Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Luka couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt her. Not again. Not even to protect her. Gods, that look on her face. The way she’d closed her eyes and braced. He never wanted to see that again. Ever.
He turned away, swallowing the emotion that still shuddered through him, and quickly finished stripping. He wrapped everything in his dark cloak and pushed it beneath a dense shrub. Then he rolled back his shoulders and took a deep breath. This was going to hurt, and he had to do it silently.
He glanced toward the mountain, checked the patrols along the battlements—no one was looking into their shadowed nook up against the wall—and then let himself settle, opening his mind fully to the beast. Allowing himself to feel the rush of heated power that he’d blocked off for so long.
His beast uncoiled deep in his belly, shaking out its wings with a groan of aching relief. Scales flashed up Luka’s arms and over his neck and face, rippling over his chest as his beast twisted.
His tendons stretched and spread, while muscles for flying, leaping, roaring, and belching flame screamed from long disuse.
His senses billowed out in a rush. He could feel the wind and the cool droplets of mist in the air.
He pushed further, sensing the mountain’s peaks and ridges, rocky and barren, strewn with thorny lace bushes and brambles.
Beyond them, hidden gulleys lay green and verdant in the humid dark, their heated pools feeding the lush shrubs and flowers growing on their walls.
His awareness dipped lower, through the layers of sand and rock, down to the very depths of the mountain. To the magma, glowing, potent, and calling to him. The energy and fire sang loud enough that his ancestors had followed it for months, flying through storms and over deserts just to reach it.
And below that lay the subtle hint of something more. Something that the people of Hugaeb had worshipped for centuries before the Verturian drakes had even arrived.
Luka dropped to his knees, dug his hands into the soil, and whispered a prayer. A quick recognition of the gods of Chaos and Order, their Mother of the Weave, even the older gods of earth and air and fire.
The drake in his belly growled, low and long. Warmth ran up through the earth, through the rocks and stones and sand, seeping into his skin and winding around his heart. Pooling deep in his belly.
He stretched his fingers, reaching deeper, searching until he found a scorching strand of something vast and magical, and pulled.
Scalding heat rushed into him, drawn up through the earth, pouring into his beast in great, agonizing waves.
He—they—threw back their head, shuddering as they held in a violent roar.
Luka clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay silent.
His body shook as his spine cracked and his skin split.
His beast howled, vibrating with the growing tidal wave of power that raged through them.
And they transformed. Green-black shimmering scales spread out in a rush, leathery wings unfurled, viciously curved claws gripped the earth…
and a heart fifty times bigger than that of a human beat heavily in his chest.
He was the beast now, and the beast wanted to fling itself into the sky and soar.
He wanted to be free after so long in a cage.
He wanted to revel in the earth and the sky and the flames still singing through his bones.
This was always the moment—as skin and bone knit together once more, as magic coursed through every organ, every muscle of his body, healing and repairing—when he felt most vibrantly alive.
And then he smelled her.
The beast didn’t care about Luka’s plans and reasons. It thought staying away from Izzy was stupid. And now he had control.
He stalked over to her and lowered his head to nuzzle her.
She smelled of warm skin and the geranium she added to her soap.
Her skin was cold from the night air, and her hair blew in soft strands barely touching the scales of his face, but the beast felt every one.
He let out a long, rumbling purr, and Izzy laughed softly.
She lifted her hands to stroke his snout, and he purred louder.
You’re a menace, Luka grumbled within the beast, but the beast didn’t listen.
He pushed closer, sweeping a wing around to hold Izzy cocooned as he gently rubbed his snout over her face and neck, breathing her in, marking her with his scent.
“I missed you,” Izzy whispered.
“I missed you, too,” the beast rumbled. He hadn’t intended to say it, but Luka couldn’t hold the words in.
Izzy blinked up at him, her eyes soft and sparkling too brightly in the low light.
Gods, now he’d made her cry. Deep in the beast’s belly, Luka froze.
She was going to ask him why he did it, why he broke them apart before they were even together.
And—in this body—he would tell the truth.
