Chapter 25 #2
A low growl pulled our attention back toward the oasis just as a dark black blur slammed to the ground behind a cluster of buildings.
Sorae went stiff. Her wings unfurled as a quiet trill escaped her throat.
“Go on,” I coaxed her. “Go see him.”
Her head swung toward me, then back to the water. She crept forward, body hunched low to the ground. Her head jerked from side to side as she angled for a glimpse of the gryvern she’d been ripped away from all those centuries ago.
I followed a step behind her, joined by Nidara. My mind swirled with emotions, few of which were my own. Sorae’s anxious hope, Luther’s worry from afar, Tybold’s general loathing of everything and everyone, the four other gryverns whose bonds were a constant presence in my head.
In a way, I was glad for it. The stronger their emotions, the more they crowded mine out, leaving me with a numbness that was far preferable to the lonely rage that found me at night, when their minds went quiet with sleep.
As we approached the end of the street, Tybold stalked into view, and Sorae froze. Her tail slid out from between her legs and tentatively rose into the air, its black fur tip curling forward.
Tybold’s head twisted as he rose to his full height, massive wings stretching wide. A throaty rumble rolled down the sandy street.
He began to walk forward, and so did Sorae.
“You should call him off,” Nidara warned. “Tybold hates other gryverns. We always chained him up while other Crowns were here.”
I held my breath, too scared to say or do or feel anything that might disturb this moment. I’d sensed Sorae’s longing—I knew her affection for him was real. And Tybold had saved my life, not once but twice, when the Ignios King wanted me dead. Why do that, if not for the gryvern he secretly loved?
My confidence wobbled when Tybold bared his fangs. His neck arched, the slits of his eyes shrinking to slivers.
Sorae pressed on, undaunted. Tybold jerked to a stop as she rose out of her crouch.
At her full height, she was still only half his size, but what she lacked in mass, she had in beauty.
Her iridescent scales shimmered under the desert sun, casting flecks of rainbow light across the red clay walls.
With her sleek lines and downy feathers fluttering in the warm breeze, no one could deny her glory.
Even among gryverns, my Sorae was a queen.
I sent a pulse of admiration through our bond, and her wings lifted a little higher.
Tybold held his menacing stance as she approached, never tearing his eyes from Sorae. When she stopped in front of him, they both went silent. Her tail swished once, and his nostrils flared as they filled with her scent.
Slowly, Sorae stretched her neck forward. I felt like my heart had stopped within my chest. I grabbed Nidara’s hand as Sorae closed her eyes, folded her wings, and pressed her muzzle into his.
His pupils grew to orbs of black. One talon curled, claws sinking into the soft sand below.
Sorae let out a sweet, almost feline chirp. When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes, looked up at him, and made the sound again.
No answer.
Across the bond, I felt her heart fracture. Despite time and distance and the gilded shackles of their Crowns, her love for Tybold had endured. She’d kept her fire burning, while his had snuffed out.
She lowered her head. Her wings sagged, and she turned to come back to my side.
Tybold took a step forward and chuffed.
Sorae stilled. She swung her gaze back and found Tybold, head low, snout reaching for hers.
The tension between them snapped. Sorae leapt forward, knocking him to his back and caressing her snout against his neck. His low, scratchy purr was as loud as an earthquake as his black-feathered wing stretched out to tuck her into his side.
“Blessed Kindred,” Nidara gasped. “Are they . . . ?”
“In love,” I answered, grinning.
I watched their tails entwine and their foreheads meet, unable to escape thoughts of my mate. What if I died without closing the bond, and Luther’s devotion to me never wavered? Sorae and Tybold’s love had outlasted a thousand Descended lives. Was I a fool to believe Luther’s could fade over one?
I let go of Nidara and walked toward the nuzzling gryverns. They were so engrossed in each other’s presence, neither one noticed my approach. I reached out to stroke Sorae’s back. “I’m so happy for y—”
Something heavy slammed against my chest, knocking me to my back and pinning me to the sand. I caught a flash of jagged teeth before orange flames consumed me.
Then—a roar, a yelp, and the sound of two bodies colliding. The weight on my chest abruptly vanished, and the fire gave way to a large grey wing that blotted out the sun.
Sorae was standing over me, blood on her talon, her lips curled back in a snarl. On her other side, Tybold wrestled to his feet from where he’d been knocked into a nearby wall. He shook his head, sending crimson droplets flying from a fresh gash across his cheek.
