Page 110 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Fragor?” I spit the name like poison. “That wyrm-rotted coward has no right to concern himself with me.”
Vaylen’s eyebrows go up. His gaze shifts from me to Zephyros, who remains unnaturally still, then back to me again. Understanding dawns across his features like a sunrise I want to punch out of the sky.
“You’ve been in his memories,” Vaylen whispers with a tone that makes my skin bristle.
“Yes, I have,” I snap, pushing myself to my feet despite the trembling in my limbs. “And now I?—”
Zephyros grunts, a low rumble of disapproval vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. He shared his secrets with me, but that doesn’t mean they’re mine to repeat now. That memory is his alone, his pain to share or guard as he chooses.
The sun breaks over the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and golds that mock the darkness of what I’ve just witnessed. My legs still feel like water. My head pounds. But the fury inside me burns hot enough to keep me upright.
After a moment’s consideration, Vaylen’s face softens, his anger melting away. He steps back, giving me space to breathe.
“I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like,” he says quietly, “seeing the memories of a creature so ancient.”
I stare at him, caught off guard by this sudden shift. My fury lacks a target now, leaving me unbalanced.
“The pain he must carry,” Vaylen continues, glancing at Zephyros with something like reverence. “Millennia of suffering when a short human life seems more than enough.”
His words rattle me, knocking loose the rage that’s been propping me up. I sway slightly, leaning against Zephyros’s leg for support.
“Be careful with what you’re doing, Rhealyn.” His voice carries genuine concern. “You might end up fracturing your mind if you push too far into a consciousness so vast.”
The rising sun catches in his hair, highlighting those golden streaks. For a heartbeat, I want to touch them, to feel if they’re warmer than the rest.
He turns to leave, boots crunching on the damp grass. “You have muck-up duty in the stables for breaking the rules,” he calls over his shoulder. “And five more days of supply runs.”
“What?!” I sputter. “That’s?—“
“Generous,” he interrupts without looking back. “Consider it a kindness that I shall not repeat.”
I watch him walk away, torn between hurling insults at his back and thanking him for his unexpected understanding. In the end, I do neither, just stand there breathing hard while the sun climbs higher over the hills.
—Are you sure we still do not like him?Zephyros asks.
I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and walk back toward the fort.—To all the hells with you.
37
Rhea
I’ve been shoveling horse dung for what feels like eternity. The stench has permeated my clothes, my hair, possibly my soul. My arms burn from the repetitive motion, but I keep at it with savage intensity. Physical pain feels like a blessing compared to the images of Zephyros’s slaughtered offspring still branded in my brain.
Two Claws hover near the stable entrance, their crew cuts making them look like identical shorn sheep in their dark blue uniforms. They whisper behind cupped hands, eyes darting toward me.
“Something to say?” I call out, ramming my shovel into a particularly foul pile. “Or just admiring my technique?”
They scatter like startled mice, the poor idiots who will never get to be dragon riders despite all their efforts at the Academy.
My stomach growls, reminding me of the hefty lunch I consumed earlier. My appetite has returned with a vengeance, as though my body is making up for lost time. I ate enough for three riders, ignoring the stares from others in the mess hall.
I attack another pile with renewed vigor. There’s something cleansing about this work—mindless, physical, uncomplicated. Sweat drips down my spine, my muscles work in harmony, and for brief moments, I’m not thinking about Vaylen’s face in the dawn light.
The Claws return, this time with reinforcements. Four of them now, whispering and pointing.
“Get over here and help or get the fuck out!” I slam my shovel down.
They scatter again, but one brave soul calls back, “Just wondering how someone gets special treatment from the King!”
