Chapter Thirty- Four

Blood and Bone

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Bone cracked.

Instinct and muscle memory roared up in response to the white-hot sting lancing through his arm.

He cursed through clenched teeth, “Fuck.”

It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to snap her neck out of reflex.

Behind him, Tanuzet barked in surprise, the sympathetic echo of his broken forearm no doubt rippling through her wing. Inerys’s fangs were buried deep within the muscle, the full might of her jaw proving too much for even his reinforced body to handle. The tendons of his left hand strained as his fingers began to prickle, his wrist rendered immovable by the upper canine lodged between the more delicate bones.

He forced himself to keep still, to relax and not pull away despite the primal fear clawing at the edges of his mind. This had been his doing, not hers, he reminded himself as darker memories threatened to rise. She hadn’t attacked him. He had encouraged her. He wanted this, if only to save her life.

This was Inerys, not the woman who had torn his friend apart.

He still saw her face, though.

Still heard Ephaxus’ screams.

Try as he might, his mind always circled back to that creature and its blood-soaked claws. Inerys’ own flexed in and out of her fingertips as she fed, grazing him, but never quite puncturing the skin. Their metallic sheen gleamed in the moonlight, each one a deadly, sharpened dagger in their own right. He shivered each time they touched him, wondering which gelid touch would finally slice him open.

He felt her smaller, finer fangs descend further into his arm.

Warmth suddenly spread through the extremity, burning away the pain and leaving nothing, save a blissful numbness, in its wake. He tensed and quickly peered over her shoulder to ensure she hadn’t somehow torn it off. Thankfully, she hadn’t. Delayed as it was, it was simply the release of her venom. He’d nearly forgotten it was an anesthetic. Was its administration a conscious consideration on her part? Or an instinctual application whenever her kind fed?

Hesitantly, he said, “Tell me you’re still in there?”

All he needed was a sign.

Anything.

Several heartbeats passed, but a broken sort of purr rose from her throat. He would have mistaken it as a result of her indulgence, were it not so brief. So pointed. An emotional nudge, not unlike that of Tanuzet in their quieter moments, graced his mental core. It was warm, familiar, but distant, somehow. Tentative as it was, it gave him hope he hadn’t lost her.

Not entirely.

He huffed a laugh, though his breath was shaky.

“Breaking my arm was a bit much, don’t you think?”

Of course, she didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected her to, not in those moments, but speaking aloud helped, in its own strange way.

“At least you were kind enough to dull the pain.”

He checked his hold, knowing full well she was still a danger. With her distracted as she was, he took the opportunity to wrap his legs around her waist and secure her in place. Being reduced to one arm, he’d need all the control he could leverage once the others returned. There was every chance they might have to pry her off of him if she couldn’t be reasoned with and if they did, they were at risk of falling victim themselves. Keeping her at bay himself was the best option, even if it meant further injury. A broken arm and a little bloodshed on his part was a small price to pay for the wellbeing of those under his charge.

He closed his eyes and set to monitoring his vital essence while he waited. He could still sense the flow through his meridians, despite the utter lack of physical sensation. The essence in both his blood and his channels was being siphoned away at an alarming rate and he had to consciously slow his cycling in order to buy himself more time. He wouldn’t be able to defend either party if he were rendered unconscious and he wasn’t sure the others would be able to handle her on their own without resorting to more harmful means. Ayduin, in particular, would not hesitate to end her. If she were forced to choose between himself or Inerys, there would be no contest.

He told himself it wouldn’t come to that, though.

He trusted them.

All of them.

Once Inerys took what she needed, she would release him.

This didn’t have to end poorly.

As she fed, though, his head began to grow light. Nothing detrimental, yet, but he could feel the effects. Tanuzet pressed her snout into his back to keep him from swaying and he leaned into their bond in an effort to keep his mind sharp. Awake.

They are on their way back to us, she murmured, You need only hold out a little longer.

“I’m beginning to think that’s easier said than done,” he admitted.

He sensed Ayduin’s attention long before Vaelor landed and knew he was in for as much of an earful from her as he was from Sorisanna and Vesryn once this was all sorted. She was on her feet and running toward him before her wyvern had fully settled. Cydan was not far behind her, two satchels in hand as opposed to Ayduin’s one.

He saw her reach for her blade and he stiffened, forcing himself to focus through the haze in his mind.

“Don’t,” he said tightly, “It’s not what you think. I put myself in this position, not her.”

Her eyes were wide, warring between confusion, worry and outrage. She gaped for several seconds, her lips trying and failing to express her torrent of emotion. Vaelor had his teeth bared, his hiss rattling deep in his chest. He held his head low, his back arched. The lashing of his tail had Cydan watching him over his shoulder before he spared Ayduin a glance.

