Chapter 47

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

MAEVYTH

S omehow, eleven days managed to slip by.

I spent most of the time studying bones and scrolls with Dolion and Allura, cooking dinner with Magdah, teaching Rykaia how to make weavers–a skill she didn’t entirely have the patience for. And on the very few days when Zevander hadn’t been summoned to some obscure location that he never bothered to disclose, I trained with him. In the evenings, he’d take me down to the dungeon to feed and sing to Branimir. A few times, Rykaia had joined us, and the two of us sang silly songs, while Zevander watched from the shadows. As I’d become more familiar with his family, though, he seemed to grow more reticent. I’d caught him staring at me a few times. Long, unabashed stares that’d stirred thoughts of that day in his office. Nothing had ever come of those stares, though.

The other Letalisz, who I’d learned also lived on the grounds of Eidolon, kept to themselves, for the most part. I’d only caught glimpses of the one named Kazhimyr on occasion, and still hadn’t yet met Torryn. I’d learned through Rykaia that he’d long been in love with her and apparently had an inclination to kill anything that so much as looked at her sideways.

With a sigh of boredom, I opened the puzzle book that Dolion had given to me. It happened to be one of the days Zevander had gotten called away, so I decided to pass the time figuring out the maze puzzle that I still hadn’t solved. At the very least, it helped settle my anxiety, the antsy feeling in my gut that needled me any time I thought about my sister and returning to Vonkovya. While Aleysia remained at the forefront of my mind, the prospect of seeing her again felt unlikely. Hopeless.

Dolion had tried scrying for her a second time, but the attempt had produced nothing. Nothing but a question mark that loomed over me. Haunting me, day in and day out.

At a knock on my bedroom door, I pushed up from the puzzle book and padded across the room. Allura stood in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming tea, one of which she passed to me. “Thought you might want something warm to drink.”

Temperatures had cooled over the last few days, and though I hadn’t spent much time outside, I felt it in the walls of the castle, through the stones and cracks that had me sitting closer to the hearth in the evenings.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile, and she peered past me.

“Are you still working on the last puzzle?”

Smiling, I nodded. Allura and I had spent a good couple of hours on it the day before, a challenge I think she’d enjoyed, more so than me. “Would you like to help?”

Brows raised, she nodded, and I stepped aside, allowing her entry into the room. “I thought about it a bit last night. Have you learned mind projection yet?”

“No.”

“Come. I’ll show you how it works.”

“Is this another glyph?”

“No, no. It harnesses the power you’ve already gleaned.” She placed her mug of tea on the bedside table and took a seat on the bed opposite to where I’d sat moments before. Once I’d settled across from her, she placed her hand over top of the puzzle and closed her eyes. Clicking her tongue, she remained in place for a moment, then slid her hand over a small bit and clicked her tongue again. Sighing, she shook her head. “Well, I can’t see it.”

“What is it that you’re trying to see?”

“The image on the other side. The peg in the center seems to follow a distinct pattern. If we could visualize the image, we’d know where to move the pegs. My guess, given the complexity of the grooves, is that it forms something. All I see is blackness, but you try.” She took my hand, gently resting it against the top of the puzzle. “Now click your tongue.”

“What does my tongue have to do with my hand?”

“Clicking it creates a benign noise that bounces off the surrounding objects. Like echolocation. If you focus on the sound, really focus, it should project the image against your hand. The power in the glyphs will then communicate that image to your mind.”

“That sounds exceptionally complicated.”

She chuckled. “It isn’t, I promise. Be sure to close your eyes.”

Eyes shuttered, I clicked my tongue as she had.

Nothing but darkness persisted.

I tried again, and still, nothing came to mind. Shrugging, I opened my eyes. “Must not work for me, either.”

“Try one more time. This time, use only your fingertips to concentrate the vibrations.”

Once again, I closed my eyes, and when I clicked my tongue as before, a flash of an image came to mind. “Oh! I saw something!”

A spark of excitement had me shifting on the bed, and I adjusted my hand just enough to ensure a better image next time. I clicked my tongue again and the image lingered in my head that time. Brighter. Clearer.

“It’s a … tree? A massive tree, with curled branches and old bark.”

“Good. Hold that image in your mind. Don’t let it slip. And try to trace it.”

