Page 51

CHAPTER 51

JASSYN

“ W hen are you going to tell him?”

Serenna’s question yanked Jassyn from his thoughts, his mind still looping through what had passed between him and Lykor last night.

As they descended the palace’s wide ivory, he noticed Lykor already prowling through the courtyard below. A restless force barely leashed, his glare skewered Kaedryn, who waited for them beneath a vine-laden trellis.

“I…” Jassyn faltered, a bead of sweat prickling his brow despite the early hour. The evening before, Serenna had informed him that a chained dragon was somewhere in the city. They had agreed to wait until the others had a full night’s rest before revealing the discovery.

He’d nearly mentioned it to Lykor when the weight of his nightmare had lifted, but…

Jassyn pursed his lips. But what, exactly? The knowledge of Cinderax pressed heavily against him. Lykor had shown nothing but understanding and restraint. He wouldn’t have stormed through Asharyn, tearing the streets apart the moment he found out. Right?

Perhaps that hesitation had stayed Jassyn’s tongue. So he’d let the moment slip by, allowed the silence to linger. For reasons he couldn’t name, he hadn’t been willing to lose the quiet reassurance of Lykor’s presence keeping the dark at bay.

Stars, why is it so hot already? Jassyn adjusted the airy sleeves of his tunic, the loose folds shielding him from the sun.

Beyond Asharyn’s walls, the first rays of dawn speared between sandstone towers that cradled the desert expanse—rays that Lykor was squinting up at now, as though the morning itself had already wronged him.

“I’ll find the right moment,” he assured Serenna.

“Perhaps after Kaedryn shows us some of the city?” she suggested as they followed the winding paths around the garden’s fountains. “I think the tour ends at some sort of temple, or wherever Cinderax is.”

She halted and tugged up one of her knee-high boots, her attire a twin to his. “I’m worried that the moment Lykor hears of it,” Serenna said in a quick whisper, “he’ll demand to see the dragon. But we might as well learn something about their city and way of life first.”

When they resumed walking, she gestured toward Fenn and the prince, who were already in conversation with Kaedryn. “I told them after breakfast. We all agreed Lykor would probably handle it better if it came from you.”

Jassyn swallowed, tension coiling in his throat. Not well, but better. As he stepped into the shade of the trellis, he was beginning to regret not informing Lykor earlier.

As if catching that thought, Lykor’s eyes snapped to his and Jassyn’s stomach swooped. Standing apart from everyone else, his arms were locked across his chest, gauntleted fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his leathers—he’d refused to wear the druids’ clothing.

A waste of time on a glorified walk in circles, Lykor’s glower all but said, his patience already seeming thinner than Kaedryn’s gossamer robes.

With every step out of the courtyard, pressure cinched tighter around Jassyn’s ribs. Beyond the palace gates, the sanctum unfolded around them, a labyrinth of sandstone and light. Rows of tan canopies fluttered overhead, casting pools of shade over the streets. The breeze ruffled through Jassyn’s curls, trailing fragrances of jasmine and sun-baked earth in its wake.

Kaedryn unfurled her wings, black scales flashing in the morning sun. She nodded to other druids in passing, the three talons at the tip of each of her wings clacking together as if extending a greeting of their own.

But Jassyn caught the way Kaedryn twisted the ribbons of her robe as she stole uneasy glances at Vesryn.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Fenn had sidled up to her and launched into a flurry of eager questions. “So you have no druid magics then?” he asked.

Kaedryn shook her head. “We have a handful of these…Starshards,” she said, adopting the name they’d been using for the relics.

She flipped her claw, the returned Starshard sparkling in its jewelry setting. Her eyes flicked nervously to the prince again. “But what little starlight lingers within is used sparingly—we have no way of replenishing it.”

Leaning over, Vesryn frowned as he peered at the crystal with an intensity that made Kaedryn’s wings snap closed against her spine. He’d argued when Serenna insisted that he leave his own gems behind, but she’d promised that he could experiment later under Kaedryn’s guidance.

“We could fill your Starshards with Essence,” Vesryn offered, tilting his head, hand half-extended before he withdrew it. “I’ve channeled magic into the crystals a few times…” He trailed off after Serenna gave a disapproving sniff, but Kaedryn’s irises began glowing with cautious hope.

She finally faced the prince directly, her fingers curling around the jewelry. “Truly? If the Starshards could be restored, our defenses would be stronger than they’ve been in centuries.” She inclined her head, tiny scales shifting around her cheeks as she spoke. “We would be in your debt.”

