Chapter 47
GRAESON
As Graeson lay on the small bed, he heard the patter of light footsteps across the creaking floorboards outside. The hinges of an old door screeched open and clicked shut. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, and white splotches filled his vision.
"Want to talk about it?" Moris asked from the second bed.
"Talk about what?" Graeson asked, digging his fingers into his hair.
"Her, you. Whatever," Moris said, casually flicking his hand in the air. As if any of those things were casual.
Graeson turned to his side. "No. Go to sleep."
"I was just offering."
"Well, don’t."
"I didn’t think it was possible for you to get even broodier. I would have thought after saving her, you would have been more tolerable. I guess I was wrong."
Graeson groaned. He had forgotten how nosy Moris was. "I just said I didn’t want to talk about it."
"And you don’t have to. I was just thinking out loud."
"Maybe don’t," Graeson grumbled. He was rethinking these sleeping arrangements. He would have preferred sleeping in the stables with the horses and Nyrri. At least they wouldn’t pry into his business.
"Fine." Moris’ bed creaked from his weight as he shifted. Releasing a heavy sigh, he broke the brief silence. "You’re lucky your wings disappear."
"You’re lucky your bones don’t break every time you shift in order to gain them," Graeson retorted.
Moris snorted a laugh. "I suppose that’s true."
The quiet returned, and Graeson sank into it. Before he could get comfortable, though, Moris spoke again.
"Have you tried transforming again?"
"It’s none of your business." Graeson pressed the sides of his pillow against his ears, hoping to drown out the conversation.
It didn’t work.
"So you haven’t then."
"No," Graeson admitted, letting the pillow flatten.
He peered into the darkness that spilled over the room.
Graeson had cracked the window before getting into bed, and the slight breeze was a welcome reprieve.
It brushed over his skin and cooled his rising temperature.
Graeson had always run cold. But ever since he transformed, his skin was hotter than normal, and his temperature was harder to regulate.
"Will you?" Moris asked.
"Will I what?"
"Try to shift?"
Flashes of the fire raking through the forest sent a chill down Graeson’s spine.
He had always known he was dangerous. Many people in Pontia already feared him because of what he could do before.
What would the people think of him when they learned he could become a dragon?
If he transformed again, there would be no hiding it.
Word would spread. But could he prevent the transformation?
Did he want to if it would help them defeat Sebastian and his army?
"I’m not sure I have a say in the matter. The first time was involuntary," he confessed after a moment. "I’m sure it’s bound to happen again, whether or not I want it to."
"Dani is going to freak out when she finds out."
"She’ll freak out when she discovers you’re still alive," Graeson retorted. "Both she and Sylvia were a wreck after they found out you sacrificed yourself."
Moris sighed. "There was no other choice. You and Terin needed to go after Domitius and Dani. I did what had to be done."
"I would have done the same thing if it was me," Graeson admitted. "Still, I’m sorry it was you. And I’m even more sorry for everything you have been through since then."
"It’s…"
"Not okay," Graeson said when Moris struggled to finish.
"It’s not, but the blame doesn’t rest on your shoulders, Gray."
"I was the one who brought you here."
"And I agreed to come. The blame is on Domitius and Sebastian. You’ve gotten rid of one. We just have to get rid of the other."
"You say that as if you are laying claim to Sebastian’s head," Graeson mused.
"I suppose I am. It’s the least I can do after what went down the other day," Moris said, his voice filled with guilt.
Graeson snorted. "Good luck with that. Even if Dani’s pregnant, I would wager that she’ll still find a way to cut off that bastard’s head."
The other bed creaked. "Dani’s pregnant?"
Graeson rolled over onto his back. "Yes."
"Fuck," Moris breathed out. "That’s why she was sick, wasn’t it?"
"Yes. She tried to hide it. She didn’t want the rest of us to treat her differently or to count her out because of the pregnancy. Terin’s been acting like a mother hen ever since, though."
"Oh, boy," Moris muttered. "It’s got to be worse now that she’s home. Her parents probably aren’t letting her out of their sight."
Graeson chuckled. Dani’s mother was probably over the moon that Dani was pregnant.
Sorinia loved all her grandchildren. He could already imagine the fight that would break out between the pair when Terin and the others returned and Dani demanded to fight.
The entire kingdom would fight for Dani to stay behind.
She wasn’t just carrying a child; she was carrying Fynn’s child, the future of Pontia.
But if Graeson knew Dani, she would find a way to be on that battlefield.
The next morning, Graeson awoke before the others.
He made his way down the creaking steps and wandered outside the farmhouse.
The crisp morning air bit his fingertips, and he welcomed the cool air on his scorching skin.
He headed toward the stable and found Nyrri sleeping on the ground, her body half outside the stall.
He leaned against the opening. As the wood groaned from his weight, Nyrri peered at him through heavy eyes. She huffed, and a puff of air billowed from her nose in the cold. She hated confined spaces as much as he did.
"Soon, girl," he promised.
Nyrri whined and plopped her head back down.
Graeson pushed off the post and made his way toward the fields, needing to stretch his legs. His body was less sore than the day before, and his muscles begged to be moved.
The cornfields were nothing but tall dried husks, and he wandered through them. The dried vegetation rustled as the wind swept across the field, and leaves brushed against his cloak, catching on the wool fibers.
He walked for a while, his thoughts a dull buzz. When the house was no more than a blip behind him, he stopped and stared at the sky. The sun was rising, the night sky melting away and turning into a brilliant combination of purple and orange hues.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled, the cold air a relief in his lungs.
When he exhaled, a puff of smoke slipped from his mouth.
His fingers buzzed, and his back twitched.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the sensation spreading across his skin.
He could almost feel where the wings would sprout, the exact places where the bones would break and his body would contort into a new shape.
You must become the reckoning the kingdoms need.
With a shudder, Graeson opened his eyes.
The sky was expansive and endless. A part of him yearned to see how far it would go. How long would it take him to reach the end? Until he reached the stars? Once he reached them, could his fire burn a pathway to the world of the gods?
He wondered if there were others like him. Although Barinthian hadn’t mentioned others, Graeson was not so egotistical as to believe that he was unique enough to be the only demi-god alive. Were the others in hiding? Or was the beast that lived within them waiting for the moment to come out?
As Graeson stood there, thoughts of his mother came flooding in, and he finally released the emotions he had been harboring.