Chapter Forty-Two

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Rhydian often dreamed of a silver-skinned woman who left strange gifts under his bed.

Sometimes, she brought small stacks of wide, flat stones from the lakebed or sticks no longer than a man’s finger. Others, she brought tiny, star-shaped flowers that reminded him of coals left to the ashes of a fire. Their petals glowed bright with the promise of heat, of a warmth so thorough, it would chase away the cold gnawing at his bones.

He never saw her face. It was veiled and indistinct, yet there was a familiarity to her he could not place. Whether she was a spirit or some construct of his own mind, he could not say. She offered a certain comfort not unlike that of Tanuzet’s. Their presence existed somewhere just beyond him and while his bondmate’s remained a constant amid an otherwise empty world, the woman’s came and went like the wind.

When he at last began to wake, his memory of her grew distant. There was a weightlessness to his existence and along the periphery of thought, he wondered if it were possible to be drunk off too much sleep. His senses were the last to rouse, his world of canvas and borrowed blankets rendered colorless and deaden by their absence.

Were it not for the slight shift in weight, he may not have noticed the fact someone had settled along the edge of his cot. He stirred as a cool hand touched his forehead, then the pulse along the underside of his chin. Sorisanna’s spirit brushed his as she examined him, light and warm as a spring breeze.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she murmured.

He gave a sore chuckle as he rolled onto his back, “The living? I still feel like the dead.”

“Well, fortunately for you, you know longer look like a corpse. A bit pasty, sure, but I’ve seen worse.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, “When I agreed to a sleeping draught, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh hush. You were only out for a couple of days,” she said, holding a recovery tea aloft for his retrieval.

“Days? I thought we agreed to the better part of one, not several?”

How much had he missed?

“Relax, the camp hasn’t burned down in your absence. We both know you needed more than a single day’s rest.”

“You’re right,” he sighed.

There was no point in arguing.

“Sages usually are,” she hummed, “Now drink. It will make you feel better.”

He forced himself into a seated position along his blanket-strewn cot in order to take it, cursing the effort such a simple maneuver had required. He could scarcely recall a time he’d ever been reduced to such a miserable state. His thoughts were sluggish, his limbs heavy, yet his first tentative sip of the herb-rich brew promised to usher in a swift remedy for both.

He cycled his physical core as he drank in order to hasten the onset of his relief. He’d had concentrated teas before, but the vital saturation level Sorisanna managed to achieve in a single dose was in a league all its own. The supplemental essence fizzed along his tongue like sweetened mineral water. His channels buzzed as they feasted on the excess and bit by bit, his core began to stabilize.

“How is everyone?” He asked.

“Good. They’re all in one piece, despite their best efforts,” she said, rising and stealing the singular chair from his travel desk in order to grant him some space.

“That’s some relief, at least,” he said, distracted by a sudden scent, “Does it smell . . . warm to you?”

He wasn’t quite sure how else to describe it. The air of the tent was unusually warm. Pleasantly so, but certainly not natural.

Sorisanna simply pointed to the open space beneath his cot.

Hesitating, he maneuvered himself onto his stomach to take a better look at whatever it was she’d gestured to.

And paused.

Large, flat stones had been arranged into a neat circle, the seams between them filled and smoothed with clay that was no doubt harvested from the shores of the lake beyond camp. Admirable as its construction was, it was the flame-aspect blooms in the center that caught his attention most. As well as the dozen or so fire spirits gleefully dancing around them in a uniform ring.

“Skies,” was all he said.

“That bit was Inerys’ doing,” Sorisanna said.

“It was?” He asked, finding it difficult to tear his gaze away in order to spare her a glance.

“Helpful, aren’t they?”

“I’d say she’s doing well, then?”

“Remarkably so, all things considered. I had her on light activity for a few days to make sure there weren’t any more surprises, but she’s been cleared as of last night. She spent most of it in the sparring ring.”

“Really?”

Sorisanna chuckled, “You know how post-ascension highs go. She’s eager to see what she can do and with that fancy new body of hers, I don’t blame her. Keeping her honest during her recovery period was the real challenge. I had to have her escorted during those nightly walks she insisted upon and even then, she managed to return with stones and mud and giggling spirits.”

Rhydian hid his smile.

“She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that. Incident aside, I’d say her advancement was a success.”

“I could have done without the theatrics, but at this point it’s hard to expect any less from you lot. You’ve all kept me on my toes these past two months. Her, most especially,” she said, crossing her ankles as she sat back, “I have to admit, I had my doubts. I’ve never seen such severe fracturing. It should have taken years for her channels to recover. Skies, that spiritual core all but shredded her transversal meridian. To say nothing of the other ruptures I found throughout her system.”

“Lucky for her, she had quite the sage on hand to treat her,” he murmured.

She briefly glanced away, though he did note the slight darkening along her ears.

“Normal physiques were never my strong suit, you know that,” she said quietly.

“That doesn’t make you any less brilliant, Sori.”

This time, she smiled a little.

