out in stark contrast to his short gilded curls and vibrant golden eyes. He smiled brightly, a sort of wonder in his gaze that made him seem ever curious. His square jaw and high cheekbones were sharp in the way his slanted shoulders and full lips were not. He wore clothes the color of his hair, the shade of the sleek silk making my teeth grind.
To the right of that portrait was a female. Her skin was just slightly darker than mine, an earthy brown that appeared youthful despite the hardness in her siren eyes that made her look weathered. I gasped, noting that one of her irises was black while the other was white, matching the way her hair split in color down the middle with sleek black strands on the left and equally silky white locks on the right. Her face was nearly round, though the fullness of it could not stop her delicate chin from coming out to a point. She was imposing, her regal dress showing her shoulders and splitting down the center in color as well.
Next was a beautiful female with mischief in her slightly squinted bright green eyes, like perhaps she had been mid-laugh when the artist captured that stare. She had blonde hair as straight as the previous female’s, though her skin was ivory in all but her rosy cheeks. Her smile flashed brilliantly white teeth framed by petal-pink lips. She wore a dress that seemed to be a more modest version of the other female’s, the black on the left looking as if it had sucked the color from the white on the right at the spot where the fabric wrapped around her neck and met.
Last was a female with skin nearly identical to the first female’s, her cheeks stained pink as she beamed with joy. Her boisterous curls were too full to be captured, the silver coils disappearing into the glass frame on the sides. Her heart-shaped face and full lips made way for her hypnotic silver eyes, which matched the dress that came to pointed edges on her shoulders and dipped low between her breasts. She was beautiful, and she smiled like someone who never knew sorrow.
And though I had no proof, no reason to believe such a thing, my heart lurched at the idea that this female was the exact one who would one day sire the Ayad family line.
I left the room and never looked back.
On the sixth day, I still had not discovered any information that would help me. Wrath was quite pessimistic, though he was also eating something called caviar and lounging by fires daily, so it was safe to say that the little vermin was enjoying himself. If I were being honest, I would likely have explored other rooms and taken the time to relax if I was not absolutely positive that Bellamy was surely threatening to burn the world to the ground in my absence. The male was predictable that way.
I woke up in a particularly foul mood that morning. At least, that was what Wrath said when I swatted his paw away. Sitting up in my overly extravagant four-poster bed, I threw open the gray netted curtains with unnecessary force. My night clothes so far consisted of long-sleeved tops that buttoned up the center and trousers to match. They were soft and annoyingly comfortable.
Placing my feet into the fur-lined slippers beside my bed, I quickly padded across the lush gray rug, stopping in front of a thin door. With a soft tug, the door slid open, disappearing into the wall just as most of the doors did here. Inside, a far-too-large room was filled to the brim with clothing. All conveniently in my size.
The first dress that caught my eye today was one in a baby pink. The layers upon layers of gauzy fabric were cinched close to the torso but had been left loose for the skirts, allowing them to flare out. The straps were thin where they connected to the bodice and gradually grew thicker as they reached the shoulder, forming a sort of upside-down triangle. But the most extraordinary part of the dress were the pink rosebuds that had been sewn onto it. It reminded me of Mia.
With a sigh, I freed it from the hanger.
As I was getting dressed to go spend yet another day drowning in books with no rhyme or reason to their shelving, I realized that the clasp for the dress was strange. It was a sort of metal that had to be pulled upwards rather than fastened together, the metal teeth on either side joining as it slid. Knowing Wrath was without opposable thumbs meant I would be forced to find help or do it myself.
During my time walking between the library and my rooms, I had yet to see another creature roaming the halls. I was convinced that Padon had made sure of that, despite explicitly saying that Wrath had been ordering around servants. When I asked the dalistori about it, he merely shrugged and said that he had not seen the servants again either. Only Padon was ever around, bringing us food and bothering me endlessly.
I would not ask him to close my dress. I just would not. So, instead, I got creative.
Reaching up, I pulled down the wire hanger that had once held the dress. Then I began bending and unwinding it, creating a sort of hook. After securing the curved end to the metal piece on my dress, I grabbed onto the opposite end and tugged upwards.