Using the same hand I’d placed on the puzzle, I twisted the dial of the top puzzle, as I’d done dozens of times before, and pushed it along the groove of the bottom maze, beginning at the top of the tree. Something clicked that time, and goaded by my success, I twisted the dial again, moving the peg downward into another groove. Another click. Another turn of the dial, another slide of the peg, another click.

I followed the same pattern, repeatedly, along every branch, until I pushed past what felt like a lump in the bottom of the tree, just before the roots.

Something popped against my palm, and I opened my eyes to see the top of the dial opened.

“You did it! It’s open!” Allura gave a small and frantic clap.

The peg in the center of it served as something of a doorknob, which I pulled open to show an image carved in wood. The tree I’d seen in my mind—only the carving held a more haunting depiction of it, with a woman’s face etched into the bark and the limbs made to look like arms reaching over top of her.

“The Grymswood.” The excitement in Allura’s voice from moments ago had sobered. “It is the cursed tree that lies at the bottom of the Crussurian Trench. The forest of the dead. They say the tree houses the soul of a powerful priestess.”

“Crussurian Trench. Dolion told me that’s where the Corvikae were sent to die.”

Lips pressed tight, she nodded. “He told me that as well.”

The more I stared at the woman’s face in the bark, the more I longed to free her.

“She’s in pain,” I said, tracing a finger over the ridges that felt like rough bark.

“It would seem, yes.”

I lifted the carved image and found a small depression beneath, inside of which sat a fancy silver whistle.

I held it up to the light, where I could study the gorgeous etched filigree designs in the metal. Turning the page showed no story, nor explanation, for what it was meant to do. Only another puzzle to solve.

A flat end made up the mouthpiece, which I stared at for a moment, before looking back at Allura, who nodded, urging me to try. I placed the mouthpiece between my lips and blew hard. Not a single sound came forth.

Frowning, I studied the whistle and, thinking it might’ve been broken, blew it again.

Still nothing.

“Well, it seems to be broken, whatever it’s fo–”

A distant rumble reached my ears, like rolling thunder. Light flickered in my periphery, and I turned toward the window, where an indistinct black mass flew toward the castle.

My and Allura’s gazes locked, the look of confusion on her face mirroring what I felt right then.

I slowly rose up from the bed and padded toward the window, watching the blackness move closer. Closer.

“It’s coming toward us, but what is it ?” Allura asked from behind.

I shook my head, watching as a massive shadow moved across the yard below.

The rumbling sound grew louder. Louder.

The object didn’t stop, it advanced toward the window like it might crash right through the glass. Both Allura and I flinched as the black swarm fell upon us. Hundreds of ravens outside the window, their wings beating against the glass, claws scraping the surface. Another massive shadow zipped overhead, and the ravens all shot up into the sky, where they hovered, making way for something enormous that perched itself against the castle wall.

I drew in a shaky breath and leaned forward, staring through one of the lancet windows. An enormous, feathered dragon, whose claws scraped against the stones of the castle wall, hopped his way over to the balcony.

“Dear gods.” Awe livened Allura’s voice as she crept toward the window with slow and careful steps. “Is that … what I think it is?”

I studied the silvery eyes that were all too familiar to me. “Raivox?” Scrambling for the balcony door, I fumbled with the lever for a moment, my hands shaking.

“Maevyth, wait! We don’t …. What if he’s dangerous.”

“I know him.” I swung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony where he perched on the balustrade, his massive body taking up the whole opening of the arched stone. At least eight meters tall, his claws alone were half the length of my body.

In awe, I took in the size of him. Was it Raivox? It had to be. Even if nothing else appeared to be the same, I recognized those tiny crescent markings on him. “How …. How are you … so grown ? And how in the world did you ever find me?” No sooner had I asked the question, I glanced down at the whistle in my hands and back to him. His claws slid over the stone, leaving long white scratch marks. Behind him, the birds dove and flew about, drawing the attention of the fyredrakes who prowled below my balcony. The vicious-looking beasts that I’d seen Zevander petting .

Raivox hopped toward the castle wall, where he scaled the side of it before taking flight. Hovering in front of my balcony, his wings must’ve stretched at least twenty feet in each direction. The sheer size of him sent a cold rush of adrenaline through me, the clash of excitement and fear squeezing my chest.

“Am I dreaming?” Allura said as she padded to my side. “Did I hit my head at any point?”

