Chapter 40 Vaylen
Vaylen
Ihelp Rhealyn sit up, her naked body still flushed from our lovemaking.
A blade of grass has tangled itself in her onyx hair, and I pick it free, letting my fingers linger against the silken strands.
The back of my hand brushes her cheek, tracing the contour of her face as if memorizing it.
I lean in to kiss her, savoring the softness of her lips.
“Now,” I say, my voice still rough with desire, “are you going to tell me what you and Zephyros were sneaking off to do?”
She sighs, the sound somewhere between contentment and exasperation. “It’s a long story.”
After we dress, she reaches for my hand, interlacing our fingers with deliberate care. Something about the gesture feels intimate and wonderfully normal as I wish our relationship could really be. She pulls me toward a fallen log nearby, tugging me down beside her.
The first rays of dawn streak across the sky, painting everything in soft gold. We don’t have much time before we’re expected back.
“I’ll have to call formation soon,” I observe.
Rhealyn’s eyes narrow, her mouth curving into that mischievous smile that first captured my attention at her Rite of Flight. “I’ll tell you everything on one condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“No supply runs. No stable duty.” She taps my chest with one finger. “And definitely no shoveling horse shit.”
I laugh, the sound startling a nearby bird into flight. “Demanding terms from your High Prime after breaking multiple regulations?”
“That’s right.” She lifts her chin, defiant. “I want patrol duty.”
“You’re still recovering from your injuries,” I remind her, but my resolve is already crumbling under the intensity of her gaze.
“I’m fine. Besides, Zephyros is restless. We need to fly.”
I shake my head, wondering how I ever thought I could deny her anything. Moreover, I need to know what happened with the King and what’s been going on inside that head of hers. “Very well. First patrol is yours.”
A smile brightens Rhealyn’s face as she leans against me. “Smart decision, High Prime.”
I stroke her hair, then tilt her chin upward to look directly into her eyes. “Now tell me what happened with King Craven.”
Her smile fades. She takes a deep breath and looks into the distance.
“It was… unexpected.” A pause that makes me aware crickets are still chirping as if saying farewell to the last traces of darkness.
“He did something to my mind. Unlocked memories I couldn’t access.
” Her fingers tremble slightly. “When I stood before him, he circled me like I was some trinket he owned. Then he spoke one word and pain tore through my skull. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt. ”
My jaw tightens. “He harmed you?”
“Not with his hands, but the memories he unleashed were… I don’t really know what to think.”
“How could he unlock memories like that?” A chill works its way down my spine. “Only a Weaver could reach into someone’s mind.”
Rhealyn shakes her head, her eyes distant. “I don’t think he’s a Weaver. If he was, he would have known what I was thinking after he unleashed those memories.” She picks at the log’s crumbling bark. “When I tried to read his thoughts, his mind felt... wrong. Clouded somehow.”
I frown, trying to make sense of this. “You tried to read the King’s mind?”
“I had to know what I was dealing with.” She offers no apology, and I expect none. “His thoughts were fragmented, chaotic. Almost as if something else was there, or… I don’t know what. Anything seems possible.”
“None of this makes sense,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “What did he want after unleashing these memories?”
Rhealyn’s expression hardens. “He wants me to be his spy here in Fort Ashmire. Report to him weekly on you and Voltguard.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “He expects me to read your thoughts. To make you fall in line, whatever that means.”
My blood runs cold. “Why would the King need a spy among his own forces?”
“I wish I knew.” She clasps my hand tighter. “The war has raged for centuries. The Sky Order has always been loyal to the crown. What could possibly make him distrust us now?”
I consider this, the pieces refusing to align. “Did he give any reason?”
“No.” She absently traces the pattern of a bruise on the back of her hand.
“Why would he? Kings don’t explain themselves to subjects.
Besides, he assumed I already knew everything from the memories he unlocked.
” Her eyes narrow as she stares into the distance.
“But Zephyros thinks I fought back and broke free from whatever trance he put me in before all the memories could surface.”
I study her face, searching for signs of deception or confusion.
The pragmatic part of my mind—the part trained to assess threats and vulnerabilities—can’t ignore the possibility that none of this is real.
What if her mind created these elaborate scenarios to cope with whatever truly happened to her?
“Rhealyn,” I begin carefully, “is it possible these visions aren’t memories at all? They could be hallucinations, or...” I hesitate, not wanting to cause her pain, “manifestations of trauma.”
She stiffens beside me. “You think I’m mad.”
“No.” I take her hand firmly in mine. “But I’ve seen warriors after battle create stories to make sense of things too terrible to face directly.”