As usual, I made a mess of the situation.
The closure flew upwards, stilling the wire. Unfortunately, it was slippery, so the momentum of my hands forced them to keep moving even without the wire within my grasp. My arms swung, sending my upper half careening forward. I smacked into the shelf that I had been storing my dagger and sheath upon, hitting my elbow against the weapon. Both the sheathed dagger and I fell to the ground with a loud thud, shaking shoes loose from the other shelves. A heel landed on my cheek, stabbing into me with bruising force.
For a second, I laid there—stunned and embarrassed—but then Wrath’s laughter sounded from behind me. “You have outdone yourself, Strange One. I understand why so many males are fighting for your affections. You are clearly quite the prize.”
I reached back, smacking the dalistori. He did not care enough to dodge me, just continued laughing hysterically—maniacally.
Huffing, I sat up, my hand going to my wounded cheek. That would be fun to explain to the nosey emperor. Only a few shoes had lost purchase, so it took no time at all to clean them up. The last thing that remained on the ground after I straightened the final pair of shoes were my sheath and dagger, the two separated by the fall. Carelessly, I snatched the leather up first, watching in bewilderment as something fell out of it.
Not just something.
My heart galloped in my chest, the pounding beat faster than Frost racing through the Forest of Tragedies. When my fingers grazed the folded piece of paper, I nearly sobbed in relief. It was the last note I had received from Bellamy.
I opened it, laughing at the ridiculous words.
Today the sun does not shine, and I wonder if that is because you are not here. It seems you have stolen more than my heart, Princess. Please come home, I do not think I can take many more days of gloom.
Stupid, sappy demon.
Dashing out of the closet, I ran to the entirely glass vanity, slumping down into the chair. Hands shaking, I grabbed the quill out of the pot of ink, trying my best not to let it drip on the paper. It felt oddly nice using a quill again. I had mostly used them back in The Capital, only switching to pencils regularly because of Bellamy. Still, my nerves would not allow me to relish in that comfort as I wrote on the paper.
I am okay. Please do not slaughter innocents or freeze over entire villages. Trust that I will come back to you as soon as I can.
I love you.
It was all I could think to say that would not send him into a panic or have him trying to portal himself to other worlds like a lunatic. Yet I also could not help the smile that lifted my lips at the thought of him appearing in these rooms. There was so much we still needed to talk about, secrets we both kept. But he was worth every struggle and stumble.
Folding up the paper, I briefly brought it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss to it. “Please work.”
Three deep breaths later, I tossed the paper into the air, watching as it fell. In my head, I chanted the same two words.
Please work. Please work. Please work. Please work.
When the paper hit the ground and remained there, a single tear crawled down my cheek, falling victim to gravity just as the note had.
And then came the rage. Head falling back, I let out a piercing scream, furious to the point that I could do nothing but let it free. The room—no, the castle itself—shook, all the many pieces of glass around me twinkling or falling to the ground. A chorus of breaking glass sounded, and then the windows shattered, raining down upon me.
Something hard smashed into me, sending me flying onto the ground. Whatever it was nearly knocked the breath from my lungs, so heavy it felt as if I might suffocate from the pressure of it.
“Dammit, Asher. You can’t do things like that.” So casual was the tone that, even if I did not know his voice, I would bet my life that Padon was the one on top of me. He was as aggravating as ever, but in this instance, he was unfortunately right.
Why had I done something so foolish? How had I done that?
A clicking noise sounded, mixing with the crunch of glass as someone else entered the room.
“Padon! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was like my mind suddenly decided I was angry and—” The melodic voice abruptly cut off, a loud gasp following her apology as she probably took in the disaster.
“Don’t be sorry. I felt it too. This mess isn’t yours alone. You should see my office.” With a wry chuckle, he looked up, facing the female. I got a brief glimpse of bright orange hair before he readjusted to cover me again. “Plus, it wasn’t really our fault. Asher had a bit of an episode, and it seems that her magic took on a life of its own. It wasn’t your anger at all that you felt, Kar. Can you check on everyone else within the palace? I imagine there’s a lot of cleanup to do.”
