Truth of Embers

by Caitlyn McFarland

  She snorted, puffing steam into the air. “I believe we’re fairly well acquainted. Consider that maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know him. It’s been a thousand years since you were close. Kavar and I don’t speak often, but when we do...he’s not happy with Owain. He says that he is. He thinks that he is, but he hasn’t forgotten that Owain basically gave him up to Rhys to boost Jiang’s credibility. They didn’t know Rhys wouldn’t kill him. They might even have expected him to. Heaven knows Owain would if he caught you. Owain betrayed him. If you want to win Kavar back, now is the time.”

  Ashem stepped away and stared down at her. Then he shook his head and strode into the tent.

  She followed. “Don’t you look at me like I’m crazy. He’s your brother. And the only other Azhdahā left in the world. You should be on the same side.”

  “Don’t come tonight.”

  The words tore from him, and they both froze. Juliet came around to stand in front of him. “My deal with Kavar doesn’t begin tonight.”

  Ashem hadn’t meant to speak, but he couldn’t call the words back, so he might as well keep going. He cupped her face in his hands and tried—almost successfully—to keep his voice steady. “He will try to keep you. He might—he might not let you go.”

  Instead of answering, Juliet pushed him gently backward toward his cot. He didn’t resist. When it hit the backs of his knees, he sat. She tugged off her gloves and tossed them on the floor. “About tonight. I have an idea, and you...” She sighed. “You are really not going to like it.”

  “Juliet—”

  She cut him off with a kiss. Despite everything, his hands went to her waist and he yanked her down onto his lap. Her mouth was warm, pliable and eager. She had her coat off in the next second, then his. Then her hands were sliding across his bare chest and he’d missed her so badly...

  Sunder it, she never would’ve been able to fog his brain like this if it hadn’t been so long since he’d seen her. He’d never been so easy to manipulate before. He tried to read her mind, first through the heartswearing bond, then with Azhdahā magic. The first she clouded. The second, she easily blocked. Since becoming heartsworn to both him and Kavar, her power had increased exponentially. She was, perhaps, the strongest magic-user on the planet. Until the mantle was healed.

  “Juliet,” he said, holding her back when she tried to kiss him again. “What idea am I not going to like? I already know about your scalebrained idea to get into Cadarnle.”

  “No, this isn’t that.” She sighed. “How long until we leave?”

  He calculated the time. “Half an hour.”

  She slid her fingers into his hair. “Then let me tell you in twenty-nine minutes.”

  The last of his anger broke. If he knew her—and he did—he could guess what she wanted to do. That meant this twenty-nine minutes might be all he had of her for a long time.

  He’d lost Kavar because they were both too stubborn to stop driving each other away. He couldn’t lose her.

  Letting go, he opened his mind. “I love you, jāné del-am. When you’re with him, don’t forget.”

  “I love you, too.” She tipped her face up and kissed him, and her cheeks were wet with tears. “No matter who is in my mind, my heart will always belong to you.”

  Rhys’s breath misted in front of him as he surveyed his team, standing in a huddle a few dozen yards from the perimeter of the camp. He couldn’t take many. Owain’s scouts were watching, and no one could be missed.

  Ashem, Juli, Cadoc, Morwenna. Himself. Four dragons and one superpowered Wingless.

  His eyes swept the line again. He kept expecting to see Deryn. Going into a fight without her made him feel as if he was missing one of his wings, but it couldn’t be helped. Ancients, he would be glad to see her again.

  Kai was sleeping off the aftermath of her actions in the amphitheater. She and Seren had been Owain’s prisoners for thirteen days. Thirteen days of torture. Of Rhys waking in the middle of the night to her screaming in his head. Thirteen days of sick helplessness. Of no sleep. Of Kai drifting further away from him the more she was hurt.

  No more.

  He had never hated Owain before. He’d never truly wanted to kill him. Now he would gladly peel off those white scales one by one and watch his cousin bleed out in the snow.

  “You’re clear on the plan?” Rhys asked, keeping his voice low.

