Page 107 of House of Ashes
“You probably don’t want to talk about it, though,” she added hastily. I silently thanked Doric, whose pale blue eyes were a little too knowing. “How did you find each other again?”
Oh, gods. I could only imagine telling them about the Wyvern’s Whore, about creeping into town with two half-moons in my pocket, caked with filth, about the desperate drunken crush of ferrymen and exiles, screaming curses at my father’s name…and how Kalros had grabbed me, threatened to rape me until the mate bond was established.
They had probably never experienced such a situation in their lives. Like the old Sera, who did not understand how bad things could get, it would be entirely outside their comprehension.
I was already essentially a stranger to them. That story would make me a complete outsider.
“I spent days flying around Mistward.” Rhylan settled an arm fully over my shoulder, grazing my cheek with his knuckles. “There’s a dead eyrie there, from Riona’s time. Sera had claimed it as her territory. When I came for her, she needed a little convincing.”
It took me a second to understand what he was on about, and when I did, I was so full of gratitude I could’ve burst.
He wasn’t going to tell them the truth: that I’d been on the last vestiges of survival, half-wild, reeking of shine and wearing rags.
He would make it out to be a romantic tale. All for my sake. So they wouldn’t look at me with pity in their eyes.
“Not too much convincing,” I said, my voice a little husky as I looked up into those deep blue eyes.
“You considered shoving me out of the eyrie.” He raised a brow. “Deny it. I dare you.”
That was true, at least. “I only considered it for about three seconds.”
We grinned at each other.
“So when she didn’t push me out, I got down and begged her for forgiveness. I had to confess to everything.” Rhylan didn’t break our shared gaze, his thumb stroking my cheek now. “That from the first time I saw her, I knew she was meant to be mine. That every single day in the Training Grounds was torture, believing that little shit Tidas would be bonded to her instead of me.”
My heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be serious. This was a little too far for a story.
“I had to tell her that I spent years waiting for her to realize that he wasn’t worth a second of her attention and to push him aside. That I came for her because she was everything I wanted in a mate, and if she could find it in herself to forgive me…there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
Little butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach as he spoke. Surely this was just…gilding the lily. He didn’t need to take the story so far into the realms of the fantastic.
I responded lightly. “Of course I couldn’t say no after that.”
“I wouldn’t have let you. Not after I flew all that way to pour my heart out.” Rhylan tapped the tip of my nose.
If only they knew the truth…that he’d forced me to bathe, that I’d spat over the side of the eyrie at him, that he’d half-killed me to bring me to Jhazra.
But that wouldn’t be a lovely tale for gossip to carry to distant ears. This version would creep through the grapevine, give us a saccharine glow, make the romantics sigh.
Which Elinor did a moment later. “We’ve been waiting for years for you two to figure it out. My gods, it’s about time.”
But Maristela’s mind had taken a different tack. “An eyrie from Riona’s time?” She looked to Doric, who finally broke his silence to nod.
“Probably Ebon Wings,” he said quietly, and I breathed a sigh of relief that they were no longer looking at me.
“I wonder if the Ascendant lives,” I heard Maristela mutter, but Rhylan had stolen my attention again.
He leaned forward and filled a plate from the table; toasted slices of bread, thick strawberry jam, paper-thin slices of meat.
“You need to eat something,” he said quietly, offering it to me.
At any other time, I would've descended on the food like an animal, but being in the same room as my past peers had made me so nervous my stomach was in knots. I picked at the food, trying to remember to occasionally glance at Rhylan like he’d spoken, to offer a bite the way Elinor did for her highly-reserved mate.
But when I fed Rhylan, I felt his lips against my fingers. I was hyper-aware of every inch of his body against me, and the feel of his lips was almost too much. I found myself focusing on him to the detriment of losing the thread of the conversation.
“It’s been all the talk,” Maristela was saying to Doric, cutting through my intense internal analysis of exactly how Rhylan’s lips would feel…elsewhere. “She’s the Drakkon’s eldest daughter. If my mother had any sense at all, she would’ve thrown herself into their Court. Even the Raging Tempests are reconsidering their neutrality. They were some of Nasir’s loudest supporters after the war on Vhaiothez. No matter what Yura says, Sera’s claim is far more solid than hers. And she’s a scion, so no one will dare question if she’s really Sera, and not an imposter.”
“I thought that might come up,” Rhylan replied. “They saw her for themselves. If they have any doubts, she’s already brought her Ascendant out of the Dreamlands to speak for her.”