Chapter 17 #2
He grimaced and shook his head, grappling for the words to describe it. Azriel waited with carefully tempered patience as the dhemon sorted through his thoughts.
“The bond we believed to complete the mating process,” Ehrun finally said, “is nothing compared to having the connection through Keon. It’s like Rhana never died. She’s here” —he touched his chest with his fingertips, over his heart— “and it’s almost as though I can speak to her again.”
The concept was as bizarre as a sky without the stars. None of it made sense, yet the bond within Azriel swelled at the thought of it—almost as though it desired nothing more than everything Ehrun described.
Azriel’s voice turned hoarse as he asked, “What does Rhana tell you?”
“It’s never words.” Ehrun frowned in concentration. “More like a sensation. A feeling. A…subconscious thought. But she’s there, and I can communicate with her. She keeps my mind from splintering again—it’s full clarity like I’ve never known it before.”
Swallowing hard, Azriel looked at his own hands. It was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Even in the short span of time from when he walked away from Ariadne, he could feel his mind doing just as Ehrun said: it splintered.
“Can you…feel others who’ve died and gone to the Underworld?” The question was so quiet and raspy, he wasn’t certain Ehrun had heard him at first.
But the dhemon sighed and shook his head. “I can’t feel Kall the same way.”
Fuck.
Pain ricocheted through Azriel’s chest again, the familiarity of it nearly choking him. All he wanted was to know his friend was alright. That Kall thrived in the afterlife, waiting for them to one day join.
“But…” Ehrun drew out the word, making Azriel look up at him as his heart jolted into his throat. “What I can feel from Rhana…she’s told me he’s there. He’s alright. He’s watching over you all—he’s keeping Ariadne safe.”
Lungs burning like fire, Azriel sucked in a breath and pressed his fists into his eyes as though the pressure alone would keep the tears at bay. When he pulled them away, his knuckles were damp. So much for that.
“How?” Azriel had the strangest urge to hug Ehrun—to thank the man he hated for so long for giving him such hope. “How can he do that?”
At that, Ehrun shook his head. “She doesn’t use words, only sensations. There’s something we still don’t understand about this ritual—about everything. But somehow Kall is with her, and Bindhe is with Almandine. They’re connected, and I don’t know how to explain it.”
The front doors of the keep opened and from them poured four figures.
Whelan led the way, his consciousness brushing Azriel’s as he reached out to Oria.
Ariadne followed not far behind, her oceanic eyes snapping to Azriel’s face and taking in the tears that smeared his cheeks.
Then Madan trailed behind, Margot at his side as she scolded him for not dressing warmer with another cloak draped over her arm.
“I am fine, Grandmother,” Madan insisted, purposefully ignoring the prick of cold as a gust of wind swept by, brought upon them by Brutis’s wings as the great gray dragon landed on the lawn.
“Fine is not good enough.” Margot shoved the cloak into his hands. “Put it on, or so help me, I will find myself a dragon and hunt you down.”
“She’s spending too much time with Phulan,” Madan grumbled through the vinculum. “Her threats are getting better.”
“Perhaps you should consider listening to her,” Whelan replied before turning to Margot and plucking the cloak from between them. Aloud, he said, “I will personally ensure he wears this.” Then he wrapped the extra layer around Madan’s shoulders.
Margot huffed, but reached up and patted Whelan’s cheek. “You are the grandson I never had.”
Madan’s dramatic gasp even had Azriel cracking a smile. “Take that back.”
“No.” Margot glared at him. “At least Whelan listens to me. I did not survive in this world for five thousand years on ignorance, boy.”
A smirk stretched across Whelan’s face. “Of course not, Grandmother. Your wisdom is more than we could ever hope for.”
Her milky eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You will do well to remember that. Now make sure to come back alive.”
With an aghast face, Madan said, “As opposed to…”
“As opposed to a pile of ashes,” Margot snapped, bringing them all back to reality with seven sharp words. “I do not need to lose any more of you.”
Madan leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We will be safe.”
Before she could scold them any more, Madan hurried to Brutis and dragged himself up one-handed onto the dragon’s back.
Whelan placed a hand on Oria’s neck, communicating with her silently before striding over to where his partner sat and pulling himself up behind Madan.
