Page 21 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

Chapter

Eleven

R hylan. Speak to me .

Nothing. It was like a wall of glass had been erected in my mind, completely cutting me off from my mate. And, most infuriatingly, my own thoughts, the sole senses of my singular body, suddenly seemed to echo in a wide-open space.

I still fit comfortably in my own skull…but I was missing, quite literally, another half.

Instead of flying, we took the woven staircase formed in the middle of the vast tree down to our quarters. I was right on Rhylan’s heels and determined to shatter that wall to pieces.

Rhylan! Don’t take it out on me. I didn’t know either.

But the mind-speech rammed into that wall, dying on impact. I didn’t think he could hear me at all.

It was possible to block a mate from your mind, at least in the short-term. It took a lot of mental energy to keep out your other half. But, as Elinor had proved only too recently, it was entirely possible to cut off parts of yourself from the bond.

And that was the last thing I wanted from Rhylan, now that the bond I’d craved for years was finally in place.

RHYLAN .

I stopped, and he kept going, apparently lost in his own thoughts. As he continued downwards out of sight, I sagged against the gnarled wall for a moment, exhaling and closing my eyes.

I couldn’t be angry with him. I wanted to be furious, to vent my rage—everything that had happened between our families had hurt me, too.

He wasn’t the only one who still cradled a pearl of grief in the core of his being, coating it with layers of memory and determination until the jagged edges no longer tore at the soul.

I had also seen my mother die. I had held her as she coughed up blood, forced thin salty broth down her throat, stood watch until I was delirious with exhaustion, and dug her grave with nothing but my own hands. Grief and I were old friends.

But I had also been raised to always claw for the next thing with all my might. Even when I’d lost everything, there had been something to strive for, according to my mother. Instead of allowing the pain to cut me, I’d used it as an edge, clinging to life by whatever means necessary.

Rhylan had not been raised the same way. He’d had a close, loving family, in which loss and despair were distant concepts. Not that my mother hadn’t loved me, but neither would she allow me the illusion that everything would always be fine.

And that lesson had hit him hard, all at once, back to back. As soon as one blow was delivered, he hadn’t been allowed to stand up again before the next one rained down.

And now, to be told that he was wrong, that the cold comfort of justice hadn’t even been delivered to the right person…of course he’d been struck down all over again.

I took another steadying breath. Now that we were bonded, it was impossible to be the old Sera, the one who would lash out for any perceived slight. If I was his mate, I had to be his pillar.

I would stay out of his mind, then. Perhaps that would allow him time to smooth those sharp edges again, to come to terms with pain once more.

Determined to be a quiet, soothing presence, unjudgmental, unaccusing, I glided silently down the stairs and found the door to our quarters cracked open.

I half expected him to be gone, already in dragon form miles away, flying to clear his mind. But Rhylan sat on the bed, his head buried in his hands.

I paused in the doorway, and forced myself to walk in casually, collecting the things I’d managed to scatter across the room in the last day—my hairbrush, the shirt of Rhylan’s I’d slept in, a bracelet discarded on the nightstand.

I quietly packed everything in my bag, anticipating that we’d be leaving soon.

There was no time to waste—not in getting Cai to Kirana, nor in finding the Historians and questioning them.

As I reached for a pair of boots, a hand reached out and clasped my wrist tightly.

Rhylan looked up at me with feverishly bright eyes as I froze in place.

Don’t you see what this means? he asked quietly. It means it was all for nothing. My testimony had you both sent to Mistward for nothing. Your mother died there for nothing. You suffered for nothing. I annihilated your House name, and your life, and your family, for NOTHING.

My mind went completely blank. I had no idea what to say to soothe the fury that boiled through the bond now that the walls were back down.

I caused all of this , Rhylan said wonderingly, his hand tightening around my wrist. When you starved, it was my hand that starved you.

When you had to think about selling yourself to a dragon just to survive, I was the one who forced you to consider that choice.

You lived in a cave and never washed and had to bury your mother alone, because I put you there for no reason at all.

Rhylan. It was a struggle to keep my mental voice even, to prevent my own turmoil from seeping through the bond.

How could you have known? The only reason I believe Tyria is because I knew my mother well—in your memories, I can read her face, and see that she was in terror.

