Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Valenna
The dove-gray light of a cloudy morning peered through the curtains and found Evander and Valenna still asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. Valenna awoke first and lay comfortably pressed into his side, one of her smooth legs draped over his, and her head nestled on his shoulder.
She watched him sleep, breathing in the gorgeous mundanity of waking up beside her husband in a quiet inn, their clothes scattered across the floor, all thoughts of magical potions and distant wars forgotten.
Evander stirred, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.
“Good morning, husband,” she whispered.
“Good morning, Mistress Trevelyan. Or do you want to keep Castanaia?”
“As it’s a fake name anyway, I’m not attached to it,” she said, nestling her head under his chin. “I like Mistress Trevelyan.”
“What should we do today?” he asked.
“Well.” She ran her finger along his jaw. “I was thinking perhaps we could begin the day by working out how to keep you alive for a few more years.”
“Or we could stay right here and enjoy a more interesting activity.”
She rolled on top of him. “We could do both,” she said, and kissed him.
The sun was bright in the room when they decided it was time to get up.
Evander pulled on his trousers and went downstairs to get breakfast from the barman, and Valenna rose to dress. As the purple dress formed to her body, her peaceful sense of well-being soured.
What if they couldn’t find the wyvern bone powder? What if no one would sell it to them?
What had been desperation before turned to madness. Yesterday, she had loved Evander. Today, she was bound to him, body and soul. She had no idea how wild that kind of love could be, how reckless.
“I will get that wyvern bone powder,” she said to herself, “if I have to burn this whole wretched place to the ground.”
A light knock startled her, and Valenna crossed the room and opened the door. Sybil stood in the shadowy corridor, her arms laden with canvas bags.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’ve brought some clothes for you.”
Valenna stepped aside, and the woman passed her into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you on your wedding morning. I waited downstairs until I saw your husband come for breakfast. Did he like the shirt?” she asked, handing Valenna the bags.
Peering inside, Valenna was met with a strong aroma of lavender. “Yes. It suits him well.”
“Don’t let him take it off. Trust me. It saw my husband through two terrible wars. Now, I’ve kept these dresses for years. They belonged to your mother.”
Valenna dropped the bag, the contents spilling onto the floor.
Sybil gasped, then knelt stiffly and gathered the clothes, glaring at Valenna like she’d dropped a baby. “I’ve guarded these dresses for twenty years. Watched over them, cleaned them, scented them. Handle them with care.”
“I’m sorry,” Valenna said, mortified. “I just … where on earth did you get them?”
Sybil struggled to gain her feet, so Valenna grasped her elbow and helped her to the chair. Once she was seated, Sybil smoothed her apron and said, “I was your mother’s seamstress and her lady of fashion.”
So many questions swarmed Valenna’s mind, she couldn’t snatch one and hold it down.
“I served as her companion as well,” Sybil continued. “I spent every day with your mother. I knew her every thought and wish. When you were born, I held you in my arms even before your father did.”
“Tell me about her?” Valenna asked. Sorrow overshadowed her excitement. She could not think of her mother without grief.
Sybil smiled. “She was a radiant woman. Beautiful, like yourself, and she brought spring to our wasteland home so we could live and tend the dragons. She would kneel under the dragon willow, and the sunbird would sing over her as her tears spread springtime.”
“And what happened to her?” Valenna wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but the question tumbled out of her nonetheless.
“Your mother was a kind woman, and gentle, and not very political.
When she found out that the dragons she was selling to Ashkendor were being used to make weapons, she demanded Marwenna meet her in Allagesh—a neutral kingdom—and told her that she would be cutting off the dragon trade with Ashkendor.
Marwenna was furious. Tahlia never returned from their meeting, and neither did her guards.
Marwenna sent their bloodied clothes to your father as a declaration of war.
The next day, the first dreadnoughts dropped scattershot on Talwaith, and we were forced to flee soon after.
“That was the last spring to bloom over our homeland.” She smiled and grasped Valenna’s hands. “But now you are here, and you can restore Talwaith and, perhaps, the sunbird will return.”
Feeling small and wretched, Valenna pulled her hands away. “I fear I am more a blight than a remedy.”
