Though maybe Deryn could understand why.
The silence dragged. Deryn let it, staring down any councilmember who dared meet her eyes, and tried to shake off the feeling that something to do with Rhys had gone horribly wrong. She wasn’t the Seeress. She didn’t get feelings. Scales, she tried not to have feelings about events that actually happened, let alone nebulous mights or maybes.
A chair scraped across the tiled floor. “I have a suggestion.”
The eyes of the Council, Deryn included, turned to Athena, one of the Wingless representatives. The Wingless, the only non-clan body with representatives on the Council, usually didn’t say much. Many of the dragons considered the inclusion of Wingless councilmembers a courtesy. But Athena and Sarangerel had only been elected to the position recently—though Sarangerel was the oldest Wingless in Eryri—and they were shaking things up.
Deryn liked them.
Council Leader Kansoleh motioned to Athena with one slender umber hand, the golden scales of her headdress tinkling. “Speak.”
Though nearly as dark as Kansoleh, Athena’s cheeks were freckled, and instead of cut close to her scalp, her brown hair was a cloud of tight curls around her face, charms and jewels dripping from a band around her head. Before she could even open her mouth, some of the anti-Wingless dragons were grumbling.
“We already know what she’s going to say,” interjected cold, beautiful Nerys, the Draig councilwoman. “You only just reprimanded Gethin for wasting time. Why are you going to let her?”
“Quiet,” Deryn barked. Though everyone did know what Athena was going to say.
Athena returned the nod with a small, tense smile on her lips. “Highness. Honored councilmembers, the answers are obvious. First, you should allow Princess Aderyn to send her envoys to the free dragons. Your prejudices are outdated and potentially fatal.
“Second—” Athena raised her voice over the outburst of muttering “—you must let the Wingless who wish it to go into battle with their mates. You say you lack soldiers, but there are over a hundred Wingless in Eryri. Most of us are young. We love our mates, and we have come to love dragons. We’ll fight hard, because if Owain wins, we lose—what can our place possibly be in a society headed by a king intent on killing humans? A hundred soldiers, or fifty, or even twenty-five, could make a difference that matters.”
“They aren’t my envoys,” Deryn said mildly. “They’re the king’s envoys. But I agree with them. And, as I’ve told you all before, I agree with Councilwoman Athena. The Wingless are valuable assets. I’ve seen Kai—Queen Kai—in action. They should be allowed to fight.”
“The Wingless exist so that we can continue on as a species.” Nerys tapped the table with a slender finger. “That’s where their value lies—in the fact that even pairs with a male Wingless and female dragon can produce more offspring than a pair of dragons. We are tottering on the edge of extinction!”
“We are not your broodmares or stud stallions.” Sarangerel looked down her short nose at the other woman.
Deryn wasn’t sure if the comment helped or not. After all, Sarangerel and her mate had had six children—six—when most dragon couples could only produce one or two. Deryn’s own mother, Mair, had been Wingless and had three. Though Wingless hadn’t been part of dragon history long, they had already done much to shore up the population’s dwindling numbers.
“You forget that my own mate is Wingless,” Nerys said, false affront written all over her. “I cannot bear the thought of taking him into battle. He’d be helpless as a hatchling!”
Deryn rolled her eyes. “Just because Henry Harrow is useless in a fight doesn’t mean the other Wingless would be. He’s got other talents. And, I suspect, other talents.”
Next to Deryn, Council Leader Leonidas cleared his throat. Across the table, Citlali, the only Quetzal in Eryri, smirked and drummed her nails on the table.
Nerys was not amused.
Deryn backpedaled. “Come, Nerys. If anything, Henry should be used as an argument for the Wingless, not against them. They are capable people.” He might not like dragons in general, thanks to his awful treatment by Nerys, but Harrow played an essential part at keeping the dragons up-to-date with the impossibly fast changes in human technology.
“Princess Aderyn is right,” Citlali said.
