Page 26 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
Five. My gut twists. Each loss wrenches Embernia closer to ruin, yet the harpies only seem to grow bolder. A year gone and the world is bleeding out, while I’ve been what? Sleeping under a rock like some cursed princess?
I bark a bitter laugh and shake my head. “So not only do the Screechclaws thrive, but I managed to vanish right when every single one of us is needed most. Perfect timing, Rhea. Truly unmatched.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Phoebe whispers, clutching her arms tighter.
The words feel empty. Fault doesn’t matter. What matters is I was gone, and Embernia continued to burn without me. My jaw aches from how hard I’m grinding it. I turn away, eyes dragging upward to the jagged perch where Zephyros looms.
For the first time, I have a realization… our bond is still there, pulling tight as ever. A year lost, a black gulf instead of memories, and yet the link between us thrums through my blood. Shouldn’t he have moved on? Claimed another rider? He should have been taken long before now.
I’ve been locking him out since he flew to the peak, walling my mind because his presence is too much, too sharp. His touch presses anyway, a low hum at the edges, waiting for me. I swallow, then glance sideways at Phoebe, throat thick with something that’s not fear but close enough.
“Why?” My voice is rough, uncertain, and I hate it. “Why hasn’t Zephyros chosen again? How come no one else took my place?”
“You know why,” she says.
And I do. There’s only one way. He must have refused. I nod.
“He sat on that ridge for months, just like now. Waiting,” she says. “When he finally left, it was only to Sky’s Edge. Then he waited there instead.”
“He should’ve found another.”
Zephyros’s shadow shifts above, vast wings snapping against the night. His silent rebuke presses hard in my head. I grit my teeth, throat burning.
“It washischoice,” Phoebe says.
“What happens now?” I ask. “I’m sure you know I’m wanted for murder.”
Of course news must have spread. Secrets slide through Embernia faster than wildfire in dry grass, especially ones with blood in them. Even if Vaylen kept his mouth closed, Cragmere would never. The self-righteous wyrm would parade my name through every barrack if it meant polishing his boots on my back. I’m sure of it.
Phoebe’s nod is slow, deliberate. “It’s ludicrous. You killing that Neutro in Castle Stonefall the very night of your Rite of Flight? It makes no sense. What proof can he have?”
Her doubt hangs between us, heavier than the mountain itself. Phoebe’s eyes search me like she’s certain the right angle will split me open, spill whatever truth I’ve buried. She’s reaching, testing. Does she want my acquiescence or my denial? I can’t tell.
I grit my teeth. If she knew what I did, what Iam, would she still look at me like this? Or would our relationship freeze then perish the way the one I have with Vaylen might? No, Ican’t afford to let another soul in. So I do what I’m best at. I twist the truth until even I start to believe it. Lies slip out of me easier than breath, accompanied by a small dose of actual facts.
I laugh, low and sharp, more bite than humor. “Do you remember when Cragmere asked who everyone’s Neutro was?”
Phoebe nods, lips pressed in a line.
“I told him I didn’t remember mine,” I say. “But he figured it out anyway.” Phoebe’s brows draw tight, her mouth opening, but I cut her off with a harsh breath. “It’s true. I lied, but only because I had to. I could tell that if that nasty little inspector learned who performed my Cleansing, he’d think I had a reason to run a dagger right through Cindergrasp.” The harsh words spill before I can throttle them back. “And he wouldn’t have been wrong. That’s why I kept it buried. Not because I killed him, but because I wanted to.”
Phoebe’s brows knit with worry, her lips parting like she’s about to speak, but I cut her off again, remembering the truth I rediscovered just yesterday, even if it’s been a year.
“He killed her,” I snap, the words burning up my throat. “My mother bled out on the Cleansing Authority’s floor because Cindergrasp couldn’t handle a simple procedure. He lost control of me, and I unleashed Wind Spears, and she—” My voice shatters. I push through anyway. “She died carrying a child.Hisfumbling hands made me the blade.”
Phoebe’s face twists in horror, but I barrel forward, fire catching in my chest. “My father tried to drag him into daylight, force the Cleansing Authority to admit it, but do you think they cared? No. They wrapped him in silk, tucked him behind their walls, claimedhewas an exemplary Neutro. My mother’s death was just… an unfortunate mishap.”
My body quakes, and I spit the last word. “Fucking justice? No! They protected him.”
The half lies, half-truths, burn on my tongue long after I cast them out. Phoebe’s eyes cling to me with pity, and I hate it, hate it even more than twisting the truth with her of all people. But what choice do I have? If she knew the whole of it, if anyone did, I’d be thrown in a cell to rot.
Zephyros words echo in the back of my skull, urging me to escape. He wants me hidden away like some trembling hatchling. But I can’t. I won’t crawl into the shadows to let others bear the war in my place. A year was stolen already, one I’ll never get back. Too many Screechclaws have feasted on dragon flesh while Zephyros and I were useless to assist.
I tighten my fists. No hiding. No prison. Then I’ll find the truth of what happened to me, and I’ll bleed for Embernia if I have to.
11
Rhea
