Chapter Twenty-One
Varis
Having his father and his partner there was a small blessing. They held great pride in all that Varis had done at his mate’s side.
A shadow soared overhead as they returned from their day’s sojourn, great wings throwing shade and a whip of sea-salted air, growing fresher by the day. “He’ll beat us home, this eve. You win the bet, Nen.”
Mykel squinted at the source of the shadow, a dragon great with wings spread wide. “I don’t think I did, child.”
“It appears to be Prince Draenvir.” Rydel turned from his place at the front of the carriage. “I’ve been ever so curious. What is the meaning of this word, Nen?”
“It is like your word for uncle, but is reserved for your Apa’s partner. Kalish has some specific words for it.” Finem patted Rydel’s shoulder as he lifted a brow in curiosity. “Apa is father.”
“Interesting.” Rydel forged ahead as a second set of wings came flurrying over.
“That’s strange. Prince Draenvir flew in on his own, without a wyvern.” Rydel flicked the reins, and their horse trotted faster, moving up to a clipped gait.
“That’s…unusual, isn’t it?” Varis leaned forward and frowned.
“It is.” Rydel sped up until they circled into the estate’s stables and passed the reins of the horses off to the first stable boy that came running.
Varis glanced at his fathers and slid from the carriage, following Rydel.
They pushed in through the great front doors and traversed the estate, his fathers following close in tow behind them as they approached the entrance by the wyvern stables.
“Draenvir?” Varis called out as Rydel halted at the foot of the steps and stared up at a wild-faced male. “What’s wrong?”
Utter defeat drew its ugly veil over Draenvir’s pretty features, eyes as green as emeralds and clovers going glassine. “Where’s Ghreid?”
“I’ll ring the bell for him.” Rydel circled around them and jogged up the stairs to ring the great bell for the estate. Wherever Ghreid was, he’d hear it.
“What’s wrong, Envi?” Varis’s heart skipped a beat, and the worry tore through him like nothing ever had. Nausea, fear, more so than when the ship first crashed. Fear unlike the day he left home. Everything coalesced.
“I’ll speak when Ghreiden comes. He should hear it first.” Draenvir jogged to the foot of the steps and wrapped Varis in a tight hug. “Is there any chance you know if you carry, yet?”
Varis lamely shook his head, and Draenvir stifled a sob. Tears flowed as a minute then two passed.
The thunder of open wings broke the air, and Ghreid came jogging down, shirt bunched in his arms. He’d not fully shifted, drawing his wings in as he stared down at his teary-eyed brother and Varis.
“Brother?” Ghreid stared him down and swallowed.
“They’re gone. Father and Mother.” Draenvir’s strangled voice broke.
“Gone? They woke and—” Ghreid’s face, melting into uncertainty, froze.
Draenvir shook his head. “Their souls have moved on.”
Both dragons turned their attention to Varis. “Is there a—”
“Graylan?” Ghreid glanced at Draenvir.
“On his way. He’ll be six or so hours behind me.” Draenvir panted heavily. “For now, I need food and drink.”
The wind had gone from his sails, panic driving him as Varis guided their guest to the dining hall. Ghreid whispered to Rydel on the way by, something about mourning and food, extra for their guest.
Varis’s and his fathers’ confusion must have been apparent because Rydel beckoned them to come with him as Ghreid and Draenvir went their own way.
“The house has been ordered into mourning. I’ll have clothes laid out for you, my lord, and for the guests, we’ll—” Rydel quieted when Mykel raised a hand.
“We have mourning scarves to throw on.” Mykel smiled as Varis rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Nen.” Varis leaned in to press his temple to his father’s, a gesture of affection. Navigating his horns took effort, but they rested there for a moment.
“Change. Give them an hour or so, and we’ll meet in the dining hall. Lord Varis, follow me.” Rydel gave Varis’s fathers a slight bow, more of a nod than anything before escorting him away, past the kitchens with orders to send a dragon’s fare of food.
