Page 58 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

I understood now why exile to the World Scar was rarely used as punishment. It was one thing to know it took a toll on the dragons assigned to deliver a convict.

It was another to look up and see an abyss leaking through the shattered cracks of a gray sky, melting into the ocean seamlessly. To look down and see the gouge ripped through the ocean, descending into that same abyss, one becoming the other without rhyme or reason.

I knew from my brief glimpse at the Daughters that this was not truly an ocean. Not anymore. It was a wound, and half of it was the earth screaming at its defilement, and half of it was Ustrael’s rotting corpse.

The fragment radiated ice against my chest, and at times I heard a whisper, just behind my ear. Just loud enough to make me turn my head, and then I’d hear the screams, but in my mind, not with my body.

I hated this blighted fucking place, and I would never come back.

It was when Yura began whispering to me that I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Rhylan, we have to do it now. I don’t know how much farther we can go.

Does it ever end? He was wondering. Is there an ocean on the other side, or are we somewhere else now? Is this between the worlds or inside Ustr—

Rhylan, please!

He snapped out of his wandering thoughts with a start, losing altitude for a moment before flapping his wings wildly to keep us away from that still, black water. Gods, I don’t think I was here . He sounded vaguely shocked.

I’m tossing it in now. We have to get out. This place isn’t for us.

He hissed at the ocean and sky, and when I blinked, it was hard to tell one from the other. We might’ve been upside down for all I knew.

I fumbled the fragment from the chest pocket of my leathers. Another scream inside my head, a pleading whisper, and something beneath the skin of the water blinked at me: an eye the size of a dragon door, the pupil malformed and oblong.

Fuck this, we’re going . Rhylan beat his wings, streaking the way we’d come. He tasted the air, hoping for the slightest hint of salt, of fresh air and true water. Send her back, love.

I squeezed the fragment, nearly the architect of Akalla’s destruction, and straightened on the saddle.

I threw it as hard as I could into the heart of the Scar, deep into the abyss. The stone flew down—or up—and ripples dripped down from the sky where it landed.

Good riddance . I gripped the reins tighter, but despite my absolute hatred for this place, I felt lighter. A soul-crushing burden shifted off my shoulders, and for the first time since Talariel, the hope inside me felt genuine and true, warm instead of flat.

She was trying to take you. If she couldn’t have a body, at least she could try to consume everything good inside you .

Rhylan’s mental voice was flat, tinged with desperation and anger, but at least he was present in mind.

He ate the distance, racing for the Searing Ocean like our lives depended on it.

And maybe they did, because the ripples from that fragment grew louder and louder, no longer the soft plink of water but a rising chorus of tortured howls.

Well, she can’t have me . I hadn’t realized how much that tiny mote had weighed on me, painting the world in a veneer of dusty hopelessness. We’re leaving this place, we’re going home, and we’re not coming back. And I will never, ever exile someone to this hellscape.

I’m not sure any of the Nine Hells could actually be worse.

I blinked, and opened my eyes to a sliver of blue. The ocean!

Rhylan felt my excitement, wheeling towards the lighter gray sea-sky where I’d seen an actual color. The wind whipped across my face, and I touched my tongue to my lips, tasting salt.

We chased that sliver for what felt like an eternity, until we burst out over the Searing Ocean into a golden sunset.

Neither of us looked back.

A week later, we met with our Court in the library.

For the first time, Cai did not stand with his House.

He stood by Kirana, representing the Obsidian Flames.

Tyria looked him over with pride, and had promised Kirana a bonding ceremony for the ages.

My sister looked more daunted than excited by the prospect, but she kept a tight grip on Cai regardless.

Sitting at the head of the table, I looked out over the Houses.

“There’s much to discuss, especially regarding the rebuilding of damaged eyries and cities.

My Historian, Treza, is leading the efforts to recoup wealth and knowledge from the remains of Koressis Eyrie.

Any treasure recovered will go towards rebuilding and restoration.

We’ve decided to let Koressis remain, as a reminder of these times, but it will no longer be the seat of the throne. At least, not during our reign.”

I smiled at Rhylan, shifting my hand closer so it nudged his. On our return from the World Scar, he had offered me a gift so great I couldn’t turn it down.

He smiled back, like the sun breaking through clouds.

