Chapter 39
AMAIA
For a brief moment, when I thought my eyes had opened only to find darkness, I feared that I’d gone blind. I blinked, pain and panic surging forward.
My whole body felt like one big ache. Throbbing and pulsing. At least I wasn’t dead. Because if death felt like this…I’d feel cheated.
I must’ve made a sound because a warm bulk next to me moved. I reached out, skimming my hand along solid flesh.
That was when I saw it. A little blue glow next to a bed, a familiar smoke rising from a small ember in the pot. And as my eyes adjusted, though they still seemed dim, I saw Alaryk’s eyes begin to glow in the darkness.
“Amaia,” he breathed, a relief so strong in his voice that it almost trembled. My throat felt tight with that singular word, and my eyes started to tear up.
His magic flowed into me, and I grasped it. I felt him flinch, a deep ragged breath torn from him, which I thought was strange. But I used his magic, as we’d always done, to heal my body. Like a parasite, I fed off him…but he only gave willingly.
The forest returned to me in flashes. Ryak. The flash of his fists, the sickening sounds. Samryn, with glittering scales. Alaryk, the whisper of a dagger. Brune—
I sucked in a breath. “Brune. The eggs.”
They are safe, Alaryk told me, his voice clear. All of them.
I was too relieved to realize that he hadn’t spoken at all.
I felt bones crack, the sound startling. Despite the sharp pain at first, the pinch slowly faded into nothingness. My body was resetting itself, the bones snapping back into place. So many had been broken—my ribs, an arm, my cheekbone, collarbone, nose. I wanted to scream, but no sound came.
I kept my gaze on Alaryk, and with every snap, I felt the flare of anger within him though his expression never changed. He wanted to kill Ryak all over again. He wanted to kill him again for every time a bone had been broken. Every time he’d marked me, every time he’d made me bleed.
The length of Alaryk’s anger and need for vengeance was staggering.
What shocked me even more was that I could feel it.
It intertwined with my own sense of relief, my own sense of sorrow.
So vastly different, and yet they all melded together until it felt like one big wound between us, gaping and raw.
I almost lost you, he told me. His eyes glowed brighter, nearly blinding. Never again.
Tentatively, his hand reached forward to skim over my healing face. There was a rawness in him, like the scraping of bone, when he looked at me. I felt the surge of affection, the need to protect me, the sheer unfathomable relief he felt.
“What’s happening?” I asked, confused, my voice rasping and husky, like I’d been wailing for days on end.
I felt his emotions retreat until they were dulled enough to be mistaken for my own.
“Heal, mariss,” he murmured, his voice richer, his breath floating over my skin. His lips pressed to my temple, where I remembered Ryak splitting the skin.
In his arms, I was cocooned by warmth and memory and magic.
I closed my eyes, feeling Alaryk radiate like starstone.
My hand came up to my neck out of habit.
The cool touch of my pendant made me want to sob.
Someone had returned it to me. And I longed for my home, for my family.
Would I forever be torn between two places now?
I will bring them to you, Alaryk said, so you don’t have to miss them, Amaia.
I slept again.
When I woke next, it was to warm oranges and pinks.
Sunset. The bed was empty, and my body felt…
better. So much better. Enough that I had the strength to push up in bed.
I went dizzy, sucking in a breath as the dwelling swayed.
There was a metallic taste in my mouth, and my head pounded something fierce.
But I was dressed in one of Alaryk’s soft, clean tunics, and there was a large jug of water next to the bed.
A small gasp came. I looked over, only to see Syris rising from the dining table, where she’d been sitting. My hand froze, half stretched out for the goblet, as a tumult of emotions flooded my mind.
“Syris,” I breathed.
“Oh,” she said, racing for me. There were tears shimmering in her eyes, and she was gentle with her embrace, though it was tight.
I didn’t know what to feel, but I didn’t feel like I deserved her kindness.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Syris didn’t say anything, only pulled back when I gave a small wince. My back muscle pulled tight from the strange position.
“You’re here,” she said, giving me a wobbly smile. “That’s all that matters, all right?”
“How is Brune?” I asked quickly.
“Recovering,” Syris answered. “Ethrisha has been by his side night and day. You look better than he does.”
I struggled to get out of the bed. “I’ll go to him now and help—”
“No, you need to rest,” she said firmly, pushing me back. “He’s fine.”
I saw the determined set in her shoulders. Alaryk had probably told her to keep watch and to keep me here.
“And the eggs,” I said quietly. “They’re safe?”
