Page 74 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

One gray morning, my black dragon doesn’t rise to take me on our usual morning flight to fetch fresh water. He remains curled on the grass, panting heavily, while red and yellow light flickers at the edges of his scales.

I sit down by his head and touch his nose, but he recoils as if the gentle contact pained him.

“What can I do to help you?” I ask softly.

“Stay.” The word is a ragged breath between his jaws. “Just stay.”

I sit with him while he endures the inner torment. My own nerves are brittle, and I fear that any minute the Mordvorren could come spewing out of his mouth. If it did, I would be right in its path.

That night, when Varex is finally able to revert to human form again, it seems to relieve some of the internal pressure of the storm. Thelise’s spell already acts as a barrier, confining his dragon form and his magic, so it makes sense that it would provide an extra layer of distance between him and the Mordvorren.

I rise from the silvered grass and watch him pull on his pants, admiring the way his pale hair shines in the moonlight.

When he’s dressed, Varex takes my hands, slipping his fingers between mine. There’s a sweet pathos in his eyes that strikes dread into my heart. Like he feels the end drawing nearer. Like he has given up.

“I’ve learned to walk, darling,” he says. “Will you teach me to dance?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I will. But you must follow my lead carefully.”

“I promise,” he whispers. “When you want me to follow, I will. Just tell me if you need me to lead.”

My hands tighten on his to let him know that I’m listening, that I understand the layers of meaning beneath the words.

“Very well then.” I try to keep my voice from shaking. “I’ll hum the tune. Move when I do.”

We begin with a ballroom favorite of mine, simple and lovely. I waltz him through the starlit grass, with the soft seabreeze flowing around us. My voice carries the music, and it’s a point of pride with me that I don’t let it falter, not for a long time.

But as we step and whirl faster, his brown eyes begin to flicker crimson and purple. Lightning dances through his irises, behind his pupils, and I can’t ignore the fact that he isn’t truly mine, not anymore. The storm wants him, too. It’s determined to devour him, to use him.

I’ve stopped singing, but the music continues in my head, swelling to a frenzied strain as I halt in front of Varex. His teeth are bared, his eyes stricken and glazed with lightning. For a terrifying moment, I can feel the Mordvorren looking out of him, right at me.

“You can’t have him,” I hiss. “I’ll never allow it.”

Varex’s hands tighten on my arms, suddenly, compulsively, and he yanks me against his body. His mouth closes over mine in a hard, open-mouthed kiss.

Something isn’t right. I squeal a muffled protest into his mouth and try to pull back, but he clamps his right hand around the back of my skull and holds me there.

Lightning sizzles on his tongue, then dances onto mine, a tiny, tingling bolt. My body seizes up, momentarily paralyzed, and as I’m frozen there, sealed to his gaping mouth while something cold and dark slithers down my throat like an invasive mist, like a whispering tentacle.

Another zap of lightning throws us apart. Varex’s body flies a short distance away, and I smack against the ground hard, on my back. For several horrible seconds, I can’t breathe.

I manage to roll myself over and gasp, dragging in air, choking, then panting.

“Varex,” I wheeze.

He doesn’t respond, and I summon the strength to crawl over to him. He’s lying motionless in the grass, his eyes closed, breathing faintly and steadily as if he’s asleep or unconscious.

I curl against his side where I can hear his heartbeat, and I wait. But he doesn’t wake up until his dragon form takes over, and even though I love him in both forms, I feel cheated, robbed of the time we could have spent together last night. Maybe that’s what the Mordvorren intended.

Once again, Varex spends the day in brooding solitude, this time beneath the shadowed eaves of the forest. I try to sit nearby, but the longer I stay in close proximity to him, the more uneasy I feel. Something is scratching and whispering at the back of my mind, and it gets louder and more distinct the closer I am to the black dragon.

I’m beginning to have a suspicion about what that whispering, gnawing voice might be, but I keep pretending it isn’t there, hoping it will go away. Hoping it’s not what I think it is.

Around noon, Ashvelon makes a brief stop at East Fang, letting us know that Kyreagan is in need of aid. All the male dragons who are healthy enough to make the journey will be going to the Elekstan capital to help their prince and Serylla.

I glance back over my shoulder at Varex, who barely lifted his head when Ashvelon arrived.

“He’s not himself,” I tell Ashvelon in a low tone. “He can’t come with you.”

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