Page 75 of House of Ashes
My last glance over my shoulder had revealed Rhylan, free of harness and saddle, lunging upwards through the dragon door like a black tide.
It’d been hard to focus on training, knowing Rhylan was flying alone out there. Knowing that at any time, Yura and Tidas, or one of their allies, could choose to fly over the Krysiens on a scouting mission.
I knew Rhylan would put up a fight, but if the numbers were against him…it could take weeks to find him—or his body, I couldn’t help but think with a sick rush in my gut—in the narrow channels between the peaks.
Kirana had smacked the sword right out of my hands while I was brooding on this. Then she’d huffed, hands on her hips, and sent me to bed…
Which I’d lain under for hours, my thoughts spinning in circles. Rhylan alone, my sister, the First Claim that was happening in only two days…
Time was running out. It had gone too soon, falling through my fingers like sand. I was miles from what I needed to be.
I hadn’t done nearly enough.
It was impossible to forget the glowing perfection of Princess Maristela or the graceful riding skills of Lady Elinor, and as I curled up into the nest of blankets, the iron bands squeezed around my chest.
Crushing the breath out of me. Squeezing my heart in a fist, making it feel like a bird fluttering its wings against a shrinking cage.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
Heart racing, squeezed tighter and tighter…terror that it would suddenly stop, no longer able to pulse beneath the bands of its cage, raced through me.
I was drowning on dry land. Crushed under a mountain.
I forced myself to take a breath, hand splayed flat over my chest. Feeling my heartbeat. Reassuring myself it was still there, that my ribs weren’t imploding, that I was still whole.
Another breath. Some of the pressure eased.
Then I coerced my thoughts in another direction, willing my mind away from Rhylan, away from the First Claim, away from Yura.
Varyamar. My beautiful home. The scent of jasmine, the familiar glitter of Aurae’s Tears…
More of the pressure lifted, my heart no longer humming quite as desperately. Keeping my hand there, feeling the steady thump against my palm, I made myself think of home.
The threat of the iron bands never quite left. My chest was still a cavern, waiting to collapse, to crush my heart beneath its weight.
But I could breathe now. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the underside of the bed, thinking of jasmine and tears.
Feeling the little worm of fear, released from its prison, slithering through me. Refusing to be crushed, resisting all efforts to extract it.
Sleep had not come easily.
When Kirana arrived with Jenra on her heels, she’d clicked her tongue over the dark circles under my eyes. For the first time since my rescue from Mistward, the tray of food the maids brought was less than appealing.
I’d chewed and swallowed without tasting. Drank down the nutrient tonic without shuddering.
And now, with Jenra making the final fittings before the First Claim, I wanted to vomit all over the floor.
It was a little easier to keep the crushing pressure in my chest at bay in the light of day, when I was surrounded by people, but the fear…it never stopped eating at me.
She pinned the fabric in place around my waist, tugging at the figure-hugging underdress of jet silk, and adjusting the ebony folds of lace over it. It was a riding dress, split high up the sides so I could mount Rhylan, with form-fitting black pants that went underneath.
Kirana had selected the cloth for the dress I would wear to the First Claim. She watched, eyes running over me like I was a doll for her to dress up, murmuring to Jenra as she pointed out alterations here and there.
The lace, she’d told me, had come from her mother’s dowry. The silk was imported from the Wildlands, where free trade was unrestricted by the Houses of Akalla.
I essentially wore a fortune from the House of Obsidian Flame, and she had refused to accept any payment.
“It’s all part of the plan,” she said, frowning as she held up a necklace to my throat, and discarding it immediately.