  They responded that they were. Snow crunched beneath booted feet, and a girl approached from the direction of the tents. Until two weeks ago, Tharah, a half Wonambi, half Quetzal, had been a rogue who followed his murderous mother. Before Mair had fallen, she’d switched sides.

  Not for him, though, Rhys thought as Tharah smiled at Cadoc. She gave the black-haired bard—former bard—a sharp nod. “The Wonambi are ready with the illusions.”

  Cadoc’s eyes shot to Rhys, and he inclined his head. Cadoc said, “Give them the signal.”

  Tharah turned and wove away through the tents.

  Watching Cadoc, it occurred to Rhys to wonder, not for the first time, why Cadoc’s curse had broken. He was back, and Rhys was glad for it, but none of them could explain why. If he hadn’t been so caught up with Kai—

  A dragon roared, and Rhys had a dizzying moment of dissonance because the roar sounded exactly like his own. It was supposed to. The Wonambi—a clan of illusion-casting dragons native to Australia—were very good at what they did.

  At the center of the camp, Rhys—or the dragon enchanted to look and sound like him—roared again, threatening to demolish the few standing tents and dripping flame from his open jaws. Dragons began to transform all around him in a circle, as if to cage the raging king.

  “Now,” Ashem said into all of their minds.

  Juli’s eyes went wide and unfocused—a sign that she had cast a barrier. Any eyes that looked at this spot would slide away, rendering them effectively invisible.

  The battle in the camp intensified as a dragon enchanted to look like Ashem appeared, trying to reason with the false Rhys. Taking advantage of the distraction, they transformed. Rhys reached for the fire that burned along the outer edges of his being. His mind expanded, his perceptions refining and shifting.

  He became the dragon.

  “You ready, boyo?” Cadoc stood next to Ashem, his maimed front foot curled into his lean red-orange body. On his other side, Morwenna lashed her tail back and forth, clearing a swath of snow. Her scales were red, but in the night she looked nearly as black as Ashem.

  “Let’s move out before the show stops.” Ashem’s eyes glinted gold in the cold light of the northern stars. Rhys couldn’t see Juli’s barrier, but the dragons huddled close together to make sure they stayed inside it. Behind him, the false Rhys leaped into the sky and tried to fly toward Cadarnle, only to be pulled down again by half a dozen others.

  Rhys helped Juli—who was so bundled in cold-weather gear she could hardly move—pull a flying harness over Ashem. It took her a few minutes to buckle the leather straps with gloves on. By the time she was finished Rhys was ready to change back into a man and do it himself.

  Kai. He was going to get Kai. The thought stung his bones like the bite of a thousand ants. He was going to wake up from the dream of Kai in his head and be with her again. They were so close. The imaginary ants in his bones surged beneath his skin until his scales crawled with need to get in the air and make that moment now.

  Juli climbed up his side and settled in the saddle, pulling down her flying mask. The stylized lioness face suited her. Rhys had Kai’s white raven mask and another harness in a bag that he pulled around one wrist. Cadoc carried an empty harness, as well. None of them were expecting Seren to be capable of flying.

  Juli ran her gloved hand over Ashem’s scales. “Let’s bring her home.”

  Ashem unfurled his night-black wings and leaped into the sky wi
th a spray of snow. Rhys and the others followed, forming a truncated V. If the weather held, they would arrive at Cadarnle in three hours. Farther south, where it wasn’t the long night, that would put them there a few hours before dawn.

  And if he hadn’t betrayed them, Kavar would be waiting.

  Back in the camp, Rhys’s army would continue the illusion that the Council was forcibly dragging Rhys back to Eryri, an idea they’d given him when they threatened to do it for real. They’d carry on for a while, subdue the dragon playing Rhys, then break camp and head for the South Pacific. If things played out how they should, Owain’s scouts would report that Rhys had abandoned Kai. Owain would relax his guard.

  And Rhys would be in Cadarnle.

  If Owain was waiting for them because Seren had forseen this, as well, Rhys would give himself up in exchange for Kai and his friends’ lives. He would die, and Deryn would inherit his half of the mantle. She and Kai could carry on the war. Win.

