Page 4 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Braxthorn narrowed his eyes. “There comes a time to look beyond diplomacy.”

“Odenor still resisting?” I asked.

“The Soundlands have been stubborn for longer than it’s been submerged in snow.”

“And Odenor has lived longer than the roots of most of its trees,” Millisen added.

After the Founders came together and defeated the Oktorok, each of the Five returned to their lands and divided themselves again.

The Triad as we know it, comprising the Tastelands, Scentlands, and Sightlands, had first formed in the wake of Courvin’s triumph across the continent over a century later, when he united those three lands under the banner of the Five Founders.

Over the last few centuries, our lands have quarrelled and come apart, only to make peace a generation later.

But the Soundlands and the Touchlands had never joined our trade alliance.

Those loyal to the Soundlands capital, Euphonos, hated our noise.

More than that, those Euphons could not align their mysticism in the natural world with our mercantile domination of the lands.

The growing contingent of Selladorians to the west of the Ramelon River were far more reasonable, but their thane didn’t have the power to overrule the Euphon king.

If not for their copious silver mines, I doubted my father would have minded leaving them to hug their trees .

However, if the Soundlanders broadly disliked our ways, the Touchlands hated us.

They fundamentally disagreed with Edrin’s account of the history, transcribed into our texts and taught to our children.

They especially took umbrage with the assertion that their Founder, Hain, had betrayed the others.

Their theological anger was only compounded when the Tastelands spilt over the Barrow and took Cajim by force two hundred years ago.

A generation back, when the old rulers died and the new ones took over, the Shieldblood had sent a missive to my father.

He showed me the letter when I was old enough to understand it, and his reply.

They had only asked for three things: fair levies and taxes, an addendum to The History of the Five , and the return of Cajim.

My father had refused on all counts and instead responded that should they wish to trade with the Triad, they must give up their Blood Trials and adopt a more ‘civilised’ worldview.

In essence, he might as well have written back a concise ‘fuck you’.

The carved shepherds on our lands pointed north, to the Soundlands, the lands of Founder Mephluan’s people.

I knew my father craved a war, some way to live up to the legacy of his own father, Norgallin the Hammer, and I had no doubt that someday he would force us into one.

But I had no interest in a pointless war against the Euphons in the freezing cold of their forests.

“Why not wait it out? His son is far more pliable. Once the old man is dead, then force Frodenor to bend the knee.”

Braxthorn glanced at Millisen. “We can’t afford to wait. We need to claim the Gossamir Forest before it is too late.”

“Too late for what?” I asked.

“The Threads have sent word. They believe Vellintris may soon lay a final egg. It is known she laid Kallamont in Gossamir. ”

“Another blue dragon in the world,” I murmured. “Who has mated her?”

Braxthorn flexed his jaw. “We don’t know. You understand why we can’t wait.”

Wyvern and dragon mating had been attempted before, despite the size differential between them.

They weren’t the same species, but other than the extra limbs of the dragon, their physiologies were very similar.

In theory, it was possible, but no female wyvern had been able to carry Kallamont’s egg to term.

With no adult female to use before Chaethor, and she herself not willing, I wasn’t sure if a male unbonded wyvern could have mated with Vellintris.

But, if it wasn’t one of the straggling untamed wyverns, the only alternative was that this egg was of Skirmtold’s line.

Millisen inclined his head gravely. “The egg cannot be permitted to fall to the Soundlanders.”

I stared between them. “So, you’ve sent my brother to what? Make threats and throw his weight around?”

“I’ve sent Banrillen to speak to the thane,” Braxthorn growled. “He is a man of commerce, at least. We need control of the forest sooner than later.”

A man of commerce. It was a polite way of indicating the leader could be bought. “And me? What do you want from me?”

“You and Chaethor need to be seen,” he said. “Take her out over the Soundlands, let the world fear you. While you’re there, check for dragonsign over the Cloven. Any sign that Vellintris may be nesting.”

Yes, Chaethor purred. I’ve been waiting to stretch my wings.

“Just seen?” I asked, giving no indication of Chae’s comment.

There was very little written on dragon bonding, and even less on the rarity of our mindspeak.

I knew of only two full texts in our libraries, and when it got to the nature of the bond and how it manifested in humans, the details were hazy and often contradictory.

It was said in Ilfwarren’s dated tome that a bonded man ‘could communicate with his beast as he could his wife’, with ‘secret intentions conveyed without outward conversation’.

It wasn’t an analogy I could relate to, being neither married nor prone to referring to Chae as my anything—mostly because she would fucking kill me—but it served as an indication that we were not alone in our connection.

If my father shared the same mindspeak with Kallamont, he had never told me. And in keeping with his image of me as a terrible son, I didn’t elucidate on the details of my connection with Chae either.

Millisen cleared his throat. “For now.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

“And then you’re to go to Eavenfold,” my father said.

Chaethor grumbled. Nox-bitten, cursed, and cold.

“The Brotherhood?” I asked with a sour grimace. “Why?”

“We are their patrons.”

“You fund their meagre existence in return for their most useful crop. They are livestock.” I glanced at Millisen. “No offence.”

Braxthorn gave me the look of no return. “You’re my heir, and you’ve never visited the island.”

Because it’s creepy , I wanted to say.

Chaethor rumbled in agreement. I could tell she was nervous about being so close to Skinreach, so close to Skirmtold.

She hadn’t met her father, and she wasn’t keen to know how he would respond to her.

Dragons had a habit of treating each other as threats, especially where human bonds were involved.

Besides, everyone knew Eavenfold was a former Nox colony.

“Maybe you should have chosen a different heir,” I said .

“You don’t get that card,” he responded. “You named yourself heir when you stole Chaethor’s egg. You are the Dragon Prince by your own design, and you will go to Eavenfold. Find out when the Threads expect she will nest. I want you there by the next Fate Ceremony on the first of Ergreen.”

“They have five of those crusty ceremonies each year, what does it matter that I see this one?”

“The next Fate Ceremony is for a girl.”

“A girl?” I repeated. “In the Brotherhood? How did that happen?”

“Another thing I still don’t know,” Braxthorn said, and I could tell how much that bothered him. “But in my experience, change can only be a bad thing.”

Despite it all, I was glad of the assignment.

It would give Chaethor a chance to fly. We rarely got to soar beyond the edges of the Sightlands, and her excitement was contagious.

And the news of the dragon egg was unexpected, nearly unheard of in its rarity.

There hadn’t been another born since Chae seventeen years ago.

Eavenfold would be boring, of course, filled with stern strangers in grey as drab as their lives.

Servants, bought to advise. It was no coincidence that those with the most promise were taken by the Sightlands.

I wondered if those in its crumbling stone walls knew they were just as unwanted as the Nox patients before them.

But I only had to be there for a single day.

How much of a threat could one girl really be?