Page 29 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

I used to visit the den of the voratrice that killed her, waiting for the creature to emerge so I could slay it. But my father found out and commanded me never to approach that spot again. “Do you think I want to lose you as well?” he roared, and Vylar wept, begging me never to go back there.

Out of loyalty to them both, I haven’t returned to the den since the Bone-King died. Kyreagan needs me. The clan needs me. I am the loyal brother, the steady hand, the quiet encouragement for anyone who needs my support. I am not a leader, a savior, or an avenger of my people.

A torrent of acidic sorrow and self-hatred explodes through my chest. I plunge deeper into the ocean, throw my head up, and bellow my agony to the sky.

The crashing surf covers the sound. The ocean won’t betray my weakness to my clan. It will swallow my frantic grief and my helpless fury so I can return to the others and keep pretending I’m not angry like Kyreagan, that I don’t grieve as deeply as Kyreagan, that I’m kinder and softer and weaker than Kyreagan—fuck—

I roar again, and this time a giant piece of the emptiness in my soul tears away and launches out through my throat, rocketing into the air. The void orb inhales a swirl of sand and a spray of seawater, then implodes on itself with a concussive crack that dulls my hearing for a moment.

Sometimes I want to swallow the world, inhale everything into myself. Maybe then I would not feel so perpetually, horrifically empty. Maybe then I would have peace, because I would benothing. I would remember nothing—not the snap of my mother’s wing bones and her neck, not the sight of Vylar impaled on the high tower of Guilhorn. Not the light going out of my father’s eyes, or the sight of Kyreagan trembling against the cliffside on the night we took bone tribute. I have never seen him so broken as he was then. I remember how the fire dripped fromhis jaws instead of igniting, how he breathed so fast that I was afraid he might die in a panic, right there on the cliff, and leave me to rule the clan alone.

If I died, I wouldn’t have to remember that moment, ever again. Perhaps it would be a relief to not exist.

But last night I experienced joys and pleasures that were altogether new. There are wonders I have not yet seen, delights I have yet to taste. If I had given up after the death of my mother, if I had ceased to exist, I would never have met Jessiva.

I’ve stayed here long enough. It is time to return to my darling, and have the joy of seeing her face again.

As I emerge from the waves and shake myself on the sand, I spot two shadows gliding along the beach. When I look up, I recognize the silhouettes—Ashvelon and Fortunix. Both are carrying large bundles in their claws, and there’s a woman on Ashvelon’s back.

I bound along the beach and take off, soaring upward and coming abreast of the two dragons.

“You have the sorceress?” I call to Ashvelon.

“Yes. We are taking her to my cave,” he replies.

“I will tell Kyreagan.”

For a moment longer I glide with them, observing the woman Ashvelon is carrying. Her skin is the brown of sun-warmed rocks, and her hair is much darker. She kisses her hand to me playfully before renewing her grip on Ashvelon’s spikes.

This is Thelise, daughter of the Supreme Sorcerer, the witch who is going to turn my exquisite girl into a dragon.

I try to imagine Jessiva in dragon form. Perhaps she will have scarlet scales and golden-brown eyes. She will be sleek, hard, covered in spikes, with huge wings.

She will be… not the same.

I will miss her. I willmournher. No more lovely, soft, human flesh. No more silken scarlet hair. No more fingers and toes. No more dancing.

Now I understand what Jessiva was trying to tell me. As a dragon, she would never again be able to dance the way she did last night. It’s a loss she couldn’t bear, and I’m beginning to think I could not bear it either.

Perhaps… perhaps I should take Jessiva and leave Ouroskelle. I could carry her to the coast, where she will be safe from Thelise’s spell.

It would be treachery, a betrayal of Kyreagan, a rejection of his plan. I would be undermining him before the other males. He would be deeply hurt.

Fuck... I don’t know what to do.

As I glide into the valley, toward the enclosure in front of the women’s cavern, I spot Kyreagan and the Princess on the ground near Jessiva. I’m not sure I like the way Kyreagan is staring at my woman. The Princess is pointedly not looking at my brother; she’s glaring in another direction.

My heart sinks. Of course my brother would notice Jessiva—she’s easily the most beautiful, intelligent, and interesting person on this island—perhaps in the whole world. And he is larger, stronger, and more assertive than I am. Given a choice between the two of us, any female would choose him.

I drop down and land near Jessiva. Still holding my brother’s gaze, she takes a deliberate step backward, bringing her closer to me.

So somethingwashappening between them—an implicit offer on his part, if not an overt one. And Jessiva chose me.

Gratified and surprised, I look from my brother to my captive before I manage to remember the message I came to deliver. “Ashvelon and Fortunix have returned.”

Kyreagan’s yellow eyes brighten. “And were they successful in their mission?”

“Yes. They await us in Ashvelon’s cave.”

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