“No. It’s not a dream.” I stuffed the whistle into the pocket of my dress and smiled, relieved to see him. “He’s real.”

“In all my life, I’ve never seen one. They’re said to be mythical, like unicorns.”

An obnoxious pounding at my bedroom door startled me, and I snapped my attention in that direction only a moment. By the time I looked back, Raivox was no longer there. I leaned over the balcony railing, searching the sky for him.

“Maevyth! Don’t do it!”

A grip took hold of me, yanking me back from the window, and my spine crashed into the stony floor of the balcony. A shock of pain spiraled up the back of my neck, and I winced.

“Have you lost your senses? And, you!” Rykaia glared back at Allura, pointing a finger in the other woman’s face. “You just stand there and watch her do it.”

“I beg your pardon.” Though polite, Allura’s voice held a sharpness to it.

“I wasn’t going to jump. I saw something fly over the castle.”

Rykaia peered over the balcony, though nothing remained to be seen. “What was it?”

“Just a bird.” While I wanted to tell her the truth, even Allura had questioned whether, or not, Raivox had been real. A creature she’d called mythical, like unicorns.

Shaking her head, Rykaia stepped back from the railing. “All that for a bird?”

“It was an exceptionally large bird.”

“Yes, well. I’m going to go,” Allura said. “Thank you for having tea with me, Maevyth. We’ll meet up for some history discussion later this afternoon.” She gave a knowing smile and winked.

“Of course,” I said, nodding as she left the balcony.

Rykaia swung her gaze back to me. “You had tea with her?”

“Yes. She was helping me with a puzzle.”

“ And you worked on a puzzle together. Are you friends?”

“I … suppose. We’re pleasant toward one another. What constitutes friends, exactly?”

“No matter. Grab your cloak. Quickly.”

“Why?”

She groaned, scampering toward the armoire, where she threw open the doors and yanked my black cloak from one of the hangers. “No time for questions,” she said, tossing the garment to me. “Or whatever thoughts are swirling in that head of yours. Now, come.” With a yank of my arm, she dragged me to the door, pausing to look down the hallway, then tugged me toward the staircase.

“Where are we going?” I whisper-yelled.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

Down corridors and stairs, we finally arrived in the dungeons, and Rykaia pulled me into the cell where I’d once slept.

A mischievous smile curved her lips as she came to a stop before the wall. “We’re going on a little adventure.”

“Adventure?” Confused, I watched her draw a vertical line on the wall with her index finger. When the line glowed a bright blue, my eyes widened, and I peered into the slit at what looked like the outdoors on the other side. “How is this possible?”

She pushed her hand through the illuminated seam in the wall, and my jaw slackened for the second time. “It’s called cleaving.”

“Is this how you get from place to place here?”

She snorted. “This is how I get from place to place with a tyrant brother who watches my every move. Fortunately, not everyone can do it, Zevander being one of them. It’s like rolling the tongue. Some can, some can’t.”

As she spoke, I silently rolled my tongue in my mouth. “What about Dolion?”

“He’s in the library. No doubt that … intruder Kazhimyr brought back here went looking for him after she left your room, so I’m certain he’s occupied.” Clearly, she had a distaste for Allura. “All they ever do is study those bones. For hours.”

“Allura is not a bad person.”

“No. She’s a scholar.” Rykaia crossed her arms, her top lip peeled back. “A highbred. Haughty, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Fine. Would you prefer to sit over piles of bones, marveling at their history and taking notes for hours, days, on end?”

Eyes narrowed on her, I held back a smile. “You sound like you’ve watched them for an awful long time. Were you spying?”

“Of course not.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I find that woman absolutely insufferable.” Given the fact that Rykaia couldn’t look at me as she said that, I didn’t believe her. In fact, I’d have bet she rather liked the woman. Quite a bit.

“What about your brother? He’ll be furious. Dolion said someone is actively looking for me right now. Going on an adventure seems unwise.”

“Ah. Yes, I almost forgot. We have to do something about your smell.”

“What?” I lifted my arm, taking in a subtle sniff of what smelled like the soap I’d used. “I just bathed.”

“Yes, but every soul in Nyxteros is going to know you’re mortal with that scent you carry.” From inside her cloak, she produced a small vial of purple fluid and popped the cork. As she poured it over top of my head, I flinched on instinct, anticipating the liquid to pour down my face, but instead, it evaporated into a mist that fell around me. “That’s better.”