The female did not respond, but I still heard her heeled steps retreating and my door shutting as she left. When Padon rotated on top of me, our faces far too close for comfort, he smiled widely, as if he were proud of what I had done.
“Now, that was an interesting way of getting my attention.” Prick. I shoved him off, wishing I could unsee the arrogant smirk he flashed me. A booming laugh came from him as I sat up, which I quickly silenced with an elbow to his gut. Then it was Wrath who laughed as he made his way to me from his spot under the bed.
“All I want from you is to watch you fall to a painful death. Preferably after I push you.”
Was that too far?
“Asher, are you trying to tell me about a sexual kink that you have?”
Nope, not far enough.
I groaned in annoyance, tiptoeing my way around the glass and to the door that would—hopefully—take me far from him. But he grabbed my wrist, tugging my body into his.
The rise and fall of his chest felt like a battle cry, as if he were preparing for some sort of war I had no knowledge of. Wide violet eyes and pursed lips solidified that thought, and I realized that I had not once been explained what he wanted with me, despite the many times I had asked. His free hand lifted, cold knuckles grazing my flushed skin. A wave of his other hand had the room returning to its former glory. How strange, to go from feeling Bellamy’s heat for months to now being forced to endure the presence of a creature that felt like ice. It was disconcerting. When his thumb rubbed against my bottom lip, I tried to lean back, needing more space before he got any ideas. His grip held firm, face going stern as he assessed me.
“Asher. Such a beautiful name. Blessed and happy. Did you know it means that?” There was a harsh and mocking edge to his words, as if a hidden meaning lay beneath them that he thought I was foolish for not understanding. “I can make you happy. I can bless you. It’s your destiny, my love. I am your destiny, whether you accept it or not.”
With one final pull, I wrenched myself from his grasp, stumbling backwards as I did so. Wrath was there, his fur coarse from his new height. A deep hiss emanated from him, and I smirked as Padon took a hesitant step back. Seeing as he survived a dagger to the heart, I imagined he would live to tell the tale of Wrath’s, well, wrath. Still, it brought a bloodthirsty sense of glee to me as he raised his hands in submission.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, kitty cat.”
Wrath shook with pent-up rage, moving around me to block my body from Padon’s view. I scratched his side, leaning into his warmth.
“Do not threaten my creature,” Wrath said, his eerie voice so deep it rattled my bones. I burrowed deeper into his side, trying to show just how much I appreciated his protection—his love.
“That was hardly a threat.” I could hear the smile through his words, tearing another hiss of disapproval from Wrath’s throat. “Fine, I won’t threaten her again. Asher, will you please allow me to show you something? I think it’s time you get out of this palace.”
At first, Wrath did not move, opting to stare at Padon silently. I peeked around his body, catching a glimpse of the unsettled look that was on the emperor’s face. Laughing with glee, despite Padon’s more calculating aura, I patted Wrath’s side one last time before walking around him.
“I will be okay, Wrath. If the so-called emperor tries anything funny, I will castrate him and rip out his heart.” Wrath smiled at my graphic threat, but did not back down. “Thank you for taking care of me. Now, go take care of yourself. Get a snack or terrorize innocents or something.”
With one last scratch under his chin and a quick kiss to his nose that he was not fast enough to dodge, I waved bye and walked to Padon, who was holding a pair of blush pink slippers out to me. I reached up and grabbed them, scoffing at the way he momentarily held them too high for me to reach. After I slipped them on, he motioned towards the door.
When he tried to grab my hand as we entered the hallway, I pulled it away and swatted his arm. Flashing him a look of disapproval, I forced myself not to laugh when the oh-so-mighty emperor feigned offense by putting his palm to his chest and gasping.
We continued forward in companionable silence for all of thirty seconds before he began speaking.
“Did you know that there are worlds where the moons bleed red and creatures sparkle different colors?” His tone was soft, almost contemplative, as if his mind had wandered. Briefly, I wondered if Padon had visited those other worlds. If he were strong enough to bring me here, then it made sense for him to be able to go other places. How enchanting, to see so much of the universe. To learn and bask in something new. A part of me would always believe that life was about the adventure— about seeing extraordinary things and becoming extraordinary because of it.
