Chapter Thirty-Six
Dragons
“It’s time to wake up, Tasch.” Malin’s voice is soft and soothing as he rubs circles over my shoulder, kneading the tense muscles as he ushers me from sleep. A kind gesture which helps me come out of the strange dream state more gently than startling awake, like usual.
His rich wood scent fills my senses, reminding me of home more than any place I’ve ever lived. “Were you able to sleep?” I ask with a hoarse voice.
“Yes.” He straightens with a smirk. “Though you did not afford me the same honor of waking up with you in my arms the way you did Varic.”
A tired groan vibrates in my throat, and I press my face into my hands, unable to reconcile what must have changed in the last few hours for Malin to tease me this way.
“In fact, Varic was the only one you sought to cuddle in your sleep,” Fray says.
“Why do you think that might be?” Lars asks rhetorically as I send him a playful glare.
“Is it that he’s new and you’re tired of the rest of us?” Cirrin asks with a grin, folding his deep blue fairy tale book in half to slide into his pocket.
I respond with a huff, sitting up to take the glass of water Varic offers, avoiding his eyes as I tip it back and chug faster than necessary, ready to move on to the next task.
“I think she had enough of me on the way here,” Fray says, his lips curving up in one corner. “You know, holding her close to my chest the entire flight.”
“Here,” Varic says, pointedly ignoring Fray while taking the glass from me, the heat of his gaze encouraging my own.
My breath catches at the striking brightness of his eyes beaming back at me in the golden morning light streaming in through the window. The ends of his hair are still damp from bathing, with the fresh set of riding leathers fitting tighter than the uniform he wore the night before.
Every function in my body grinds to a halt with the way his face lights up, staring back with the most luminous smile, though a haunted quality lurks behind his obvious sense of joy and amusement.
Heat rises from the center of my chest to my cheeks faster than I’m used to—embarrassed with how enraptured I am with every movement he makes—though I have certainly had worse views upon awakening.
“Thank you,” I manage, as Varic holds out a golden hanger with my riding leathers in one hand and a pair of my boots with wool socks in the other. I release a breath, grateful for the change of clothes so I don’t have to freeze as terribly on the journey back.
I send out my magic as all of my Guards seem far too energized for what a couple of hours of rest should be capable, and minimal weariness or fatigue is recognized by my power. “Have healers been by?” I ask.
Varic nods. “Yes, two healers arrived in the middle of the night, after Fray took his turn. Though everyone did as we promised and took a nap, regardless.”
A small smile ticks up the sides of my lips from the news, and I push off the bed with the spark it ignites in me.
My joints and muscles relent, loosening enough for me to stumble to the bathing chamber, eyes widening at my gaunt reflection once the vanity lights flicker to life.
Deep undereye circles pair with my sickly white complexion and dry lips.
I let out a groan at my hair, now a tangled mess in my apparently fitful slumber—a true testament to my Guards’ ability to mask their amusement, as none of them laughed upon seeing me looking this disheveled.
Cirrin clears his throat, alerting me to the fact he stands just outside the open doorway with his back turned, affording me more privacy than usual.
A freshly carved wooden heart rests on the counter, with Lars’ small gesture pulling a smile on my face while I rush to change into the leathers.
“I forgive you, Lars!” I shout, and pocket the palm-sized heart which he carved flat enough to fit within the compartment.
“What for?” He calls back.
I shake my head and leave the nightclothes in a pile, then brush my teeth and wash my face before returning to the main room with a tangle of hairpins I tried to secure in the mess of strands.
“Need some help with that?” Fray asks, nodding to the top of my head.
I let out a sigh and nod in confirmation, though I cannot imagine what mess my hair will be in should Fray be the one to attempt this.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Malin asks, wedging himself between Fray and me. “While you have proven your artistic ability in drawing, you had better not dare touch a hair on her head. We all remember what happened—”
“Yes, yes.’ Fray backs out of the room, hands raised. “We all remember how she had to cut out the knot I made when I tried to help her take her hair down. But that was years ago, and I was going to be more careful.”
Malin gives him a side-eye and steps closer. He deftly combs his fingers through the ends before he plaits a quick brain and twirls the hair up to pin it in place far more expertly than the rest of us.
“Thank you,” I say, turning around to face him.
“You can thank my mother for birthing younger sisters who forced me to learn how to style their hair long before I ever came to serve at your side.” Malin winks, and my brow furrows as we leave the bathing chamber for the main room.
“I appreciate you saying so.” I gesture to indicate my side. “How you serve at my side, rather than serving me.”
“We endure together,” Malin explains. “To provide the citizens with a better future than they would have without our influence. We each have our role to play, and while some of us have more regular tasks, meaning we must expend far more energy—” He pauses to look over at Cirrin in acknowledgement of theirs being the magic he speaks of, before returning his gaze to mine.
“It only serves logic to provide care for the one who needs the most in any given moment.”
“Which, for years, has been me.” A breath seeps from me after the words have died.
“Or when my brother died, and you all held me up as much as you could,” Cirrin adds.
“Or after my father’s passing, when I was even more melancholy than usual,” Fray says. “Besides, you’re the real leader of this crew.” Moss green eyes flick to Varic in challenge.
My brows meet in the center. “How so?”
“When it comes to us—” Fray gestures to himself, then every other one of my Guards, including Varic. “You just say the word.”