I scented myself again, not picking up on any difference. “What’s better?”

“You no longer smell like oranges that everyone wants to eat. And believe me, there are those in Aethyria who would eat you. Orgoths, for example.”

“Orgoths?”

“Big ogre-like beasts. Fortunately, they stick to the southern part of the continent. Though, they have been known to raid a village, or two.”

“So, if I don’t smell like oranges, what do I smell like?”

She shrugged. “Pig shit.”

Eyes bulging, I sniffed myself again. “Are you serious?”

“Trust me, it’s better. One more detail before we head out.” She raised her hand, placing her palm against my face, and a radiant heat warmed my cheeks. Hotter.

“Ouch!” I backed away, palpating my face to make sure there were no raw burn marks left behind. Except, my nose didn’t feel like my nose. It was bigger, rounder and rougher. My face also had a rough texture, and when I lifted a lock of my hair, it was no longer black, but gray. Gasping, I looked back at her, as lowering her palm from her face revealed an entirely different person–a woman with dark brown hair coiffed at the top of her head, and hazel eyes. Her nose was thinner, her face gaunter than before. The sight of her was so ridiculously not Rykaia, that I blurted a laugh.

She laughed, too.

Both of us broke into hysterical laughter, pointing at each other.

“What did you do?” I asked, falling into another laughing spell.

“I can’t … I’m laughing … too hard!” Her response had me gasping for breath between obnoxious bouts of laughter, and I fell back against the bed.

Which made us laugh more.

The two of us must’ve looked and sounded absolutely juvenile.

But it felt good to laugh.

At the distant sound of approaching steps and Dolion’s voice prattling on, Rykaia yanked me into the glowing seam with her, and in the next breath, we were standing in an alley on wet cobblestones, with the overpowering scent of sewage clogging my foreign nose.

“Do not tell my brother that I know how to do this. He will have my head and likely my hands.”

I glanced around at the tall, stone buildings at either side of us, and above them, the gloomy dusk sky that promised darkness soon. “Where are we?” I asked, my voice sketched in awe.

“Costelwick. The main street.” She gave me a tug. “Come. It smells awful in this alley.”

“Is it the alley, or the scent of pig shit?” I asked, unamused.

“Bit of both.” She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

We exited the narrow passage onto a bustling road, with sleek, black, horse-drawn carriages embellished with beautiful black filigree design and far fancier than those in Foxglove. Women, men, and children of all shapes, skin tones and ages filled the busy sidewalks. Some had long, pointed ears, others rounded. Some wore cloaks and long dresses, others wore chiffon pants and corset tops, as if the cold didn’t bother them.

In the crowd, I spied Elvynira, though some had ghostly white skin, and others blue.

Carts lined the road, overflowing with fruits, vegetable and flowers.

Stone bridges crossed over foggy canals, lit by flickering torches that dotted the thick mist. In the far distance overlooking the city stood a magnificent castle with a dozen pointed spires and towers.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said, drinking in as many details as my eyes could capture.

“If you think that’s beautiful, you should see Wyntertide.” She jerked her head for me to follow, and led the way down the cobblestones to a stretch of small shops. “It’s where my mother grew up, in the lower half of Vespyria. A stunning snowy village with mountains, crystal forests, and delightful califonsz.”

“Califonsz?”

“Little aquifers in the snow that sit over top of active veins, hundreds of feet below the surface. Zevander and I used to love playing in them when we were young.”

“I somehow can’t imagine your brother as a carefree child.”

“I don’t think he’s ever been entirely carefree. Just less stern. But let’s not speak of him anymore. I’m angry at him.”

Leaning against the edge of a building two young children sat–a boy, and a girl who looked slightly younger than him–dressed in threadbare clothes, faces covered in grime. Their long, skinny arms hugged their chests as they crouched, shivering. A tin cup on the ground in front of them held a single coin. Homeless . By the looks of their pale, thin bodies, they hadn’t eaten in a while, and I wished I had some bread, or broth, to offer.

I unclasped my cloak and walked up to the children, careful not to frighten them. Lifting the garment in offering, I silently asked permission to cover them with it, to which they both nodded. The heavy velvet cloak swallowed both of their small bodies, and I tucked it around them, earning a smile from the little girl, who hid her face in the fabric. It hurt my heart to see them that way, particularly when so many passed by them in luxurious clothes that spoke of wealth. With nothing else to offer, I pushed to my feet and met Rykaia, who waited a few steps ahead of me.