“Why does Draenvir need so much—” Varis stumbled, and Rydel whipped around and stabilized him, patting his shoulder.
The stern twist of an expression dominating his face morphed into pity.
“It is extraordinarily taxing on a dragon to take their greater form for a journey. The amount of food they need to replenish can drive them to hunger and primal actions. It’s reserved for emergencies and short distances alone. ”
“Thank you.” Varis nodded as they wound their way through the estate, informing servants of the passing of a king.
“I was prepared for a death, but not the king and queen.” Rydel opened Varis’s closet and dug through, finding him a dark pair of slacks and a flowing darker tunic, layered with a cowled neck as he preferred.
Rydel removed the adornments from Varis’s horns and stared, looking from him to the assortment of chains brought by Lapryda on his last visit.
“What seems to be the matter? Are there no mourning adornments?” Varis leaned over and looked among the fineries stretched and pinned down the velvet cushion.
“It… There’s a different protocol for—” Rydel tapped his chin. “And how are you feeling?”
“I feel fine.” Varis frowned.
“Headaches? Hunger? Nausea?” Rydel stared into his eyes and frowned. “Anything at all different.”
“I do feel a bit…” Varis waved a hand in the air, mind muddled. “Foggy? Is that a good word, like my mind is other places?”
“I’m no oracle, but my intuition is keen.” Rydel took a chain out, a glimmering golden one adorned with pearls and tiny flowers like honeysuckle, hanging like bells. He put it in a velvet bag and pushed it into Varis’s pocket. “But for now, no adornments other than earrings.”
Varis frowned and allowed Rydel to place a few black pearl studs in his ears. “Why?”
“Because when Graylan comes, I feel as if I know what he will tell you, my lord. You’re carrying two eggs. Because no dragon’s soul passes from this world until they’re ready to be reborn and made into something new.”
“If the king and queen are reincarnated with me… Wouldn’t that—they’re mates.” Varis frowned.
“They are. But Inessa isn’t Kineer’s true mate.
There are many partners with potential when a dragon looks for their mate.
She was the most suited at the time. Before her, there was another ashen that passed before she awakened.
They never met, so Kineer was over a hundred before he found Inessa, and their bond was weak.
They won’t remember their life before, just that their souls cooperate well.
” Rydel ran his fingers over Varis’s jewelry box and stared at the pieces.
“Keep that on you. If Graylan comes, he’ll confirm or deny my suspicions. ”
“And I wear this if he confirms?” Varis stared at the lump in his tunic pocket. There lay the symbol of a future to come, what he’d prayed for, begged for in the throes of lust.
Rydel nodded.
“So, it’s my fault his parents died, if I am carrying eggs?
” Varis leaned against the doorframe. Ghreid had been so generous to him, had professed that the stirrings of love flowed through him, if not already.
Varis loved him, too, though he’d yet to say as much.
It seemed too soon to say that word, which would make it such an arbitrary thing.
“No, no, not at all. Conception and souls are linked only by fate. And we’re not even certain the souls within are the same. They will be named in symbolism, if so Ghreid chooses, and likely he will.” Rydel shook his head. “Come join them.”
Varis nodded and took a deep breath. When Rydel led the way, Varis discreetly rested a hand over his belly, wondering if he should feel different, if he would feel it.
No headache ailed him. No nausea squeezed his belly.
The foggy sensation in his mind could be attached to his shifting body more than it was anything else.
In two deeply different ways, he prayed to both be and not be pregnant.
A chill prickled his spine as a feeling of rightness settled over him like a cloak.
He’d been told the fates and gods spoke to dragons, to enact their will. But words came to him without a single thing spoken.
It was time for a new era and new life. Carry them well into this new world.
Something tickled Varis’s cheek, and he reached up, finding wetness there just as Rydel glanced back. A second message tickled his ear with an almost giggle in the air. Tell your mate that your brother of lust is needed. And give him the temple.
Varis reached into his pocket to hold the velvet bag. “Put them on me, Rydel.”