  Though if Rhys had a choice, he’d prefer to live.

  Chapter Six

  Worth Everything

  Owain had thrown Kai into her rooms without a word and slammed the door, drowning her in blackness. Twenty minutes later, she still couldn’t move.

  Rhys sighed into her mind, considerably calmer than he had been the last time they’d spoken. “You should have left them alone.”

  Kai concentrated on breathing. It hurt so much. “You would’ve done the same.”

  A pause, then, “Yes.” Then love. So much love that it threatened her control.

  He was doing something, but he wasn’t letting her see what it was. In fact, he’d been doing things since Owain had broken the news that he knew about Rhys’s army. Rhys, for whatever reason, was hiding it from her.

  Might he actually leave?

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I think you know.”

  She hated when he was cryptic. Being in each other’s minds was wearing, at times, because of the lack of privacy. But it by no means meant she knew every single thing he was thinking. “Rhys, it’s all right if you’re leaving. Just...tell me. So I can mentally prepare.”

  How did a person prepare for death? Kai closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the cool stone floor. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to see Rhys again. The sun. Her family.

  The thoughts caused her pain. So she shut them away. She was ice. She was stone.

  “I am not leaving you.” He was frustrated. “Ancients, Kai, how could you even think it? You would never leave me if things were reversed. I’m on my way.”

  He couldn’t mean it. Owain knew he was coming. If he attacked with his army, she would die anyway. There was no way to win.

  She tried to make her own mental voice hard and cold, but it wavered. “I would. Go home, you stupid lizard. You have to save the world.” Replaying the scene in the arena and unable to help herself, she added, “I can’t watch you die.”

  Cadarnle was crawling with guards and magic security. Not to mention that even if he did get to her, she had the thing in her neck that would detonate and kill her if she left her rooms without Owain. It would have to be cut out, and the thought made her want to cry.

  More pain.

  He didn’t even have the decency to be angry. “You forget, cariad, without you, I’m not worth much.”

  Kai snorted, then winced at the lance of pain through her torso. Among dragons, only heartsworn pairs could have children. That meant without her, Rhys couldn’t have an heir, leaving him with no one to pass the mantle to. Some of the Council—some morons like Powell—might say that he wasn’t worth much without her.

  “You are worth everything.”

  He didn’t respond in words, only love.

  Kai couldn’t breathe right or move without jarring her ribs, so she lay on the floor where she’d fallen, only arranging herself as comfortably as she could. Time passed in fits and starts, and she wasn’t sure how long. Rhys didn’t say much, but he stayed with her.

  Even if he went to Eryri, she knew he would stay with her until the end.

  How many hours, now, until it came? Seven? Eight?

  The door opened. Kai tensed, wondering if she’d severely overestimated her remaining time. The wallfires that dragons used to light their caves flared to life all around, illuminating the craggy face of Patli, the old woman who tended Kai’s wounds. Not Owain or Kavar.

  Not quite time to die.

  Patli tutted at the sight of Kai on the floor. “You must stop making him angry.”

  Kai groaned. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

  The old woman tutted again and bent to help Kai to her feet. “This is going to hurt.”

  Kai inhaled sharply through her teeth as the Quetzal woman helped her to bed. “Thanks,” Kai said when she was settled, her voice high and weak.

  Patli made a shushing noise and muttered something in the ancient Nahuatl language that the Quetzals spoke, and pushed up Kai’s shirt.

  The skin over her ribs had bloomed into a spectacular display of bruises—a sight made even more impressive because Owain had kicked her across her indicium. The colorless scale pattern that swirled over the left side of her torso made the dark purple-and-blue of the bruise shimmer like diseased flames.

  Patli pushed Kai’s head back onto the pillow, and Kai didn’t resist. The woman went to work assessing the extent of Kai’s injuries, muttering again.

  “How is Seren?” Kai asked.

