Page 66 of House of Ashes
Immediately the locks inside the door began to whirl and click, the sound of gears whirling faster and faster, and then…it swung open.
The crystal lights overhead flared to pure, brilliant life, illuminating the sea of silver before us. All over the eyrie, the lamps flared, lighting up Varyamar like a beacon.
As I had promised Rhylan and Kirana, my House’s treasure was vast. We slipped over millions of coins; strings of diamonds dangled from the hands of ancient statues; the emeralds alone could create a mountain of their own.
And in the middle of the Vault, in a vast pile of silver that had been scraped into a vaguely bed-like shape, a creature the size of a large dog lay sprawled across a silver shield inlaid with elaborate scrollwork, curled around the massive ruby in its center.
The true dragon was as pale as snow, each perfect scale an iridescent pearl edged in silver—just like the ones on my own body that marked me as her undiluted blood. She wore tiny silver rings on her claws, each set with an amethyst or sapphire, strands of pearls encircling her throat. Her wings, glistening with the same nacre-like hue of her scales, were outspread beneath her.
I knelt before my Ascendant, the first of my blood, reaching out with shaking hands to touch her. Her pulse was strong; there was no sign of blood. There was no sign of anything wrong at all, in fact.
“Myst?”
A tiny eye cracked open, revealing the molten silver hue of her irises, so like mine. “S-Serafina?” Her normally high, fluting voice was weak and rough, and she slipped into my hands.
“I’ve come back,” I whispered, my throat thick with unshed tears. My Ascendant lived. “I’m so sorry, I—”
I couldn’t speak anymore. Myst twisted her little head slightly, horns scratching at my palms, teeny razor teeth gleaming as she sat upright to peer into my face.
I expected something like, “How could you leave me like this?” or “I’m so glad you’re alive and home”, but instead…
She wailed again and flopped back onto the shield, no longer weak and pathetic as she flung an arm over her eyes. “I’m staaaarving!”
Chapter
Fourteen
“Yes, she has always been this…melodramatic.” I watched resignedly across the campfire as Myst nibbled delicately on a deer haunch.
She was only being dainty now because she had eaten a rack of ribs and two other legs like a starving wolf.
“You don’t say.” Rhylan squinted at the bags of provisions we’d laid out; our dried beef had mysteriously vanished.
There was no way we had the energy to fly through the night back to Jhazra Eyrie, so we’d found a terrace several floors up from the vault with a wide courtyard that was mostly clear of the riotous jasmine. The espaliered plum trees had slipped from their carefully-tended designs, creeping outwards to form a natural canopy of branches we could sleep under.
Neither had anyone wanted to walk down several hundred steps to the kitchens of the eyrie; we elected to build a campfire in the middle of the courtyard. The risk of the light being seen was outweighed by the need to eat, and we had both agreed that it was highly unlikely that any other dragonbloods would be flying through my territory and come to investigate.
Rhylan had briefly left to gather firewood from the forest below, while I laid out our bedrolls and watched Myst heave sighs and rub her stomach. The Ascendant’s contribution to the campsite had been to blow a meager whisper of iridescent flame at the pile of branches Rhylan brought back, and then to watch with rapt attention as he butchered the deer he’d caught.
I was the one who sharpened the stakes for skewering tidbits. In my time on Mistward, I’d perfected the art of rapidly preparing a meal, although a rabbit was a lot less to cook than an entire deer.
We worked in relative silence, and though I couldn’t be sure of what Rhylan was thinking, I knew I was lost in one particular thought.
What had he meant?
I thought I would be driven to madness, trying to decipher such a simple statement. Because on its face, it did seem simple: Rhylan had wanted to be there for me. Had been there for me, although I’d never known it.
But then, that was too simple.
Because it did not align with everything else I knew of him: he was directly responsible for my exile to an isle right out of the Nine Hells. When he had come for me, he had directly told me that he could not stand me either, and was only willing to tolerate me because I was a clear path to his vengeance against Tidas.
In the end, after spinning back and forth through these thoughts, I decided on one thing: I was grateful Myst had chosen that moment to interrupt, because if I’d asked the question that made my hands shake and heart pound, I would have been so ashamed if Rhylan had had to clear up the misconception.
Letting him think I’d ever had any sort of feelings about him would ruin our ruse more quickly than anything else; my pride wouldn’t be able to withstand knowing he’d preen his ego over thinking ‘Perfect Serafina’ had secretly been in love with him.
And as for that name…I despised it. And yet I could look back at the trainee I had been, nose always to the grindstone, and understand perfectly well why the other draga I’d kept at arm’s length would give me such a moniker.
Skewering a bit of venison shoulder and settling it over the fire, I considered how…unlikable I had been. Still was. I had made no effort my entire life to be particularly friendly, because that wasn’t what I was supposed to be.