Deryn winced at the use of her full name. Only her mother had called her by that name. Her mother who had tried to kill Rhys, whom Deryn loved more than anyone else in the world.
Her mother, whom Owain had killed.
So maybe he’d gotten two things right.
The guilt of that thought made her grind her teeth. She should not be grateful for the death of her mother. She was just so angry.
Citlali continued, “Several of the councilmembers were present at the battle. We saw how Queen Kai flew, how capable she and King Rhys were together. Their partnership is flawless. We need more soldiers. I second the motion that the Wingless be allowed to fight.”
Council Leader Kansoleh pressed her fingers to her lips. “Is there a third?”
The last Council Leader, a Noodinoon named Shonke, raised his hand. “I will third.”
Half of the Council, including Deryn, looked at him in surprise. The Noodinoon—the dragons of North America whose magic had to do with the weather—were notoriously neutral. If he supported the Wingless, it had to be because of Kai. Historically, dragons had kept Wingless out of the war because it seemed laughable for a human to fight giant flying beasts. The dragons had assumed the humans would be killed in moments.
Kai had proved that wrong. Wingless weren’t humans, they were powerful magic-users in their own right, and dragons had been denying themselves of a valuable resource for far too long.
Shonke ignored the murmurs and looked serenely ahead, reminding Deryn of Seren at her most annoyingly ineffable.
“We will vote,” Kansoleh said. “All in favor of allowing the Wingless to fight in the coming battles with their mates?”
Deryn and seven other dragons raised their hands, and she barely suppressed a grin. Eight. That was higher than the number had ever been. Thanks to recent events, Deryn wasn’t sure of Rhys’s vote, but if Kai and Ashem had been there—Ashem sat unwillingly on the Council as one of two surviving members of Clan Azhdahā—they could have had half.
Of course, some members of the Council didn’t want Kai to have a vote, or they wanted to kick one of the current Wingless councilmembers out and give Kai their vote, or they wanted to get rid of Kai entirely. Anything to strip her of as much power as they could.
Lizards.
“Motion denied,” said Kansoleh gently.
Athena sat, but her expression said exactly what Deryn had felt.
So close. Next time.
A messenger scurried in through the rows of slender columns that separated the Council chamber from the hall beyond. The room was open so that the people could come and watch the meetings in progress if they chose, which few did. The effect made the Council chamber feel airy, though, so Deryn liked it.
The messenger scurried to Gethin and handed him a slip of paper. Dragons tended to use gemstones for serious record keeping and longer messages, but paper was still the easiest way to pass a quick note.
“Council meetings are not to be disrupted,” Council Leader Leonidas said, his thick salt-and-pepper mustache quivering slightly.
The messenger reddened, bowed and scurried out.
Gethin unfolded the note.
“What was so important that it could not wait until after the meeting?” Leonidas demanded.
Deryn had to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. Gethin had a flair for the dramatic—like Cadoc, except not charming. He had probably asked that poor soul to deliver him a note so he could feel important.
But when Gethin looked up, his face was gray,
his mouth slack.
Deryn’s stomach dropped.
Gethin cleared his throat. “It’s from my father. He’s heard from one of his contacts outside Eryri. King Rhys and his Wingless mate have been sundered.”
Silence.
Deryn blinked. Once. Twice.
Rhys and Kai...sundered?
Like Mother and Father.
She stood, pushing her chair back so hard it clattered to the floor. “You lie.”
It couldn’t be true. Not Rhys and Kai. Owain would have needed something from both of them to do it. He probably had plenty of Kai’s blood and hair, but he couldn’t have anything from Rhys. They couldn’t be sundered. It could kill them. They could go mad.
Like Mother.
Gethin glared. “Princess Aderyn, I would not lie to the Council. And even if I would, I would not dare lie about this.”
Maybe there was a hint of dramatic falsehood to his words, or maybe Deryn just couldn’t hear over the rushing in her ears. The world had gone blurry. All of her internal organs seemed to have disappeared.
