Chapter Thirty-Eight

Second Chances

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The thread between them had grown into something more, somehow and though she could not explain it, the change felt right. She found solace in Ephaxus’ presence, in the relief that rippled from him in unseen waves. She was alive. He’d saved her.

Her fingers curled against his scales, savoring the warmth she found in the shelter of the wing he gently held her with. Never, in all her wild imaginings, had she ever wondered what it might be like to be hugged by a wyvern. The idea alone was absurd, yet here she was, embraced all the same. His soft purring brought a smile to her lips.

You really are just a big kitten, aren’t you? She asked.

A bold comparison, little viper.

But an accurate one.

He hummed thoughtfully, I shall suffer none but you to make it.

Don’t worry, that soft heart of yours is safe with me, she teased.

It best be, he said with a mock growl, lips raising over blood-stained teeth.

The sight should have frightened her. Weeks ago, it likely would have, but so much had changed. He’d come to her defense and had not so much as hesitated to place himself in harm’s way despite the risk to his own healing body.

Are you hurt? She asked.

Aside from a few scrapes? No. I am far more worried about you. You appear sound, but are you truly well? Truly whole?

I think so, she said, Thanks to you.

When I realized how far you were, I feared I would be too late.

She sensed it, then: the anguish he’d restrained. The raw, unbridled panic. It bubbled just beneath the surface like some festering wound. It was not all that different from what she’d experienced when her mother died. Or when her father had left for good, though that was a different pain.

You weren’t, she said, I’m here, safe and sound.

He drew back then, bringing his eyes in line with hers. She could guess well enough what was going through his mind, for the loss swimming amid the rose gold of his gaze was unmistakable. His inspection swept her from head to toe, as if he didn’t quite believe her. He even went so far as to nudge her with the tip of his snout from different angles, testing her substance like she might be a ghost, rather than a living woman.

Stilling him with a hand, she leaned into him and rested her forehead against the soft ridge between his nostrils in an effort to soothe him.

I’m fine, I promise. I’m just a bit scuffed, same as you, she murmured.

Ephaxus drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. They lingered, the tremors she had noticed gradually beginning to fade as his body relaxed. Her own rapid pulse leveled out, syncing with what she suspected might be his.

Good, he said, I am not sure what I would have done, otherwise.

Dwelling on it does neither one of us any good, she said.

He sighed, dipping his head.

You are right, of course. Rhydian is on his way. He will be glad to see you are safe as well.

Of course he was. She was beginning to think he worried far too much after her health. Not that it was entirely unjustified, all things considered. She only wondered if the same could be said of his secondrider. Had she truly been aiming for her before she’d turned her arrow on the beast instead?

He told me you . . . had a disagreement?

Of sorts, she said, stepping back to wrap her arms around herself.

Now that she was back in her right mind, part of her felt guilty for having left things the way she had. Perhaps her reaction had been unwarranted? He hadn’t lied, per ce, he’d merely omitted the specifics. Important ones. Though, she should at least give him the chance to explain. After all he had done and sacrificed for her, it was only fair.

Is that why you ventured so far?

Reluctantly, she nodded and though she felt she could trust Ephaxus, now was not the time to recount the details. They were being watched and Inerys had yet to determine whether or not the secondary threat had passed. Her ear tipped back in Ayduin’s direction as she approached and with a certain trepidation, she turned to acknowledge her. She half expected to come face-to-face with another arrow when she did, but no such follow-up was made. Her bow was held loosely at her side, her free hand fidgeting as her attention flitted from Inerys, to Ephaxus and back again.

Inerys’ first instinct was to swallow her nerves and seek an explanation that might satisfy the woman, but she quickly tramped it down. What had she done that warranted a justification of any sort? Was she not supposed to speak with certain people? Was she not supposed to mend bridges or earn the trust of those around her? Unlike some, she had not been the one to draw a weapon with the intent to kill, so why should she be the one to apologize?

Ayduin silently took her measure, searching for something Inerys couldn’t quite place. She seemed to judge her worth the way a father might when weighing the merit of his daughter’s latest suitor. In truth, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. However, rather than demand answers of her, the woman looked to Ephaxus.

“How long has it been going on?” She asked, jaw tight.

