Chapter 13 Rhea
Rhea
Morning light slips through the tent flap, golden and persistent. I push myself upright and exit the tent, muscles protesting less than yesterday. Progress.
“You’re staying put.” Vaylen’s voice brooks no argument as he strides past, tent pegs in hand.
I scowl. “I’m not an invalid.”
“You’re exhausted and malnourished.” Phoebe appears with a bundle and canteen. “Here. Eat.”
They bustle around breaking camp while I sit uselessly, nibbling dry bread. The food tastes like ash in my mouth, but my body craves it desperately.
—So. He loves you.
I nearly choke. —Did you forget you’re supposed to stay out of my…
—Romantic dealings? Mating business? he suggests. Laughter ripples through him. It was hardly spying. Your thoughts practically screamed across our bond, and your heart thumped so loudly I thought you might faint.
—My heart didn’t thump. I tear the bread with my teeth, shooting a glare toward where he lounges by the treeline.
—It did. Like a hatchling’s first flight. His amusement washes over me. Will you tell him you feel the same?
—I don’t know what I feel. I watch Vaylen’s capable hands collapse the tent, remembering those same hands on my skin last night. And, again, it’s none of your business.
—Everything about you is my business, little one. His voice softens. Zephyros’s mental presence shifts, growing contemplative. —Perhaps... I was wrong about Stormsong.
I nearly drop the canteen. —What?
—Do not make me repeat it. A rumble vibrates across our bond. He searched for you when others gave up. He kept your secrets when revealing them would have benefited him. And he looks at you the way a dragon looks at the sky.
I blink, stunned by this admission. —Are you actually saying you might forgive him for being Fragor’s rider?
The mention of Fragor triggers something—a memory sharp as dragon spikes cutting through the fog. Suddenly I’m back at that terrible moment when Vaylen discovered my truth, when Zephyros tried to flee with me...
—Zephyros, heed my order. Land now and calm yourself. You are letting anger control you once more, Fragor said.
—You do not command me, Fragor, Zephyros spat back. When will you understand that the day you abandoned my offspring was the day our old alliance ended?
I gasp aloud, the bread falling from my fingers.
“What’s the matter?” Vaylen looks up, concern etching his features.
I barely hear him, my mind reeling. Two impossible revelations I’d forgotten collide in my consciousness. One, I heard Fragor’s thoughts. Two, Fragor abandoned Zephyros’s offspring.
—Zephyros? I push across our bond, desperate for explanation. —What offspring? What happened with Fragor?
—Nothing worth discussing.
—But I heard his thoughts. How is that possible?
—You can speak to all dragons, if they choose to speak back, which they rarely do to those they have not bonded.
—Really?
—Really. You’re a Weaver. It’s what Weavers do.
I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise. It makes sense. —And what about what he said? Your offspring?
—We will speak of this later. His tone turns glacial. —Not here. Not now.
I stare at my dragon, this creature I thought I knew completely. But that’s impossible. He’s five thousand years old, and I can barely keep my own life straight.
Vaylen crouches beside me, his hand warm on my shoulder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I look up into those blue-gold eyes, wondering how many more surprises wait beneath the surface of everything I thought I understood.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Just... remembering.”
Vaylen frowns, his fingers tensing on my shoulder. He starts to pull away, disappointment clouding his eyes.
I grab his wrist. “Wait.”
The promise I made last night echoes in my mind.
No more lies between us. But this isn’t exactly a lie.
It’s just... complicated. Private dragon business that I barely understand myself.
But no. That’s exactly the kind of hairsplitting justification I’ve used my entire life.
I promised him truth. He deserves truth.
“Don’t go,” I whisper, tugging him closer. “I remembered something just now. Something that happened before I disappeared.”
His expression softens as he lowers himself beside me. Phoebe busies herself with the horses, tactfully out of earshot.
“I heard Fragor’s thoughts,” I confess, voice barely audible. “The day we fought the Screechclaws. When Zephyros tried to fly away with me.”
Vaylen’s eyes widen. “That’s not possible. You’re bonded to Zephyros, not Fragor.”