  Patli sighed. “I try to get her to eat, to drink, but she keeps nothing down. Owain allows the man in charge of her visions to dose her with that potion. It’s made of diluted Azhdahā venom. It kills her a little each day.”

  Kai pressed her lips together. She’d found out that Seren’s drug was made of Azhdahā venom—the same thing that had nearly killed Rhys—a few days ago.

  Patli continued, “After your show in the arena, Owain let the idiot in charge give her a double dose. Wants visions delivered to him as they come to make sure that none of them have to do with Rhys coming for him before you die. She’ll be useless for days.”

  Kai hated herself a little for still wanting Rhys to stay away, even if it meant that Seren suffered longer. “How can you follow him? He made a heartsworn pair murder each other! You’re heartsworn. Can you imagine?” Kai’s throat closed, once again seeing Rhys in her mind’s eye, dead on the black sand. Maybe it was a good thing he was so distracted.

  “Owain was a good boy,” Patli said quietly. “For a long time, he was a good king. His mother was the best queen our people have had in living memory. Ayen lied and manipulated his way into the crown. It is Owain’s by right.”

  Kai had never understood monarchy. Just because a parent was good at something didn’t mean the child would be. Owain was a perfect example. According to Rhys, Owain had spent his younger years obsessed with dark magic, which led him to murder a handful of dragons in the name of magical discovery.

  Heartbroken and unable to stand the thought of putting a murderer on the throne, Owain’s mother, Rigani, had gathered a coalition of the greatest dragon magic-users alive. They had found a way to change the magic of the mantle so that, instead of going to Rigani’s closest blood-relative, Owain, it went to her brother Ayen.

  Rhys’s father.

  Rigani had meant to break the news to Owain, but before she could, she’d died—killed by humans. The mantle went to Ayen, who took his place as king.

  Unbeknownst to Ayen, however, Owain had retained a small part of the mantle. With the help of the mate Ayen had mistreated—Rhys’s mother, Mair, Owain had used that bit of power to sunder Ayen’s heartswearing.

  Then he’d attacked.

  In agony from the sundering, Ayen hadn’t been able to defend himself. He died, and in murdering him, Owain gained a full
half of the power of the mantle. The other half had gone to Rhys, who barely escaped Owain’s attack with his life. If Owain could kill Rhys and Deryn, he would be able to bend every dragon on Earth to his will.

  For Owain, that meant war with all of humankind.

  Kai stifled a cough. “So you’ll let a monster control you because he’s got the right mom?”

  Patli took out an obsidian knife and made a precise, stinging cut on the inside of Kai’s elbow. “Ayen was not a good king. He would not have ruled better than Owain. But I think, and some of my people begin to think, that his son—however he came to power—might be the better option.”

  Kai’s eyes widened. “You’d support Rhys?”

  “No. Owain’s way will save our people. Without him, the humans will overrun us, and there won’t be any dragons left. It is harsh, but right.”

  Though her voice was gentle, her words were like Owain’s boot to Kai’s ribs all over again.

  Patli held her hand above the cut on Kai’s arm and made a grasp-and-pull motion. Blood welled up from the cut, and Patli gathered it in her hand. As if it was coated in oil, the drops rolled along her skin without sticking. She brought her cupped palm close to her lips and chanted. Then she smeared the blood along Kai’s ribs.

  The relief was immediate. Not all of the pain was gone, but Patli’s blood magic—the same kind of magic that a different Quetzal had used to place a horrible curse on Cadoc—eased the ache.

  Kai took a breath, and instead of the shallow wheezing she’d been managing since Owain had kicked her, she inhaled deeply with only a twinge. “Thank you. Again.”

  Patli nodded. The old woman wouldn’t help her escape. Kai had already begged. But she had never been cruel. Kai could have liked Patli, if not for the fact that she supported genocide.

  Patli touched Kai’s cheek. “I cannot save you, but as you did for the woman in the arena, I hope I’ve eased your suffering. Take this.” She pressed a capsule into Kai’s hand. “Naga venom. It will ease your passage into sleep and prevent dreams. If it were my last night on Earth, I would take it.”