Chapter 30
Rhea
Castle Stonefall looms ahead, its gray spires piercing the sky like talons. We’re close enough now that I can make out the palace guards patrolling the battlements, tiny figures in royal blue.
Suddenly, movement catches my eye. Six dragons burst from the dense woods surrounding the castle grounds, climbing rapidly to intercept us. They form a perfect six-pointed star in the sky, one dragon from each elemental power: brown, yellow, blue, gray, silver, and red.
“What in Heratrix’s name?” I mutter, tensing in my Tethers.
“Royal escort,” Voltguard calls back to me, her voice carrying on the wind. “Just follow my lead.”
The dragons move with practiced precision to surround us, three on each side. Their riders wear the distinctive blue of the King’s personal guard. I catch the cold stare of a Skyforge to my left, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is no honor guard. It’s a warning.
—Look at these puny hatchlings, Zephyros scoffs in my mind. I could tear them all to pieces before they drew another breath. The red one is a coward I will have you know. That is why he is here and not in Cinderhold.
—Don’t even think about hurting them. We’re not starting a dragon fight in the King’s airspace.
—I am only saying I will. If needed.
—I know, you arrogant grump. But we need as many of your kind alive.
The thought of dragons fighting each other makes my stomach turn.
We’ve lost too many already to the Screechclaws.
Five dead in just the year I was gone. Meanwhile, those winged horrors seem to have an endless supply, their ranks never thinning no matter how many we kill.
How do they manage? We know nothing of how they reproduce, or how long they take to reach adulthood.
Incursions into their land yield no information.
No sign of dwellings, breeding grounds, nothing.
And venturing too far into their expansive territory only leads to loss of dragons and their riders.
Our escort tightens formation as we approach the royal landing field. I spot more guards waiting below, their armor polished to a shine. Whatever the King wants with me, he’s making damn sure I know who holds the power here.
Fine. Let him posture. He’s no more than a pompous ass. I straighten my spine and lift my chin as Zephyros begins his descent.
I may be walking into the dragon’s mouth, but I refuse to crawl.
The landing zone looms below, a massive clearing carved from the forest specifically for dragons. Voltguard tilts forward, and Indrax responds instantly, banking into a smooth descent. I follow her lead, guiding Zephyros with the lightest touch of my mind rather than physical cues.
—Ready for this? I ask Zephyros.
—To see the weasel who would kill you for being a Weaver? I am absolutely thrilled.
—Try not to Wind Spear anyone.
—No promises.
The dragons touch down almost simultaneously, talons digging into the soft earth. The moment Indrax settles, a swarm of Claws emerge from shelters nestled against the tree line. They rush toward the Commander’s yellow dragon with brushes, water containers, and feed bags.
None approach Zephyros. Smart of them. He’s infamous for his bad temper.
Voltguard dismounts with practiced efficiency, stepping onto Indrax’s neck and sliding down his shoulder in one fluid motion. She uses his bent foreleg as a final step before jumping lightly to the ground, her boots barely making a sound. She’s just as agile as any young Skyrider.
I mirror her movements, though with my own flair.
I spring forward onto Zephyros’s neck, my fingers finding the familiar ridges between his scales.
In one continuous motion, I slide down his shoulder, the scales smooth as polished metal beneath my palms. At his bent leg, I jump and flip midair, landing in a crouch before straightening with a grin. I have a valiant facade to maintain.
“Was that really necessary?” Voltguard says, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Just keeping limber.” My muscles burn pleasantly with the movement, reminding me of my usual strength.
A royal guard approaches, his face expressionless beneath his helmet. “Commander Voltguard, Skysinger Wyndward. His Majesty awaits you in the throne room.” His eyes linger on me with barely concealed suspicion.
“Lead the way,” Voltguard says, her voice commanding even when she’s following orders.
I glance back at Zephyros, who watches me with one ancient silver eye, that wicked scar cutting across it.
—I will be right here. Remember what you are.
The royal guards form a box formation around us, ushering us through the castle’s cavernous halls. Their boots strike the marble floors in perfect unison while my own footsteps fall deliberately out of rhythm. A small rebellion, but it’s all I have right now.
Castle Stonefall hasn’t changed since my last visit during the Rite of Flight. It’s still all cold stone and faded tapestries depicting battles where humans triumph over monsters. How convenient they never show the monsters that look like us, like Cindergrasp.
The massive doors to the throne room swing open. I square my shoulders and enter with my head high.
King Craven Stonefall sits upon his throne, a scrawny figure practically swallowed by the ornate seat of power. His narrow crown sits askew on his limp blond hair. He doesn’t even bother to acknowledge our presence as Voltguard and I strike our fists to our opposite shoulders in salute.
My eyes dart to the beasts flanking his throne.
Two enormous dogs. No, not dogs. These creatures look more wolf than hound, with rippling muscles beneath thick fur and jaws that could snap a man’s arm like kindling.
Nothing like the pampered hunting hounds he kept at Eastwatch Manor last time he summoned me for a visit.
I bite back a laugh. Is this supposed to frighten me? After battling Screechclaws and being abducted under a mountain?
“Nice pets,” I mutter under my breath so only the Commander can hear. “Compensating for something, Your Majesty?”
Voltguard shoots me a warning glare. She’s not amused.