Sybil creased her brow, heartbreaking compassion in her watery gray eyes.
“Oh, child, broken magic is not inherited or inherent. It is steeped, like tea. If it is dark, then it is because of the darkness inside you. Find out what is causing that darkness and let it go. Then your pure magic will emerge.”
“But how?” Valenna asked, her voice hoarse.
“When does your magic rise?”
Valenna looked away, but Sybil squinted at her, like she was trying to read a sign that was very far away. “Ah, anger.”
Valenna blushed. She didn’t like being read like a book.
“Anger will eat away at you, and, like a rot, it will eat away at the people you love as well.”
“It’s my father’s fault,” Valenna said bitterly. “He made me a monster, and I want him to pay for it.”
Sybil paused, studying Valenna. “I was wrong,” she said. “I do see Cadmus in you. He flares up, behind your eyes.”
Valenna balked at this, but before she could reply, the door opened and Evander entered with a tray in his hands.
“Hello,” he said, drawing his eyebrows together.
Sybil’s wrinkled face fell. “You are Evandaine! One of Tiernan’s children. Yes, I recall you as a boy at Battlethwait, with Freya, on the Wildelands.”
“I don’t remember you,” Evander replied.
“Oh, this is very unwise,” Sybil said. “You two cannot be together. It is madness.”
Evander let out a short laugh. “It’s a little late to worry about that.”
Sybil shook her head. “You’ve heard the old lament, I assume?”
She launched into song without warning, her eyelids drooping.
“You sing the boughs to blossoms
On a field of barren blight.
I will not soar without you
Through the perils of the flight.
Your blood adorns the willow.
And your breath is nearly spent;
So hear me in the wailing
Of the sunbird’s last lament.”
The hair on Valenna’s arms stood on end, and an inexplicable coldness settled over her.
“It is said to be about your father, but I don’t know,” Sybil said, addressing Evander. “He died under a dragon willow.”
“And a lovely morning to you, too,” Evander muttered.
Sybil looked grim. “Wear that shirt I brought for you. Sometimes, a song is just a song, but sometimes, it is a prophecy.”
With that, she hobbled out the door, leaving the newlyweds alone.
“That was morbid,” Evander said.
Valenna tried to shrug, but her shoulders were too tight to make it convincing. “She’s very old. She knew my mother, it seems.”
Evander raised his eyebrows.
“She thinks I’m the Botania.”
“Ah,” Evander said, setting the tray on the bed and taking a bite of toast. “You’d think we would get better treatment if you are.”
“How is your head this morning?” Valenna asked, lounging beside him and plucking a grape from the tray of food.
“Oh, fine,” Evander replied, but he hesitated just enough to make Valenna uneasy.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“No more than usual.”
“How long is the longest you’ve gone without your potion?”
He chewed thoughtfully, then said, “Two weeks.”
“And what happened?”
“Nothing, really.”
She glared at him, and he sighed.
“You were there,” he said. “I fell from my dragon.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “We could stay in bed all day. For my health.”
Smiling, Valenna slipped out of his arms. “Come on, we need to find the spice and oil consortium as soon as possible.”
He sighed. “A tragedy.”
“You’ll need a shirt.”
He threw his head back and groaned. “The tragedies abound.”
He got up and pulled the green shirt over his head, mussing his hair. Valenna watched him, admiring the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed. He caught her staring.
“What?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.
“You’re nice to look at,” she said.
“Oh?”
She bit her lip. “You are … absolutely maddening to look at.”
“You sure you want to go to the spice consortium right now?” he asked. “We could put it off an hour.”
“Ha!” She stood and started resolutely toward the door, grabbing his arm as she passed him and tugging him after her. He smiled.
She’d never seen him smile so much, and it warmed her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head.
Glancing in the mirror as she walked past, Valenna admired her glowing complexion and pink flush. She was the prettiest she’d ever been in her life.
Evander, breathtaking on a good day, looked stronger, his eyes brighter. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. He stopped before they stepped through the door, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“You are radiant this morning,” he said.
“I love you. I’m happy.”
A flicker of sadness crossed his face, there and gone so quickly, she thought she’d imagined it. Then he took her hand and they strode out the door.