“Mended or no, she would have had trouble if she ever decided to pursue higher advancements. Well, prior to her change, anyway. Whatever triggered those physical alterations worked wonders for her meridians. The scarring is minimal.”

There had been a time when overcoming her injuries had seemed an impossible task. Fostering her into her fourth ascension had been a distant hope, the idea of daring for anything more almost too cruel to consider. And yet she’d prevailed. Escaped her fate.

They should all be so lucky.

“It’s hard to believe she’s made it this far, but I’m glad she has,” he said.

“Rewarding, isn’t it? To see all your efforts pay off?”

“A bit surreal, if I’m honest, but you’ll hear no complaints from me.”

“Good,” she said, “Now go. Get some air. The others are eager to see you back on your feet, firstrider.”

“Yes, ser,” he said, only to have Sorisanna roll her eyes at his antics.

He took his time rising, half fearing he’d stumble sideways and end up a miserable heap upon the floor if he wasn’t careful. He held his own, though. His limbs were stiff, but steady.

He debated changing before making a public appearance, but ultimately decided against it. He was in desperate need of a bath, even he could admit that much, but sullying new clothes was a waste. He only hoped that under the circumstances, the others would forgive his stench, particularly those with more than sensitive noses.

Tanuzet pressed her snout into his chest when he emerged and nearly sent him stumbling back the way he’d come.

“Easy, Tanuzet,” he laughed, “I don’t think Sorisanna would appreciate me being broken a second time.”

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Her eyes narrowed.

You are never allowed to scare me like that again, little one. Or it shall be my wrath you answer to. Not a sage’s.

“Understood,” he said, holding up his hands.

She glared a heartbeat longer before her gaze softened and she quietly began to purr.

He eased, leaning into her.

“I didn't mean to worry you,” he murmured.

You have always been too selfless for your own good. I have learned to accept this. All I ask is that you exercise more caution in the future, lest someone accuse you of having the wisdom of a hatchling.

“I will,” he promised.

~*~

Their evening meal had been a lively affair the like of which Rhydian hadn’t expected, if he were honest. His memory was a touch hazy, but he had recalled far more division amongst the group after Inerys’ ascension. He’d feared the whole ordeal had fractured what fragile trust they’d built, but the unified front he found instead argued quite the opposite.

Inerys laughed and joked with everyone, including Ayduin, which in itself was a resolution he hadn’t known he’d wanted these last few weeks. For a time, he wondered if what he witnessed was an act performed for his own peace of mind, yet the ease of their banter suggested this wasn’t the first favorable interaction they’d shared since he last saw them. Surprising, considering how closely Ephaxus rested behind the young woman. There was no doubt Ayduin had not sensed what had transpired between the two. Even if she hadn’t, body language was everything.

She knew and by all appearances, approved.

Or tolerated, at the very least.

And she was not the only one.

Rhydian had guessed the direction of their relationship shortly after he’d learned of Inerys’ secret outings and was fairly certain Sorisanna had held her own suspicions around the same time. Cydan had been the only one to give voice to his own, though Ayduin’s mood had betrayed her own conclusions as surely as any confession. He only wondered if the woman herself was aware of their bond.

In many ways, she had become a stranger since their last encounter. The softer, rounder edges of her face were gone, replaced by sharp angles more reminiscent of his finer featured, desert-dwelling kin. However, there was a distinct, almost feline quality to the structure of her eyes and jawline. He could not pinpoint any one attribute that set her apart, for the changes had been too numerous and too profound.

Were it not for her silvery skin, one could easily mistake her for an Adai at a passing glance. Though, the more one took the time to look, the more alien she became. Her skin, her hair– skies, her entire physique– were something else entirely.

Yet beneath it all, there were hints of the woman he’d quietly come to care for.

She had been a woman worthy of admiration long before her ascension, both in mind and body, but it was her heart that had first captured his attention. A heart that endured to this day. He now knew it was her he had seen in his dreams or perhaps more accurately, in his moments of fleeting consciousness. She had taken the time to build a small shrine and fill it with one of the most precious gifts a flame spirit could ask for, all for the sake of ensuring his comfort. Was it her guilt that had driven her? Or perhaps something more?

He almost feared the answer.

Every now and again, he caught her wayward glances from across the fire, though she had yet to fully acknowledge his presence. When it came to him, she’d been reserved throughout a majority of their fireside antics. She spoke freely and openly with the others, but almost appeared to be avoiding him. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, had they?

While he was content to leave the matter be until after breakfast, he fully intended on broaching the subject before the night’s end.

To his surprise,though, she had been the one to approach first. She’d waited until the others were preoccupied by their post-meal clean up, expression pensive, ears tucked back in a manner that indicated this was not a conversation she’d been looking forward to. A certain degree of trepidation gnawed at his insides, but he forced an easy smile all the same.

“Did you have a moment to talk?” She asked, voice quiet as she toyed with the fingers of her opposite hand.

“Of course,” he said.

She bit her lip and spared a glance over her shoulder at the others before returning her attention.

“I was hoping for someplace more private. I don’t suppose you’d care for a walk?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t a trap to catch me alone and unaware, is it?” He teased, hoping his attempt to disarm the tension was not entirely misplaced.

