Page 52 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

My fingers tightened on the saddle at the sight of the dragon, dead yet still flying, clutching a ripe corpse in his claws.

That’s Tidas .

Those wounds on his back were exactly like Rhylan’s, long since burst open and now empty. He was Yura’s disease-carrier, her plague-bearer, sent into the city to infect one and all.

And now forgotten, to feast on the dead with mindless hunger until he too decayed into nothing.

Had they ever been mated at all…or had Yura planted those seeds in him, controlling him, forcing his hand, using him as an advantage?

But I could feel no pity for Tidas. Even in Rhylan a dark heart burned, a sense of justice satisfied.

He’s coming for us , I said, and Rhylan snorted again, still trying to get the stink of death out of his nose.

I see that, princess . His mental voice was dry, not giving away the hint of nerves I sensed under it.

Tidas dropped the corpse to splatter far below, now giving chase in earnest, those milky eyes focused on us. Could he see at all, or was he following his other senses, tracking fresh, living blood?

Rhylan drew ahead, and quickly snapped around, his wings blowing outwards as he inhaled and spat black fire at Tidas.

The dead dragon shrieked. No, he tried to shriek, but his vocal cords were rotted away beneath dingy scales, and all that emerged was a ragged groan, the wheeze of dead breath.

Gods, Rhylan, burn him! I didn’t want to hear that sound again. It scraped at a primitive part of my mind, and if I’d had hair instead of scales on my arms, every one of them would’ve been standing straight up.

He was no normal corpse. Like the infected, Tidas was now inimical to life, and I knew a touch from him might spell Rhylan’s death. He did not have Naga blood in his veins as I did.

Rhylan didn’t answer, his lungs bellowing out again as he sent another gush of grasping, hungry fire towards Tidas.

We circled the top of the mountain, Tidas streaming flames, his desiccated skin and scales burning away, but gods, the dragon wouldn’t die. He kept coming, his ribs showing through, displaying the hollow cage his body had become, letting out that terrible groan.

Talariel’s dragon terrace was a large, round courtyard on the peak of the mountain, the stones inlaid with gold metal discs to reflect the sun. And there, in the middle of it, a pale figure stared up at me.

I looked back at Yura, my heart pounding, my breath caught in my throat.

She was right there, lips twisted in a mask-like smile, black eyes empty. She wore a white dress, and the fabric had soaked up so much blood it looked nearly black at the hem.

She raised a hand, beckoning to me. Her eyes widened as she took me in, the change of my form, her smile growing.

She’s here. I dug my nails into the saddle as Rhylan snarled, lashing out at Tidas.

I didn’t dare take my eyes from Yura, but as I watched, she melted into the stones somehow—vanishing into shadows, and with the fall of night, I couldn’t see where she’d gone.

Tidas finally emitted a true screech as Rhylan dug into his wings, tearing them away—and the dead dragon tumbled from the sky.

With Rhylan’s night vision, I watched as Tidas hit the earth, crumpling in a broken heap on the city streets below.

And yet, he still twitched. Broken beyond belief, but still his body was animated.

We’ll burn it all , Rhylan said absently, his thoughts focused on how much he was hoping Tidas suffered now.

There was a far distant sound, the scream of a dragon.

I threw my senses into Rhylan’s, looking out into the distance with his night-seeing eyes, only to see our allies racing toward us, still miles out.

And almost at the tips of their tails, the hungry dead.

Below me, Talariel’s peak remained empty. But Yura had been there. I was sure of it.

Sera , Rhylan whispered in warning, but I crept higher in the saddle, laying my forehead against his scales.

I have to, Rhylan. This is the plan. You must let me go and help them yourself.

He was torn in an agony of indecision, no longer sure he cared for the plan, but I sent a pulse of reassurance through the bond, and felt the moment I won.

I love you . His words were as final as a headsman’s axe.

I love you, too. Save them, Rhylan.

I shifted, my horns spiraling out, my wings tearing free, claws sharpening. Tail lashing, I threw myself into empty air and caught the wind under my wings.

As I circled down to Talariel’s courtyard I looked up, just long enough to see Rhylan vanish towards our friends and allies.

My feet touched smooth stone and metal, still warm from the sun. As Rhylan’s wingbeats receded, the silence pressed in on my ears, heavy and unnatural.

Despite the inability to comprehend it earlier, suddenly I could understand how I was the only living soul here, beyond my sister. This was the land of the dead now.

I stalked to the place she’d been standing, and there were dark stains on the stones, still fresh and wet.

But not blood. No, this was black, and as I stepped forward it, the puddles tried to wriggle away from me.

I followed them, finding the passage she’d left open for me: a circular, well-like entrance in the stone, the cover slid open to reveal a passageway of stairs spiraling down.

Down, into pitch-black darkness, into a mountain of death.

But I was of Myst’s blood, and Erebos’s, and I was the one who would stop my sister.

After that first step, I had no hesitation. I followed Yura.

She’d been kind enough—ha, Yura, kind? —to leave a torch burning at the first landing. To either side of me the hall stretched out, paved in gold, and in the flickering light I could see dark shapes huddled on the liquid gold smoothness of both paths.

Bodies.

I didn’t give them a second glance. They were far beyond my help now. Instead, I stepped to the balustrade.

The entirety of Talariel was hollow. The mountain exterior made it look something like Jhazra: an impregnable fortress, a warren cut through the stone.

Talariel was a shell of a mountain, lined with balconies around the perimeter, while the center was a vast cavern that could’ve allowed a thousand dragons to easily fly without touching.

At the peak of the interior, crystals grew from the ceiling in clustered branches.

They’d once cast a bright and clear light; now they were cracked, dim and dull.

Like the balcony floors, the center of the cavern below was a sheet of pure gold.

In the light of the crystals, it had once resembled the sea at dawn.

Now it was black, and Yura stood below, ankle-deep in that inky darkness, staring up at me. She was still smiling, as she cocked her head and waved me along.

I bared my teeth, keeping my snarl locked in my throat. I did not want to make a sound in this tomb. I spread my wings and leaped over the balcony, circling the open air.

I landed heavily, splashing that viscous ink before her, and the moment I touched down, it rolled away from me in a wave, leaving me in a clear circle of gold.

I was shaking with fury as I straightened, wings held out wide, claws lengthening.

I had seen the bodies. The loss of her whole House. All the dead, laid at her feet.

But before I could speak, she opened her mouth, and though her lips didn’t move, her voice came forth.

“You’ve finally come,” she said softly. “I knew you would. And now you can see my great work.”

Yura turned, gliding through the inky sludge, beckoning me towards a dark door heading down.

Into the abyss.