Page 9 of House of Ashes
I wished I’d managed to remain a little drunk for this.
“Rhylan,” I said numbly. I had recognized him, even if my consciousness hadn’t wanted to accept who the black dragon was.
He was six and a half feet of broad, solid muscle, inky scales gleaming on the high points of his tan skin: cheekbones, shoulders, hips, and thighs. Black hair curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck; in earthbound male form, his hooded eyes weren’t coals, but a piercing, heart-flame blue.
I kept my eyes glued to the face that had haunted both my dreams and nightmares. Thick black brows overshadowed those vivid eyes, and his nose arched strongly against the contrast of full, plush lips.
Which were turned down in a frown as he looked me over, still laying in the dust in my filth and rags.
Rhylan, of the House of Obsidian Flame.
Once upon a time, he’d usurped Tidas in my heart. I had never dared to write his name next to mine, even though I’d outgrown girlish scribbles by then. It was as though penning the words, committing my most secret wish to paper, would somehow curse them into never coming true.
Despite the promises made between my House and Tidas’s, ensuring we would be mated when we came of age, I had been sure in my heart that Rhylan was destined to be my dragon. The arrangement between the Silver Embers and the Razored Cinders had chafed at me, an insurmountable obstacle between me and my heart’s desire.
Rhylan was the dragon I’d wanted. He was the distant, dangerous older boy, the dragon who’d made Tidas seem like a sniveling brat next to his cool composure and deadly dragon form.
Then he’d testified against my mother, leading the Drakkon to send us to ashes and exile.
On that day, I couldn’t have hated Rhylan more.
“Serafina,” he said, his face growing even harder as he took in my swollen eye and bruised limbs.
Gone was the boy who’d made my heart flutter; he’d grown into a full male, marked with the scars of battle. His leg was covered with a glaze of dried blood, soon to be another scar to add to his collection.
I got to my feet, pressing a hand to my side. By now I was almost certain that my ribs were merely bruised, not cracked; sharp pains had given way to a dull ache.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice, so I disguised it with venom, thrusting my chin in the air. His shoulders stiffened as I looked down my nose at him. “Haven’t you destroyed me enough already?”
My gods…he’d ruined my entire life. Had he come to rub salt in the wound?
I gasped quietly when I wrapped my arms around myself a little too hard, wanting to vanish from this eyrie, from this particular company. I thought I’d rather deal with Kalros than Rhylan.
At least Kalros wasn’t the one who’d ensured I’d live a life in the Nine Hells.
Just looking at Rhylan hurt. Seeing him at full strength, with all the glory of his ancient bloodline…when mine was reduced to this.
A scrap of a being, caked with filth. I wished I wasn’t affected by him seeing me like this, but the shame cut bone deep. I wanted to sink into the earth and never be seen again.
“You were doing just fine with that on your own.” Rhylan’s sharp gaze ran over me from head to toe. “A few more minutes with Kalros, and you would have been destroyed far more thoroughly than I could manage.”
I bit my lower lip, tasting the remains of blood. “Wyvernshit. You are the reason I’m here at all.”
“You wouldn’t have needed rescuing if you’d had the sense to not hang around in a tavern full of dragons.” He cast a critical eye at my rags. “Stench notwithstanding, you really can’t hide what you are.”
Red flags burned on my cheekbones. I hadn’t thought my embarrassment could surge any higher, but I’d thought wrong.
“Take me to the shore,” I demanded, my lip curling. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Rhylan looked about the eyrie, clearly not listening. There was nothing here to look at; the walls were devoid of decor or tapestries, the rugs underfoot had long since rotted to dust, and the lamps remained cold and dark. There was no Ascendant here to keep the eyrie alive.
Despite my bruised rib, I hugged myself again, mostly in an attempt to stop shaking with rage.
Rhylan strode to the edge of the eyrie, between two crumbled columns. I could walk up behind him now and give him a push over a thousand-foot drop of nothing but thin air and razor-sharp shale…but he’d shift before he hit the ground, and then I’d be facing down an enraged dragon.
My sight fractured as tears welled, and I blinked them away furiously before they could spill over and cut a tell-tale path through the dirt on my cheeks.
The last thing I wanted was to let Rhylan see me cry. He’d had my tears when I was young; never, ever again.