The wyvern arched his elegant neck as he regarded her, the question not appearing to surprise him in the least. Rather, he’d anticipated this particular conversation. Inerys sensed as much through that new avenue between them, though the full context alluded her.

Inerys and I have been conversing for close to a month, he said.

She studied him.

“And when did it develop?”

Inerys pursed her lips. When did what develop? Their friendship?

Days ago, perhaps.

“Was it intentional?”

Ephaxus hesitated, but said, No. It formed of its own accord. Neither she nor myself had any design upon it.

Ayduin released a long, slow sigh through her nose as she considered the two.

“And you’re . . . content with this?”

I am, he murmured.

Inerys couldn’t help but feel she was missing something. If she knew more about the situation as a whole, perhaps she’d be able to figure it out. She thought to ask, but the subject of Kieshara was a delicate one for both parties. Perhaps she would ask Cydan or Rhydian, but not tonight. She had enough to sort through.

Stolen novel; please report.

Like whether or not Ayduin had actually leveled that arrow at her heart. Absent the fear and adrenaline, she was beginning to doubt what she’d seen. Had she mistaken the woman’s line of sight? She supposed it was possible, but that look . . .

“I can’t say I approve,” she muttered, “but it isn’t my call to make.”

With that, she stepped past the pair in favor of their fallen foe.

What was she talking about? Inerys asked, glancing after the woman.

I will explain in time, he said.

She bit her lip, Should I be worried?

About Ayduin?

She nodded.

No. She may not approve of us being so close, but she spoke truth. My dealings are not hers to dictate. Regardless of her personal feelings, she will respect my decisions.

She breathed a small sigh of relief.

That's something, at least.

She absently rocked back on her heels as she watched the woman, torn between following after in search of answers and simply waiting for Rhydian to arrive. Of all the reactions she had anticipated, this wasn’t one of them. She had expected more surprise, more rage, but there was only resignation.

It was . . . odd.

As was Vaelor’s absence, but she imagined he was likely monitoring them from above. Awaiting Rhydian and Tanuzet, perhaps? At present, she decided it wasn’t important.

Curiosity had her joining Ayduin, though she was sure to maintain a healthy distance for her own peace of mind.

“Your ability to get yourself into trouble is uncanny,” she said, slinging her bow over one shoulder.

At this point, Inerys was inclined to agree.

“What is that thing?” she asked.

“A drake,” Ayduin said, “Big one too and of its fifth ascension.”

That explained the speed.

“I take it it's one of those larger predators I was warned about? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“They’re common enough sights around here. Bastard likely sensed those fancy cores of yours and couldn’t help himself.”

“Fancy cores? I thought I was still an advancement behind the rest of you?”

“You are.”

Inerys frowned and asked, “Then what makes me so special?”

“You were alone,” she said simply, “Far less risky to hunt such a dangerous meal when it's separated from the rest of the pack.”

Inerys cursed herself. She’d made herself the perfect target. How had she not recognized it sooner? Spirits, she’d been an idiot.

“I guess I can’t blame it for taking the opportunity,” she said, rubbing her brow.

Sparing her a sidelong glance, Ayduin crossed her arms.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing so far from camp?”

“Not particularly.”

“Mm. Unfortunately for you, you’re going to tell me anyway. Now, what happened?”

This wasn’t a conversation she was keen on having with anyone right now, but ill intent aside, the woman had played a role in her rescue. She’d earned an explanation, at the very least, no matter how small. Beyond that, she knew Ayduin would continue to press until she gave her something.

“Rhydian and I had a disagreement,” she said, quoting Ephaxus, “turns out you're not the only one who needs time to herself every now and again. I needed time to think, clear my head.”

“Fair enough, but I’d argue wandering almost four leagues toward the origin is a bit extreme.”

“Wait, four?”

Surely, she hadn’t covered that much ground?

“You didn’t notice the change in aura?”

To be fair, she hadn’t noticed much of anything after she fled.

“I . . .must have been caught up in my own head,” she said, which wasn't entirely untrue.

“Must have been some disagreement,” she hummed.

Inerys hadn’t failed to notice the implied question, but she wasn’t keen to elaborate.

Mercifully, Tanuzet’s arrival drew both their attention and spared any further interrogation on the matter. Something was off, though, for she flew with far less confidence than usual. Her movements were slow and deliberate and she touched down with a degree of caution. Not for herself or the situation, but for the man upon her back.

