Page 145 of House of Ashes
I let him lead me back into the warm glow of the inn.
Doric was as good as his word: in the morning, the promised harness had been deposited into the rear courtyard, well out of the way of the healers and supply runners.
I blinked against the pearly morning light, feeling every second of the last three days in my shoulders and back.
Rhylan’s warmth beside me on the bed had been the only comfort; my neck was painfully stiff and sore today.
How quickly we grow used to the material comforts of an eyrie, I thought ruefully. It had taken me less than a month from leaving Mistward Isle to adapt to soft feather pillows and fluffy blankets. Not so long ago, the lumpy bed would have seemed an unattainable luxury.
Cryla had removed Rhylan’s stitches before we slept; she’d snipped them out, one by one, then plucked them from his flesh with tiny, point-tipped tongs.
“When you get home, have Kirana look over these,” she’d instructed him firmly, and had given him a dark look when Rhylan informed her that Kirana was acting as our emissary into the Wildlands.
“You let her fly to the Wildlands during this instability?” Cryla demanded. “My finest student? Have you any idea—”
“We have an idea, Cryla,” Rhylan had said, his voice ominously quiet. “We can keep Kirana home…and then this war will be dragged out even longer. Someone had to go, and she wanted to do it.”
I’d kept my mouth shut, remembering Kirana’s final words to me.
She was crushed between a rock and a hard place, wanting to find peace and release the pain of their past, and yet unable to do nothing and see her sister’s murderer take the throne.
No, she didn’t want to do it. She simply had no choice.
“If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally accountable.” With that, Cryla had left us to snatch what sleep we could.
And as of this morning, in the bright, unforgiving light, I could clearly see that Rhylan had not been wrong: he was healed enough to make the flight to Jhazra Eyrie. Tiny crimson pinpricks marked where the stitches had been, but even they were fading to a dark pinkish tone after a night of rest, and the silvery sheen of scar tissue had developed over the sealed wounds.
As he squinted up at the sky, flat white with clouds, Doric emerged from the inn behind us. The dragon’s icy blue scales covered most of his exposed flesh; his angular eyes were narrowed with irritation, and his jaw was tight.
At first I thought his irritation was for us, but he relaxed easily enough when Rhylan saw him.
“Thought I’d see you off, at least.” Doric managed a smile, but his scales never stopped shifting over his skin, even as he and Rhylan clasped hands.
“We’ll send the harness back on the next wyvern-flight.” Rhylan released his hand, his gaze following the shifting patches of dragonhide. “We don’t have to go yet, if you still need us…”
Doric shook his head, ran a hand through his chestnut hair with a sigh. “No, it’s not that. We’re good for now. The Endless Depths are watching the perimeters of the town, and with the wyvern-riders scouting we’ve got eyes on all fronts. It’ll take us a while to get this place back in some kind of order, but we’ve got the manpower necessary. It’s just…you know…”
Rhylan nodded sagely, like this meant something to him.
“We’re pretty sure the Bloodied Talons were mostly decimated. At the very least, Kalros has gone to ground, if he’s not already dead. As long as he’s out of the action, I’m not worried about Yura striking against us again, not this soon.”
I was. It was foolish to underestimate what my sister might have stored up her sleeve, but I couldn’t give vague, dire warnings and expect them to be believed.
More to the point, I didn’t necessarily want to sit in this town and scrub floors. Not when we desperately needed to get a message through to Kirana, and significantly reassess our plans.
This fight…it had been geographically small, in the grand scheme of things. Of course someone who had lived here their entire life would disagree: it had been the bombardment and destruction of their world.
But in the war for the throne, in the larger tapestry, it had created vast ripples.
Yura’s forces had been broken, but not defeated. It had provided Chantrelle with an opportunity to rid herself of a troublesome princess.
And now we could anticipate her next move: positioning Asura and Cyran to stake their own claim.
We needed Kirana at home. And we needed to speak to Tyria, who was surely keeping a close eye on the map, and watching as the territories around her began to form their own alliances.
Rhylan said something to Doric, already turning away, but I reached out and touched the dragon’s blue-scaled arm lightly. “Doric. Your draga ward, Mykah…if you need to send us a message, would you consider sending her? I’d very much like to speak with her again.”
His gaze flickered. “She told me she spoke to you.”