“Bellamy has told me many stories of other worlds. He told me of one where dragons roam the skies and another where gods walk among mortals. His favorite was the story of a world where magic is imbued into the land itself. Creatures are separated by mere kingdoms rather than seas, and they live in peace with one another. I loved the one about a world that is completely submerged in water, all living things breathing from gills and swimming with fins.”
Padon was silent by my side, face stoic as I prattled on, my own mind taking me elsewhere. To better places with warm and strong arms around me.
“More than once, he lulled me to sleep with those stories, his voice the only thing that could bring me peace and soothe me.” I sighed, smiling at the memory of him laying with me in my too-small cot when we traveled through Eoforhild. Or even the times when he would come into mine and Noe’s room at one of the inns, laying on the floor and holding my hand until I fell asleep. How had I ever denied him? Denied my feelings for him? Padon scoffed, earning a glare from me. “I love him, you know.”
“You love the idea of being loved. Don’t mix up the two.” His arms crossed as he spoke, so much vitriol in the words that I wondered if it were truly me he was speaking to.
“Yet I hate the idea of being loved by you. What does that say about you, Padon?”
He stiffened at my harsh words, his arms falling to his sides as we walked on. Suns and moons and stars were hidden within gray wall sconces and flowing curtains and even parts of the gray runners at our feet. The most covert decorations though, somehow, those designs had caught my eye time and time again over the last week. Demanding my attention.
Neither of us spoke again until we came to a stunning foyer, the gray marble stairs hugging the wall and wrapping around the nearly circular room. Two towering glass windows sat on either side of the large double doors. The glass on the left was painted with an image of the night sky, stars twinkling around the four moons. On the right, the glass was depicting what I assumed was daylight. The sky, far brighter than that in Alemthian, was a deep blue, a teal sun larger than I had ever seen taking up the center of the painting as puffs of clouds surrounded it. The true eye-catcher was the ceiling though. Above us was a painting portraying a nearly black sky with thousands of stars, constellations I could not begin to name connected by thin lines to create the universe itself. It was like seeing everything the ethers had to offer and suddenly realizing how small I was in the grand scheme of it all.
When we made it to the doors, Padon shoved them open, revealing a nearly identical scene. Their sun was teal, a vibrant and almost menacing color that cast the entirety of the sprawling town into an odd sort of glowing darkness. Structures towered beyond, most of them made of glass. Voices could be heard as they traveled to us on the wind, my magic sensing the joy and despair and love and hatred from them all. The very things that I was so used to in my own world.
I turned around, unable to resist looking up at the looming palace.
It was magnificent, made almost entirely of glass with towers reaching towards the teal stained sky as if they might puncture it. Perfectly symmetrical, there was a haunting beauty to it as it reflected the scenery of mountains and clouds and the sprawling city behind us. Despite the stunning architecture, I could practically feel the wickedness pulsing from it, as if great atrocities had been committed within those walls.
With a chill that skirted up my back and made my teeth chatter, I turned back towards the beautiful city beyond, feeling far less unsettled. I noted then that the city was taller than it was wide. An awe-inspiring bit of innovation that I had never seen before.
“Do you like it?” he asked, sounding for all the world like he was gifting me the sight before us. I nodded, my jaw hanging loose and my eyes wide as I took in the beauty of it. “Then I think you’ll love this.”
Padon grabbed my hand, holding firmly as we were consumed by a cloud of darkness. Whatever this was, it did not feel like portaling. There was no painful tug or pull, no sense that time and space themselves were attempting to rip us apart for defying them. No, this was quick, like taking a step and ending up in a whole new world.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice barely audible as I stared in awe at the sweeping mountains. Snow coated the peaks, a chill floating in the air. Wind blew our way, smelling of brisk winters and fresh pine and the heat of the morning sun. There was an odd sense of familiarity to that scent, as if I had stood atop a mountain much like this and breathed in with the same relief I felt now.
I had, actually. Throughout our winter trek across Eoforhild, I found solace in few things, but the wondrous sights were always one.
“We are in the Draca Mountains.” I faced him, quirking a brow. What an odd name.
