Chapter 38 Rhea #2
“Has it really worked, though?” Her voice is soft but challenging. She tucks her notebook away and leans forward. “Look where you are now. In an infirmary bed after nearly being kidnapped by creatures that shouldn’t be interested in taking prisoners.”
I huff, turning my face away. “Your point?”
“My point is there are times we can’t do things alone.” Phoebe’s eyes shine with conviction. “Times when the problem is too big for any one person to handle. And I think this is one of those times.”
She gestures at my bandaged shoulder. “Whatever happened to you, whatever’s happening now, it seems connected to both the Screechclaws and Heratrix. This isn’t some small personal issue. This is bigger than you.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap, but my voice lacks conviction.
“Every scholar, every dragon rider, every Embernian has been waiting for the Goddess’s return for a thousand years.
” Phoebe’s voice grows stronger, her usual timidity replaced by passion.
“And now it seems like it might be happening. Do you honestly think you can face something of that magnitude by yourself?”
The question hangs in the air between us. My first instinct is to fire back with something cutting, but the words don’t come. Instead, I feel the weight of everything pressing down on me.
“What if I don’t have a choice?” I finally ask, my voice small in a way I hate. “What if bringing others in only makes things worse?”
“What if not bringing others in guarantees it?” she counters.
I stare at the ceiling, gritting my teeth. She’s right, and I hate it.
“You’re not alone in this, Rhea,” she says with surprising firmness. “I care about what happens to you. Nate cares. Adelaide cares.” She pauses, her green eyes meeting mine directly. “High Prime Stormsong cares.”
There’s something in her tone with those last words, a subtle shift that makes my breath catch. Heat crawls up my neck.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
Phoebe tilts her head, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Come on, you know I’ve suspected something was between you two since our training days at Sky’s Edge.”
“That’s not—“
“All that tension between you two?” She shakes her head. “The way you look at each other.”
I scoff, but it sounds hollow even to my ears. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Phoebe’s eyebrows lift. “When you disappeared, I saw what it did to him. He tried to hide it, but I could tell.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “What are you talking about?”
“We had to keep reporting to King Craven,” she explains. “Describing our search efforts, our research, updating him on every detail. The High Prime insisted on leading every expedition himself. When each one failed,” she looks down, “he’d write the report and make sure it was sent, but afterward…”
“What?” I whisper.
“He’d disappear for hours. Once I found him at the training grounds, destroying practice dummies until his knuckles bled.” Phoebe squeezes my hand. “Others didn’t notice because he was careful. But I did since I was working closely with him.”
Something cracks inside me. The barriers I’ve been hastily building against him seem suddenly paper-thin.
“It doesn’t matter,” I manage, pulling my hand away. “Whatever was between us,” I admit, feeling it’s pointless lying to her, “it’s forbidden as you well know, and it only complicates everything.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“What?”
“Well, I’m scared because… because you’re scared.”
I laugh, the sound brittle. “Scared? I’ve faced Screechclaws, the Matron, I survived a year as a prisoner—“
“And yet you’re terrified. For us. For him. That means you shouldn’t do this alone.”
Recoiling from the inconvenient truth, I grip the sheet as if I could strangle it, then turn away, blinking rapidly. “You don’t know the half of it, Phoebe.”
“Then tell me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t”
“Why not?”
“Because you would… hate me.”
“I wish I knew what makes you say that, so I could prove you wrong.”
I laugh bitterly. I’ve never invaded her thoughts, but the moment she hears I’m a Weaver, I’m sure it’s the first thing she’ll worry about. There are some truths much more lethal than any lie.
“Fine.” I sigh, the fight draining out of me. “I’ll think about what you said, all right?” I soften my tone at Phoebe’s hopeful expression. “I’m not promising anything, but... I’ll consider it.”
She nods, satisfied with the small victory. “That’s all I’m asking.” She gathers her notebook and stands, hesitating at the edge of my bed. “Get some rest. Sandtide will murder me if she thinks I’ve kept you up too long.”
As she walks away, I’m struck by the thought that arguing with Phoebe is like trying to fight a gentle breeze, pointless and exhausting. She’s already won more than she realizes. A hairline crack has formed in my fortress of thorns. Now the question is… Do I patch it up? Or do I let it grow?
Phoebe’s footsteps fade, leaving me with only the night’s silence and my racing thoughts. She’s right, damn her, and I hate it. This fortress I’ve built isn’t protecting anyone if I don’t even know what we’re facing, if what awaits is much bigger than all of us.
—Zephyros? I reach for our bond, feeling his immediate response.
—Little one? His consciousness brushes against mine, alert and ready for anything.
—We need to try again. Vaylen will assume I’ll be resting tonight, so it’s the perfect time to do it.
Hesitation ripples through our connection. —Are you sure you’re ready?
—More than ever. With the Screechclaws acting this way, and if there’s truly a Goddess and thousands of eggs waiting... we can’t afford to stumble around in the dark anymore.
—Then we meet at dawn.
—I’ll be there.