Chapter 7
Seven
Shaye
As requested, Nyx and I make our way to Fendruil to meet with Thrane.
Drexel has not been himself since Armas' death.
He's become destructive, irritable, and hasn't been eating much if at all.
At first, Sylvane believed he was distraught over the broken bond, but instead of Drexel flying north to take solace like some riderless dragons do, he stayed and has been wreaking havoc since.
He won't permit anyone close to him and he has been growling like a mangy dog.
It hurts to see him act like this. I don't know Drexel well, but if asked to describe him, I'd say he was calm, poised, and strong. But he's not like that anymore. If I'm worried, my mother and even Thrane are ten times more concerned.
When Nyx and I come around the corner, we find Drexel's pen is in complete shambles.
We overhear the stableboys explaining to my mother and cousin how the alpha dragon slammed his head against the wooden beams and stomped so ferociously he cracked the floor.
No longer in the heat of frustration, Drexel now paces despite the back of his pen being open for him to take flight.
He's apparently refused flight time in addition to going on a hunger strike.
"What are we going to do?" I fold my arms across my chest, tearing my eyes from the pitiful sight. "We can't leave him like this, can we?"
Thrane rubs a hand down the expanse of his chiseled jaw, gaze zoned in on the mighty beast. "Drexel will be cared for as best as he will allow. We cannot delay because he is grieving."
"Is that what he's doing?" I ask. "Grieving Armas?"
"I've seen dragons grieve and it doesn't resemble this." My mother's cool and even-tempered voice wavers. "This… this is something else."
Worry floods me. "Is he… dying?" I whisper.
"I'm afraid I do not know," she admits. "I've only seen dragons fall in battle or fly north once their rider passes."
A lump forms in my throat and I force myself to look upon Drexel again.
He continues pacing, his eyes are distant, as if he's caught in a trance and shows no interest in returning to the real world.
Armas and Drexel hadn't seen one another in years from my understanding.
Why he would grieve for him – why he would give up the will to live – for such a wicked man, is beyond my comprehension.
"We leave in a few days," I mutter. "We have to do something to help him."
"Wait," Nyx's brows arch in confusion. "What do you mean you're leaving in a few days? The ship sets sail tomorrow. What's going on?"
I bite my bottom lip. There was a reason I'd avoided telling Nyx about our plans. He wouldn't be on board and I didn't feel like arguing. But I suppose the secrets out, might as well brace for battle.
"We are flying later," I confess. "It won't take us as long to arrive in Tronovia and we are planning to make a detour."
"Detour?" He frowns. "What kind of detour?"
"We will be flying north on an excursion per Sylvane's request," Thrane says matter-of-fact, as if that will end the conversation. Clearly, he underestimates Nyx.
"Without protection?" Nyx shakes his head, eyeing me like I've betrayed his trust. "Not a chance."
"Last I checked," Thrane coos, taking a step between me and Nyx, "you are not ranked high enough to have an opinion on the matter."
"I was assigned to protect Shaye - "
"By your king," Thrane interrupts, his icy eyes narrow. "Aurelia's protection is no longer your concern. I'm not quite sure why you're even here when this dragon matter is family business and has nothing to do with you."
Nyx doesn't hesitate to stomp forward, only stopping when I slip between the two men and place my palms against their chests. "Nyx, don't."
"If you think I am abandoning my duty to protect her, you are sorely mistaken," he hisses at my cousin.
Thrane smirks, as if he's already won the war without lifting a finger. "Fine. I'll indulge your nonsensical thought process for a moment. If you were permitted to accompany us and offer unnecessary protection for Aurelia, how exactly do you plan to keep up with dragon riders?"
Nyx, not to be outdone or outsmarted by Thrane, folds his hands over his chest and grins. "I will use one of those giant birds. Problem solved."
Thrane scoffs as my mother rests her hand atop Nyx's shoulder.
"As admirable as your commitment is, Nyx, the Aviatas cannot keep up with dragons. And they are not conditioned for the harsher conditions lying further north."
"Then I will ride with one of you." Nyx shoots Thrane a menacing smile. "Perhaps His Lordship would like a partner."
"As amusing as you are, Harland, dragons will only carry one rider. And you are not a rider."
A crashing commotion from Drexel's pen draws our attention. The dragon will not be ignored a moment longer. He uses his snout to smash against the wooden beams and snow seeps in through the cracks developing in the roof.
"He's going to destroy the entire building!" My focus darts down the hall to Seraxes' pen. A protectiveness floods me, but I know Seraxes would escape before I had a chance to make it to her pen if something did go wrong.