Unless—
Just then, the sound of beating wings could be heard in the distance, a roar-like screech following as a shadow was cast over us. I looked up, knowing what I would see but not quite believing it until my eyes locked on the creature.
A dragon loomed above, circling us like prey. The underbelly of it was a stunning lavender, but its wings and what I could see of the rest of its body as it tilted were violet.
My head cocked to the side, eyes roaming from the dragon—which I was not nearly scared enough of—to Padon. The purple of his hair was darker, but the cloud around us had been the very same violet. A violet that matched almost the entirety of the Temple of Gods, which had been dedicated to…
“Padon,” I said, caution lacing my words. He looked back down at me, smiling glumly, as if he were expecting me to be terrified. But, when his eyes met mine, his expression changed. His lips parted, gaze widening. “Tell me you are not a god. Tell me you have not been making snide comments about the deities when you are somehow in control of life and death.”
Standing there, shivering in my flimsy pink dress, I felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. A nervous laugh was all he answered with before flicking his wrist my way. I looked down, watching as every single rosebud opened, flaring out to fill the dress. Then a cloak—my cloak—met my shoulders, the purple shadow-like magic disappearing in the breeze.
“I prefer Death and Creation. And it’s not my fault they made me look heinous for that sculpture. Just seeing your projected thoughts made me feel as if I should be working on a better exercise regimen.”
The dragon descended as the two of us looked at one another, landing with such force that the mountain itself shook. I moved my gaze, staring with awe at the creature. It was larger than I could have ever imagined, my head likely not even reaching its ankle. All four legs were rippling with strength, purple scales glistening in the teal sunlight. Its leathery wings still softly swayed, as if it were gaining its bearings.
Padon’s arm caught my peripheral as he moved to stroke the enormous snout of the creature. It hummed in appreciation, briefly flashing razor sharp teeth that were surprisingly white. Its nostrils flared when I subconsciously stepped back, those black eyes meeting mine. A tail studded with black horns that mirrored spikes swung towards me, stopping just short of my feet.
I felt the curiosity looming beneath terror, my magic beginning to hum. I wanted to try letting it seep into the creature and see what the mind of such a thing felt like, but what if it could sense me? What if it grew angry?
Still, my thoughts raced with how interesting it would be to speak to a dragon. Frost had never spoken back, but dragons, they seemed different. Otherworldly.
Padon seemed to see the war happening in my mind, because he reached out a hand and smiled, beckoning me.
“Allow yourself to thrive, Asher. Take this first step into becoming something more. ”
Though I knew he meant allowing him to make me truly immortal with what I now knew was his life magic, I still closed the distance and placed my hand in his. The moment our skin touched, Padon visibly relaxed, but the emptiness that came with the connection made me think of Bellamy. Of the way my skin lit and sparked when it touched his. And I wondered if Padon had ever felt that, if he truly knew what love was.
Slowly, he brought our fingertips towards the dragon’s nose, stilling mere inches away. It sniffed loudly, scenting me. Then it bristled, leaning away not with hatred but with clear indifference.
Was it wrong to be more offended because of that?
“Drisha, you’re being rude.” His tone was scolding, a father speaking to his youngling. It was startling to hear him be so gentle without any condescension or ulterior meanings. Like seeing him for the first time, the real him.
The dragon—Drisha—huffed irritably, swaying her head back and forth. But after Padon flashed her a look of warning, she sighed and pressed her nose firmly into my still outstretched hand. Her skin was slightly damp, the scales like leather under my fingers. For some reason, that feeling reassured me, pushing me to let my magic free.
Hello, beautiful. My name is Asher. It is so wonderful to meet you.
Drisha froze, her eyes going wide. She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, all three of us so still we might have passed as statues if not for our heavy and slightly panicked breathing. Then Drisha did something that I had not expected but dared to imagine. She spoke back.
Hello, Asher. I’m called Drisha. Why is it that you smell mortal but have enough magic to level an entire galaxy?
I gasped, her voice sending chills down my back. She sounded similar to Wrath, an eerie and demanding voice that made me want to cower. But I did not, instead choosing to stand straighter, to smile despite the fright coursing through me.
I think you are overestimating my ability, Drisha.