Kaedryn motioned them down a narrow street where vibrant desert lilies spilled over flower boxes, falling back into step beside Fenn. “And as for our own magic… My foremother spoke of her foremother conjuring fire. But that particular scalebound gift has been silent for generations.”

She idly traced a silver chain draped around her claw. “Sometimes, I almost feel a flicker of…something stirring beneath my skin.” A wistful smile traveled across her lips, vanishing as quickly as it came. “But perhaps that is only wishful thinking.”

Kaedryn hesitated, adjusting her jewelry before asking Serenna, “Could you summon fire? Show me how you call it?”

Jassyn caught Serenna’s eye before she answered, silently wondering when the right moment would be to admit that he shared the same abilities.

Extending a hand, Serenna corralled a tendril of wind. “I can only channel the elements if they’re present,” she said, bending the breeze around them and sending Kaedryn’s robes fluttering. “Not create.”

Kaedryn smoothed the sunweave of her garment, her expression growing pensive. “So that’s the magical difference between the ancient scalebound and shamans,” she murmured. “I may be the guild master of our histories, but much of our knowledge was lost when our ancestors fled Vulkaris—the haven of fire.”

“Vulkaris?” Fenn echoed, attempting to beckon Lykor closer, but his effort to include him went ignored. “Was your stronghold built inside a volcano?”

Kaedryn nodded, her gaze drifting to the sky as shadows slid between the gaps in the canopies—a formation of winged warriors flying overhead. “The volcano stood in the heart of a jungle, a sanctuary for those who sought to master fire. But when the Aelfyn laid siege and chained Cinderax…” Her voice softened, sorrow threading through every word. “Our ancestors had no choice but to abandon the fortress. Many perished bringing Cinderax here. And many more sacrificed themselves, fighting to ensure they weren’t followed.”

Jassyn glanced toward Lykor at the mention of the dragon, but he had drifted farther from the group and wasn’t listening. His glare was fixed on a row of palm trees swaying above a turquoise canal, the water winding through the city like a sunlit vein.

“But the volcano is surrounded by frozen mountains now,” Jassyn said. “How did the terrain change so drastically?”

“The wilds were remade to be impassable. Our foremothers wove tales of shamans aiding the scalebound in the final hours before their magic waned—raising mountains, sealing valleys, twisting rivers into ice to shroud our ancestors’ retreat.” Eyes going distant, Kaedryn spun a ring around her knuckle. “My people forged defenses into the earth itself, scattering barriers and placing wardens.”

“We became well acquainted,” Vesryn quipped, halting as a caravan of humpbacked sandstriders lumbered past, their padded feet stirring up small puffs of dust. “We didn’t receive the warmest welcome from your snow golem.”

A thin smile tugged at Kaedryn’s mouth as she directed them through an archway. “Serenna mentioned that you vanquished one of our guardians in the frozen passes.”

Fenn reached up, scraping his talons against the stone arch that marked the market district as they passed under it. Stalls lined the gridded streets, each designated with a colorful flag bearing a depiction of its wares. Tables overflowed, each one bursting with something different—dyed fabrics that rippled like mirages, spiced fruits, beaded jewelry, flutes carved from bone that whistled in the breeze, and bundles of sun-dried herbs strung with copper charms.

Kaedryn began to detail their bartering system, but Jassyn only half-listened as the bustling streets swelled around them. His attention kept snagging on Lykor, who had peeled even farther away from the group, his shoulders drawn taut as he pushed through the throng.

Seemingly on the hunt, he stalked down a row of vendors, eyes slicing over displays of armor and weapons as he prowled from stall to stall.

“But anything in Asharyn is yours,” Kaedryn concluded. “Especially if you restore our Starshards. We’ll see to it that you want for nothing.”

Jassyn caught a glimpse of Lykor pausing at a table. A female merchant unrolled a pair of bracers before him, silver spikes studded into the leather glinting in the sun. Lykor studied the armor, tracing the grooves in it as if weighing the worth of every stitch.

As the group neared, Jassyn could begin to make out the exchange. “Please, take them,” the druid insisted, dipping her head. She folded her wings tightly, the taloned tips clenching and unclenching. “A gift from Asharyn.”

Lykor’s gaze flicked to the druid’s claw—a mirror of his own. His jaw tightened as he scrutinized the bracers. Slowly, he lifted his arm, his frown deepening as he seemed to consider the armor.

Then, in a decisive motion, Lykor wrenched off his gauntlet. The metal landed with a resounding thud as he tossed it onto the table. Wings twitching, the merchant startled. But before she could respond, Lykor snatched the bracers and growled, “I don’t need your charity.”