"I've never seen a dragon act this way before," my mother whispers. I'm not certain if she's in awe or riddled with horror upon seeing the demise of the dragon.
I grab her hand. "We have to do something, or we'll be buried beneath this building."
She nods before ordering the stableboys, "Get the other dragons out."
Immediately, everyone moves in different directions. It's simply chaos. Drexel slams his body against the wall and the structure groans. We have to get out of here before it's too late. When I turn to grab Nyx, he's no longer by my side.
"Nyx?" I whip around, twisting in each direction to find him. It's then I notice him approaching Drexels' pen. "Nyx!"
Nyx ignores my cries, determined to get closer to the distressed creature. Suddenly, the beast stills, his eyes fixed on Nyx. He bares his sharp teeth and an icy blast shoots from his nostrils, but it doesn't deter the Tronovian. Nyx lifts his hand, palm out, and reaches for Drexel's snout.
"Nyx, don't!" I shout, alerting Thrane and my mother of the situation, but it's too late. We're not close enough to help Nyx, even if we wanted to.
Nyx presses his hand to Drexel's scales and my heart lurches in my chest. I'm about to watch him die. How would I explain this to the others?
But to my surprise, the moment Nyx touches the dragon, the creature stills.
"You're all right, Drexel," Nyx soothes him. His voice is steady and low as he strokes Drexel's snout with assured hands. "You're all right."
The rest of us watch in awe, and dare I say, confusion, as Nyx pets the beast until he settles down and lays in his pen. His eyelids are heavy and once he lays down, he shuts his eyes and rests for the first time in a week.
Nyx's eyes widen when he turns to find us all gawking at him. "Why is everyone staring at me?"
"How did you do that?" My mother is the first to find her voice.
"Do what?" Nyx asks.
"Drexel permitted you to touch him." Thrane clasps his hands behind his back, narrowing his gaze at a now-slumbering Drexel before focusing on Nyx.
Nyx shrugs. "I have always had a way with animals."
"We are not comparing domesticated cats and dogs to Frost Dragons. By all accounts, Drexel should have – at the very least – bit your hand off for touching him." Thrane presses.
"I didn't see you doing anything to help," Nyx's shoulders tense.
"There's no need to get snippy, Nyx," I attempt to calm him down. He's got the appearance of a cornered animal and I'm afraid he's going to snap.
"What compelled you to approach him?" My mother asks, curiosity ripe in her tone.
She's not angry, not disappointed. She's genuinely taken aback by what just happened, and quite frankly, so am I.
Seraxes wouldn't let me near her and certainly gave me all the signs not to touch her.
But Drexel, in his ornery state, permitted a non-Basilius to touch him.
"It's stupid," Nyx deflects, rubbing a hand against his jaw.
"I will decide what is stupid. Speak." It's the most aggressive I've ever heard my mother sound, but I'm in agreement. I want answers, too.
Nyx spears his hand up to his left ear, feeling for the reefer that's not there. "I felt drawn to him. Again, it's stupid. I know I can't be drawn to a dragon."
Sylvane and Thrane exchange a look.
"Why did you stare at each other that way?" I question, not missing their weighted glance. "What are you not telling us?"
In typical Thrane fashion, he pauses, soaking Nyx in and mulling over how to answer my question. "Your magic. Remind me again of your affinity."
Nyx crosses his arms over his chest in defensive stance, moving his feet to be shoulder-width apart. "Regeneration."
"Meaning you heal exponentially."
"Yes, your worship, that's what it means."
Thrane looks at Sylvane once more.
"Listen," Nyx waves a hand between them, "I don't particularly care for how you two keep eyeing me before looking at each other. It's creepy. What's going on?"
"What do you know of Oryn and Naya's time?" Sylvane asks.
"I was never a fan of history and lore." Nyx brushes her off.
"All right. Then what do you know of your ancestor Kallias Harland?"
"Who?"
Thrane slaps a hand to his face, frustration overflowing. "Perhaps we should ask the Tronovian if he remembers what he had for breakfast this morning. Seems he is only interested in the superficial."
"Insult me all you like, your mightiness, I happen to live in the present. I have no use for the past."
"Perhaps you have no use for the past, but the past sheds light on our modern questions.
" My mother's chastisement strikes me. I'm new to the actual history of our realm, but I'll admit, I've thought the same way Nyx has.
I thought I had no use for history but I'm now finding it is vastly important to know the past just as much as being up to date on current affairs.