Page 39 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)
Chapter
Twenty-One
T here was one quite pressing logistical issue in declaring ourselves tonight. Koressis Eyrie, the five-millennia-old seat of the Drakkon and Dragonesse, was now a prison for a mad Ascendant.
Nobody had ever ascended to the throne without claiming Koressis Eyrie for themselves. Now…Isandoral was lost to us. The Royal Historians were dead, their bodies unburnt and unmourned.
It wasn’t only the throne we had lost, but eons of knowledge and treasure built up in the royal archives.
I tapped my fingers on the map table, looking over our forces. Yura’s failure to bring another Great House into her Court was her downfall…and our downfall was her prescience in destroying Isandoral and the Royal Eyrie.
But we could still put down the creature Isandoral had become and recover what was lost. The Historians could be given proper pyres, the eyrie cleansed of Yura’s taint.
If the Ascendants agreed to work in concert with us.
“Myst,” I said softly. There was a long silence in the empty library; I was alone with my thoughts, as Rhylan was discussing plans with his aunt and uncle, and Doric was flying far afield, scouting the edges of his territory.
Treza had opted to remain in the dining room, a book cracked open before him as he ate, while Mykah tailed Hunter, watching him train.
A soft white veil of mist billowed from the ceiling, and my Ascendant gracefully spilled downwards, floating over the map as she coiled through the air.
“I know what’s on your mind, Serafina. You wish to declare yourselves.”
I nodded, touching the golden icon that represented Koressis on the map. “We have the right of might. Talariel, Iliador, and Everael combined could not stop us now.”
“Then you are the new Dragonesse.” She flipped upside down, the tip of her tail lashing at the silver tokens representing me and Rhylan.
“Yes.” I thought about that for a moment. It didn’t feel real. None of it would feel real until I touched the throne my father had occupied. “I am the new Dragonesse. And there’s one thing left to do.”
Myst’s tail nudged, pushing the tokens towards Koressis. “You wish me to destroy my brother.”
My lips flattened. “You would be putting him out of his misery. It would be mercy.”
“That is so.” She twisted, her entire body rotating as though the air was as thick as water, and she was merely swimming in it. “Your mate’s family has changed the course of the tides. I no longer require Isandoral to suffer for my plans.”
“Will you ever tell me what they were?”
“One day. It is something I had not necessarily wished to pass, though I was prepared to make contingencies.” Her opalescent blue eyes landed on me. “I will call my brothers and sisters. We will go to Koressis together, and lay Isandoral and his Historians to rest.”
I nodded, relieved that she had agreed so readily. It didn’t sit well with me, allowing him to suffer and the Historians to remain without prayers.
Rhylan .
Through his eyes, I saw the Horde map spread across the dining table. Roark was pointing to the eastern coast, and Ivoire was shaking her head.
Yes, love? he purred through the mind-speech, the slightest fuzziness touching his mental voice. They’re dying to attack Iliador in force right now.
That’s not going to happen. Myst has agreed to call the Ascendants. We’re going to destroy Isandoral and take the throne once the eyrie is secure.
I felt him nod, his head tipping ever so slightly. There was a headache pulsing at his temples, a slight chill on his skin; I mentally resolved to send Kirana to him with a potion to stave off the clearly imminent summer cold. How many do we need?
I don’t want to leave Jhazra undefended. Make it ten. The Ascendants will handle Isandoral himself.
Rhylan relayed my orders to the Horde leaders, and I looked at Myst. “Where is Mykah?”
“Probably off… stealing ,” she sniffed. I raised a brow. “Fine. She’s lurking outside the training rooms, watching that brawny lad of theirs do his drills.”
I stifled a sigh. “Will you call her, please? I need her to send the message to Doric.”
Myst slipped out of reality sideways, and returned a minute later. “She’s on her way.”
Mykah arrived out of breath from taking the stairs two and three at a time. “Heard you got a delivery for me?”
I smiled at her. She was wearing fresh, tailored leathers, perfect for her tiny frame, and her thick brunette-and-mulberry curls had been pulled into a knot atop her head.
“Please bring Doric in from the scouting run. He’s on the southeast border between us and Orisien. We’re moving on Koressis tonight.”
Her eyes brightened. “May I…?”
“Of course. You’re ours now, it’s only right that you attend the crowning.” She ran out with a whoop, heading straight for the wyvern stables. “Gods, the sooner I can enroll her in the Training Grounds, the better. She has too much potential to be wasted on delivering messages.”
