Page 36 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“You might not like what you discover.”
“Maybe not.” His gaze is steady. “But ignorance isn’t protection. It’s vulnerability.”
Smart man. Knowledge is survival.
Vaylen’s expression shifts, something dawning in his eyes. “Do you think... could your disappearance be connected to your Weaver abilities?”
The question sinks in, cold and clean as ice under the skin. Of course. Why hadn’t I considered that?
“I don’t know but I aim to find out. I…” My voice catches. “Um, I had a dream last night, but maybe it was a… memory.”
Vaylen seems to hold his breath.
I go on. “The man who took me. His eyes. They burned like amber fire. And he called me something... Omneira.”
“Omneira?” he repeats the word, his fingers tightening around mine. “We need to find out what that means.”
“We?” I challenge, though something warm unfurls inside me at the word.
“Yes, we.” His jaw sets stubbornly. “Unless you’re planning to disappear again?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Only if you promise to chase after me,” I joke, afraid my attempt at lightheartedness will fall flat.
But Vaylen’s rare, crooked smile appears and he says, “Chase you? Wyndward, I’d sooner tie a bell to your ankle so I can hear the chaos coming.”
I laugh, the sound strange in my own ears. I haven’t laughed since… well, I don’t really remember.
A throat clears behind us. Phoebe stands there, arms crossed, eyes darting between us with unveiled curiosity.
Vaylen jumps back from me as if scalded, his posture suddenly military-straight. His attempt at appearing casual fails spectacularly, and I bite my lip to stop another laugh. Themighty High Prime, flustered like a cadet caught kissing in the stables.
“Everything’s packed,” Phoebe announces, her knowing smile barely contained. “We should get it all into the saddles.”
Vaylen nods stiffly. “Good. Thank you, Breezehart.” He strides away, waving the dragons closer.
Phoebe’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. Could I confide in Phoebe? I consider her for a moment. She seems unchanged—still the same earnest, honest woman I remember. But a year has passed. People change. Loyalties shift.
“Don’t worry,” she says, reading my hesitation. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Which secrets?” I challenge, testing her.
“Whichever ones you choose to share.” She squeezes my arm gently. “When you’re ready.”
Maybe I’ll trust her eventually. But not yet. She might suspect something, but maybe the breadth of what’s really between Vaylen and me still eludes her.
“Can you manage?” she asks, pointing at Zephyros, who lumbers over.
I shrug. “A little starvation won’t stop me.”
—I will form the Tethers. You do not have to lift a finger.
When Vaylen and Phoebe finish attaching and loading their supply saddles, they turn to me.
“Can you mount?” Vaylen asks.
Before I can answer, wind slips under my feet, lifting me upward in a controlled spiral. Zephyros generates a perfect Vortex Lift, the touch gentle as he cradles me skyward.
“I guess that answers that question,” Phoebe says, surprised as I rise effortlessly to Zephyros’s head.
