Page 53 of House of Ashes
So I stripped off my sweat-soaked training clothes and allowed a maid to begin unbraiding my hair as I stepped into the bath, murmuring a thank you as my sore muscles sighed with bliss at the sensation of hot water.
In the few days I’d spent in Jhazra Eyrie, the one luxury I’d quickly adapted to without reservation was the steaming baths. When I was younger, I’d hated having handmaids attend to me, but now it settled the primal unease in the back of my brain of being in a vulnerable position.
More handmaids meant more eyes to watch for danger.
And, mercifully, none of them spoke to me that much. I allowed them to scrub and brush me like an oversized doll, lacing and buckling me into the riding leathers, and all I had to do was stay silent and accommodate them when one asked for me to move my arms out of the way.
But soon enough, it was all over. My hair had been plaited and pinned up so tightly I felt my scalp screaming where the strands pulled at my temples. The riding leathers were near-perfect, moving with me like a soft second skin.
And now…I would have to face Rhylan after that mortifying debacle in the training room.
The thought sent my stomach roiling again and after the maids left, I found myself pacing back and forth through the bathroom again.
Some small part of me—the part that thought it would be just grand to never have been raised to claim thrones—wished it were possible to claim to be sick just so I could avoid having to look into his eyes today.
Walking into the bedroom, I pushed a hand against my turbulent stomach and leaned my forehead against the cool glass window.
“He’s just a dragon,” I whispered to my reflection, staring into pale silver eyes. “You are the eldest daughter of Nasir, blood of both Silvered Embers and Undying Light, the rightful Dragonesse. And Mother would whip your ass for this nonsense, acting like a scared little girl.”
This was almost as bad as my tantrum at Rhylan. In fact, it was worse.
I was of twice-royal blood and I had been raised better than this. I was essentially allowing that fear-worm to gnaw on me, without raising a hand to stop it.
That was more than enough to get me to straighten up, pushing my shoulders back and dropping my hand. My guts hadn’t stopped churning, but no one would ever know as long as I didn’t give in to weakness.
“Daughter of Nerezza,” I growled to myself, knowing that name was sacrilege here and not caring.
Many dragonbloods would have looked at my mother and seen a tyrant. I looked at her and saw someone who was willing to give everything to shape her child into what she needed to become.
Perhaps she had not shown me much love on Mistward. But she hadn’t broken, even in her final hours. If she could be exiled to a hellscape with her only blood, every second a battle to defend us both against other dragons or to scrape out a meager survival, and still stand up straight at the end of it, so could I.
My feelings, my embarrassment, were nothing compared to the trials I would face after I murdered Yura and ensured the survival of the Akallan Houses.
I climbed the spiral staircase to the dragon terrace, half-expecting Rhylan to be waiting there with a sneer on his lips, but instead I opened the door and nearly walked straight into a massive, scaled haunch.
He was already shifted, tucked under his harness and peering up at the sky through the dragon door.
Relief filled me, my stomach unknotting the tiniest bit. It was easier to deal with Rhylan when he was in dragon form, not having to look into flame-blue eyes and fight off the instinctual urge that would only lead to trouble.
I quietly shut the eyrie door and kept my face impassive as I ducked under an enormous forelimb, bringing the chest buckles of the harness together.
A startled trill came from the dragon looming overhead, and he craned his head downward even as the rest of him jerked back, peering at me as I smoothly finished the first buckle.
I raised an eyebrow, going to work on the second one. “You’re really going to have to work on not looking surprised when I show up out of nowhere. I know you think I’m going to spit in your face at dinner and ruin all this, but honestly, that reaction right there would’ve been the end.”
Rhylan grumbled, obligingly lifting a clawed foot as I began checking the straps that ran beneath his arms.
I flapped a hand at him, all too aware that the draconic head only inches away possessed teeth longer than said hand. “You can deny it all you want, but we both know you were scared.”
There was a snort from a foot above my head. If my hair hadn’t been pulled back within an inch of its life, it would’ve gone everywhere.
When I was sure the harness was fully secured, I stood in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest and squinting upwards. If only he could be a dragon all the time…it was a thousand times simpler to be at ease.
“We need to fly twice as long today,” I informed him. “Especially since the First Claim is under a week from now. It’s time for the training to be stepped up. You know it and I know it, so let’s not argue.”
The growl Rhylan let out made my whole body vibrate, down to the stones under my feet.
“I see you are in fact raring for an argument. Fortunately, Viros will…” I peered at the storage room’s open door, and found no sign of the Eyrie-Master. “Well, it looks like Viros will not be backing me up. But that’s fine, because I’ve got five good reasons right here.”