Chapter 51 The Dragon’s Bones
THE DRAGON’S BONES
We kept riding north.
There was no time for a proper burial, so Uther gathered the warriors’ remains, wrapping them in cloth. After Kairos uttered words in Old Fae, we mounted up and rode.
Wraithspine Ridge had always been a jagged silhouette on Skalgard’s southern horizon, a backdrop of a life I’d never escape, and now it filled the sky.
I tried to focus on the massive pines and the purple wildflowers carpeting the mountain, but my gaze drifted to the gap in our ranks.
Three deaths, and we hadn’t even reached Skalgard yet.
As the trees thinned, Kairos summoned a mist that crawled over our heads, hiding us among the exposed rock. Through the swirling white, I studied the peaks. They were too smooth in some places, too curved in others.
“They look like ribs,” I murmured.
Kairos shifted. “That’s what they are.”
“In Skaldir, they said it was the skeleton of a dragon that their ancestors killed. I always thought it was nonsense.”
Kairos let out a laugh. “The Skaldir like to pretend they’ve slain gods. I think another dragon slew it, then it turned to stone over thousands of years.”
“Which dragon?”
He shrugged.
Now I couldn’t unsee the vertebrae-like rocks and the chunks taken out of rock, like an animal ravaged by scavengers. A strange heaviness settled in my chest. Somewhere in my blood, I carried the same essence as this creature.
“We’ll stop here,” Kairos grunted when we reached a stand of twisted pines below the steeper ascent. The last light had faded an hour ago, and the red-veined sky cast everything in an eerie glow. Everyone dismounted and began unpacking gear.
I slid off Morvaen, stiff from hours in the saddle, and pulled my cloak tighter against the cold.
Kairos gathered with his warriors as I unrolled our bedrolls. I placed them side by side and unpacked food from the saddlebags, spreading them in a neat row on Kairos’s side—dried meat, fruits, nuts, and cheese.
Kairos sat beside me, eyeing the spread. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner. You haven’t eaten.”
He’d stripped down to a loose dark linen shirt, unlaced at the throat, revealing the sharp cut of his collarbone. Beautiful. I savored the sight, a flame flickering between my legs. Gods, what was wrong with me? Three of his warriors were ash in saddlebags, and I was leering at him.
I looked away too quickly.
He grabbed the venison, biting off a piece. His hand found my back, sliding up between my shoulder blades. The touch was meant to be comforting, but my skin prickled with awareness. His fingers splayed wide, blazing even through the thick wool.
“Talk to me,” he said softly.
I swallowed hard. “I keep seeing her face. Barra. How the fire just…took her.”
“She knew the risks. They all did.”
“How do you do it?” I whispered. “Lose people and…pick yourself up each time?”
“When you live long enough to see entire courts fall, loss changes.” He picked up some cheese. “We learn to grieve in seasons. The pain comes and stays for a while. Then it has to move on, or we go mad from the weight of it.”
My eyes burned. “I would go mad.”
He chuckled. “You’re young. Every death still feels like something you should have prevented.”
“Shouldn’t it?”
He shifted closer, his thigh bumping mine. The brush of him was nothing, a fraction of an inch, but tingles skated across my skin.
Control yourself.
“You honor the dead by enduring, my princess. By refusing to let their sacrifice stop you.”
He’d buried more friends than I’d ever make, and somehow he’d found a way to speak about death with grace.
“Does it bother you?” I asked quietly.
He glanced at me. “Does what bother me?”
“How young I am.” I picked at a thread on my sleeve. “You’ve lived a thousand years. I’m barely twenty-five.”
He shrugged. “No.”
I blinked. “Just…no?”
“You expected a longer answer?”
“Most fae think humans are beneath them.”
He took another bite of cheese. “Age means nothing. Some of the oldest fae I’ve met had sawdust for brains. Meanwhile you’ve survived things that would’ve broken warriors twice your age.”
“That’s…not what I expected you to say.”
“What, you thought I’d lecture you about how humans are mayflies? I’ve lived over a thousand years, and most of it was boring as hell.”
“Boring?”
“Wars blur together. Politics are tedious. The only thing worth remembering is who you shared a bed with and whether the wine was decent.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “The rest is noise.”
My cheeks warmed. “So what’s the point of living that long?”
“Practice.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You get very, very good at certain things.”
“What things?”
“Patience.” His thumb traced lazy circles on my back. “Knowing when to take my time with someone who deserves it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, trying not to smile. “You are a shameless flirt.”
“If I were, you’d be in my lap right now.”