“From now on, we will live in Varyamar Eyrie. We will be rebuilding the Royal Training Grounds on my ancestral land, but they will no longer be Royal. Any dragon or draga, no matter their House or standing, is encouraged to attend.”

I smiled at Mykah next, who was gleeful about her name being first on the roster.

“We will also be opening an adjunct school for Bloodless who wish to put themselves forth as candidates for future Ascendants.”

A draga from one of the minor Houses sucked in a breath. Her pale yellow scales gleamed as she shifted to whisper in a dragon’s ear.

It would not necessarily be a universally-lauded decision. Some of the Houses clung to tradition with the single-minded zeal of a limpet. Once, only those of ancient blood were permitted to attend the Training Grounds, and the Bloodless were their servants.

But Myst was expecting an egg, as was Illiae, and there would be new Ascendants to replace those Houses that had fallen. I wanted the men and women who drank dragonblood to be prepared for their new lives.

I didn’t allow them time to argue. “The building of the new Training Grounds will commence soon. I will also be enshrining my first Law today: there will be no more arranged bonds. Both parties must agree wholeheartedly to the bonding.”

A dragon with silver hair and pale green eyes gazed at me coldly. I was making myself very popular today.

“Forcing a bond is nothing more than tradition-sanctioned rape,” Rhylan said softly, his eyes on the silver-haired dragon.

“We’ve lived through it. I nearly lost Sera to it.

Many of you know my parents were progressives, and though they’re gone, I still believe in them.

It’s our right to choose our own mates.” His eyes flicked around the room, taking in Doric standing within touching distance of Treza. “No matter who they are.”

The cold-eyed dragon held his tongue. Rhylan’s voice was even, almost soft, but there was no denying the steel beneath it.

“And finally,” Rhylan added, “We will be opening new avenues to trade with the Hordes of the Wildlands, and keep our distant kin close. Tyria has already volunteered land in Sylvaene to build a trading post. Varyamar will sponsor one as well. With open trade, we can create wealth and goodwill between our people.”

Yet another discontented mutter reached my ears, but I had expected that. Some of the traditionalists considered the Hordes hardly more than barbarians. I personally found the concept of their dragonships to be brilliant.

Before they left, Ivoire and Roark had kissed both my cheeks and asked us to visit. Roark had promised me a spot in the annual Games, though I already had a mate, and Ivoire had eyed Mykah as wistfully as Mykah eyed Hunter.

Ivoire had adjusted to becoming Naga with an intensity that surprised me, but she was from the Wildlands. To her, any advantage was a weapon, and any weapon was good.

Such as a Naga mate for her son.

“I’ll bring her with me,” I’d promised, smiling crookedly. It would be Mykah’s choice to act on that when she was of age, but an education in the Wildlands and Horde customs could only be for the better.

As I watched my Court, full of nodding progressives and muttering, scowling traditionalists, Kirana laid out the vellum document before me. I signed it as Dragonesse Serafina of Silvered Embers, and Rhylan took the quill after me.

Next, we determined the order of the eyries requiring aid on a triage basis, and determined how to split the wealth acquired from Koressis.

It had never before occurred to me just how mind-numbingly dull it was to rule a country, but at least the dullness went towards the greater good, which took some of the sting out of it. In the end I could only be grateful I was here rather than down in the dark.

It was only when the last of the Houses had departed that Rhylan and I went to oversee the packing, preparing for our final move.

Are you sure? I asked, for what had to be the fiftieth time. Jhazra has always been your home. It’s your ancestral seat—

Sera. Gorgeous one. I don’t wear a vial around my neck to remind me of home. I don’t care where we are, so long as I’m with you.

He turned his head as he flew, rewarding me with a dragon grin of sharp teeth.

My heart leapt as Varyamar came into the view, the karst mountain of pale stone overgrown with jasmine brambles. I could already smell it.

Around the base of the eyrie, teams of ferrymen on wyverns were delivering supply shipments.

Several Bloodless families had already offered to begin construction on the new Training Grounds, with guaranteed spots for their future children and first pick of the new homes being raised against the side of the eyrie’s mountain.

Myst had opened the Varyamar treasury with much grumbling, but she already had an eye on several strapping young Bloodless men, any one of whom might be an ideal House candidate for the young dragon maturing in the egg she carried.