“Unless, of course, it puts you in more danger,” Varic says, and they all nod in agreement.
The sun casts a brilliant pink hue over the horizon with the soft morning light illuminating the fog around us, creating the most ethereal scene as we hike up the hill to greet their Dragons.
Cold air thick with dew coats my lungs, chilling me from within as giant puffs of steam emit from our mouths.
A different sort of energy thrums through our party as we crest the hill, and a thrill runs through my body from the bird’s-eye view of the five glorious beasts awaiting us.
I halt after a few cautious steps forward, awestruck by the way each Dragon turns to greet us—an honor afforded to so few, and yet this is how we are welcomed the morning after such terrible trauma.
Moments like this bring a prickle of shame to my stomach for every instance I have begged for death over existence. Experiencing something this extraordinary puts everything else into perspective—at least in the moment it’s happening.
Dranea, Lars’ blood-bound Dragon, swivels around to press the sable scales over the blunt end of her nose to my neck, sniffing the hair I have yet to wash before turning her head to let out a dramatic sneeze, then rotating to the side until we’re eye to eye with her crimson orb peering directly into my bright blue.
She blinks slowly, then appears to bow—to me.
My cheeks flame. Minea bowing to Varic during their blood-bond ceremony was a truly significant event.
There should be no reason for Dranea to do the same, yet Lars simply shrugs and continues busying himself with the harness.
I carry on down the hill where Guards are greeting their own Dragons, unaware of what just happened.
Lucrea nuzzles his ruby snout in the center of Malin’s chest, and a small laugh bursts from my chattering lips.
It warms my heart when Malin pets the deep red scales down her neck, eliciting a mix of sentimentality and melancholy to duel in a rivalrous dance, with the sincere wish we could have more moments like this.
Cirrin’s blood-bound Dragon, Brea, takes my breath away as usual with her striking blue-black scales.
Her gaze swivels to meet mine, and it feels as if her ice blue eyes can see straight through to my soul—which for some reason, is frightening.
To have a Dragon know all of your secrets, your essence.
No wonder Emperor Aldritch tends to wither in her presence.
“Imperial Grand Witch Tasch,” Brea greets me, communicating with her telepathic ability.
There’s always been something especially powerful in her energy, and I assume it must be why Emperor Aldritch tends to keep his distance from her when they run drills.
Though the thought of her breathing fire on his form after sharing some terrifying warning in his mind is amusing enough, I allow the thought to remain in my mind where she can receive it until she makes the croaking sound deep in her throat I’ve learned to interpret as a Dragon’s laughter.
Smirking knowingly, I throw in a wink as her laughter only grows in volume.
Cirrin sends me a questioning look, and I shrug my shoulders as I walk to the center of the clearing.
Sutrea’s amethyst scales glint and shine in the low morning light, their deep purple hue appearing unreal—like something made up in a children’s tale—the coloring exactly matching a polished gemstone.
A satisfied smirk pulls on the corner of my mouth as Fray wrestles with the harness, trying to bring it across Sutrea’s chest while I nod to her in amusement and she returns the same in response.
I plod forward with a sigh, unsure of where I am meant to land, when my body makes the decision for me—halting when there is just enough distance between Minea, Varic, and myself to appreciate the pair from afar.
The gregarious green Dragon may enjoy showing off just as much as his rider—fluttering his emerald wings while ambling in a tight circle around Varic, lifting his head up and down while chuffing repeatedly.
I hide the smile breaking across my lips behind a loosely held fist, staring unreservedly at Varic, whose own smile grows the more excitable Minea becomes.
Tears begin to form as I witness the heartfelt sincerity in their shared sense of joy.
Varic holds out his hand to halt Minea’s motion, then steps forward and pats the side of the Dragon’s neck.
Minea drops the spines running down his back and tail, leaving a smooth surface for the harness as he closes his bright green eyes and slowly cants his head into the palm of Varic’s hand.
I laugh when he huffs out a burst of breath, sending Varic’s hair flying with several strands sticking out at odd angles.
Shit. He heard me.
I drop my gaze before he catches me watching.
Heat licks the skin on my cheeks, trailing down to follow the hollow of my neck in the opening of the leather top, leaving me rueing the fact I cannot act the way I do with my other Guards when it comes to him.
Had it been anyone else, I would have had no problem holding my gaze where it was and would not have cared what they thought when they caught me admiring a display of affection between them and their Dragon.
Yet I can’t fathom doing the same in this instance where Varic stares back, unable to tolerate the specific kind of heat rising to my cheeks.
“He adores you.” My eyes widen as I tentatively look up at Minea. “You heard me,” Minea jests telepathically while emitting a deep, throaty croaking sound out loud.
Varic’s stare increases in intensity as his magnetism pulls me forward.
“I understand why,” Minea says, and my eyebrows lift. “You’re genuine. No pretense.” Heat blazes in my cheeks from the compliment. “You haven’t allowed the power and control afforded you to change who you are at your core.”
“Oh, I would argue the opposite. I am so thoroughly entangled in power and corruption, I do not know who I am without it,” I admit with regret as Minea sits back on his haunches.
“You’ve only proven my point,” Minea says, nodding to Varic, whose eyes haven’t left me the whole time he’s spent unfolding the black leather harness.
“You’ll be riding with me,” Varic says with an ornery glint in his eyes as I gape at him.