Page 90 of House of Ashes

Vengeance.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask Rhylan why he hadn’t told me, not when he was a statue frozen in place beside me. Only the soft sound of his breath gave away that he was still alive at all.

Because some things couldn’t be spoken of. There would never be words to explain them.

Tyria was the one who saved us from the terrible silence. Striding forth from the protective wall of her sons, she looked at Rhylan first, compassion written across her features.

“You did well, Rhylan,” she said gently, but when her gaze turned to me…she was not cold, exactly, but measuring. “And you, Serafina. How did you survive Mistward?”

Of all the things I was expecting to be asked…I felt like I’d been given whiplash. I’d come to Akalla believing the Jade Leaves might have been looking out for me, but Tyria was not on my side. Not completely.

And as for how I’d survived Mistward…what kind of question was that? For the first time, I found myself grateful that I hadn’t ditched Rhylan and run to their House for safety. And even as that thought crossed my mind, I wondered why it mattered.

Nothing seemed to matter now. Not in the wake of Rhylan’s pain.

“With great desperation,” I finally replied.

Tyria looked me up and down, taking in every little flaw, and the lengths to which Jenra and Kirana had attempted to disguise them.

“Are you strong?” she asked bluntly. “Am I gambling my sons’ future by backing you? Can you stand against Yura, or will you break when the flames grow too hot?”

Then it hit me. Really, truly dug deep into me with claws.

My entire life, up until I was sent to Mistward Isle, had been a training run for the day I would sit on the throne in Koressis Eyrie. Every hour, every minute had been dedicated to sitting there one day, ruling over all of Akalla.

But becoming Dragonesse was not just about sitting in the highest tower. It wasn’t about the title or the throne.

Every House that joined our Court was depending on us to fight for them, quite literally. If Rhylan or I had even a moment of doubt in which we would break against Yura, we would be consigning every House behind us to defeat.

Several centuries might have passed since the last Interregnum, but no dragonblood who had been taught history had forgotten what had happened: when the Drakkon-Apparent of the House of Ebon Wings had faltered against Riona—leaving her open to claim the throne, and when she did, she spared no mercy for her opponents.

Ebon Wings was now only a name in the history books. Their House was ashes now, their eyrie empty, their Ascendant dead. The minor Houses allied with them had gone the same way, sent to an early grave.

If she backed us, Tyria was putting not only her life in our hands, but her sons’ lives, her Ascendant’s legacy.

Rhylan answered for me. “We will never break. You know this, Tyria. As long as I draw breath, I will be a shadow at their backs, waiting to strike.”

But Tyria’s cool gaze hadn’t moved from my own. “I know you won’t, Rhylan. But your mate…Nerezza was a proud draga, but not a brave one. She wouldn’t hesitate to save herself first if she saw the opportunity.”

I was getting godsdamned tired of people slandering my mother, and including me in it, as though Nerezza and I were the same person.

“I’m not Nerezza,” I snapped, baring my teeth at the elder draga.

Tyria smiled, though it couldn’t be called friendly. “Indeed. But you’ve been absent long enough that we have no idea whose Court we’re joining. You are, in essence, a stranger to us, Serafina.”

Not by choice. But that was not an answer I could give her. A Dragonesse could not lay blame at the doorstep of another, as though that excused her.

I was a stranger to them, but there was only one way to prove it.

“Give me time, and I will not be a stranger for long. I promise this: as long as Rhylan lives, I will stand with him. And if he dies, I will accomplish what he set out to achieve.”

Was it just me, or did Tyria’s smile become a fraction warmer? I understood then, as she inclined her head to Rhylan and I both, that she had been testing me. Looking to see if I would break under a line of simple questioning, if I would give her the excuses she’d been waiting for.

The same excuses my mother might have given her.

It was still a gamble for Tyria to support us, but at least I could say I would not blame things outside my control; I would do my best to take responsibility, no matter what came our way.

And if Rhylan died…I would finish what he had started.