You didn’t know her like I did. There’s only one person to blame—

Me , he said bitterly. I’m to blame, Sera.

How could you want me for your mate, when I so thoroughly destroyed your life?

Maybe you should’ve pushed me from the damn eyrie, because the gods know I deserved it.

You must’ve had the patience of Larivor not to plant a knife in my heart the moment you laid eyes on me. Your hatred was entirely justified.

Stop it . I tugged my arm from his grasp, and when he started to sink back into his hands, I grabbed his face and forced him to look up at me. Stop, I said .

I sat on his lap, wedging my shoulder under his chin and cupping his cheek with my hand so he couldn’t look away.

There is one person to blame, and it isn’t you.

My father could have had it all investigated by Tyria, or another trustworthy advisor.

Instead, he chose to jump straight into a Judgment, took the testimony of a grief-stricken teenage dragon as unwavering truth, and ignored all evidence to the contrary.

I have a theory for why he did this, but I can honestly say—I no longer blame you, Rhylan.

I could never hate you. It wasn’t your fault, it was my father’s.

You can’t mean that, he said, and his mental voice was weary.

I damn well mean what I say. Nasir deliberately chose that path. You were…merely a convenient instrument for him to achieve his plan. Stop blaming yourself, because I no longer blame you. I trust you wholeheartedly, and I love you like fire.

He sighed, resting his chin on my shoulder, and closed his eyes. “He used me to get you out of Akalla. Is that it?”

“I believe so,” I whispered. “Perhaps me and my mother both. He didn’t love her like a mate, but I do believe he harbored a genuine affection for her.

So when your mother was murdered, he saw the writing on the wall, that nobody close to him was safe.

But he’d been bond-broken. He managed his plans like the insane dragon he was, out of his mind and possessed of complete power, and left us to pick up his mess. ”

“It all makes sense. I told you before…that when he was my Preceptor, he told me he spoke of honor, and bending the Law for the sake of upholding it. It was during one of his moments when he seemed a little more lucid, a little more… there .” Rhylan’s lips twisted.

“And now that I think about it, to be taught directly by a mad dragon doesn’t seem like that much of a recommendation for becoming the next Drakkon. ”

Relief washed through me at the hint of his usual humor. He was coming back.

“Maybe he saw something of himself in you,” I teased lightly. “I do wonder if I’m seeing things that aren’t there. If I’m just so desperate to still feel my father’s love that I’m pretending all the pieces fit.”

Rhylan shook his head. “If you had been there in the end…Sera, I think he would’ve given his last breath to Ustrael just to know you were safe.”

I twitched at the name, and Rhylan wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly.

“He was adamant,” he said softly, speaking into my ear.

“‘Sera is alive, but she must remain on Mistward. Never let her step foot on Akalla again’. But he wasn’t angry, Sera.

He was full of terror and desperation. And he had threatened to cut off my wings if I went for you.

If he’d wanted you dead, he would’ve ordered your death.

Sera, all he wanted was for you to be as far from all of this as possible. ”

“It wasn’t his choice to make,” I said, blinking hard. “If he suspected Aerona, or Yura, why not say something? He trusted your mother and Tyria. Even my mother—”

“He lost his mate to Vhaiothez. I know he lived a long, long time, and few dragons alive remember it, but that was a terrible war. All the dragonbloods who faced the Primoris came back damaged. Living for over a century with a bond-broken mind, I don’t think he could handle the thought of anything related to the Outsider.

Maybe on some level he knew what they were, but fear put him in denial. ”

“Living in constant terror, his worst nightmare all around him,” I murmured. “Gods. If it’s true, that’s terrible.”

I suppose we can only guess, but maybe…Isandoral would know. If the Historians would be willing to ask him.

Hope reared its ugly head. Isandoral, as the Ascendant of Koressis, the direct advisor to the Drakkons and Dragonesses of Akalla, would surely know something of my father’s thoughts…and what might have been wrong with him.

Then I sighed. Hopefully, but…if they’re only willing to answer a few questions, we have to focus on the Outsider, and Yura. Questions about what my father might’ve been thinking will have to wait.

I wouldn’t grudge you a single question about him.