Her head tilted to the side, sniffing me again after a moment. Her breath was hot, like the heat of a scalding summer day. It knocked me back into myself, unfreezing my mind and freeing me of the daze that was seeing an actual dragon.
Fine, not an entire galaxy. But a world, for sure.
“If you’re both done being rude, then we can leave,” Padon drawled, leaning onto the dragon’s leg and patting her scales nonchalantly.
“Leave? Like fly ?” My voice was too uneven, raspy in a way it normally was not. I hated it, showing that I was breakable, fearful, weak. He smirked over at me, his arms crossing as if daring me. I growled, looking back at Drisha and purposefully speaking into her mind so Padon could not hear me.
Drisha, is it okay if I ride on your back? It seems I am being challenged by your friend.
A booming laugh split the air, the dragon’s head falling back. I jumped, my magic subconsciously throwing down my shields to prepare for what my body thought would be a fight.
“You’re odd, Asher. But yes, you may. Let me help you up, tiny.” My jaw slackened, surprised to hear her speak aloud. I should not have been so astonished, seeing as Wrath spoke to me out loud. It was not unfathomable. Yet it seemed even more strange coming from her.
Drisha used her arm-length talons to pinch around my waist, lifting me up and practically tossing me onto her back. The second my body hit hers, I began to slip backwards, sliding down her scaled spine and desperately searching for purchase. Just as my hand gripped onto one of her particularly large violet scales, something firm appeared behind me.
“I don’t know why I expected you to be better at this, but color me surprised.” Padon’s arms wrapped around me just as his voice did, his fingers tickling at my side before I smacked them. To my utter embarrassment, he and Drisha burst into laughter, the shaking of the dragon’s body nearly forcing me off the side of her.
Padon’s grip tightened, and then we were once more kissed by the whisky-and-leather-scented purple clouds that were portaling, but with the raw magic of a god. Perhaps that was why it merely felt like scooting forward when we went from the base of Drisha’s tail to the space between her shoulder blades. My legs cramped as I attempted to adjust, the discomfort of sitting atop her like sitting on level ground that was riddled with slightly sharp rocks.
Why had I thought that dragon riders in the stories were able to sit atop a dragon with their legs hanging off the sides? It would be impossible for anyone if all dragons were this large, and yet I had never thought of the logistics.
Probably because, until today, it had not crossed my mind that I would ever see a dragon.
“Hold on tight and remember to breathe, my love.” Padon’s own breath warmed my ear as he spoke, but I had no time to scold him before Drisha squatted low and then shot into the air.
My scream was so loud that it hurt even my ears as her wings beat a ferocious pace, ascending so quickly it felt like the air was stolen from my lungs. If I passed out, would Padon catch me? Would he even be able to?
You’re being annoying. Stop screaming.
Silencing myself, I tried to glare at her eye, which she had pinned on me, her head turned to flash her teeth. It turns out, a lack of air will make one quite dizzy.
My vision swam, body swaying as Drisha leveled out. I was going to vomit on a dragon, and then she would probably shake me off and burn me alive for my audacity. This would be a disgraceful way to die.
Before I could do so, another screech echoed across the sky, fluffy white clouds hiding the other dragon from our view. Suddenly, a looming black figure cut through them, the dragon’s body corkscrewing upwards with wings tucked as it flew. I stared in awe, watching the beast dive and dip—only using its wings when it needed to. When it circled us, opting to casually fly at Drisha’s side, I got the uncanny feeling that it was expecting something from me. I looked into its black eyes, trying to decipher what meaning they held as its stare bore into me.
Hello.
The dragon jolted, falling for a split second before it caught its bearings and returned to the spot beside us.
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Hello to you too. Are you our fearless emperor’s new pet? You smell like a mortal snack.
Drisha’s body shook below us with laughter, and I gasped.
Can you hear him?
Yes, tiny, I can. We all can hear one another. And it seems Likho has become interested in you. So make sure to actually grab on this time.
What do you mea—
And then Drisha twirled in the air, her claws grabbing me out of Padon’s grasp and tossing me into a free fall. The emperor’s face filled with horror, reaching out to me despite the fact that there was no chance he could catch me.
