Shadowed Lies

by Clara Hartley

  She felt the tears welling in her eyes.

  “The house has been cleaned. Nanili and Wynn spent most of the afternoon scrubbing the tiles. You can return should you want to.”

  “Please.”

  Shen moved forward.

  “I’ll use a crutch, thank you.” She had gotten over her fear of men, but she wasn’t that comfortable with them yet.

  “It’ll take longer,” Shen said.

  “I don’t mind.”

  She stood, wincing from the pain shooting up her ankle. Greta passed her two crutches, which Constance hooked underneath her armpits.

  They made their way out of the clinic. Something in her soul told her to look up. She craned her neck and gazed up at the sky. A black silhouette of a dragon loomed overhead. Rayse’s wingspan was the size of a house. Its shadow traveled across her.

  She smiled up at him. She wasn’t sure if he’d see.

  Rayse sat in a cave that was dimly lit with one lantern. The cave was mostly unfurnished. He only returned when he needed to sleep. He often rested there in dragon form, because the tough hide of the form suited the cave’s rough ground better, which made sleeping less uncomfortable.

  For too many nights, he had lain alone beside the cold cavern walls. Recalling how he used to share a bed with his dragon wife, her body melting into his so perfectly, made his heart race and his emotions ache.

  He thought about how she looked when he’d rescued her. She had lost so much weight.

  Her cheeks had shrunk and dark circles rimmed her round eyes. She had probably cried them out, because he could see the swelling around her sockets and how dry they were.

  It was what made him change his mind. He found joy knowing she cared for him so much, but also remorse for being able to hurt her by his simple absence. Even if it made it harder for his heart, Constance deserved to hear from him.

  He scanned over the words Constance had written on her sparrow-vellum: <>

  Her pain was tangible in those few letters. He swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking about how to answer. She had pretty handwriting, with neat, evenly spaced letters, and all her i’s dotted and t’s crossed with demure precision.

  <>

  Her words faded soon after being written, to leave space for more conversations.

  Her desperation was evident. He had promised himself not to ever hurt her again after their first meeting. Why did he have to constantly go back on his pledge?

  <> he wrote.

  A long pause ghosted the winds as he waited for her response. Water droplets appeared on the writing material, before disappearing shortly after. She was crying. Those were her tears leaving their mark on the paper.

  He cursed internally.

  Gripping his quill hard, he scribbled, <>

  Below his sentence, ink marked the sheet. <>

  More tears showed on the vellum. He touched them with his fingers. He didn’t want her to cry.

  <> she wrote. <>

  He wanted to crush the parchment and throw it across the cave. His fury at himself boiled. <> he wrote again. <>

  <> she replied. <>

  The Black Menace never shed a tear, but at that moment, he almost did. <>

  <> the vellum read.

  He was holding the quill so tightly, he thought he might break it. <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  He reread the last few words she’d written. It would be so easy to fly back to her. Warmth was starting to seep back into him again. Writing to her was enough to start lighting up his life. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear her sweet voice, to have her close.

  He couldn’t risk it. As much as he hated it, he had to be far enough away from her.

  <> he wrote. <>

  <>

  He sighed. <>

  <>

  <>

  It was several moments before she replied, <>

  A brow creased his brow. <>

  <>

  His mind worked over her suggestion. <>

  <>

  <> he wrote. <>

  <>

  His quill scratched over the paper. <>

  <> she answered. The ink was darker with those words.

  He was pacing around his cave, unable to contain the blizzard that was swelling in him, threatening to explode. Was this woman crazy? He could never agree to this. He stopped in his tracks, then scrawled untidily on his vellum, <>

  <>

  <>

  But if he didn’t give his consent, they would make no progress. He couldn’t endlessly hide himself in these caves. His instincts fought against the suggestion. He didn’t want to put his mate in danger, no matter how controlled a danger it would be.