A shiver rolled through me. “You’re deflecting.”
“I thought I was flirting?”
“You’re doing both,” I said, fighting a grin. “And you still haven’t answered the question.”
His hand slid lower on my back. “Fine. Your age doesn’t bother me. If anything, I envy it.”
“Why?”
“Everything’s still new for you. I like seeing what catches your attention.”
My heart thudded. “Like what?”
He smiled gently. “You stop and breathe in the rain like it’s a gift. You tear into bacon like it’s a feast. You walk into my library like you’re stepping into a temple.”
My face flushed.
“I’ve walked past that room a thousand times. I don’t look at it the way you do.” His eyes flicked to mine, softening. “You make me notice things I’ve stopped seeing. It’s…beautiful.”
I leaned into his shoulder, letting his heat seep through my dress. It reminded me of all those nights ago when he’d dragged me into his lap to keep me warm. When I’d hated him for it and enjoyed it anyway.
Now I wanted more—needed more. His skin on mine and his breath at my neck. Mouth, tongue, hands. I wanted his strength pinning me underneath him. The craving was bottomless, terrifying, and I’d shatter if he didn’t touch me soon.
Was this what real love felt like? This delirious hunger that followed me through every waking moment?
Kairos glanced at me, his eyes sharp. He looked like he was one heartbeat away from pulling me into his lap after all. A muscle jumped in his cheek, then he cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away.
“Where did you learn to climb?” he asked. “I’ve been wondering for weeks.”
I blinked, my thoughts sluggish. “What?”
“Climbing. How did you learn?”
Oh gods, he knew. Those damned fae senses, picking up the shameful things my body screamed at him. Should I be grateful or disappointed that he’d changed the subject?
I exhaled shakily. “There were these abandoned buildings behind the market. Rheya and I used to run on the rooftops. We’d scale broken walls, jump between ledges. The guards never looked up, so we were safe there.”
“You weren’t afraid of heights?”
“No, I loved it. This one slate building in the slums had a perfect view of the merchant quarter. I’d sit there and watch.”
“What were you looking for?”
I shrugged. “The horses. Gilded bridles woven with flowers, carriages that looked like jewelry boxes. Fae nobles gliding out of homes.”
He smiled. “A child with nothing, finding beauty in a city that gave her none.”
My chest tightened. “It was something to do.”
“You deserve more than watching other people’s lives.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I ground out.
“When this is over, I’ll bring you to places that don’t need rooftops to be beautiful.”
Nothing this good ever lasted. I’d learned that lesson time and time again—the world had a way of taking what I wanted the most.
“Where exactly?” I asked.
“Lunir. The whole realm runs on illusion runes. You’ll walk down a street at dusk and the cobbles glow sapphire beneath your feet.
By midnight, they’ve shifted to gold. The bridges twist themselves into new shapes every hour—arches, spirals, things that shouldn’t hold weight but do.
There’s a market where the stalls sell memories.
You can buy the feeling of your first kiss, or the smell of a place you’ve never been. ”
I sighed. “That sounds lovely.”
“It is. And there’s a waterfall in Caelir, blue water that falls straight from the sky onto a field of clouds.”
I smiled, imagining it. “I'd love to see that.”
“I'll take you when this is over.”
I let myself picture it—glowing streets, impossible bridges, waterfalls on clouds. But the image kept fracturing. Barra burning on one side, and a thousand years of throats cut to feed a seal on the other. Which nightmare was I supposed to stop?
My heart ached. “Maybe.”
He frowned. “Maybe?”
“I don’t like to make plans, Kairos.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t work out.” I picked at a thread on my sleeve. “Not for me.”
He smoldered. “I am not Vaeris.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But we’re riding toward an army that wants you dead, and I can’t…if I let myself believe, and then you’re gone—”
“Aelie.”
“I can’t think about it.”
He caught my chin, forcing our gazes to crash. “I’m not dying in Skalgard.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. Because I haven’t taken you to those waterfalls yet, and I’m a stubborn bastard who finishes what he starts.”
A laugh escaped me. “That’s not how it works.”
“I will be fine.”
His thumb brushed my jaw, and then his hand slid to my neck as I leaned forward, tilting my head—
A shout tore through the camp.
We broke apart, breathing hard.
“Intruder!”
Two warriors burst from the trees, hauling a male in blued steel. His eyes were wild, frantic.
“Scout,” Torvin spat. “He was watching us.”
The scout’s gaze darted frantically until it landed on me.
Kairos’s mist surged violently. “Bring him to me.”