“Are you alright?” Nidara asked, helping me to my feet.
I looked down at my body—my clothes had been badly burned, dragonfyre still glowing from their scorched-black edges, but my body was unhurt. I snuffed out the lingering flames with my shadows. “What just happened?”
“Tybold attacked you, and Sorae intervened to stop him.” She frowned. “I thought gryverns couldn’t hurt their Crowns.”
Tybold’s posture shifted. He leaned back on his legs, wings pulling high and tight. Fur stood on end along his spine as his throat quivered with a growl. His eyes sharpened on Sorae, a predator ready to strike.
She met every move with a matching threat. She shifted to block me from his reach, then flared her wings and hissed.
“I’ll fetch a whip from the stables,” Nidara said. “It’s the only thing that keeps him in line when he’s like this.”
“Wait,” I said.
On the surface, the gryverns looked one twitch away from a throat-ripping brawl, but what I felt through our bonds told a different story.
Tybold wasn’t mad . . . he was jealous.
For reasons I couldn’t fathom, he’d believed me a threat to Sorae, so he’d stepped in to shield her from me—and she’d stepped in to shield me from him.
Not because the bond required it. Sorae knew the spell that bound him wouldn’t allow him to do me any real harm. She’d done it because she cared. Because I had become more to her than just a Crown, and she wouldn’t let anyone threaten me, not even her mate.
She’d chosen me over him.
At least that’s how Tybold saw it. And for his bitter, resentful heart, watching her turn on him for a human—worse, a Crown—was the deepest possible betrayal.
His wings unfurled, and with a single angry thrust, he took to the sky and left us both in a cloud of sand.
Sorae lowered her snout to me, sniffing rapidly for any sign of a wound. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “He didn’t want to hurt me.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that, and neither was Sorae.
“Let’s get you to the palace,” Nidara suggested. “I’ll find you a change of clothes.”
With one last frown up at Tybold’s silhouette and a sympathetic caress of Sorae’s muzzle, I nodded and followed Nidara across town to the towering palace.
“I thought you said Ophiucae came without soldiers?” I asked as we walked through its winding halls.
She gave me a strange look. “He did.”
“So he did all this damage himself?”
Though I could tell this had once been an extravagant place, little of its splendor remained intact.
Frames that had once held sprawling artwork lay empty alongside piles of broken stone where golden tiles had been chiseled from the floor.
Pedestals were missing their statues, tables were missing their chairs.
The place looked less ruined than robbed.
Nidara’s sinking exhale hinted at annoyance. “This, we did ourselves. Once our reserves ran low, our only option was to send caravans to Umbros to trade for food and water.”
“I’m surprised the King allowed that, considering how deeply he hated Umbros.”
“His Majesty never knew. After the last meeting on Coeur?le, he never came home. He went to Sophos, looking for a godstone cure. His brother, the Regent, went with him. They were the only ones whose blood could open the locks on the royal coffers, so I made the decision to sell what we could from the palace. If you wish to punish someone for that choice, I beg you, take it out on me alone. The people here were only following my command.”
“Nidara, you saved your people. The man who let his realm starve is the one who deserves to be punished.”
She stopped short of agreeing, but the judgment on her face spoke volumes. “That decision is with the Blessed Mother now.”
She led me to her chambers and offered up her wardrobe to replace my ruined clothes.
I was secretly a little grateful to Tybold for forcing me out of the thick, sweat-inducing leathers I’d brought from Lumnos.
I reached for a cropped linen top and flowy pants that I’d seen on so many of the Ignios women, then hesitated at the awareness of how much of me it would leave bare.
My body was still thin from my time on the island—would the people here see it and think me too fragile to lead?
Then again, the people here had been starving, too. They’d spent these same weeks scrounging for every meager scrap, just as I had on Coeur?le. Did I think them weak?
I slipped into the clothes, then took a headscarf from her collection and fumbled with my hair in an effort to mimic her style.
She fought a smile at my clumsy attempt. “Let me,” she offered, taking it from my hands. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some nicer robes before you meet the others?”
“You think this outfit will offend them?”
“I think it will confuse them. You look like a fighter, not a noble.”
I snorted. “Good. Let them see me for what I truly am.”
Her smile grew. As she deftly wrapped the scarf, my eyes dropped to the harness of interweaving leather cords that clung tight to her ribs. Each strap was fitted with an arsenal of sharp, oddly shaped pieces of Fortosian steel.