56 #2
Voran pulled me back, scowling as my father’s carriage hurtled downhill toward the city. “Death-marked,” he muttered.
I didn’t have it in me to care. Not yet. Not after my father had proven multiple times that he didn’t care.
A vicious roar silenced the night.
“Come.” Voran released me to gesture to the snow-dusted trees. “We take cover in the woods until—”
Darkness increased the light of the flames.
No doubt lured by my fleeing father, Huvuon soared back toward the hillside. I might not care about my father’s fate right now, but my half brother was probably still in that carriage with him.
Except it wasn’t the carriage the beast wanted.
Huvuon landed before us with force that nearly sent me stumbling onto my ass. The wyvern tipped his giant head back and unleashed a bone-trembling roar.
Breath bated, I straightened and…
No.
I screamed Voran’s name.
But gently—slowly—he set Dusk down in the melting snow.
Before I could take a single step, snow swirled around Voran’s feet. It spiraled into a dark mist that engulfed him once more, expanding with his changing form. As quickly as they’d come, the shadows receded, wisps taken with the wind created by Huvuon’s folding wings.
Where Voran had stood, a silver and gray direwolf now snarled.
But although Voran’s wolf form was giant, he was still no match for the biggest wyvern I’d ever seen.
Yet Huvuon’s growled breaths quietened.
Smoke billowed from his snout as he appeared to survey the wolf. Pupils surrounded by gold thinned when the wyvern blinked slowly before cocking his head.
He then lowered it—lowered his scaled neck—to better inspect Voran. Grumbles accompanied his every exhale, eerie and chilling my sweat-misted skin. His charcoal snout, long and leathery, collected steaming snow as it swayed closer to Voran.
To scent him.
To scent them both, I realized when Huvuon reared back and growled his disapproval.
Smoke wafted, but no fire left his maw. It stayed closed, and I understood that growl was a warning for Voran. He wanted him to move so he could have the hatchling.
Voran’s low growl told him he wouldn’t.
But Dusk waddled out from beneath Voran, dodging his legs when he tried to kick her back. Stopping between his front legs, she unleashed a pitiful roar at the gargantuan beast.
My heart slammed against my sternum.
Dusk coughed and sputtered. Smoke puffs clouded before her.
I wanted to scream. To run to them. But I knew I would only make this so much worse than it already was.
As Huvuon’s eyes narrowed on the tiny pink wyvern, his pupils widened. His growling returned.
So did shadow. It hid Dusk from view as Voran left his wolf form. Naked again, he stood before the wyvern with the hatchling now in his arms, and what he’d done dawned.
He hadn’t merely gone against his threat to feed Dusk to the beast. To save her, he’d proven that he was Valadorn’s alpha—the rightful king. He’d shown Huvuon who he was and that the hatchling was not a threat.
Rather, that she was to be protected.
Holding Dusk close to his chest, he took a terrifying step toward Huvuon while saying something to him in the old language. He lifted Dusk, then even dared to gesture to me—all without taking his eyes from the enormous wyvern.
Huvuon’s bright gaze narrowed on me. A low sound rumbled from him.
Trembling, I kept my head high.
“Myoshlyn,” Voran said.
The wyvern’s head tilted again. More smoke plumed from his slit snout as he looked back at Voran and huffed. His wings flared, swirling embers as he dragged his clawed feet through the snow—moving much too close.
Close enough to blot out the night until all I could see were edges of black scales and gold eyes. Close enough to snatch my husband and the hatchling in his arms with his maw before they could so much as make a sound.
But Voran didn’t retreat. He stayed utterly still as the beast appeared to scent the air around him.
Fear stampeded through my chest, forcing my feet to move.
One step, and Huvuon looked at me.
I stopped. His gaze returned to Voran, then came back to me with a sway of his head.
Quietly, Voran ordered, “Come here, Ayla.”
Relieved and petrified, I went. I tried to keep my breathing even as Voran had said. But standing beside him, I found it impossible.
Each breath the wyvern took was a gurgled grumble.
“Keep still. He seems to want to scent it,” Voran explained. “Our bond.”
My heart pounded like a violent drumbeat as the beast’s giant snout moved to me. With huffs that pulled my hair toward him, he treated me to the same assessment he’d given Voran—scenting all around me. A smoky exhale pushed my hair over my shoulders and tickled my skin.
Unable to trap it, a laugh escaped my tight lips.
Huvuon reared back in unmistakable alarm. A growl grew as it climbed his long throat.
Voran hurriedly spoke to him in that ancient language. The slight smile on his face told me that he was explaining why I’d laughed—that the beast had tickled me.
Huvuon didn’t appear to care and gave a disgruntled huff.
Dusk screeched.
Voran hushed her before speaking to Huvuon again. Whatever he said last had the wyvern looking at the flames behind us, then at the hatchling. Voran placed his hand on Dusk’s head. “Ogash.”
The wyvern’s mouth crept open. His snout trembled with the beginnings of a ferocious snarl.
“Ogash,” Voran repeated. Firmer.
Again, Huvuon huffed, eyes narrowing to slits on Dusk. One seemed to twitch, the scales above it flaring, and I wondered if he was annoyed—frustrated by Voran’s reluctance to let him have the hatchling.
Then he lifted his head.
And turned.
Voran ushered me back just in time to avoid the flicking barbed tail. It sprayed us with snow before dragging downhill behind the grumpy beast.
We didn’t dare move.
We watched Huvuon’s wings spread, then as he darkened the night by flying toward the half-moon.
Only then did I breathe properly and feel the cold beneath my bare foot. Lifting it to my other, I asked quietly, “What did you say to Huvuon?”
Voran continued to stare at the wyvern’s silhouette against the sky. “I told him that he has protected the realm, and he is now free. He’s welcome to return when he wishes, so long as he means no harm.”
“What did you say about Dusk?”
“That she is a babe. Defenseless.”
“Ogash,” I said.
“Mm.” He looked down at me, then swept his eyes behind me to my footprints in the snow. A slate brow arched. “You’re missing a shoe.”
“And you’re missing all of your clothing.” I removed my cloak and wrapped it around his waist, ensuring he was well covered before securing the velvet in a knot. “There.”
Dusk spread her wings, forcing me back. She crawled around Voran’s bare shoulders and screeched up at the stars.
Voran winced.
My laughter ended when his eyes caught mine and narrowed. I averted my gaze to his chest, tempted to touch the burns marring it. “Thank you.”
Low, he said, “Look at me.”
I didn’t get to.
Noise drew our attention uphill, where warriors had gathered in intimidating and seemingly endless rows—arrows nocked, weapons and armor agleam in the dark.
Looking from them to the flames that had incinerated a king and the Scale Crown, Voran sighed. “A steaming pile of shit awaits.”