I screamed on the way down, the dizziness returning in full force. But it was the way I hit the ground—no, the dragon—that really knocked the wind out of me. My chest felt like it was caving in, my scream abruptly cutting off as I tried to fight through the pain and grab onto Likho.
His tail, thankfully free of spikes, braced my back, giving me enough aid to pull myself up and grip onto his scales. With the bruise on my cheek and the slices that now marred my palms, I must have looked like I lost a fight. It also felt like I lost a fight. Then again, I had lived two hundred years and won very few times, so this was just the standard.
You’re funny. I like you.
Likho’s voice was deeper and more gravely than Drisha’s, making my teeth rattle as he spoke into my mind.
If nearly dying is humorous, then you have no idea just how funny I am.
Drisha laughed from above, Likho’s chuckles echoing across the skies as we shot forward. I used every bit of strength I possessed to hold on, screaming in terror every time Likho jokingly twirled and dipped, his tail often the only thing keeping me astride. My cloak and hair both billowed in the wind, sometimes wrapping around to smack me in the face and leave me without sight. All the while, Likho made comments about how much fun we were having.
The one and only time I responded was to tell him that he needed to learn to speak for himself.
Padon and Drisha kept a close eye on us, his smile stretching his face into something nearly tolerable. However, I was so dizzy and disoriented that I might have been hallucinating.
When we finally began to descend, my teeth were chattering and my hair was so knotted that it hurt to move my head. While my bruised cheek barely stung anymore, the cuts on my hands were still angry and bleeding from grabbing his scales so hard.
Likho landed without mercy, hitting the ground with a deafening boom and running forward before coming to a full stop. This time, his tail did not save me. I went careening off his side, my body flipping midair and my stomach threatening to spill. Like always, Padon was ready, catching me effortlessly in his arms with a broad smile.
“Wasn’t that the most fun and exhilarating thing you’ve ever done?” he asked, his breath coming in heavy pants and his eyes wide with excitement.
“I think I am going to be sick.”
He laughed, carrying me over to a large rock, where he set me down softly. Nudging me to make room for him, he promptly flopped downwards, so ungraceful that I could do nothing but stare.
“What?” he asked, leaning back on his hands, further baffling me.
I shook my head, offering him a rare smile. It was hard not to in these moments, when he was so convincing with his easy laughs and wide grins.
“My first time riding a dragon was when I was only eight years old. Back then, my mother—Morana—was the holder of Death and Creation. While Stella was empress, the dragons worshiped Morana. She practically lived in the skies. As soon as she felt I was old enough, she brought me here and pushed me into the caves.”
A gasp involuntarily left my lips at that. How could a mother send her son into a dragon den so carelessly? Then again, what did I know about mothers?
“She had faith that I would survive. Though if I had died, she probably would have thought I deserved it. We don’t feel like you do, Asher. But she loved me in our way, and taking me here was her showing that love. She shared her passion with me, and from that, I found Drisha. When she bonded with me, it was like becoming whole.” There was a wistfulness to his voice, showing how much he cherished the memory.
Vulnerability had always seemed so dangerous to me, like giving your enemies a weapon to slay you with. But as Padon gave me this honesty, letting me see a glimpse of the raw pieces of him, I recognized that there was strength in it too.
“That is beautiful, Padon.”
“Perhaps Likho will bond with you, and then you can feel it too. You’ll get used to riding over time, trust me. Soon, it’ll be far more fun than it is scary.” His smile was still full, but my own had fallen, the smell of him and the mountains and the air itself suddenly too much. The stark difference between this place and Alemthian was now painful in its blatancy.
“I leave tomorrow. That was what you promised,” I whispered the words, as if saying them too loud would ignite that spark of constant fury within me. Padon stiffened, panic oozing from him.
“Please, my love, you don’t really want to go back. Not when I can give you everything here. Stay another week, let me really show you what this world has to offer. I can make you happy. Just let me,” he begged, reaching out to me.
I pulled away, standing up to put space between us. Behind me, the dragons stirred, truly listening in now.