“This is real, Vaylen.” Her voice carries a dangerous edge. “The mountain opened. You were there, and… and…” She stands and begins pacing. “Wyrm’s rot! You’re really going to think I’m crazy when I tell you what I did manage to see in those memories.”
“Whatever it is, I’m with you.”
She takes a deep breath, her hazel eyes darkening with memory. “That man… Tahranis.”
My blood runs hot at the name. I despise him. The man who took her from me, who may have touched her, held her, claimed her body while I mourned her as dead. I’ve turned his name over in my mind since she first mentioned him, each syllable a knife twisting in my gut.
I force myself to shut these thoughts away. I can’t bear to imagine Rhealyn with him—her lips on his, her body yielding. It’s a torture worse than any Screechclaw could inflict.
“Tell me about him,” I say instead, my voice unnaturally controlled as I swallow the jealousy threatening to consume me.
Her voice drops to barely a whisper as she sits again. “He led me through tunnels deep under the mountain. I saw glimpses of people. I think they live there. I’m almost convinced the missing Hearthdale woman and children are down there, but not just that, I think they are the same people.”
“The Hearthdale sheep farmers and the people under the mountain?”
She nods. “That sword you found had the same glyphs I saw down there. The villagers… those people… must’ve been using it to fight the Screechclaws.”
“I guess it’s possible.” Yes. This is rational. It would explain the sword’s presence. I lean closer, studying her face. “But why are they there?”
“To guard something.” Her demeanor grows impossibly more somber. “Vaylen, I saw a dragon underground just like Phoebe’s story says.”
“What?” I nearly fall off the log.
“It was a dragon unlike any I’ve ever seen. It looked… female.” Rhealyn’s voice trembles with conviction. “And behind it, there were thousands of dragon eggs preserved somehow, waiting.”
My mind races through the implications. If true, this changes everything—our understanding of history, the war, perhaps even the future of Embernia itself.
Rhealyn swallows audibly, then adds, “Tahranis said he had to show me who I really am, and he said that the dragon… that it was… Heratrix.” Her eyes meet mine, fierce and desperate. “I swear I’m not mad, Vaylen. I saw it. I saw it.”
I rise from the log, unable to sit still with these revelations churning inside me.
Pacing the small clearing, my eyes rove over the ground, my mind struggling to make sense of what Rhealyn has told me.
The Goddess, Heratrix, alive? Thousands of dragon eggs hidden beneath a mountain? It seems impossible, yet...
“If what you say is true...” I begin, then stop myself. No, I must not doubt her. “If Heratrix truly slumbers beneath that mountain, this changes everything.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming. The implications are staggering.
“What were you and Zephyros planning to do?” I ask, turning back to face her. “How does all this connect to your dawn escapades?”
Rhealyn’s gaze drops to the ground. “Zephyros has been helping me search my mind. He’s done it before, unlocked memories I’d buried deep.” Her voice grows quieter. “He saw what happened with my mother, before I even remembered it myself.” Pain flickers across her face.
I kneel before her, taking her hands in mine. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a child.”
She shrugs. “Anyway, if anyone can help me remember, it’s him.” Determination hardens her features. “I need to know what happened to me, Vaylen. I need to understand why the King wants me as his spy, and what connection I have to Heratrix.”
I understand her need to uncover the truth.
The mysteries surrounding her abduction, these memories, and the King’s strange behavior…
they’re all pieces of a puzzle we must solve.
Something gnaws at me… the possibility that Tahranis isn’t the villain of this story, for how could he be if he’s heralding our Goddess’s return?
Pushing that terrible thought away, I say, “We need to get back. Formation begins shortly, and questions will arise if we’re both missing.”
Rhealyn stands. “What about trying again with Zephyros? I need to remember.”
“Tonight,” I suggest, helping her with the loose ties of her leathers. “After sunset, when the fort quiets. I’ll ensure no patrols disturb you.”
“You’d do that? Let me break the rules again?”
I cup her face in my hands, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palms. “I’d rather be part of your solution than the obstacle you need to overcome.”
Relief washes over her features, melting the last bit of her reserve. This is what I’ve longed for—not just her body, but her trust. I want no walls between us. Maybe it’s asking too much, but I want her to be fully mine. Though I know I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if she loves me.
“Thank you,” she whispers, rising to her tiptoes to kiss me.
I draw her closer, tasting the sweetness of her lips, savoring this moment of connection. Whatever darkness lies ahead, whatever trials await us, this feels right. She isn’t pushing me away anymore. She hasn’t locked me out of her heart as I feared.
Before we part, I rest my forehead against hers. “We face this together,” I vow. “Whatever secrets lie beneath that mountain, whatever the King wants… we stand united.”