CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Verena
MUCH LIKE CALLUM’S COLD SHOULDER, Ronan had barely been able to look at me.
Not since the poisoning he saw crawling across my hands.
It was easy enough to lie. To claim that it was nothing but a normal, cruel trick of the curse. But the lies broke apart too brightly.
He knew what it meant and still, he had said nothing.
I had spent the last few days wondering why it stung so sharply. That he hadn't looked at me. That he’d barely spoken more than a handful of words. Even the smoke drifting from his fists seemed colder. I wished he had said something. Anything.
That I was a disgrace. That I was dangerous. That he hated the sight of me.
Anything would have been easier than the silence. Because I had no idea what was going on in his head.
Was he thinking of a way to help? Or did he not waste another thought on it? Or worse... every time his smoke edged too close when he wasn’t looking, was it because it was trying for something he hadn’t yet?
Crossing through Ryuu’s border without triggering its ruler was far too easy. Then again, when you walked in beside its prince, who knew every unguarded rip in its wards, it made sense.
I didn’t let myself dwell on the why. Why he knew of them. Why he had never sealed them. Those thoughts all dissolved the moment we passed through.
One second, I was leaving tracks printed in dirt, beneath a sky so violently blue it put the sea to shame. The next, every sign of soil vanished, replaced by slate and stone.
A mountain rose, cut from obsidian and time, its peak clawing at a sullen sky whose sun was swallowed by thick clouds.
The air thinned the second it hit my lungs, strange and laced with the taste of old fire. Made for creatures bred to live above the world. Not simple Fae.
I kept Elva close behind me, though we had gotten to the point where I was more a burden for her than safety. But in the land of the dragons, one could never be too careful.
Elysian’s greedy inhale cracked through the dull before he shifted, feathers blooming, body breaking into his owl form. He soared high, darting straight for the peak as if the thin air was too intoxicating to resist.
Ronan didn’t stumble, but I saw it. That tic in his jaw, the tug deep in his gut as we crossed over that invisible line. This was his prison, as much as his home. The same way the curse was mine, the Viper my cage.
The reins went tight in my grip, refusing to budge no matter how hard I tugged. Zyran’s hooves dug into the ground, immovable as the stone.
Wells sucked in a breath from where he was perched stiffly atop the stallion’s back, his voice quivering. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t he moving?”
He had done well enough on foot this far. Every time he refused his turn on horseback, I thought he simply enjoyed walking, until I noticed the way his knees threatened to fold with every step. It hadn’t taken much prodding before he confessed the truth of being deathly afraid of horses.
Ronan hadn’t wasted time arguing. He’d scooped Wells up like a child, tossing him onto Zyran’s broad back. Wells had gone rigid, frozen with fear, but stillness was better than bolting. At least he hadn’t tried to throw himself off.
And so, I led Zyran, while Wells sat pale and trembling ten feet up on the most imposing horse I’ve ever seen. I’d grown annoyingly fond of the noble beast. His strength, his temperament, the way his dark eyes met mine like they already knew me.
I’d already thought of a hundred reasons why Ronan should let me keep him after all this was over. If there was an after. If I survived long enough to claim him.
Even with gentle coaxing, and medium aggressive prodding, Zyran still wouldn’t budge, his hooves anchored to the stone.
“He’s broken,” Wells blurted.
I nearly bit my tongue to keep from laughing. “He’s not broken,” I promised, rubbing my face against the silk of his nose. “Just stubborn.”
A low rumble slid from Ronan’s throat as he slid down from Niveus. “It’s the mountain. The horses won’t enter it.”
I frowned as Killian reached for his feathered dagger at the same moment Kanoa unsheathed two of his own. The only other way was exposing us in the open, so now what?
Nezra slipped from her saddle, her raven circling down to her shoulder. It hummed something, a warbled tune. And I caught Elva harmonizing to it in a soft murmur.
Inessa and Kanoa swept their eyes across the cave's mouth, searching for any reason we shouldn’t enter, while I drifted too close to the cliff's edge.
Fifty feet below, waves hurled themselves against the ridge’s side, the whites of them clawing high as if to drag me under. Salt burned the back of my throat as I gulped, stumbling away, unsettled by the thought the sea might want me more than the land.
When I turned back, Wells stood face to face with Zyran, Elva guiding his hand along the stallion’s muzzle. Her touch was loving, patient, and Zyran’s ears twitched with adoration.
“See?” she giggled. “It isn’t hate. But he feels what you feel. Fear breeds fear. And you have nothing to be afraid of.”