  After some silence, she continued, <>

  His jaw ticked. <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  He waited for her scribblings to continue as anticipation rose in his chest. <>

  <>

  He growled. <>

  <n faked. We’re not true mates yet.>>

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was she becoming delirious because of the happenings in their clan? <> There was a long pause before her explanation. The cave was so silent that he could hear his heart beating in his own eardrums. The smell of trickling water filled the emptiness of the place.

  <>

  <> He still couldn’t believe that it would be gone. He had felt it in his wife’s belly.

  <>

  He stared at the sparrow-vellum. <>

  <>

  <> The quickening of his pulse shot through him. His breathing leapt into a staccato rhythm. His dragon sang a tune of grief in his mind. He had been looking forward to seeing his daughter. He had even promised the water witches to send her to them.

  He got up and ran his fingers through his hair.

  <>

  He glared at the words. <> he wrote. But right after that, he rolled the sparrow-vellum and placed it into his bag. He didn’t want to talk to Constance for a while. He needed the words to process. Their bond… was a temporary one? A fake?

  Had his life with her been a lie?

  He leapt off the edge of his cave and called his dragon form. He shifted in the air as he plummeted to the ground.

  He welcomed the flapping of the winds against his wings and flew onward.

  Chapter 11

  Ho-hum, the time has come, my little birds.”

  The Dragon Mother weaved her hand through the dark cloud. It puffed around her, bathing her with the wickedness she had grown accustomed to.

  She plucked a piece of meat from her mishram’s palm and popped it into her mouth. Savoring the charred slaughter, she laughed to herself. “That Constance thinks I can’t see her, isn’t that silly?” she asked the mishram. “But you are my eyes.”

  The mishram remained silent. The Mother exhaled annoyance. The dull creatures had stopped entertaining her thousands of years ago.

  “I suppose they’re starting to recover from the seed I planted. Watching them write love letters to each other isn’t particularly fun.” She tapped her chin, thinking up the next part of her game. Few things entertained her anymore. She needed to stir trouble. Living a million years made things mind-numbingly boring, even though she spent most of her days in spell-forged slumber. “Let’s make this a little more fun, shall we?”

  She blew magic into the dark cloud, sending it toward Constance. The poison the Mother had given Marzia should have fully spread through the femriahl’s body by now, and her plans could come into play.

  She observed her mischief through the sinister mist. I wonder how she’ll react to the visions this time.

  It took the entirety of her courage to write her confession to Rayse.

  <> Rayse wrote.

  She waited with bated breath as she watched Rayse’s last three words disappear from the vellum. She waited for him to elaborate, for words of comfort to come flowing, but instead, he went silent for a long time.

  <> she wrote. She could hear her heart sputtering in her chest.

  She counted the seconds until his next answer. It never came.

  She slumped back into her chair, trying to ignore the worry calling from the back of her mind. He said he wouldn’t hate her, but had left right after. Would he stop talking to her? It had been a mistake. Letting out her secret had been a terrible miscalculation. She should have kept the truth to herself. He was beginning to return to her, and her silly, blubbering mouth had ruined it all.

  Nanili was looking at her with a death stare again. The mishram did that all the time these days. It happened at strange moments, but it scared Constance the most in the middle of the night. She disliked it but had learned to live with it.

  She folded up the vellum, treating it with the utmost care, and locked it into her desk. She would check back later to look for Rayse’s reply, but she doubted it would come.

  If only she could see him in person and explain the fear that gripped her, then maybe he’d understand. She couldn’t take the guilt chipping away at her heart. Telling the truth was supposed to lift the heavy weight off her, but instead it only pressed down, suffocating her.

  The glow of the sunset crept through her blinds. The chair screeched on the floor as she stood up. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Shen says you shouldn’t be out at night,” Nanili said. It was strange to hear a friendly, almost-concerned reminder from the mishram’s mouth when the servant stared at Constance with a violent expression. It was a fixed reminder, set up by Shen. Nanili wouldn’t have given any mind to Constance endangering herself otherwise.

  Shen had already returned to his dragon wife. Constance had assured him she would be safe at home, because she had set some protection spells around the place.