“Padon, you promised. You have to send me home. I need to go home. You promised!” I was losing control. I felt it in the way my magic—which was so much stronger here, more volatile in its desire to command and even destroy—flared inside my chest, simmering like a pot over a fire. But my magic would not put out my anger. It would exacerbate it.
Padon dove for me, his hand wrapping around my wrist and his magic pooling around us. The heat of my rooms was painful after being cold for so long as we portaled into it, the fire sending small pinpricks across my skin—warming me. He gave me no time to acclimate, throwing me onto my bed. One of the mesh curtains got tangled around my leg, the momentum of my body tearing it down. The frame above gave out, clattering to the floor and startling Wrath awake from his spot on the gray sofa near the fireplace.
“I don’t have to do anything, Asher. You aren’t going anywhere because this is your home now. Get used to it or spend the rest of your existence pouting. Either way, you will not leave me.” Padon’s face was contorted into something wholly evil—the monster I had slowly convinced myself he was not. For the first time, I was genuinely terrified of him.
Wrath grew in size, running over to me and leaping onto the bed, the growl emanating from him a promise of death.
“Silence yourself, dalistori. I made you. I can just as easily unmake you,” he said, his voice so sharp it mirrored a hiss.
Wrath jolted, his body shrinking back down to its normal size as he stared at the god he had been worshiping for his entire life. There was a distinct battle raging within him, as if the line between duty and love had been drawn and he feared stepping to either side.
“Do not speak to him that way!” I screamed, throwing a pillow at the god.
He laughed, his head falling back and his hands clapping together in mock amusement. “I think you don’t understand, so let me explain this to you.”
Padon stalked forward, coming our way. The closer he got, the more flowers on my dress—which had stayed beautiful and full thanks to Padon’s magic—withered and died. I grabbed Wrath, hugging him close to my chest as I backed slowly off the bed.
“You are mine. Regardless of how long it takes you to see the good we can be together, you will still be mine. No matter where you are, you will still be mine .” The deep tenor of his voice was full of violence and resolve, a threat in and of itself.
“I will never be yours! Sooner will I throw myself from the mountains than sit here and entertain your psychotic fantasies! I am mine !” Unable to contain it any longer, I let my mental gates open wide, my magic pouring from me in deadly waves. I felt the moment it hit Padon’s shields, the force still not enough to shatter them though he stumbled back from the weight of it. Even knowing it would not work, I let my voice drop, The Manipulator free at last. “Send. Me. Home!”
He chuckled, a dark and malicious sound. “You want to go home so badly? Fine. Then go!”
In a blink, I was gone, my feet crashing onto a cobblestone path with more force than portaling usually consisted of. My knees gave out, Wrath and I both falling to the ground in a heap. I blinked, too exhausted to move even when a heavily accented voice cut through the silence.
“What is it?” someone asked.
“Obviously a woman,” another said.
“That is no woman. Did you see how she appeared out of thin air?” The first voice again. It sounded like two men, older perhaps. The accent was familiar, but I could not quite place it.
“She is too close to the castle. Do you think she was planning something?”
Oh, great. They were panicking. I could feel it in their minds and hear it in their voices as they faltered. But at least they were speaking the common tongue.
“We should take her to the king.”
“What if he blames us?”
A beat of silence, and then I felt one of my feet being lifted.
“I have an idea, grab her other foot.”
With a ridiculously loud grunt, the fools began dragging me.
“Ugh, she is heavy!”
“Excuse me, who do you think you are?” My question startled them enough to drop my feet, both heels hitting the stone with bruising force. I truly could not catch a break.
Cracking my eyes open, I caught a brief glimpse of a navy blue uniform before a booted foot came down on my face, slamming my head into the ground. I let out a cry of pain, the piercing sting stealing my vision from me.
Disoriented and bleeding, I could not fight them as they dragged me for what felt like years, my hair snagging on rocks and my dress audibly ripping. At one point, the assholes actually yanked me up a set of stone steps.
When we finally arrived to wherever their king was waiting, they dropped my feet once more, speaking in hushed and nervous tones to someone. A moment later, hot breath hit my face, hair tickling my neck. The voice that spoke was both a relief and a nightmare.
“Hello, Asher,” Genevieve said.