Rhydian could feel Tanuzet’s rising hackles as keenly as if they were his own, but it was Cydan who spoke first.

“Ayduin, I don’t want to call Inet down here, but I will if I have to,” he said quietly.

A muscle feathered along her jaw and her wyvern tsked.

She fixed her gold-rimmed eyes on Rhydian, the heat behind them hot enough to melt steel.

“You better have a damn good reason for this,” she seethed, pointing her dagger at him before she sheathed it.

He met intensity with what he could muster of his own.

“You, of all people, know I did not take this risk lightly,” he said, “Do you have the blood?”

She gave a single, curt nod.

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“Can you get her off you?” She countered.

“We’re going to find out,” he muttered and jerked his chin toward her satchel.

Cydan crouched beside her as she retrieved one of the blood-filled jars, setting his own bags down to do the same. He searched his face and Rhydian did his best to keep his eyes from drooping under the man’s scrutiny. Between the two of them, he was beginning to feel like an open book. Inerys even had her moments of the same. Though, he supposed blood loss was a difficult thing to mask as opposed to emotion.

“How do you feel?” He asked quietly.

He grit his teeth against a bout of dizziness.

“My arm’s broken, but I can’t feel it,” he said and when Ayduin’s gaze snapped toward his hand, he added, “It was an accident.”

Her presence swept through him in an active read that left his soul prickling. She cursed and moved closer with the now open jar. She reached for his shoulder with her free hand, but he shied away, only to earn a disgruntled hiss from Inerys.

“You need to get her off you. Now.”

She was right, but his sluggish thoughts took longer than he’d have liked to process.

He winced.

“Inerys,” he said hoarsely, “Inerys, you need to let go.”

A growl answered and her grip tightened. Her talons poised themselves along his skin, biting, then relaxing before they drew blood. They were sharp enough to split skin with the slightest provocation and yet, they’d left little more than pressure divots in their wake.

Realization dawned upon his dull mind– whether consciously or not, she was minding those talons. Fangs and feeding aside, she didn’t want to hurt him. Doing so was one of her greatest fears.

He knew then, what it would take to reach her.

“Inerys, please. You– you’re hurting me.”

Her breath caught and she stiffened, so he pressed.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but we need to see how bad it is. I’m going to release you now and when I do, I need you to withdraw your fangs. I . . . I trust you,” he said.

Ayduin cut him a glare, but he ignored her. His limbs had grown leaden, his joints stiff and he did not have to feign the effort it took to ease the hold he had with his legs. The withdrawal of his essence stopped and stuttered as if she were fighting with herself in order to keep from taking more. A slight pressure built in his temples and eventually gave way to her voice, faint as it was hesitant.

Rhydian?

He smiled a little.

“It’s me,” he murmured, “Do you think you can let go?”

She stirred in his arms, giving a start as if she were only now aware of where she was, what she was doing. To a degree, he’d retained the ability to feel certain pressures and though they were dull, he almost wished he could not feel anything at all. Something along the roof of her mouth flexed, the level of articulation she possessed as impressive as it was horrifying. Her teeth wiggled independently of one another along both her upper and lower jaw, tugging along his skin like a viper trying to free its fangs from the body of its prey.

She was gentle in her withdrawal, though the one she’d sunk into his wrist had proven more troublesome. It had become wedged between the smaller bones, causing far more discomfort on Inerys’ part than Rhydian’s each time she attempted to pull it out. In the end, Sorisanna had been called back in order to safely remove the canine without further harm to either party. Inerys’ mental apologies verged on sobs all the while, her guilt hitting him with a keener edge than he was used to.

“There,” Sorisanna said, biting her lip.

She guided him back against the grass once the two were free of one another and carefully placed his arm over the pillow upon his chest to keep it elevated. Careful as she’d been, the world seemed to spin as he laid there, head pounding. Much as he wanted to inspect his arm for himself, he couldn’t bring himself to actually move. Sleep beckoned him and though the grass was a far cry from the comfort and warmth of his tent, it suddenly became the most welcoming place in the world.

Surely, no one would mind if he took a nap–

Sorisanna shoved something hard into his mouth and placed both hands over his nose and mouth until he was forced to swallow it. Whatever it was had been cold and hard, like a small, smooth stone. It clacked against his teeth until he’d finally maneuvered it into the back of his throat.

He swatted at her with his good arm, but she had already drawn away. Not that his efforts would have done much good. In his current state, he’d be lucky if his waving about intimidated the lake’s cursed mosquitos.

“What did you give me?”

“A condensed blood tablet, now sit still,” the sage muttered.

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

“How bad is it?” He asked.

The sage’s brow was bent in her inspection, Ayduin the dark, brooding shadow at her back.

“It’s definitely broken,” she said, “But I’ve seen worse. Inerys poked a few pretty holes in you, but no lacerations.”