Her cheeks darkened to a deeper shade of grey, rather than pink, but the effect was the same.

“What? No! I’m not– I wasn’t–”

“Easy, I’m only teasing. A walk would be perfect. I could use the opportunity to stretch my legs,” he said, “lead the way.”

She searched his face in what he could only assume was disbelief, though soon enough, she scowled at him.

“You’re completely and utterly terrible, you know that?”

He shrugged.

“Someone may have mentioned it a time or two.”

“Whomever they are, they may be onto something,” she muttered, but seemed to relax as she stepped off in the direction of the lake.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the treeline that she said, “I wanted to apologize. For my reaction, for the bite . . . for everything, really. Sometimes it’s easy to forget I’m not the only one affected by all this.”

“I don’t hold any of it against you, Inerys. If nothing else, know that. It’s a difficult situation for anyone to find themselves in,” he said.

For a spell, she said nothing at all, only minded the initial slope that led to the shore beyond the forest. Conflict warred across her face, yet he could only guess after the reason. Had he said something wrong?

“I suppose I had this idea in my head that when this was all said and done, I could go home. See Soren and Nan and all the others. Perhaps even go back to the way things were before,” she said, her voice hinging on that final word. She batted a tear from her cheek, but did nothing to mask her sniffle, “but I know I can’t. I think I’ve known for a while now, but just didn’t want to admit it because doing so felt like I was somehow giving up on them. I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. For that, I’m sorry. I know you were doing everything in your power to help me. You have been since the beginning.”

Her admission broke something in him.

“Inerys–”

“It’s not like I haven’t been keeping my own secrets,” she continued, each word coming forth with more urgency than the last, “I know I should have told you sooner, but I’ve been sneaking out for weeks. After all that happened with Ephaxus, I wanted to make things right. I started hunting after everyone else went to bed. At first, I did it as a peace offering just to get him to talk to me, but then–”

“It became something more,” he said.

She choked on what might have been a sob as she caught his arm and drew them both to a sudden stop.

“How did you know?”

He blew out a breath, grasping for the right words.

“I’ve known for a while now. I saw you sneak away with my own eyes.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because pressing you for explanations wouldn’t have done either of us any good,” he said, “Part of me knew you would tell me when you were ready, so I decided to trust you. For what it’s worth, I’m glad I did. You helped bring Ephaxus out of his widowing.”

“What do you mean, widowing?”

“Wyverns usually die within days of a bondmate. Some last weeks, but it’s not a common occurrence. Ephaxus was managing well enough, but he started deteriorating shortly after he and Sorisanna arrived in the spirit wilds. It starts with seclusion, then a loss of appetite and then,” he raked a hand through his loosely braided hair, “they die.”

Inerys wavered as she took a step back, bracing herself against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“All those days he spent curled up on the other side of the clearing, he was just waiting for the end, wasn’t he?”

He gave a grim nod.

“Tanuzet had been doing her best to lift his spirits, but there’s only so much that can be done once the process starts.”

“That explains why she was so eager to help me.”

“She cares for him a great deal. We all do.”

Her brow knit, “Then how was I able to make a difference?”

He shifted on his feet.

“That’s a bit of a complicated answer,” he admitted.

“Then uncomplicate it,” she whispered.

His lips edged into a smile at her phrasing.

“I see you’re starting to take after Ayduin,” he said, then sighed, “Simply put? Some souls call to one another. No one is sure how or why, only that they do. Wyverns are extremely social creatures, but there’s always one bond that sets deeper than the rest.”

She tilted her head, guessing, “The one with their bondmate?”

“Sometimes, they’re lucky enough to find two.”

Her eyes widened and he knew then that she understood. She leaned back into the trunk and sank to her knees. All she did was stare, eyes turning glassy as tears began to spill over her cheeks.

Rhydian crouched before her and dared to take her hand into one of his own.

“You’ve known that too, haven’t you?” He murmured.

Her face all but crumpled as she nodded and she threw her arms around him. By some miracle, he managed to remain upright, teetering for balance while she sobbed into his shoulder. For a stunned moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. Skies, what was he supposed to do?

Exhaling a careful breath, he drew her close, one arm wrapped around her, the other tangled in her hair.

“It’s all right,” he found himself saying, “Everything will be all right. I promise.”

Her body shook, but he didn’t care.

He’d hold her as long as she needed.

Eventually, she drew back, eyes wet and puffy. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her sleeve as she schooled her breaths, the vestiges of her fit occasionally drawing the corners of her lips back into an ugly frown. He rubbed gentle circles along her back, content to give the time she needed to compose herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but made no move to fully pull away.

“So am I,” he said, “Looking back, there’s plenty I’d like to have done better.”

She thumped him on the chest.

“Please. You, of all people, have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who made an ass of myself.”

He wanted to argue, but said, “Then . . What if we make a promise to one another instead?”

“What sort of promise?”

“To both agree to do better going forward?”

Her face softened as she considered, her gaze briefly catching upon his lips before finding his own in earnest.

“I could do that,” she said.