The King continues to ignore us, examining his fingernails with practiced disdain. I feel my temper rising like a storm tide. This pathetic man holds the power to threaten my life, yet he can’t even muster the basic courtesy of a greeting?
I clear my throat loudly. “I believe you summoned me, Your Majesty? Or was this urgent royal command just another whim you’ve already forgotten?”
Voltguard stiffens beside me. The guards’ hands move to their sword hilts. But I’m done playing nice with men who think they own me.
“Do you have a death wish?” the Commander hisses.
My insolence finally draws the King’s attention. His shifty gray eyes find mine, and his face flushes crimson. He springs to his feet, fists trembling at his sides like a child about to throw a tantrum.
“You dare?” he hisses, his voice thin and reedy. “You dare speak to your King with such disrespect?”
I expect him to call the guards to action, to have me dragged away in chains, or worse. But something strange happens instead. The King’s face twitches, and he seems to physically swallow his rage, forcing it down like bitter medicine.
Voltguard’s eyes widen slightly—the closest thing to shock I’ve ever seen on her face. This isn’t the King Craven she knows. The man renowned for his pettiness and need for subservience.
He descends the throne steps with near theatrical flourishes, his heavy velvet robes dragging behind him. As he approaches, something in his eyes gives me pause. There’s calculation there, yes, but also something that looks unnervingly like... recognition?
“Leave us,” Craven commands suddenly, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Your Majesty—” Voltguard begins.
“I said leave us!” The King snaps, spittle flying from his lips. “Everyone out. Now.”
The royal guards hesitate, exchanging uneasy glances.
“Are you all deaf as well as stupid?” Craven shrieks. “Out!”
The guards bow stiffly and file toward the doors. Voltguard doesn’t move.
“Commander,” the King says, his voice dangerously soft now. “That includes you.”
“With respect, Your Majesty, Skysinger Wyndward is under my custody and—”
“She is under my custody,” Craven cuts her off. “Everything in this kingdom is mine. Including you, Commander. Don’t force me to remind you again.”
Voltguard’s jaw tightens, but she inclines her head slightly. As she turns to go, I see the conflict in her eyes, the promise she made to protect me warring with her duty to obey her King.
I give her the smallest nod. I’ll be fine. After all I’ve been through, what could this pathetic man possibly do to me?
The doors close with a heavy thud that echoes through the large room. We’re alone now, just me, the King, and his oversized wolves.
Craven circles me slowly, his eyes crawling over me like spiders. “So,” he says finally. “You’re the one.”
I’m the one? The murderess? The one who went missing? What is he talking about exactly?
I hold my ground as he circles me like a vulture inspecting fresh carrion. My skin crawls beneath his gaze, but I refuse to show it. Instead, I meet his stare with defiance, ready to blow him across the room if he makes the wrong move.
“I’m the one what?” I finally snap when his silence becomes unbearable. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
He ignores my question, continuing his examination.
“You don’t look special,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
“Just another Skyrider. When I agreed to the High Prime and that girl’s research into your disappearance, I expected them to find you dead somewhere, but when a body didn’t turn up I worried.
” Then he stops right in front of me, looks me in the eye, then says, “Unbind.”
The ringing starts as a faint buzz in my ears.
At first, I think it’s just my anger building, the rush of blood pounding through my head.
But it intensifies, growing sharper, more insistent.
Like the warning hum of a thousand bees ready to swarm.
My fists clench at my sides as the sound becomes maddening.
It’s inside my skull now, needles stabbing into my brain.
I want to scream for him to stop, but how could this be his doing?
Without conscious decision, I reach out with my mind, that forbidden part of me that makes me a Weaver. Before I penetrate his thoughts, however, a single word blazes through my consciousness like a comet.
—Unbind.
The word hits me with physical force. I stagger back a step, gasping.
Pain detonates in my skull—white-hot and blinding. It’s as though someone drove a molten spear straight through my temples. I cry out, clutching my head between my hands as my knees buckle beneath me.
My knees hit the marble floor hard, but the impact is nothing compared to the agony ripping through my mind. Dimly, I’m aware of King Craven looming over me, his thin lips stretched into a grotesque smile.
“Yes,” he whispers, voice shivering with excitement. “There it is. I can’t believe it’s true.”
“What is—” My question transforms into a scream as another wave of pain crashes through me, and I fall on my side. It feels like my skull is being pried open from the inside, like something’s trying to claw its way out.
—Zephyros! I cry out mentally, desperate for help, but my connection to my dragon feels muffled, distant.
Through watering eyes, I see Craven frowning. “They said it would be like this, but I didn’t believe them.”
Who said? What’s happening to me? I want to demand answers, but my jaw locks as my entire body begins to convulse. My back arches off the floor, muscles spasming beyond my control. My vision fractures into kaleidoscope shards: the ceiling, Craven’s face, flashes of glowing eyes and glyphs.
—Omneira, a voice whispers directly into my mind. Unbind.
I try to fight it, whatever it is, but the pressure keeps building—like a dam about to burst. Something inside me is tearing free, breaking chains I didn’t even know existed.
My last conscious thought is of Vaylen—his face, his touch, the hurt in his eyes when I pushed him away—then darkness rushes in, swallowing me whole.