He would admit what he did, and then he would have to face her grief.
The grief and blame he’d hidden from for all these years.
And the worst part was, she would almost certainly forgive him.
She had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever known. He’d realized that within months of pushing her away—as soon as his own grief cleared enough to think—but by then she’d left the castle. She’d left, just like he’d wanted her to. Like he’d told her to.
It took another six months for him to pull himself together enough to go to her.
To find the courage to try to apologize and maybe find some path back.
He’d gone looking for her and found her in a crowded pub…
with someone else. He’d stood in the dark alley, watching her laugh and smile, knowing that she’d started a new life.
And he couldn’t bear to drag her back to the darkness of his.
So he’d gone back to his work and left her alone, knowing he’d been right all along: he didn’t deserve her.
His beast didn’t agree. It never had. It was convinced Luka pushed Izzy away to save himself, but that wasn’t true. He pushed her away to save her more pain than he’d already caused. And now he was going to have to tell her all of it.
Except she didn’t ask. She caressed his snout, pressed a butterfly-light kiss to his scaled cheek, and stepped back. She swiped her palms over her cheeks and gave him a horrible, false smile. “Let’s finish this before someone sees you.”
Luka glanced up at the rock walls that encircled the garden, turning his head to listen.
He could hear the soldiers on the ramparts calling the rounds as usual.
There was no reason for them to expect danger inside the garden, and his midnight-hued, green-and-black scales would be invisible beneath the trees.
Here they were safe. When they rose out of the garden, out of the protection of its soft gloom, that would be the dangerous time.
“Flying is impossible. I’d be seen immediately.
I’ll have to climb the wall, and you need to stay under my wings. ”
“That makes sense. The guards will be less likely to see a dark area on the wall than a drake flying around the garden.” She chuckled a little hysterically, and he found himself with his snout pressed up against her face once more as the beast tried to reassure her.
“What if I climb first?” Izzy mused. “You can climb behind me and keep us hidden.”
“That works,” Luka agreed. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Izzy would be hidden, protected by his body. That was the most important thing.
Izabel stepped back—again—and he had to force himself not to follow, to keep her wrapped in his wings forever. Instead, he lifted the dead woman to his front and held her with a claw while Izzy secured her tightly with the blanket and rope.
Once she was done, they both stopped and looked up.
He’d led them to the bottom of the guest wing, beneath Narya’s balcony.
The wall was sturdy, but very old. The lower levels were enveloped in ivy over pitted gray stone, offering slim toe and handholds.
It would be possible for an experienced climber, but daunting nonetheless.
Izzy nodded slowly, assessing. “I can do it,” she whispered. She pulled off her cloak and laid it on his pile of clothes, each movement measured and silent but calm, and then she turned to the wall. She dried her hands on her breeches, rested them on the stone for a second, and started climbing.
They’d climbed a lot as teenagers, scrabbling around the lower banks of the mountain, looking for seeds and roots to take back to the court physiks.
Izzy and Rayan’s father was physik general to the king before a wave of red-scale sickness took both men’s lives.
After they died, the queen set Shane, Rayan, and their group of friends to helping the healers, giving them tasks that turned into adventures that kept them out of the castle.
They were outside in the sunshine, away from underfoot, and learning something new every day. And slowly processing their grief.
Rayan would fly with the others, but Izzy was on the ground, so that’s where Luka was too. He’d stayed with her, wanting to be near her, as she learned to climb well enough to meet her brother at the top of whatever mountain he wanted to fly up. But that was long ago.
Izzy huffed and muttered under her breath. This wall was far smoother than their old haunts, and they were both out of practice. But she kept climbing. Kept finding little crevices and stones that jutted enough for a toehold, using the ivy when necessary. Kept moving steadily upward.
Luka followed with one ear turned to the guards on the wall, noting their regular footsteps and unrushed calls.
They were looking out, over the walls—in the direction danger would come from—not into the dark peacefulness of the garden.
When this was over, Luka would have to add garden checks to their training.
His pulse thudded heavily, heat swirling in his belly as they rose past the ivy, higher and higher.
