Page 76 of House of Ashes

As Jenra made me stand there, Kirana had unabashedly begun digging through the treasure I’d brought back from Varyamar. Myst watched as she sorted through it, my Ascendant’s emotions ranging from outrage to disbelief as Kirana looked over the silver flame diadem, discarded it, and set aside the massive collar without a second glance.

“These will work,” she said with satisfaction. I glanced up, happy for any distraction that didn’t involve thoughts of vomiting all over the priceless fabric.

She’d chosen the dragon brooches I’d selected myself. Two of them, each poured of molten silver, depicting a dragon’s snarling face, ruffs held wide. Tiny chips of sapphire had been set in their furious eyes.

Kirana held them up, placing them where the straps of my dress met the bodice. “Make sure these are included in the final fitting,” she told Jenra.

Myst hooked a claw around the diadem, pulling it close and curling into a small, sulky ball.

I couldn’t find words to placate her. My own emotions were in utter disarray, my fear an omnipresent shadow cloaking all other sensation.

And I couldn’t help but note that Rhylan had not come to see me this morning.

Perhaps I had told him…too much. He wanted someone who could be a strong Dragonesse—or at least give that impression—not someone who had considered mate bonding to a criminal.

Not someone who felt fractured, all the pieces of their soul crumbling day by day.

I half believed that Rhylan would come to the door at any moment to call the plan off. To tell me that I was too weak, too broken, that I could never be Princess Serafina again.

That I was a half-wild draga, and that I’d been right. The past was a dream, and Akalla would be better off without me. Mistward Isle was where the real Sera lived. That was where she belonged—and what she deserved.

But he didn’t. And despite that, my stomach churned and ached. The iron bands threatened to clamp down.

Kirana held silver earrings to my lobes, her mouth twisted as she considered them, and those bright hazel eyes met mine.

She dropped the earrings back in the jewel-box she’d brought up.

“I think this is good,” she said, stepping back next to Jenra. “Let’s have this sewn up as it is for now. I’m going to introduce Sera to my Garnet so she’s not surprised.”

“Your wyvern?” I wriggled eagerly out of the gown, but the threat of Jenra and her pins kept me from escaping as quickly as I’d’ve liked. The pressure in my lungs eased as I shoved my bitter thoughts away.

I’d caught only the briefest glimpse of Jhazra’s wyvern stables, far below the peak of the eyrie. Since the ferrymen had scared the hell out of me, Rhylan seemed to be actively avoiding our flights at times when they were couriering.

But Kirana was happy to throw soft pants and a black knit sweater my way. “She’s a little feisty, but trust me, once you give her a treat you’ll own her heart forever.”

I tugged my clothes on and jammed my feet in my boots, eager to be doing literally anything other than standing here and stewing in my own terror. “Why would I be surprised by her?”

Kirana smiled. “Oh, no. I mean I don’t want Garnet to be surprised by you. I purchased her from the Mourning Fang wyvern breeders, but she was trained a little…differently.”

Eagerly leaving behind the silk and jewels, I followed Kirana into the hall, and we headed down the spiral staircase.

“What sort of training?” I asked, curious as to how Kirana’s personal wyvern would differ so much from those ridden by the ferrymen and message couriers.

I still disliked them, and I might always dislike them. Until I’d been sent to Mistward, I’d been used to the sight of wyverns flitting through the sky around Varyamar and the Koressis Training Grounds. Few Houses bothered with using horse riders to courier messages; a wyvern-rider could cover the same ground in a fraction of the time.

But Mistward had changed my feelings towards them.

I now associated the sight of them with hunger, and fear of being caught out as an unmated draga.

And worse…sharp, painful hope, eventually fading into bitter resignation when none had ever arrived with a message from the Drakkon telling me I could come home.

Kirana glanced at me side-long. “The Mourning Fangs come from a long line of wyvern-breeders. I believe that’s actually why their Ascendant chose them back when they were Bloodless. They had a natural touch for flying already, an innate understanding of reptilian physiology. Maybe that’s also why they seem to train wyverns so naturally.” She puffed out a breath. “You would not believe how much they ask for a hatchling. I sold a house heirloom and promised Gaelin a rather large favor to get my pick of the litter.”

We descended past the level of the training rooms. The keystone on the next landing depicted a boiling cauldron, and I got my first glimpse of Jhazra’s kitchens—a Bloodless man in a stained, burned tunic bellowed orders at his kin, and then we were around the bend.

This deep into the eyrie, the air was warmer, denser. And we were still nowhere near the actual bottom; all eyries had to be available to the Bloodless of the House. Some had pulley systems so they wouldn’t have to climb thousands of stairs. With every step we descended, the humidity grew more intense.

“When one of their prime matriarch’s clutches hatched, Gaelin came for me himself. He carried me to Diraek Eyrie in his claws, set me in the stables, and I knew Garnet was mine the second I laid eyes on her.” Kirana cupped her hands, holding them out. “She was only this big. You wouldn’t believe it now, looking at her, but she was so tiny.”