“Yes,” she replied, her smile dying. “The eggs were recovered. Ryak and Nevin are dead.” I flinched, remembering the shock on Ryak’s face, though his eyes had been lifeless.
What happened to Nevin? I wondered. “The other two…Sarkin collected his rider for trial. As for Dresnar…he was executed yesterday.”
I blew out a breath of disbelief.
I’m sorry, I thought again, though I knew she wouldn’t want to hear it.
“I—I…”
But I didn’t know what to say. How to explain it. That I had been sent to betray their trust, that I’d told Ryak how many eggs the hatchery had, that I’d promised I would tell him anything he’d wanted to know.
But Syris placed her hand on my arm and said, “Brune told us everything.”
“Everything?”
She nodded.
“About what the Dothikkar wanted us to do?”
She took a deep breath. “Brune said Ryak and Nevin threatened him. That your king would throw his father into the dungeons and persecute his mother if he didn’t do what they wanted.”
So…he had been threatened too.
“I’m assuming they did the same to you?” Syris asked softly. Gently. Carefully.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Alaryk knows?”
She nodded.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Nearly a week,” she answered. “You woke for the first time a couple nights ago and managed to start healing yourself with Alaryk’s help. But you’ve been asleep since then.”
I nodded.
“I must say,” Syris murmured, her yellow eyes tracking over me, “your magic truly is remarkable, Amaia. You’d never be able to tell…”
“What?”
Her brow furrowed. A flash of despair, so brief that I thought I imagined it, crossed her features. “I couldn’t even recognize you. When he brought you back that night.”
My belly tightened.
“I’d never seen anything like it before. How someone could do that to another person.”
My eyes filled with unushered tears, my throat tightening.
“Looking at you now…it’s like it never happened,” Syris finished, wiping at her cheek, sniffing. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked in here this morning.”
“You should be at the hatchery, not tending to my bedside,” I told her.
“Alaryk wanted a familiar face here if you woke while he was gone,” she informed me. “Tarkosh understands. They’re all busy, but they’ll make do.”
“Does she hate me for it?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Of course not. But…she’ll come around,” Syris answered, making me bite my lip.
“I have to go home anyway,” I told Syris. She frowned. “I don’t know what will happen now that Ryak and Nevin are dead. I’m worried about my family, about Kiron. I need to leave. And soon.”
You’re not going anywhere, came Alaryk’s voice, deep and certain in my mind. I gasped, memory pushing to the forefront.
“What is it?” Syris asked.
Just then, I heard the thud of boots on the stone stairs outside before the heavy door was pushed open.
Alaryk stood on the threshold, looking like he’d been sprinting here, his breath a little heavy. When he stepped into the dwelling, Syris rose.
“Thank you, Syris,” he murmured, holding the door open for her, his intention clear.
My friend looked back at me, inclining her head. “I’ll see you soon,” she assured me. “Rest.”
I nodded, watching her slip past Alaryk’s wide berth until she disappeared out the door. The light of the setting sun flooded in, but curiously, Alaryk kept the door open.
“I want to take you to Ny’am,” he told me. He pressed his pointer finger into the pot beside his bed, which had once been filled with blue powder but now lay nearly depleted. “I’ve used up all the sersa powder, and I think the heartstone will help you.”
I shook my head. “Alaryk—”
“Can you stand?”
“There’s so much we have to talk about,” I breathed.
“Then we’ll talk there,” he replied, voice determined. When I didn’t move to stand, he plucked me from the bed himself, and I gripped onto his shoulders in surprise, though I knew he wouldn’t let me fall.
“Seems I don’t have a choice,” I murmured.
His face was unreadable.
“No, you don’t.”
Then we swept out of the dwelling, and Alaryk closed the door with his foot.
Luckily this area of Grymia was away from the hustle and bustle of the village’s center.
The only other things back here were the hatchery and a few scattered dwellings, so no one was around to see Alaryk carry me toward the mountain.
The shade of it felt cool, sliding over my skin.
Though I was only in a tunic, my skin felt hot.
The shade felt like a relief, which was only deepened when Alaryk guided us to the familiar cavern entrance, hidden in the rock face, and down the narrow stone stairs we’d once traveled together.
Alaryk said nothing, and even though the darkness enveloped us, I didn’t mind it, only pressing my hands into his shoulders harder.
The cavern looked more brightly lit in the light of the setting sun, casting rays of gold and pink to illuminate the dark stone and blue, trickling water.