The green dragon turned her attention, then, to Ehrun.
“May I?” Ehrun asked her. Oria huffed smoke in his direction, but turned her shoulder to him in a silent acquiescence. He pulled himself onto her back with a quiet thanks.
Ariadne’s consciousness slid past Azriel’s as she asked, “Why is Ehrun riding Oria alone?”
It was Whelan who responded. “Do you want to ride on a dragon with him?”
Answer enough, yet still Ariadne pressed on. “Is that not dangerous for Oria?”
The green dragon huffed a laugh before stretching out her wings and shoving off from the ground. “He can’t hear my thoughts. I could just…drop him if he annoys me too much.”
Amusement washed through Azriel from his wife at that. She tucked her hand into his and waved to Madan and Whelan as Brutis pushed off after Oria. The massive silhouettes disappeared into the darkness, leaving Azriel silently praying to Keon that this wasn’t the last time he’d see his brother.
Following the departure of Madan and Whelan, Ariadne wandered up the path to the training grounds above the dhemon keep as Azriel went to check in on the high fae and lycan.
She had yet to meet those in charge of either group’s training, but had heard good things about the newest Sword Master for the dhemons.
Soon she would need to meet the dhemon woman herself and learn from the one Thorin had appointed as the best swordsman in their little valley.
Up top, Ariadne caught sight of the shining white scales of whom she had been searching.
Almandine had grown considerably since she had last seen the young dragon.
Between her time in Laeton, Azriel’s healing, and the dragon’s own training away from Auhla, Ariadne hadn’t even glimpsed her bondheart for nearly a week.
They certainly hadn’t been face-to-face for over a fortnight.
Their near-constant connection, however, had Ariadne approaching the dragonling with confidence.
Where she once would have hesitated in the face of a new dragon, she now hurried forward, excited to finally get the chance to truly know her bondheart.
In return, Almandine all but flounced over to her, the excitement dripping from her every step—as if the feeling wasn’t being transmitted directly into Ariadne’s mind.
They collided, one small and one large, as though they had never seen one another before.
Ariadne lifted her hands to hold the small dragon’s face, and Almandine pushed her long snout into her waiting palms. Dark eyes glittered down at her, the wisdom there far greater than any newly hatched being ever had the right to possess.
“Are you safe?” Ariadne asked, tilting her head to the side to look down at Almandine’s opalescent scales. “Hunting has been going well?”
Almandine rumbled deep in her chest. “Anthoria has taken good care of me.”
Good. Ariadne would be forced to have a strongly worded conversation with the dragon if anything had gone wrong. Though, based on what she knew from Azriel and Madan, she would have felt it had Almandine been injured at any point. Even at a great distance, they were connected at that level.
“Has it only been Oria with you?” Ariadne asked, sliding her hand down the dragon’s long neck before starting off. Where Almandine had been about the size of a horse when she first hatched, she now stood twice as tall. Her muscles rippled beneath the scales as she turned to walk alongside Ariadne.
The dragon shuffled her wings. “Brutis as well. At least a bit.”
That gave Ariadne pause, though her steps only faltered for a moment. She turned her attention to her bondheart. “But not Razer?”
That the great blue dragon had been uncommonly absent was not lost on Ariadne. Tonight was the first time in quite some time since she had even heard the dragon’s voice. It was strange for someone who had helped her feel less alone her first night in Laeton to now put so much distance between them.
“No.” Almandine eyed her. “He keeps saying how he doesn’t have time for me.”
It made no sense. Ariadne tried to reach through her vinculum with Almandine to find Razer, whom she knew to be close at hand. Nothing reached back out to her, as he once had. Of all the dragons, she would have expected him to take the most interest in Almandine.
“You won’t find him.” Sulfuric smoke curled from Almandine’s nostrils. “He hardly speaks to me.”
Hot frustration swept through Ariadne at that. How dare Razer act so cold-shouldered to a new hatchling? Almandine needed his help, and yet he cut himself off from her unless he wished to speak with Ariadne directly. It was, quite frankly, rude.
As if she expected anything different from the King of Sass.
“He has his reasons,” Almandine said, seemingly unbothered.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
At that, Almandine drew up short. “It makes perfect sense.”