“This—this meeting of the Council is adjourned.” She sounded like someone had just punched her in the gut. “I must contact Commander Ashem.”
She stumbled away from the table. The voices of councilmembers bounced and buzzed around her, echoing from the ceiling. She didn’t care. Had to escape. Find a communicator. Call Ashem.
“I’ve got you, annwyl.” Warm hands grasped her at wrist and waist.
Evan.
Deryn leaned into him, letting his scent wash over her. They might not be heartsworn, but aside from Rhys, he was her best friend in the world.
Someone was in front of her, asking about Rhys. Deryn blinked and found herself staring at Shonke, the Noodinoon Council Leader. He wanted to know if Deryn would update the Council when she found out what was going on.
“Yes,” Deryn managed. “I’ll send word once I’ve spoken to Ashem.”
Evan led her out through the widely spaced columns. Luckily, there wasn’t much of an audience today. As they passed, Nerys’s voice cut through general buzz. “Does this mean the Wingless isn’t queen anymore?”
Ancients, did it? Deryn had no idea. None of this could be real.
She was almost to the safety of the columns when Gethin stopped her. Deryn shrugged out of Evan’s grasp. “Move.”
Gethin’s face was a picture of solicitous concern. “Don’t you want to see the note?” He held out the folded piece of paper in his hand.
Even looking at it made her feel sick. “No.”
Gethin sighed and stuck the note in his pocket. “My father supports you, Princess Aderyn. He tells me there are many on the Council who do. Perhaps, now that your brother is sundered, you will consider that you must take his place as ruler of this people. You are our only path into the future.”
Evan’s hand was on her waist again, and his fingers tightened. If she became heartsworn, her relationship with Evan would—probably—end. Deryn had managed to avoid becoming heartsworn so far, but she was the right age, and likely to make a match soon. She and Evan had managed to keep their relationship light, both knowing it could never go anywhere. That didn’t mean it had been easy, not falling in love with the boy who’d been with her since childhood.
“Even if they’re sundered, Rhys is king and Kai is queen. That’s how it will be. For as long as they live.” She shouldered by Gethin, Evan on her heels.
“We’ll pray to the Stars that they have long lives, then,” Gethin called after her.
Deryn hunched her shoulders and walked faster, until Evan was almost jogging to keep up. At least she knew Rhys wasn’t dead. If he had died, the mantle would have come to her, and she could have commanded every yammering, wind-for-brains fool in that meeting to shut their snouts and keep them shut.
Nothing’s changed, she told herself as she and Evan made for her room so she could call Ashem. Nothing’s changed.
She was the warrior. Not the diplomat. Not the ruler.
Nothing’s changed.
She made it to her rooms, found her communicator. It took five tries to get Ashem to answer.
“What?” His voice was irritable.
“Tell me it isn’t true.”
“Aderyn?”
“Tell me they aren’t sundered, Ashem!”
A pause. “They’re sundered. I’m keeping them sedated for now, but we can’t stay where we are for long.”
Deryn sat hard on her bed, Evan beside her.
Everything had changed.
“Damn it, Ashem, you had better not let them die.”
* * *
Seren woke to a scream. Her stomach knotted, and she squeezed her eyes shut, sure Owain had brought her to watch Kai being tortured again. He wouldn’t stop unless Seren submitted and took the drug that would plunge her into visions for days at a time.
“I’ll take it,” she whimpered. “Stop hurting her. Please!”
“My lady?” A voice, smooth and rich as cream. A voice that was definitely not her turtle-like caretaker.
Seren’s eyes popped open.
A cold breeze raised goose bumps on her skin. No dark canopy hung above her. No curtains cut her off from the rest of the room. Sunlight streamed in through a few small root-crossed holes and pooled on the ground. She was in a cave. Not a dragon cave, a wild, dirty, natural cave.
This was not Cadarnle.
A tall figure leaned against the opposite wall, broad-shouldered but narrow-hipped.
