Page 39 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
My eyebrows shoot up. “Dancing naked? At least they think I was having fun.”
“This isn’t a joke, Wyndward,” she snaps. “King Craven himself took interest in your case. There were search parties dispatched. And now you just... reappear with no explanation? It’s going to be a circus.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be famous,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Though I was hoping for heroic deeds rather than mysterious disappearances.”
Vaylen’s disapproving frown cuts through my false bravado. His jaw tightens, and I remember suddenly that this isn’t just about me. My actions reflect on him too.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping my gaze. “I just... I don’t know how to process any of this. One moment I was in Hearthdale, the next I’m being told a year of my life is missing.”
I pick at a hole in my torn leathers. The anxiety I’ve been holding at bay threatens to overwhelm me. What in all the hells happened during that missing year? What did they do to me? And why can’t I remember? These questions play on repeat inside my head.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Commander,” I add, my voice softer now. “I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself.”
Commander Voltguard’s eyes narrow, her mouth tightening into a bloodless line. “And if that weren’t enough, there’s still the murder accusation against you.”
The words make me flinch, though I’d been expecting them. Still, hearing it spoken aloud in this office makes it real in a way it wasn’t before. I force myself to breathe evenly, to meet her gaze without flinching.
“I’ve been made aware,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Her eyes drill into mine, searching for something. Guilt? Innocence? I’m not sure what. The silence stretches between us, thick with unasked questions. Surprisingly, she doesn’tdemand if I killed Cindergrasp. Doesn’t force me to confess or deny. Instead, she asks something that catches me off guard.
“Did you come back willingly, Wyndward?”
“Of course I did,” I reply, straightening my spine despite my increasing weakness. I’m damned if I’ll cower before her. “I could have vanished into the mountains with Zephyros. No one would have found me if that was what I wanted.”
The words are almost a challenge. But it’s true. I chose to return, to face whatever comes next. I meet her gaze without blinking, pride pinned to my chest. Let her see I’m not afraid. Even if that’s a lie.
“Then I won’t have to put you in a cell while I send word to Emberton.” Her eyebrows twitch upward. Is that approval? “The King and the Chief Inspector need to be informed of your return immediately. Until I receive orders on how to proceed with your... situation, you’ll remain at Fort Ashmire under High Prime Stormsong’s supervision.”
I smooth my hands down my thighs, relief flooding through me. No cell. No chains. Just the watchful eye of a man who claims to love me. I can work with that.
“Thank you, Commander.” The words are sincere despite my usual aversion to gratitude. “I have no intention of running. There’s nowhere to run to, anyway. Not when I need answers more than anything else.”
The Commander drums her fingers on the desk, looking between Vaylen and Phoebe. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to mention that Skysinger Breezehart has been conducting research into your disappearance for the past year.”
I turn to Phoebe, eyebrows shooting up. “Research? What kind of research?”
Phoebe shifts in her chair, suddenly fascinated by herboots. A flush creeps up her neck, turning her pale skin blotchy red beneath those copper freckles.
“She requested special access to the royal archives, and we granted it to pacify King Craven,” Commander Voltguard continues, irritation lacing her voice. “Sometimes it seems she spends more time with dusty scrolls than with her dragon. She has a theory.” The Commander pauses, her expression suggesting she’s tasted something sour. “That you were taken by the Goddess herself.”
“I… what?” I sputter, nearly choking on air. “Heratrix? You think the missing dragon queen snatched me up and, what, took me on a year-long holiday?”
Phoebe finally looks up, her green eyes bright with embarrassment but also that familiar scholarly intensity I’d almost forgotten about. “The mountain opened, Rhea. Itopened. That’s ancient magic, the kind only seen during Heratrix’s time, according to lore.”
“Wyrm’s rot,” I mutter, memories clicking into place. Phoebe’s head buried in books at Sky Edge’s library, confessing her interest in the Goddess. “You might be taking your interest in Heratrix a little too far,” I say, shaking my head.
“Not as far-fetched as you might think,” Phoebe interrupts, leaning forward with sudden intensity. “Lore describes Heratrix’s power to reshape mountains, to bend earth to her will, and more. She could control all the elements. What happened in Hearthdale matches ancient accounts. And the man too. The Goddess and her rider disappeared together, per a reference I found at Sky’s Edge just two days ago.”
I press my fingers to my temples. The man’s voice echoes in my mind.
Omneira.
Could there really be a connection?
Commander Voltguard sighs, pinching the bridge of hernose. “As much as it pains me to encourage this madness, Breezehart, you’ll continue your research. And Wyndward, you’ll help her.”
“What? Why?” I blurt out as Vaylen straightens in his chair.