“Apparently, they all can speak to Weavers if they choose so. Anyway,” I lean closer, the words tumbling out, “Fragor was commanding Zephyros to land, and he refused. He said something about Fragor abandoning his offspring, that their old alliance ended that day.”
Vaylen stares at me, stunned.
“Zephyros doesn’t want to talk about it.” My fingers tighten around Vaylen’s wrist. “There’s history between them, Vaylen. Ancient history. And somehow I heard Fragor’s thoughts. Or he let me hear them, I guess.”
“Can you hear him now?”
We both look in Fragor’s direction, who perches on one of the high peaks. He seems to be looking down at us, but it’s hard to be sure.
I shake my head. “He blocks me out, but he must’ve forgotten that day.”
Vaylen rises to his feet, straightening his back. He turns toward Fragor’s perch, head tilted, his face going still in that way it does when he’s communicating with him. The lines between his brows deepen as he stares upward.
I follow his gaze, watching Fragor’s massive form silhouetted against the pale morning sky. Wind ruffles his silver scales, catching the light. He looks regal and untouchable up there.
After a long minute, Vaylen turns back to me. “Try to speak with him now. I tried to convey the message that he should reply.”
—Don’t, Zephyros growls in my mind. That snake-tongued lizard can’t be trusted. His words are poison wrapped in gold leaf.
I glance between my dragon and Vaylen’s. The tension between them crackles like lightning waiting to strike.
I ignore Zephyros, then close my eyes. I’ve never tried to reach beyond my bond with my dragon, but I picture Fragor in my mind—his twisting horns, his proud bearing—and tentatively push my thoughts outward.
—Fragor? Can you hear me?
Nothing. No response, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It’s like shouting into an empty cavern. I push harder, focusing my mind more intensely.
—I know you can hear me. Why shut me out?
Still nothing. Fragor shifts on his perch, wings rustling slightly, but his gaze seems to slide past me toward the horizon, deliberately indifferent.
Frustration bubbles through me. I narrow my eyes, sending my next thought with sharper focus.
—Tell me what happened between you and Zephyros.
Nothing.
—Then tell me what you know about Weavers. Zephyros said our powers were used to pass down knowledge, that much has been lost since they hunted us down. That means Weavers aren’t bad, right?
The wind picks up, swirling around us. For a heartbeat, I sense something—a brush against my consciousness, like fingers trailing across still water—before it vanishes.
—Coward, I spit mentally. You act so superior, but you’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Afraid of what I might learn. Or maybe you’re just embarrassed?
Fragor’s massive head swivels suddenly, his eyes holding mine. A ripple of power washes over me, ancient and vast.
—It is not what you think that silences me, Weaver, his voice hisses in my mind. It is mercy. You are too small to withstand the weight of your kind.
Then he’s gone, mental walls slamming back into place, leaving me gasping with the force of his withdrawal. I stagger. Vaylen’s hand shoots out, steadying me before I can fall.
“What happened?” His voice is hushed, patient. He waits until my breathing calms before pressing further.
I relay Fragor’s cryptic message, the words still echoing in my mind like thunder after lightning.
“Mercy?” Vaylen asks out loud, then glances at Fragor, who seems as closed off to Vaylen as he is to me.
I shrug. “Dragon’s thoughts can be too vast and overwhelming to humans. I imagine that’s what he means. “I asked him about Weavers. Zephyros says we were used for good before.”
His eyebrows go up. “I have wondered if paranoid cowards like King Craven decided to get rid of your kind.”
“Definitely seems like a possibility.”
“There’s so much we don’t understand.” He shakes his head, frustration evident in the tightness around his eyes. “I don’t like being in the dark like this.”
“Welcome to my entire life,” I mutter.
The morning sun catches the gold flecks in his eyes as he studies my face.
“I never questioned why Weavers were outlawed. I accepted it as fact, like everyone else. It happened so long ago.” His voice drops lower.
“But now that I know you, I want to understand everything there is to understand. Though I don’t know how we can find out anything without attracting suspicion. ”
“You might not like what you discover.”
“Maybe not.” His gaze is steady. “But ignorance isn’t protection. It’s vulnerability.”