“Cadoc?” Seren touched her throbbing head with a shaking hand. Her thoughts felt like they were moving through syrup, sticky and slow. Her stomach was being pinched between two sharp claws.
He crouched beside her. “The only and one.”
“Oh.” It was literally too good to be true. Regret rose in her. “I’m dreaming.”
She wasn’t surprised that her dreams brought her the bard. It had taken her a century to convince herself he’d never felt anything for her, and another to convince herself that she’d never felt anything for him. But since he’d found her in that hospital it had become clear as the lagoons of Eryri that she’d been lying. In her dream, she could admit to herself what she never could have awake.
She loved him, and she had never stopped.
Cadoc chuckled, but his smile was wrong, somehow. Empty. “A nightmare, maybe, waking up to me.”
Seren wrinkled her nose. That wasn’t right. If this was a dream, he wouldn’t be over there. He would be kissing her. Those dreams were her favorite. Not that she knew what kissing felt like. Or holding hands. Or anything involving skin-to-skin contact.
Ancients, she was dizzy.
An agonized cry bounced from the walls, and Cadoc winced. “Of course, there are worse things happening at the moment than my face.”
Seren would’ve made an incredulous sound if she’d had the energy. Cadoc’s face—as he knew well enough—was breath-stealing. Fine, strong planes and sharp angles, a tumble of unruly black hair that fell over amethyst eyes. With a few days’ growth of stubble shadowing his cheeks and jaw, he was only just too masculine to be called “pretty.” Everything about him was perfect.
Except for his smile. It broke her heart.
The last time she’d seen him, he’d been on the beach of an island in the Bering Sea, trying to kill Rhys. Cursed. She was glad to see he’d broken it somehow.
“Where are we?” Her voice was weak, whispery. She couldn’t seem to make it stronger. Her whole body felt too heavy to move. Some dream this was.
“Safe.” Cadoc settled back on his heels. “How much do you remember?”
“Remember...of what?”
“Two weeks.” Cadoc’s voice was rough. “He had you for two weeks. How much do you remember?”
Another scream made her start. Seren became aware of the uneven floor digging into her back, another swirl of cold breeze. She looked at Cadoc again and saw the white lines of scars that crisscrossed his left hand. His right arm—the one covered in carnelian scales arranged in a pattern like flames—was tucked into his jacket, his hand hidden. She reached out with her healing magic—a magic completely separate from the type that forced visions into her brain—and felt splintered bone and misshapen muscle.
She sat up, her stomach lurching and head spinning at the motion.
Not a dream.
She was rescued.
Cadoc was here. He had saved her.
Someone cried out, the sound echoing through the cave as if the first cry had woken a chorus of tormented souls.
“You...How? Where are we?” She tried to push herself up, but collapsed back, shaking. So weak. “Who’s hurt? Quickly, bring them to me. Is it Kai? Please tell me you saved her, too.”
“She lives. Thank the Ancients. But...”
There was such pain in his voice that Seren almost reached out to him. She’d thought she would never see him again, but there he was, the familiar combination of cedar and lemon oil faintly scenting the air.
“But what?” Seren stopped the reach before it was more than a twitch. She might be willing to admit that she loved Cadoc, but he was far too loyal a friend and soldier to fall for her. At best, she was Rhys’s little sister. At worst, she was a symbol. Something too sacred to think about as a woman.
She didn’t want to be a symbol to Cadoc.
A cry echoed from deeper in the cave. Seren pushed forbidden feelings to the back of her mind. “Who is that? Bring them to me. Or me to them.”
Cadoc rubbed his face with his good hand. “It’s Kai. And when it isn’t Kai, it’s Rhys.”
As if his name had conjured him, Seren heard a groan. Rhys’s voice. What had happened that they were both so severely injured? Panicked, Seren tried to stand, but fell. Cadoc started, but pulled himself up short of helping her. She wasn’t wearing gloves or a veil. She caught sight of them, folded and waiting on a low, flat stone.
Truth of Embers Page 11