  “It isn’t night yet.” She brushed past the mishram and went down the stairs.

  She grabbed her woolly cloak from the rack and ambled outside. Recklessness twinkled through her. Perhaps she didn’t care for herself enough at that moment. Self-hatred over her foolishness was simmering in her, growing to a boil.

  She felt angry. The cool winds did little to blow out the tempest that was rising in her. The anger was at herself mostly, but also at the clan, and with Rayse, for shoving her aside when she revealed her insecurities. She had only poured out the information because she missed him so much and trusted—hoped, even—that he would accept her for her mistakes. But he’d left soon after she spilled her secrets. She was better off being back in Evernbrook, with Eduard. But her father was dead, and all because of this mess with the dragons. She wanted her father back. He would take her in and stop her from feeling this shattered and lonely.

  She hated the child in the belly. She cursed at it for being there. For making her grow and be nauseated, only to have to leave again. It provided a false promise, and was a reminder of a mistake, mocking her silliness and doubts.

  She wanted the world to burn. And that scared her.

  She walked until the sun set and she heard the winter cicadas playing a sad tune through the expanse of the Everpeak mountains. Where had she strolled off to? She didn’t know.

  Maybe she’d get lost and be unable to find her way back. Maybe her body would freeze under piles of snow and no one would ever find her. She laughed at that ludicrous thought.

  Maybe nobody would miss her.

  She sat down into a heap of white and slammed her fist into its softness. She was freezing beneath it. She didn’t care. She was in the middle of conifer trees, their branches thick with snow. She coughed once more. She wheezed so hard that her chest strained, and it felt like she might break. Her head spun and she looked down at the snow. There was blood marring its whiteness.

  “You shouldn’t be out alone,” a woman said.

  Constance spun around, seeing Marzia. “Why are you here?” She wiped the mixture of blood and saliva from the corners of her lips.

  “I’m sorry, Constance. Honestly, I am.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She said if I did it, I’d be able to talk to Fraser. I was forced to. I’d lose myself if I didn’t. You’d do the same thing if this happened to Rayse. You’d do it
too if you knew it would keep him safe.”

  “You’re not making—” Her breath wouldn’t come. She tried to force it out, but it was stuck in her chest, as if jammed. She opened her mouth and attempted to gasp for more air. She reeled from the pain and slid into the snow. She could smell her own blood next to her. Rayse…

  He wasn’t going to come. He had left her weeks ago, and was now too angry at her to even bother.

  She clawed at her consciousness, trying to hold on to it. Marzia was a blurred figure in her vision. Constance’s stomach tightened from a sharp pain. She flinched and let out a drawn-out groan. She felt warm liquid trickling from her abdomen and down her thigh. Her baby… The miscarriage was happening. She knew she would lose it, but that didn’t mean the truth didn’t hurt. It was gone.

  This was how she’d die.

  Betrayed.

  Tossed aside.

  Alone.

  She didn’t even have the breath to cry out.

  She closed her eyes and let death take her.

  All Rayse could think about was talking to Constance again. The need to hear her sweet words bubbled in him like an incessant craving. He had left her hanging in their last conversation, but he still loved her. He wasn’t lying when he said he could never hate her.

  She had been so foolish. Why fake the bond? He was still wrapping his mind around that. His grief at the loss of his child was like a snake coiling around his insides. Still, time would heal that pain. They could try for another when their bond was truly finished. He didn’t doubt that would happen.

  The rocks made a rough sound beneath his feet when he shifted his stance. He had forgotten how dreary meetings with other dragons were. More reports, more complaints. The Everstones couldn’t keep themselves together without him.

  “You’re in charge of overseeing the goods, Windell,” he told the green dragon.

  Windell let out a growl. “That’s not what I want—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want. The decision is final.” Rayse knew the green dragon had been vying for the position of femrah the most. He needed to put the runt back in his place. All Rayse’s dragon subordinates hated bookkeeping, so that was what Windell got. Served the ass right for eyeing the top spot.