He held himself a little to Izzy’s side, keeping the dead body from her back, holding his wing out at an unnatural angle.
Narya’s weight dragged at him, and his long-unused wing ached, but he wouldn’t risk Izzy.
His awareness of her and her vulnerability—to falls, arrows, any kind of misstep—met his fierce need to protect her.
He covered her completely, stretching his wing further out around her and gripping the stone with his claws, creating a dark shadow to hide her on the wall.
Izzy slipped with a rough grunt, her foot scrabbling for purchase as the scent of her fear filled his nostrils, and he crowded forward, using his wing to balance her and push her up, until she found her footing once more.
As we should have done all along.
Probably. But he couldn’t think of that now. The danger of his own patrols surrounded them. There was a dead woman tied to his front, one whose discovery could destroy everything he loved. He had to focus.
Finally, sweating and dusty, they reached Narya’s small balcony.
Luka balanced with his front claws gripping the thick stone rail while Izzy climbed over the stone balustrade.
She crept over and leaned an ear against the wooden shutters that secured the door.
The doors in the royal suites were all set with precious Kwanam glass panels.
Up here, the wind could be fierce, and the maids would have locked the shutters securely over the doors when they turned the room down.
“I can’t hear anything,” Izzy murmured. “Let’s get her down.”
Luka held himself still—feet precariously gripping the balustrade, wings stretched out to shield the balcony—as Izabel reached toward the ropes and untied Narya.
There was a heart-stopping moment as the knots gave and the weight shifted, but Izzy managed to drag the woman onto the balcony and toward the door.
Then she slipped a knife from a sheath and started working on lifting the inside latch that secured the shutters while he shielded her with his wings.
She was right. There was no way we could have managed alone.
True. But now she was alone. Izzy would have to carry Narya into her room and put her in bed without making a noise or attracting attention… assuming there was no one in the room in the first place.
Luka wanted—needed—to help her. To go with her and make sure she was safe. But to do so meant shifting back to human, up here on this tiny balcony. And it meant losing the protection of his wings.
The latch clicked quietly, and Izzy let out a soft grunt. They were in. But what waited on the other side of the door?
“Wait!” His whisper came out rough and demanding, and he worked to soften it. “I’ll come with you.”
He could hardly make her out in the darkness beneath his wings, but he knew her well enough to know she had a silvery brow raised in his direction. “I’ll help you carry Narya,” he murmured. “We’ll be quicker together. And if there are guards, we can face them together. But I have to shift.”
“Okay.” She nodded in the dim light. “How can I help?”
His beast pressed their nose into her neck and inhaled gently, and he let the familiar scent soothe him. Then he nudged her back. “Just be careful.”
He pulled away and drew in his wings, balancing himself as best he could on the balustrade. Then he turned his mind to the magic that he’d been gifted but had rejected for so long… and pushed it away.
Gods, it hurt.
The beast went willingly, despite the loss of its wings. They needed Izzy safe. Together, they let the heat and vitality of the mountain drain away, even as it left burning ice running through his veins in its wake.
He opened himself and let it flow. Back into the cliffs, the rocks, the sand.
It clung at first, but then with a crackle of twisting sinews, it released its hold.
He bit in a groan as his spine cracked and his scales writhed into skin, but he knew this old agony, and he didn’t dare to make a single noise.
The world wavered. Pain screamed through his skin, his body, his very bones, and he dragged in a shaking breath as he concentrated on gripping the overhanging eaves with his clumsy, numb, too small fingers.
He might have fallen, but then Izabel was there, rushing forward to throw her arms around him, holding him as he shivered.
Gods, we do not deserve her.
Luka grunted. Finally, the beast was beginning to realize what he’d known all along.
He jumped down from the balustrade. His clothes were abandoned in the garden, but there was nothing he could do about that.
And his beast was not concerned about nakedness.
If anything, it was rather hoping that Izzy would at least glance down.
But she didn’t. Izzy seemed entirely unaffected by his nakedness. Her gaze didn’t even flicker as she turned back to listen against the shutter once more.