Page 3 of Vathia
My magick erupts from me, making an illusion of a swarm of ravens attacking her from atop her saddle. Before she knows what’s happening she falls off her beast, who roars, diving towards its new rider. There, that should deal with that problem if she died from the fall, but I don’t have time to double back and check. Ravina needs me and I have some questions for Aemon. I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answers to them.
I catch up to Cadet Stoll’s dragon and I give a tense nod to him and Cadet Yearwood, who is pressed tightly behind him clinging for dear life. This is going to be a long flight to Vathia, but there’s one thought that keeps floating through my head. I have a fucking mate, and it’s the female who should have been dead all this time—my fledgling-hood friend, the fae who we played with in the courtyards of the Maleen palace.
Princess Maeven Pendroko of Damorleia—Ravina.
CHAPTER TWO
IDIDN'T REALIZE THAT THE magick pulse I was hit with was actually the beginnings of a mate bond. But after that realization, I can sense the small thread that connects me to her getting further and further away, like a hook in my chest yanking at the end of a longer and longer line. Part of me didn’t want to believe Jesper that Maeven was alive. How Zorn knew is a whole other problem—one I’m going to need answers to sooner rather than later. But right now, I need to report to the Lords and get them out of Phixmery as soon as possible.
The urge to just drop everything to go to Vathia is like a chain of dragon-stone, pulling me in her direction. It physically hurts, staying away from her. This fates-damned bond is going to get in the way of things.
The plans need to change, but the long-term goal is still the same: get rid of the blight that’s corrupting Damorleia. Then I’ll figure out what to do about this bond.
Killian and I land in the Dragon’s Keep, and as we dismount our beasts, the Lords are waiting just inside the entrance. Their dragons are probably still where they left them,as they aren’t allowed within the confines of these caves, for reasons only the dragons know.
“Where is she?” my father snarls, grabbing me by the front of my tunic.
I keep a look of boredom etched on my face. “Cadet Solace was taken by the traitor; Sergeant Verlice is pursuing them now. I came back to update you.”
His fist flies, landing a blow across my jaw and my head knocks to the side but I don’t show weakness as he lays into me. “I don’t know how my blood could be such a fates-damned failure.” He then turns to Killian’s father. “Send your son after them, and make sure they don’t return until I have that bastard’s head and the female alive. We need to question the bitch about her heritage,” he seethes.
Panic seizes my stomach, even though I knew this would be what he wanted. “We will retrieve them at once,” I inform him, spinning to head back to Zaddro, my dragon.
“No, not you. You will be coming back to Targos with me. You have obligations to fulfil. We leave tonight,” he states before spinning and leaving the keep.
The Lord of the Szellemi—Jesper’s father—smiles cruelly. “You’d best hope my heir deals with this little problem before you arrive there, Killian,” he spits. “Maybe I should visit Jesper’s mother while I’m here. It has been awhile since I’ve seen her, and she always knew how to sate my needs. Maybe I should put another heir in her to replace the weak male she spawned me.”
Lord Driscol turns to Killian without missing a beat, their heights almost equal but his son is slightly larger in height and muscle. “You have until a cycle of the moon or you know what the consequences will be,” he states, before his hulking form and Jesper’s father follow Lord Craven out, their boots echoing through the cavern.
“We need to get word to Jesper’s mother. She needs to leave Phixmery as soon as possible.” The earth trembles under my feet as my magick slips. “Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”
Killian places his hand on my shoulder. “We can warn her, and then we can both leave. Head to Kraryn. We can figure out a new plan from there.”
My head shakes. “No, we need to keep up the pretenses for a bit longer. They’re already suspicious; who knows what they will do if they think we aren’t under their thumb. Do not come back though, Kill. There’s some things I need to take care of first and then I’ll join you. Keep her safe,” I state.
“Talyn,” he growls, taking a step closer to me. “Let me help. It’s safer if we’re working together.”
“Not for this. Go, ride hard. I’ll see you in a month’s time.” I shove him back, nodding towards Voissor. “I’ll be fine. This won’t be like the last time.”
He shakes his head, his obsidian hair swaying with the aggressive shakes. “No, I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.” His fists clench at his sides.
My hand rests on the pommel of my sword, centering me as I say these next words. “Killian, go. We can’t change what the fates have in store, but I will fight my damn hardest to change the course the realm is heading in, which means we need to do this. Fly strong, brother, and protect Ravina.” Then I spin on my heel, leaving him in the Keep while I trek back to the castle to find Ceila, because I would never forgive myself if something happened to Jesper’s mother.
FOLLOWING THE SECRET passage, I enter the kitchens to the buttery smell of freshly baked bread, savory meat, gravy and spices. Usually the smell would have my stomach grumbling, impatient for its next meal, but all I feel is nausea for what’s to come.
My gaze whips around the large space, bustling with lesser fae and nulls as they prepare for tonight’s dinner, searching for a head of red that matches one of my oldest friends.
Fear begins to crawl down my spine when I don’t spot her, but it quickly vanishes as she pops up from behind a counter with a gentle smile upon her face.
Expertly maneuvering around the others I make my way to her. “Ceila, we need to speak,” I whisper when I’m within hearing distance.
She jumps, her hand flying to her chest. “Talyn, you scared the gryphon shit out of me! And I told you to call me Ma. You know I think of you males like my own.” She grins as she grabs a cloth, wrapping a decadent strawberry jam scone in it and passing it to me.
I take it with a small smile of my own, not able to summon a full one no matter how much I try. “Ma,” I say with a light teasing tone, although it’s tenser than I was intending. “We really need to speak. Privately,” I add, knowing that almost everyone in this room is listening to us. “It’s about the plans for Jesper’s celebration of birth,” I supply falsely.
Her eyes widen slightly, picking up on what I’m not saying. “Of course, follow me. I know you mentioned a cake lasttime we talked…” she trails off, adding to the ruse. She’s always been quick on the uptake. She’s always had to be, especially with sons like Jesper and Evander.
We enter into the servants passage and I follow her down the dimly lit, narrow hall that smells of mildew and musk until we exit into what seems to be a storage room full of baking supplies.