Smart man. Knowledge is survival.
Vaylen’s expression shifts, something dawning in his eyes. “Do you think... could your disappearance be connected to your Weaver abilities?”
The question sinks in, cold and clean as ice under the skin. Of course. Why hadn’t I considered that?
“I don’t know but I aim to find out. I…” My voice catches. “Um, I had a dream last night, but maybe it was a… memory.”
Vaylen seems to hold his breath.
I go on. “The man who took me. His eyes. They burned like amber fire. And he called me something... Omneira.”
“Omneira?” he repeats the word, his fingers tightening around mine. “We need to find out what that means.”
“We?” I challenge, though something warm unfurls inside me at the word.
“Yes, we.” His jaw sets stubbornly. “Unless you’re planning to disappear again?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Only if you promise to chase after me,” I joke, afraid my attempt at lightheartedness will fall flat.
But Vaylen’s rare, crooked smile appears and he says, “Chase you? Wyndward, I’d sooner tie a bell to your ankle so I can hear the chaos coming.”
I laugh, the sound strange in my own ears. I haven’t laughed since… well, I don’t really remember.
A throat clears behind us. Phoebe stands there, arms crossed, eyes darting between us with unveiled curiosity.
Vaylen jumps back from me as if scalded, his posture suddenly military-straight. His attempt at appearing casual fails spectacularly, and I bite my lip to stop another laugh. The mighty High Prime, flustered like a cadet caught kissing in the stables.
“Everything’s packed,” Phoebe announces, her knowing smile barely contained. “We should get it all into the saddles.”
Vaylen nods stiffly. “Good. Thank you, Breezehart.” He strides away, waving the dragons closer.
Phoebe’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. Could I confide in Phoebe? I consider her for a moment. She seems unchanged—still the same earnest, honest woman I remember. But a year has passed. People change. Loyalties shift.
“Don’t worry,” she says, reading my hesitation. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Which secrets?” I challenge, testing her.
“Whichever ones you choose to share.” She squeezes my arm gently. “When you’re ready.”
Maybe I’ll trust her eventually. But not yet. She might suspect something, but maybe the breadth of what’s really between Vaylen and me still eludes her.
“Can you manage?” she asks, pointing at Zephyros, who lumbers over.
I shrug. “A little starvation won’t stop me.”
—I will form the Tethers. You do not have to lift a finger.
When Vaylen and Phoebe finish attaching and loading their supply saddles, they turn to me.
“Can you mount?” Vaylen asks.
Before I can answer, wind slips under my feet, lifting me upward in a controlled spiral. Zephyros generates a perfect Vortex Lift, the touch gentle as he cradles me skyward.
“I guess that answers that question,” Phoebe says, surprised as I rise effortlessly to Zephyros’s head.
Wind currents interlace beneath and around me, forming a cocoon of air that holds me perfectly suspended above my dragon’s head.
I don’t even need to grip the Tethers. What he’s created is so secure it could hold me through a blizzard.
The sensation of weightlessness feels like freedom, like I’m not quite attached to this world with all its complications.
“By the Goddess,” Phoebe gasps, shading her eyes to watch. “I’ve never seen Tethering that intricate.”
—Show-off, I mutter to Zephyros, though warmth blooms in my chest at his protectiveness.
—Your body needs rest, not strain, he replies, unapologetic. After a pause, he asks, Are you certain you want to return to face trial?
—I made my decision a year ago, Zephyros. I won’t hide.
His disapproval vibrates through our bond. —I will humor this foolishness, but know this… I will only accept one possible outcome from this trial.
Something in his tone makes me frown. —And if they find me guilty? If they sentence me to prison?
A savage growl resonates through my bones, and the air around me pulses with his fury. His voice drops to a whisper of deadly promise. —Then I hope they never discover what an ancient dragon is truly capable of.
Moments later we’re airborne, climbing toward clouds tinged pink with morning light. Wind whips my hair, and I lean forward, savoring freedom after whatever darkness held me captive.
Ahead lies Fort Ashmire, judgment, and possibly incarceration. Behind, a year of missing memories.
And between? Only questions, and the love of a man I fear I don’t deserve.