Without a backward glance, he left the gaping druid, striding through the crowd.

Jassyn blinked—Lykor’s path led straight toward him . Lykor thrust the bracers forward, expression as unreadable as the surrounding sandstone walls.

“Noticed you didn’t have a pair,” he said, clipped and dismissive. As if parting with his gauntlet had meant nothing at all.

Jassyn stared at the armor, about to inform him that there had been no need to barter—no need to relinquish something he clearly valued. But the words died on his tongue.

Instead, Jassyn found himself caught in the gravity of the exchange. His pulse raced to his fingertips as he accepted the bracers and slipped one over his forearm. Fumbling slightly, he secured the straps, flexing his wrist to test the fit.

He began fastening the second and was going to offer his thanks, but Lykor’s focus had already shifted. Jassyn followed his scowl upward to find one of those four-legged birds they’d seen in the oasis.

A flash of blue feathers shimmered in the sun as the bird peered from the canvas shade above, its beady eyes locking onto him.

The bird released a piercing squawk before fluttering down to land on Jassyn’s extended arm. He tensed as its talons hooked around the half-fastened bracer. Claiming him as its perch, the bird ruffled its feathers before stretching a wing to preen.

Jassyn expected Lykor to unleash some dry remark, but when he glanced up, Lykor’s glare had vanished.

“Is that the same one?” he asked, stepping closer to watch the bird glide its beak along its pinions.

Wild creatures certainly shouldn’t approach like this. Jassyn focused on the bird—an inexplicable tug of recognition tightening in his chest, a peculiar buzz of familiarity. But something told him the pull wasn’t just for the creature on his arm.

“I…think it might be,” he said at last, his awareness wavering between the bird and Lykor. He glanced at Lykor out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he was somehow attuned to those he had used coercion on.

Lykor curled his claw into a fist before tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “And you’re…all right?” His words sounded measured, roughened by hesitance. “After seeing through its eyes?”

The bird fluffed its feathers and Jassyn found his lips curving at its dismissal. “I’m fine.” The creature chattered a few lilting notes before launching into the air, wings flashing as it returned to the sky. “It seems like that experience didn’t leave any scars on it either.”

Lykor tracked the bird’s ascent, following it until it disappeared into the fronds of a palm. “I shouldn’t have forced you to do that,” he said, his voice barely above a breath.

Reply ready, Jassyn turned to him, but the sudden realization of how close Lykor had drawn stopped him short. The space between them had narrowed without him noticing, their shoulders nearly brushing.

Jassyn’s pulse jumped against his ribs, yet he held Lykor’s gaze even as heat crept up his neck. “You didn’t force me,” he insisted quietly. “It was my choice.”

For a moment, Lykor’s eyes lingered on his, the crimson pulsing with a faint glow.

Jassyn cleared his throat and lifted his arm. “Thank you for these,” he said, tracing a seam in the bracers, the words feeling hollow against what Lykor had traded.

A muscle flexed in Lykor’s jaw, but he only nodded before ripping his eyes away. “We’re falling behind.” Suddenly intent on catching up, he pivoted sharply in the direction Kaedryn had led their group.

Jassyn fell into place beside him, the market’s hum fading behind. The heart of the city unfolded, revealing a vast lake that glimmered as it stretched halfway to the horizon.

Steps unhurried, Kaedryn guided them along a path that curved around the shoreline, her fingers skimming through swaying reeds. Tilting her face to the sky, she seemed to bask in the warmth while conversing with Serenna, Fenn, and Vesryn.

Along the bank, ranks of armored druids stood in silent vigil, their scales gleaming in the sun. A sandstone pier stretched out over the water between them, ending at a single stone arch. Beneath it, a tunnel opened, plunging into darkness below the lake itself.

The four other guild masters waited in the shadow cast by the outstretched wings of a weathered statue. Perched atop the structure, a dragon loomed, its immense jaws frozen in a silent roar.

Jassyn flicked a glance toward Lykor as he strode after the others, hearing him mutter something about dragons.

It was now or never. Jassyn’s pulse raced as the words pressed against his throat. Why had he waited so long?

He forced himself to speak. “Lykor…”

Lykor halted faster than Jassyn expected. He angled back toward him, the ruby in his eyes catching the light—a subtle, questioning flare.

Fingers gliding over his bracers, Jassyn drew an unsteady breath, preparing for Lykor’s reaction. “There’s something I need to tell you.”