Page 27 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

Chapter

Fourteen

I did not escape Jenra, despite my best efforts.

The shrine needed to be cleaned, the garlands needed to be woven, the food needed to be prepared, the candles needed to be dipped, Doric needed tending and help salving his wounds, Kirana needed a break to rest, I needed to decide my questions for the Historians, and yet the seamstress still found me.

“Good luck.” Rhylan flashed me a grin from Doric’s bedside, salve in hand, as Jenra harrumphed, the earthy scent of chokeroot surrounding me.

I held back a sigh as I got to my feet, tired as hell and humming with barely-restrained tension.

It would be a lie to say I didn’t want this ceremony, the one I’d dreamed of as a girl since I first laid eyes on Rhylan.

I’d had grand plans involving Varyamar’s white marble shrine, laced with night-blooming jasmine and the black orchids of the southern forests, head to toe in silver and black, my mate a vision of ebony.

It was also a lie to say that I didn’t want to drop everything and head to Koressis right now. The Iron Shards had close ties to Undying Light. Every moment that slipped away was a grain of sand in an hourglass, lost to me forever, and a moment that Yura took to consolidate those House ties.

The Second Convocation would take place in three weeks if we failed to find a way to bring her down, and I had zero doubt that the Gilded Skies, Iron Shards, and Undying Light would be standing together as a Court.

Possibly even the Shadowed Stars, if Chantrelle did what I thought she would do, and threw her weight behind Yura.

With Maristela’s exile, Asura’s rapid downfall, and now Elinor’s broken bond, I had no doubt she would take any opportunity that saw me and Rhylan dead in the end.

I desperately needed to consult with the Historians for any shred of hope that might help us foresee Yura’s actions, not stand here like a pincushion as Jenra pinned thick obsidian brocade around me.

The dense fabric was chased with silver, and at one point she poked me deliberately.

“Stop shifting around,” Jenra ordered. “You’re a princess, not a toddler.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, holding still. Myst rolled around on my bed, playing with a necklace like a cat.

I hadn’t been in my own quarters for a while; since the bond had formed, it had seemed more expedient to simply go to Rhylan’s room, which was exactly where I wanted to be. This room no longer felt lived in.

“It needs more silver,” my Ascendant sang. “Silver for our House.”

“Does it look like I’m done?” Jenra shot her a glare.

Somehow, I thought only Jenra could get away with such an attitude towards an Ascendant.

“So you’ve forgiven me?” I asked Myst hopefully.

She rolled onto her belly, threading the necklace through her claws. “Perhaps. You are my sole descendant, after all, and tomorrow is your day, the day every draga dreams of.”

“Not every draga,” I muttered, thinking of Kirana’s stubborn resistance to Cai.

Myst’s scaled lips twisted in a smile. She tapped her head with a claw. “I’ve seen her dreams. They don’t differ much from yours.”

Somehow that made me inexpressibly sad, that Kirana dreamed of the same things, wrongly thinking they were out of reach.

“Back straight,” Jenra murmured, pins in hand, and that well of sadness became a lump in my throat. She had sounded exactly like my mother for a moment, who was on my mind more often than not now—how she had died claiming innocence, and I fully believed her now.

I straightened up, and Myst slithered through the air, a formless ghost. She molded the necklace in her claws, twisting silver, and began to spread the liquid metal over the dress.

“What?” Jenra squawked, but she saw what Myst was doing, and fell silent.

My Ascendant carved and tapped, smoothing here and there, and when she was done, the silver had been formed around the dress, draconic spikes outlining the bodice.

“Very lovely,” the seamstress said grudgingly. “I’ll add them on last.”

“My descendant cannot stand before the Dyad’s altar in anything less than resplendence.” Myst brushed a scaled palm over my forehead, and retreated to the bed. “This is the bond you wanted, Sera. Times being what they are…you should make the most of it, for there will never be another chance.”

Somehow her words comforted and chilled me at the same time.

Jenra literally sewed me into the dress. I’d thought to escape prior to the ceremony, but I quickly realized that there was no escaping.

“Why do you think I had you bathed before the fitting?” she asked waspishly, working on a seam at my waist, nipping it in so tight there was hardly room to breathe.

As she worked her way down, Nilsa’s hands worked on my hair, creating a thousand braids and weaving them elaborately.

“Does Rhylan have to be sewn into his clothes?” I demanded.

“No.” That was all the explanation I got from her.

The door opened, and Kirana slipped in through the crack.

She was wearing one of her loose, floaty dresses, a deep saffron hue, and it exposed the burgeoning nubs of her wings, her clawed feet and tail.