“I’m so sorry,” Inerys whispered, “I didn’t mean it, I–”

Her fingers were trembling around the half empty jar she held. Cydan draped one of their spare blankets around her shivering form and crouched beside her, his expression tight. One of the other jars lay tipped on its side, empty. Skies, had he blacked out once already?

He couldn’t recall when they’d given her the first one, let alone the second.

Had they given her enough?

“Don’t be,” Rhydian said drowsily, “I knew what . . .knew what I was getting myself into.”

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, leaving silver tracks down her face amid the oily waste still clinging to her unwashed skin.

“What happened?” She whispered, looking to the others for answers before her eyes sought his.

They were the most peculiar color he’d ever seen; torn between reds and blues in ways that always seemed to change depending on the angle of the light. The curious white edges, that had once taken up far too much of her outer optic, were gone. With the irises now taking up the entirety of her eye, she bore the same glossy black along the corners they all shared. He hesitated to compare her to the Adai, but the facial similarities were there. Her face had turned vulpine where it had once been softer, rounder.

Did she still have those curious spots along her nose and cheeks? What had she called them? Freckles?

You are staring, Tanuzet said quietly.

His slow blink was a touch delayed.

He was?

~*~

Ayduin whirled on her.

“You attacked him, that’s what happened,” she hissed.

Inerys flinched.

“Ayduin,” Cydan said lowly, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

She pointed a finger at Rhydian’s mangled arm.

“Is it? Look what she’s done to him! He’s lucky she didn’t pull his arm off.”

Through her cold terror, Inerys managed to face the wound she’d inflicted. Her fangs had punched clean through skin and muscle alike, leaving the surrounding tissue raised and dark. The bruising was far easier to make out along his blue-black skin than she’d expected. Black patches marked the breadth of the wound, the blood gummy and slick where it had mixed with her saliva.

She could scarcely believe she had been the cause of such a wicked bite. The punctures were spaced in a manner that should have been impossible, given the current configuration of her jaw. However, its ability to expand and contract in order to grab and hold whatever she latched onto was undeniable. While she hadn’t left full lacerations, she’d torn the entry points when she’d locked in.

And broken his arm in the process.

The bend was perfectly centered within the bite pattern, its angle alone enough to make her sick. Along his wrist, though, was a long slit. Its uniformity stood in sharp contrast to the surrounding savagery and could have only come from a blade. Had he opened his own wrist for her? What had compelled him to do something so reckless?

She tried to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat, yet each time she did, she tasted his infernal blood on her tongue.

“She was dying, Ayduin. I did what I had to.”

Dying.

His voice was far too faint, his face more pale than she’d ever seen it.

What had happened to her? This advancement was supposed to fix her, not make things worse. If he had truly put his life on the line to save hers, how desperate had the situation been? He had not saved her life once, but twice. How could she ever repay him after this?

Tears welled in his secondrider’s eyes.

“And look where it got you. You could have been killed,” she said, voice raw as it caught, “Skies, she bit you, you damned fool! You knew the risk and you let it happen anyway. What if you change?”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” she said through her teeth.

“That’s enough, Ayduin,” Sorisanna snapped, “We’re all worried. Screaming at the man isn’t going to change anything and neither is blaming Inerys. If you’re not going to help, go back to camp.”

Cydan rose and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t have resorted to this if there were any other way. We all saw what happened during her ascension. None of us expected such a dramatic shift. We were under prepared, that’s all.”

She swiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.

“You’re right. And he paid the price.”

Sorisanna shook her head as she reached for her satchel and cast it open. Three golden spheres drifted up into the air to fall into a steady orbit behind her head, each as bright as a newborn sun. It had been weeks since Inerys had seen them and she found them every bit as mesmerizing as they’d been when she first encountered them.

“I’ve mended worse. I can repair the damage but as for the change . . . we’ll have to wait and see,” she said.

He wouldn’t change, Inerys told herself. He couldn’t. Sorisanna would heal him and all would be well.

She couldn’t help but wonder, though, did he hate her for what she’d done? Did he regret trying to save her miserable life a second time? She wasn’t sure she could stomach his ire, his disapproval, not with how well everything had gone these past few weeks. She thought she’d finally found her place, proven she was worthy of everyone’s trust and now . . . now she’d broken it.

One lapse in her control may have just cost her everything.

She hadn’t realized she’d begun to shake until a hand found hers despite the grime and filth. His touch shattered what little resolve she had left and she choked on her sob. She nearly dropped the jar she held in her other hand, her fingers curling around Rhydian’s. They were so cold . . .

“I’ll be all right, Inerys. I promise.”

Instead of hate or anger, she found only concern in those grey eyes of his. Concern for her, not himself. Perhaps he really was a fool, fretting over the monster who had maimed him rather than himself.