Page 44 of House of Ashes

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Page 44 of House of Ashes

The tightness eased a little. I pulled in a breath, exhaled. The ache was slowly fading.

I still lived, no matter what he’d tried to do. I still breathed. I still walked the earth he’d left behind.

And I would not allow him to haunt me from his grave.

Rhylan was waiting on the terrace, leaning against a pillar as the breeze ruffled his hair. As I stood sheepishly in the door, one eyebrow slowly climbed his forehead, forming a perfect arch.

I stared at him, the words stuck in my throat.

Breaking free from this life would mean doing things I hated. And if I couldn’t stand to make a simple apology to keep the peace, then I wasn’t worthy to rule.

“I’m sorry.” My claws dug painful divots into my palms. “I…it was something I hadn’t accepted. Believing that someone would come for me…that was the one thing that kept me going.”

I couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. I quailed as I spoke, eye contact failing utterly, and I spoke the last words to the floor under my toes.

A pair of boots came into sight, stopping inches short of mine.

It was hard to breathe again, but not from fear. No, this was the crushing pain of breathing in a scent I desperately wanted to taste, to wrap myself in like a warm blanket.

Rhylan took one of my hands, his calloused fingers prying my nails out of my palm.

“It was a bad way of telling you.” There was no animosity in his voice, no disappointment. “And I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I didn’t…I couldn’t see it from your perspective. Because I’ve never been fucking exiled.”

If anything, he sounded heavy, his voice rough with some internal battle.

I couldn’t stand the feeling of warm hands around mine, not while Rhylan apologized to me. I pulled my hands out of his grasp, and he let his drop to his sides.

“Peace?” I asked, forcing myself to look up at him.

His eyes were burning, so blue they could make the sky feel sorry for itself. He gave me a tight smile before looking away, the muscles in his neck standing out in cords. “Peace.”

“You can send me to my room again for any bad behavior.”

I left the door wide open for his retort, waiting for Rhylan to grab the opportunity by the throat and give me his wicked, irreverent grin, but he didn’t.

He opened his mouth, stopped himself, then turned and walked away.

It was impossible to not feel like I’d been punched in the gut. Gods. The way I’d run away, and told him to fuck off…

He knew what he was in for now. He knew I was not worthy, that he’d tied himself to the losing draga, that he’d be saddled with a female who would run and hide instead of facing trials with her head held high.

Even as he and Viros brought out the harness and saddle, my chest began to tighten again. I went to the edge of the terrace, staring out at the mountains, counting my breaths again. Each sip of air felt like it was forcing itself past an iron band around my ribs. Small black blossoms bloomed over my vision, my hands shaking.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the sensation faded. I drew in a deeper breath, turning as I heard my name.

“Sera?” Rhylan had already pulled off his boots and shirt, standing beneath the harness. He watched me, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been calling you. Are you ready?”

I nodded mutely. Rhylan watched me a moment longer, lips tight, and began the shift.

The black scales blossomed over his growing form, just as the blooms in my vision had unfurled. I gazed up at him as he adjusted himself beneath the harness, Viros moving over the buckles with rapid, well-practiced movements.

When it was secured, Rhylan lowered himself to the floor, twisting his enormous head to stare at me. I managed to give Viros a small smile as I mounted, hooked the safety straps onto my legs, and took up the reins.

Viros looked troubled as he backed away, giving Rhylan room to take off.

He had probably heard. No doubt word had spread throughout the eyrie already that the potential Dragonesse they were backing was a whining brat.

This time, I couldn’t stop the surge of sickness from spreading through me, the light-headed panic of wanting to curl into a ball and be swallowed by the earth.




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