Wells swallowed, dragging his palm along Zyran’s neck, over his broad, muscled shoulders.
I smiled, quietly. Not because the fear had vanished—it hadn’t—but because he chose to reach anyway. To push against it. And if that wasn’t the bravest thing of all.
“Do we have to leave them?” he asked, one hand fisted in Zyran’s mane. Like letting go meant more than he cared to admit.
Ronan came forward, Niveus at his side, the mare pinning her ears when Killian stretched a hand toward her. She had never tolerated him, no matter how many times he tried to claim her. Ronan didn’t bother hiding his smirk.
“I’ll send them back to Ryuu.” Ronan’s hand pressed firmly to Wells’ shoulder.
“They know their way.” Wells’ gaze lingered on Zyran, likely hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he’d set eyes on his new friend.
Ronan squeezed, a reassuring gesture as he bent to meet Wells’ face. “You’ll see him again.”
My heart stuttered at the deceitful sincerity in his voice. The kind that made you want to believe even when you knew better. Wells nodded, grateful, while I swallowed the ache of wishing I could trust a vow from Ronan too.
It all shattered when Elysian returned, feathers shifting to flesh. He landed hard, eyes dark and lined with urgency. “The Bale has found us.”
The Bale. No longer just myth or rumor. But real. Here.
Ryuu was nothing but greys: stone, sky, cloud. Perhaps this was why. The aftermath of something that should never have existed.
My gut twisted with a truth I didn’t want to voice. That we were chasing a shadow, a ghost. The dark heir Callum swore was alive, maybe long ago, didn’t exist in this world. And nothing we did was going to erase what had already awoken.
But I couldn’t let myself believe that. Not with Elva depending on the hope. And yet, if they were real, if they had survived Nyctom’s fall when Kairos died, why would they have stayed in ruin? Why not flee? Why not hide so deep the world forgot their name?
Callum drifted nearer to Elva as her eyes roamed for the sickly remnants of the plague. My own pulled me higher, toward the vast swell of stone and mountain, toward the way they drove, endless, into the sky.
Ronan stiffened, only one word falling off his tongue like gravel. “Sahfyre?”
I didn’t know what it meant then. But I felt the severity of it in the way Inessa’s fingers crushed Kanoa’s hand, the way his knuckles blanched without flinching.
Elysian bowed his head. “Safe,” he murmured. “For now.”
The sound that tore from the dragons wasn’t relief so much as release, a harsh exhale that echoed like armor unclasping.
And that was when I understood what Sahfyre was. What it meant. Not a word. Not just a place.
Smoke broke from Ronan, shadow wrapping the horses like cloaks, lifting the saddles and reins, whispering in their ears. “To Sahfyre,” he commanded.
And then they were gone.
Wells lunged forward before he could stop himself, hand outstretched as if he might still catch hold of his unlikely companion. But in a blink, all four had dissolved to mist, galloping in a haunt, racing back to what called them.
The tension eased among the others, but not in me. Because now I knew.
Sahfyre was their sanctuary, their stronghold. Their home.
That was where Ronan’s wraith would finally bleed. And that—that was where I would hit him. Not with steel. Not with fang. But with the one thing not even a dragon prince could shrug off. And when the time came, I would be waiting.
Above us, the raven cut into the sky, a slip of black against the grey. It vanished into the mouth of the cave, wings slicing into the hush. It returned quickly with a sharp click-click-click of its beak.
Nezra’s hand steadied it, fingers brushing the raven’s crown. She listened, the sound of a language only she could decipher, then she nodded once. “Clear.”
Ronan’s stare cut back to the mountain, his stride smooth. “Let’s move.” Heat surged, a wave of fire flaring across the path, forcing him to still mid-step. Turning, his predatory glare locked on Callum. “Problem?”
Callum’s jaw clenched, an evident glow burning beneath his skin. “Seems bold, waltzing into an unfamiliar mountain. What secrets lie in wait for us?”
A sound rumbled from Ronan’s chest, not quite a laugh. He said nothing as he turned back to the fire, exhaling once, the wall of flame collapsing into smoke.
His voice came calm, the kind that sent knives rushing up your skin. “Unless you know another path, one that doesn’t lead to enemy forces, or worse,” my stomach tightened when he didn’t expand on the or worse, “the cave is our only way.”
Callum crept forward. “Perhaps. But even in your territory, prince, no leader drives their warriors blind into the dark. You want to search for the heir in there? Then we send a scout in first.”
Oh gods, here we go.
Killian folded his arms across his chest, amusement sparking in his eyes as Elysian shifted a step closer to Ronan.