Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 84

“But you haven’t found her yet, have you?”

A wave of irritation crosses the King’s face. “She’s a sneaky little spider. But no one can hide from me for long.”

After locking the door of my cell, he stalks away.

My delight at Serylla’s evasion of the King fades quickly, giving way to the pain in my body, the ache in my knees from kneeling on the stone, and the deeper agony of my heart. Yet in spite of the grief, I’m eerily at peace, knowing that so many dragons’ spirits have gone before me, that they await me among the stars. Despite Rahzien’s cruel words, I still believe my soul will ascend to join them, even though I’ve been trapped in this form.

It’s almost a relief, having everything out in the open. Not having to feign another identity or suppress my thoughts and instincts so harshly. I yield to the quiet of the moment, the reprieve before the next terrible chapter of my life unfolds.

Some dragons believe that the Bone-Builder still surveys the world from a vantage point among the stars and orchestrates our experiences for some greater purpose. I believed that too, until our clan followed me into war and half of them died. Until a bird told me that the remaining dragons are nothing but bones now… bones in caves, bones upon the mountains.

Any deity who could have stopped such a tragedy, yet allowed it to unfold, isn’t worthy of my respect. So I must believe that the Bone-Builder no longer exists, or has no knowledge of what is happening to my species. The alternative would be too painful.

Better to believe in someone who’s here, who cares. Who might have a chance of doing something about my predicament and hers. Serylla isn’t only my intended life-mate, queen of my heart—she’s my goddess now. Whether I die or not, I know she’ll have tried everything possible to save me. That’s who she is—the brilliant, brave girl who aimed a crossbow at the leader of a dragon army. That’s the woman who took me inside herself, knowing what being pregnant by me would mean for her. Birthing those eggs was possibly her bravest act. Or perhaps her bravest moment was facing a ballroom full of men who were competing for her body. Or enduring the lash in the marketplace. Or coming to warn me that my life was in danger.

She’s the bravest creature I know.

My musings are interrupted when Meridian limps into view outside my cell, holding the bars for support since the soldiers took away his cane.

It takes me a minute to realize that they locked him up, just like they did me, and yet he’s walking free. He’s pale and bruised, but he gives me a weary smile.

“You escaped already,” I say, a grin pulling at my injured lips. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“You’d think they’d take more precautions with their prized captives. Security in this place is pathetic, really.” He takes a stud from his earlobe. When he pulls on it, the stud extends into a tiny sliver of metal, a lock-picking tool. “I’ll get you out of here, but we have to move quickly. Remember the plan I told you about? It has nearly come to fruition. About damn time, too. But I need to give the final word so my people are ready to act, and then—”

Rhythmic footsteps echo somewhere in the distance, and Meridian glances in that direction anxiously. “Fuck, we might have to fight our way out.”

“No. Just go. Follow through with your plan, get the word to your people.”

“Kyreagan—”

“There’s no time,” I hiss at him.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I’ll be back for you, I swear.”

“I know.”

He hurries away, not a moment too soon. Seconds later, a helmeted Vohrainian soldier appears and takes up a guard position next to my cell. Judging by the shape of the person, I think it’s a woman. The soldier keeps turning to glance at me.

“What?” I say. “You’ve never seen a dragon shifter before?”

The guard’s skeletal helmet leers blankly at me for several seconds before she turns back around.

Guarding a prisoner must be a tedious job. Almost as tedious as—

I smirk, my pain and grief receding for a moment.

And I begin to sing. “I once had a wife who took my life…”

26

I don’t have to wait long for the healer.

When she enters the study, she’s humming a soft, contented little tune. Everything is going exactly as she hoped it would—I can hear the satisfaction in her voice, see it in the energy of her body as she sets down her woven bag and pulls out a few items, including what looks like a vial of blood. She puts the items on the tray and settles herself into the big leather chair.

I wait while she arranges the shawl around her shoulders, until she has selected a scrap of paper and she’s carefully inking letters onto it. Probably a label for Kyreagan’s blood.

Speaking of blood… I may not know much about the human body’s inner workings, but I do know where the important blood vessels are.