But her hair had been twisted up into the styles I was used to seeing on her, a half-up bun with her heavy black locks flowing down her back.

Her lips twisted in a smile. “Mykah is home safe. Maristela and Gaelin are here.”

There was an edge to that smile, and I made myself ask. “How did they take it?”

“Better than I expected.” Kirana leaned against the wall, holding herself in a hug. “Maybe because they’ve known me my whole life. Maybe because Cai was glowering at them the whole time. They’re not entirely comfortable with it, but who is?”

Jenra snipped a thread, put black slippers on the floor before me, and stood up with a grunt, one hand on her back. “Perfection.”

“You outdo yourself every time.” Kirana smiled at her, and Jenra didn’t shy away.

There was hope yet.

“More silver,” Myst said adamantly, and dug around in the jewelry box she kept on my dresser. She found a bangle that slid up to my bicep, a dragon’s snarling face set in the wide band, and slid silver claw sheaths over my nails. “Now she is perfect.”

“Is Rhylan ready?” My palms were clammy. We were already mate bonded, there was nothing to be afraid of, and yet…it was the day I’d dreamed of. The confirmation before the Dyad, the total oath.

“He’s been ready, and if we don’t get you down there, he’ll drag you down himself.” Kirana offered an arm, and I took it.

I licked my lips, suddenly feeling dry, and we went down the hall in a quick procession, myself, Kirana, Jenra, Myst. Even Nilsa came.

As we approached the shrine doors, Kirana glanced sidelong at me. “I never told you this, but I’m glad you’re my sister now. I’m not angry for what you chose, Sera. I’m thankful for it.”

I tried to smile, but my lips felt numb with nerves. “What are sisters for? They do what they think is best for you, because they love you.”

“They should, shouldn’t they?” she murmured, her eyes going distant for a moment.

“You’re my sister now. And I do love you.” I squeezed her, and kissed her ebony cheek as Nilsa and Jenra pushed the doors open. A familiar smell hit my nose,and my heart contracted.

The shrine was full. Erebos had shrunk to a fraction of his usual size, but he still loomed over those gathered there: Doric and Cai, in borrowed finery; Maristela and Gaelin, both looking vaguely uncomfortable and yet pleased, Viros, Ariss.

Mykah grinned at me, wearing a dress like Kirana’s in shades of bronze and mulberry.

And Rhylan, all in black and silver, standing before the alcoves of the Dyad. Above us, draped through the carved pillars, were garlands of the night-blooming jasmine of Varyamar.

This time the smile came easier, even though the backs of my eyes burned. You didn’t.

I had to. It’s our day. And even though nothing else went according to plan, I wanted it to be everything you’d hoped for . He smiled wider, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying.

I joined him as the others piled in, Myst flowing through the air above us.

It’s everything. I looked up into his eyes, wondering when I'd gotten so lucky. What had I done to deserve this? You’re everything.

“I come to give my child,” Myst called. “Father, my pride in her is as limitless as your winds. Mother, she cradles your flames in her heart. She is worthy of this dragon.”

I knew then that Myst truly had forgiven me, and smiled up at her. She purred, brushing my forehead with her claws as she passed. She hovered over the altar, breathing iridescent flames onto Naimah’s altar, lighting her candles with white fire.

Erebos straightened, his head arched above us. “I come to give my child,” he intoned. “Father, he holds your wind in his wings. Mother, he breathes your flames in his lungs. He is worthy of this draga.”

He lit Larivor’s candles, black fire gleaming from his lips.

I took Rhylan’s hand, and scooped a handful of ash from a silver bowl laid before the alcoves.

My throat felt thick when I spoke. “From ashes to embers to flames. You’ve kindled an inferno inside me, Rhylan, from the cinders that I was.”

He took his own handful of ash, looking me in the eye. He was more solemn than I’d ever seen him. “From ashes to embers to flames. You’ve raised a tempest inside me, Sera, from the stillness that I was.”

We held out our handfuls, sprinkling the ashes over the candles.

And then I held my breath as I gazed into his eyes.

The flames wavered, flickering wildly…and for a moment, it felt like the shrine was too full, another presence among us. A sensation of air and fire, scales and strength. From the corner of my eye, I saw the crown of horns, a fan of light…

And then it was gone. The white and black fire gave way to brilliant flames, the candles alighting on the other altars.

“Thank you, Naimah,” I said, bowing my head, and Rhylan thanked Larivor for his blessing.

“Father,” Myst whispered, almost unheard.

“One flame, one heart, one mind!” Erebos roared, and everyone joined in.