Rhydian was pale as a corpse, yet he tried to climb down from the saddle anyway. Never mind the fact that he appeared two steps from his own grave. The blue-black luster of his skin was gone, replaced by an ashen remnant Inerys barely recognized. Spirits’ breath, had he been in this condition when she’d left? How had she not seen it?

Ayduin had fallen silent beside her, having been struck just as blind by his appearance. However, her stupor was short-lived. She practically bristled as she leveled a finger at him.

“Rhydian Allair ne’Tanuzet, if you step down from that saddle, I will smother you.”

And I shall let her, his wyvern growled.

“I told you never to use that name,” he muttered.

“Got your attention though, didn’t it? I should throttle Cydan for helping you up there in the first place.”

“Don’t be absurd. He had nothing to do with this.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You mean to tell me you climbed up there all on your lonesome? In your state?”

He grimaced, which apparently gave Ayduin all the confirmation she needed.

“That’s what I thought.”

He tried to swing his leg over the saddle, the movement sluggish and stiff. Tanuzet shifted her weight just enough to have him slump back over in his attempt. Rhydian grunted, but wisely remained where he was this time, teeth grit against what Inerys suspected was a bout of dizziness.

“What happened?” He asked once he caught his breath, “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine, Rhydian,” Ayduin said, then jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, “Minus our new friend here. He had it coming, though.”

He stared at the drake for a long moment, expression awash with exhaustion and concern. Inerys shuddered when his eyes found her, the unease of their prior conversation tying her stomach into knots. Her guilt over the state he was in only made it worse, for she had been the cause. In the face of it, she couldn’t fully blame Ayduin for contemplating her retribution.

“Inerys, are you–”

“I’m fine,” she said, gaze fixed upon a single point, “Just a bit rattled. I, your arm–”

The fact she had inflicted such damage was difficult to fathom, for it looked as though he’d been attacked by some animal. The puncture marks were spread close to an inch apart at the point of entry in a half circle along his forearm, but tapered down into a closer approximation of her normal jaw size after it had splayed and contracted when she’d latched on to him. The resulting drag left the scars jagged and overstretched in places with a depth of color that suggested the wounds themselves had gone far deeper than skin alone.

He gave her a wink and a tired smile.

“We’re even, now,” he said.

Brow knit, she brushed her fingers along the rough, uneven skin of her burn scar. It had persisted through her advancement, though was less prominent than it had been before. It seemed they’d both left their mark upon the other.

“I suppose we are,” she said.

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t put a muzzle on you the next time you ascend,” Adyuin said with a shake of her head, “Go back to camp, Rhydian. We can handle ourselves from here. Sorisanna will have your head, otherwise.”

She can be . . . intimidating when vexed, Ephaxus agreed, It is best to heed her instruction. The sooner you rest, the sooner you will recover.

To say nothing of the opinion of your own bondmate, Tanuzet grumbled, already poised to take wing.

“We can . . . speak later,” Inerys found herself saying, “About what happened? I’ll come back. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice nearly lost to the wind as Tanuzet deftly leapt into the air.

She had her doubts as to whether or not he would actually rest until they returned, but one could hope. When they would do so however, had become a mystery. What more was there to be done? The beast was dead.

She spared Ayduin a glance over her shoulder, wondering what she might have in store for her now that the three of them were alone once more. She was crouched beside the drake’s head, seeming to contemplate something. Without looking, she gestured for Inerys to join her and reluctantly, she did so.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Hmm? No. I’m only debating where to start.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harvesting our friend, of course. You honestly think I’d let a prize like this go to waste?”

“I hadn’t considered it a prize . . .”

Ayduin snorted. “And here I thought you were a huntress.”

Her lips thinned. “I was, but I’ve never hunted anything like this. Is it even edible?”

Perhaps it was the yellowed, viscous saliva oozing from its open maw that had put her off to the idea. Or the fact the damned thing had nearly made a meal of her.

“There’s more to use than just the meat,” she said, “Scales like those can be used for any number of purposes. Powders, armors, the list goes on. The cores are the real prize, but those are more difficult to get to. We’ll save those for last.”

“I’m sorry, we?”

Ayduin gave her a feral grin.

“Seeing as how you have energy to spare, you’re going to help me carve this thing up.”