I strode from the library, feeling Rhylan’s movements through the eyrie. He was talking to Viros, having weaponry and provisions delivered to the staging rooms, determinedly ignoring the ache settling into his bones.
We can’t leave Koressis once we take it , he slipped into my head. Not until the rival Houses bend the knee. Our position will be precarious until then.
He was right. And there was no telling if there were any provisions left in Koressis after Isandoral’s rampage.
I went to my original bedroom instead, pulling open the wardrobe door.
“Oh, you’re finally wearing the shiny things,” Myst said, poking at the jewels scattered across the dresser top.
“Not…entirely.”
My mother had taught me once that there were expectations to be upheld, and the wrong expectation could be the difference between victory and defeat.
I could stride into Koressis and take the throne in my plain, worn leathers. But my allies didn’t expect to see Sera from the Training Grounds sitting there. They expected to see Dragonesse Serafina.
But Jenra had prepared for this day. The leathers I selected were thin, designed to cling close to the skin while still providing protection.
Silver scales of armor covered the shoulders and legs.
A tabard of gleaming obsidian silk, heavily embroidered with silver thread, was meant to go over it.
I dressed and carefully braided my hair, meeting my own eyes in the mirror.
Silver eyes, like my mother before me, but I was not her. The throne was not mine because I wanted to rule, or wanted the trappings of power. I wanted to protect all of Akalla, even those who had stood against me.
Myst stroked my cheek. “I am so very proud of you, child.”
“I only hope you stay that way.” I smiled at her. “I want to be a Dragonesse who spends her life protecting Akalla, not driving it apart.”
“And you’ll do so admirably, if I have anything to say about it.” She preened, and nudged me to get up, herding me to the door.
Rhylan was in his chambers, filling bags with his spare clothes, and extra folded sets of leathers for me. He saw me, turning to take it in.
“Dragonesse Serafina, do come in.” He threw a shirt aside, and I stepped into his arms. His skin was hot, almost too hot, despite the chill he felt.
Tonight, it’s almost over , I thought, taking deep breaths and trying to think ahead of the immediate task of crowning ourselves. As soon as they kneel, we can put all of our resources into rooting out Talariel’s corruption at the source.
We’ll keep the focus on Yura and Aerona , he said. End this before she can do…anything else.
I considered everything Yura had done. She’d raised Kalros and his dragons from the dead. She’d…done something to Isandoral, the gods only knew what, and corrupted a true dragon.
And we still had no idea how. A creeping sensation slid down my spine. We were hours from declaring ourselves the rightful rulers of Akalla, and yet it didn’t feel over.
It still didn’t feel real.
That creeping sensation grew stronger, making me shiver. I hugged Rhylan tighter. We’re going to need all the Houses combined to do this. Whatever it is, if even Ascendants are vulnerable…it’s going to be incredibly dangerous.
He said nothing, his arms tightening around me.
Rhylan?
Nothing. Nothing but his grip, now squeezing tight enough to crush the breath from my lungs.
RHYLAN—
He was gone. The mind-speech bounced off a glass wall, and once again I felt the great, empty void of a missing bond.
That creeping feeling in my spine wasn’t mine, it had been his—and darkness bloomed in front of my eyes as he squeezed tighter, tighter…
His back was…shifting under my palms. Contorting. And icy coldness touched my skin even as I jerked my hands away, trying to wriggle from his grasp.
Rhylan , I begged, looking up at him, and my heart clenched.
His eyes were utterly empty, the pupils blown wide to eat all the blue.
The dark splotches in front of my eyes grew bigger, my ribs aching from the pressure, and a high-pitched shriek in my ear dragged me from the darkness I was sinking into.
“ Primoris! ” Myst hissed, and the terrible embrace I was locked in was torn apart. I went flying, hitting the wall hard enough to empty the last of the breath from my lungs.
I must’ve blacked out for a moment. Not long, but as I blinked away darkness, my lungs aching, I saw Rhylan across the room, sprawled on the floor facedown, and Myst between us.
She’d grown in size, lips drawn back from her muzzle in a snarl, whiskers floating in an unfelt breeze.
“He reeks of the Outsider, Serafina.” Her voice had grown deeper, rough with rage and fear.
I climbed to my feet, aching all over, the back of my head ringing like a bell with every step. The room tilted as I moved, and I gripped a bedpost, holding myself upright.
“Don’t touch him,” I gasped. “Let me…let me look.”
When I had control over my body, I carefully moved to his side. I nudged his outstretched hand with one foot, and his fingers twitched, but he didn’t move.