Page 77 of Eternally Rare
“I can fix your wing, Dove. All you have to do is allow me.”
He shakes his head, denying me. “Dragons are born with their wings and to die with them damaged is an honor. It means I have done my duties.”
“You will not be able to fly soon if you do not fix this, Nyx,” Rarity urges, reaching to touch the decrepit wing, gently petting the bone that is showing. “I never want you to be unhappy.”
He takes her and kisses her inner wrist. “Happiness is only found in who Fate has given me.” Nyx takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “I am learning.”
I understand what he means, learning how to be happy, to accept how life feels when it feels good. I can understand the guilt too of him wanting those things and then remember it is me that is his mate.
The reason for so much of his unhappiness.
“I am too,” I answer.
“So?” Rarity’s upbeat voice changes the tension and momentum of the situation. “I want a tour. Tell me everything.”
***
“Wow,” she spins in the ballroom that has collected too much elven dust over the years.
I cannot remember the last time we used it to dance, eat, drink, and celebrate. Nyx spins Rarity in the middle of the dance floor under the chandelier.
“Why have you let this room go to waste?” she asks, running away from Nyx and to the window. Quiet squeaks sound whenshe rubs her arms across the dusty glass. “Woah, what is all this land? What is that little village? Is that a village? Why does that forest look so spooky? Is it always cold? We should clean this room and plan a party.”
Nyx chuckles from her tenacity but I am trying to remember the first question.
“One question at a time, My Snow.” I smile at her enthusiastically and she skips her way over to me, a jovial grin pointed directly at me. I am one lucky elf.
She wraps her arms around my waist and leans back so she can look at me. “Why haven’t you used this room? It is beautiful. The ceiling reminds me of an old cathedral back home. The detail, the artwork. What is the scene from?” She tilts her head back and looks up at the sculpture and painting that my great-great- grandfather had put in place. If I remember correctly, he hired an elf from the village.
Swirls of ice are carved to replicate Elementalu. Our neighbors are included, the dragons soaring the sky, the trees accompanying the Woodland Elves, the wolves howling and creating wind. We are all there, painted on the sculpted ice as if we are all friends.
In those times, we were, I suppose.
I catch Nyx slowly walking in a circle as he stares at the art, his thoughts no doubt matching my own.
“We stopped celebrating a long time ago,” I answer sadly, trying to think back to a time when we had something to celebrate. “We have been at war for a long time, Rarity.”
“Well, we have something to celebrate now,” she says, pointing her gaze at Nyx while she slides her hands up my back. “Isn’t that right?”
He gives a lazy half-smirk. “That’s right, My Darling Jewel. If you want to dance, we will dance. Whatever you want.”
Rarity frowns. “I want you all to want it too.”
I study the abandoned room. It looks old from being ignored. Time truly has gotten the best of it. The windows are covered in thick grime, old flowers are dead in tall clear vases, frozen in place. Even old wine glasses are abandoned on the piano made from a glacier itself. The four legs are sharp like an icicle, the body is clear so the wires can be seen that are connected to each of the keys.
The bar on the other side of the wall, once alive with a few bartenders pouring elvish ale and heartsnow-infused mulberry wine, stands empty beside fallen barstools with red velvet cushions.
This room is frozen in time.
“I can have this cleaned up for you in no time, Rarity. Come, I want to show you the rest of the castle.” I begin to walk toward the tall entryway with enough room for one of the trolls to walk through, but she does not move causing me to tug her arm.
“I can clean it faster than your elves can, Cailian. That isn’t fair to them when I can get it done in half the time with my vampire speed,” she explains, crossing her arms in defiance.
Nyx blows out a breath mixed with smoke and flame before chuckling. “My Darling Jewel,” he states, flying across the room to get to her in haste. He lands behind her, and his lips pinch together from tucking his injured wing.
Stubborn dragon. If he would just allow me to fix his wing, he would not be in pain.
“You cleaning will not happen,” Nyx says the words fluttering through my mind, but I did not want to say them.