Page 46 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)
Maeve slid from Jeipier’s saddle with a practised sort of clumsiness, landing with a soft grunt in the dry grass.
She gave the young dragon a proud pat along his neck.
His golden-orange scales shimmered under the mid-morning sun, tail swishing in satisfaction.
“I think you like terrifying landings,” she muttered, brushing wind-tangled strands of hair out of her face.
“I do, Chainling,” Jeipier spoke out loud with a laugh.
Maeve shifted, trying to tidy her hair. “Please don’t call me Chainling. I don’t like it. I want to still be me, even if I’m connected to it.”
A low, affronted huff rolled across the clearing. Xelaini’s wings lifted slightly, an imperial twitch of disapproval.
“It is a title of honour,” the great Nyxshade intoned, her voice curling through the air like smoke, as she stalked closer. “Worn only by you.”
“I know and I appreciate that, I really do,” Maeve said quickly, glancing towards her. “I just… I’m not ready for it to be my name.”
“Okay, Maeve.” said Jeipier softly.
Eiran jumped from Xelaini’s back in a smooth arc, landing beside her with infuriating ease, trying to clear the remaining tension. “You did well,” he said, smirking as he stepped closer. “Didn’t even scream that time.”
Maeve arched a brow. “I didn’t scream last time either.”
“You definitely screamed,” he replied, grin stretching wider. “It was dignified of course, but a scream nonetheless.”
She nudged him with her elbow just as a blur of motion caught their attention. A stable hand shouted a warning as a messenger came tearing across the yard, his long tunic flapping wildly. He skidded to a stop just a few feet from them, breathless, boots kicking up dust.
“Your Highnesses, the King requests your presence immediately,” he gasped out. “In his study, with great urgency.”
Eiran’s teasing dropped instantly. “Did he say why? ”
The messenger shook his head. “Only that it’s urgent and he’s waiting.”
Maeve and Eiran exchanged a look, whatever post-flight high they’d settled into vanished in an instant. Maeve gave Jeipier one last stroke behind the jaw, her other hand briefly brushing Xelaini’s flank in thanks, then followed Eiran towards the main keep, the teasing set aside.
They didn’t wait for guards or protocol, they just ran.
Boots pounding stone, Maeve and Eiran pushed through the corridors of the keep, side by side, breath tight and fast. Eiran opened the heavy double doors to Orilan’s study without knocking.
The King stood at the tall windows, his back to them, shoulders stiff.
When he turned, Maeve was taken aback, he was pale and his usually composed face drawn with tension.
His fingers clenched around a rolled scroll, parchment crushed between shaking hands.
“There’s no time,” he said quickly, stepping forwards.
“Another village, Thallor, is gone. Burned to the ground. Just like Delvain.”
Eiran’s expression hardened. “When?”
“A few hours ago,” Orilan said, voice tight.
“And worse, there’s another attack underway right now.
Haleth. It’s closer, too close. We’ve got soldiers moving there already.
The thunder contacted Nolenne and Aeilanna through Solirra, they are on the way.
They were close anyway, returning from Delvain, but we need more. Eiran, you must leave now.”
Maeve’s stomach twisted, a sharp pull of dread curling under her ribs, but she stayed still, watching and listening. The familiar chill of fear began to build low in her spine, the kind that didn’t wait for permission.
“We don’t know if it’s Avelan for certain,” Orilan continued, “but everything points that way. Magic is being masked, it’s deliberate, calculated.”
Eiran stepped forwards. “I’ll go and Maeve… ” He stopped mid-sentence, jaw flexing. For a moment, it looked like he might object. But he swallowed, took a breath and said, “you can decide for yourself.”
Maeve met his eyes. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but her voice came out steady. Fear was a luxury she no longer had, action was the only answer. “I’m going too,” she said.
Orilan gave a single, curt nod, eyes briefly flicking to Eiran. “I want prisoners. No matter what realm they’re from. We need information and proof. Bring back whoever you can. Let our magicers pull the truth from their bones if they have to.”
Eiran’s eyes narrowed. “Understood. ”
Orilan turned back to the window, one hand pressed to the cold glass. “And gods be with you, both of you.”
Maeve felt the weight of it all, the tension, the fear, but she also felt the fire in her blood, the quiet steel forming behind her ribs. She glanced sideways at Eiran. “Let’s go.”