“Spindlings,” she said, nodding toward them. “Their families can’t afford vivicantem, so they have no magic. Without power, they live in poverty.”

“Power determines wealth?” My cheeks blushed with the silly question. Power had always equated to wealth. I knew that firsthand, having watched the governor rule over Foxglove from the comfort of his sprawling manor.

“Unfortunately, yes. And the more useful your skills, the more wealth you acquire.”

“That’s terrible. They don’t really have a chance at all, then.”

“Nope. Not with the greedy elite who squander the vivicantem. You and my brother seem to have a soft spot for Spindlings. He spared one a short while back.” She skidded to a halt and smacked her own face, the odd behavior catching me off guard. “Damn it. I just said I didn’t want to talk about him, and here I am talking about him.”

“Why are you mad at him?”

“Do you know the princess is celebrating her Becoming, and he said nothing of it? Not a single word! I had to find out on my own that he planned to go without me.”

“What is a Becoming?”

“It’s a crude celebration of womanhood.” She kept on, leading me down the road, closer to the shops. “Horrible for the princess, really.”

“How so?”

“Well, she’s expected to offer up her virginity.”

“In front of everyone?”

The question was something of a joke, and I was horror-stricken when she answered, “Well, sort of, yes. It happens in a private room, usually. In the castle, it’d be the King’s coupling room.”

“Coupling room?”

“The room where he takes his mistresses, separate from the royal chambers. As the queen passed not long ago, the king hasn’t yet filled her seat, so to speak, so nothing entirely scandalous going on there.”

“That’s awful. Why would anyone want to celebrate that?”

“Because not celebrating it is bad luck for her. The king doesn’t want to do anything that might negatively impact his sovereignty. However, you and I can find something else to keep us occupied while that goes on.” Her words didn’t fully absorb at first.

“You and I? What do you mean you and I?”

“We are going. This will be the biggest celebration in all of Nyxteros. Everyone will be there.”

“Yes, which makes this a very bad idea.”

“Look around, Maevyth. Not one person has batted an eye at you. You don’t even look like you.” Clutching my wrist, she dragged me to one of the storefronts, where I caught my reflection in the window. I looked exactly as I imagined when I’d palpated my face back at Eidolon castle. The gray hair. The bulbous nose and age lines that put me at about sixty years old. In disbelief, I touched my cheeks, my nose, and turned to Rykaia. “Whose face is this?” I whispered.

“So, you know that I can read minds, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, impatiently.

“Well, I’m an empath. I also extract emotions, and in doing so, I have a bit of a collection of faces.”

“These are actual people?”

“Well, yes. But I’m afraid it doesn’t last long, so we’re going to need to hustle it along.” Still gripping my arm, she hurried me down the street, passing a variety of shops–bakeries, florist, clockmakers, and an apothecary. Until we eventually came upon a dress shop, through the door of which she hauled me.

Racks of elegant gowns lined the walls. I’d never been in a such a place where one could choose a dress of their liking. Back in Foxglove, the dressmakers took our orders and delivered four to five of the same dresses at a time. Enough to last a year, or two.

“What color would you like?” she asked, perusing through the gowns.

“I really don’t think I should attend this thing. I just have a bad feeling.”

Groaning, she rolled her eyes and turned toward me. “What is the most exciting thing you’ve done in your life?”

“Crossing over. Coming here.”

“You need to enjoy life.” She lifted a long, golden dress from the rack and held it up to me. “This is stunning.”

“Not gold.”

“Red? Green? Yellow? Blue?”

“Your brother has been exceptionally accommodating, and I just feel like I should–”

“Stop. He kept you in a dungeon.”

“Probably the most luxurious dungeon I’ve ever seen,” I countered.

“Regardless. You owe him nothing. Eidolon belongs to me, as well.”

“Women can own property here? Without being married?”

“Yes. Of course.” She looked repulsed, as if the question was the most ridiculous inquiry she’d ever heard. “A number of castles are owned by women. Obscenely wealthy women. In fact, you’re wearing the face of one right now. So, embody her, or someone is going to get suspicious.” She jerked her head toward the woman at the front of the shop, who stood bent over a counter, writing with a quill.

It still seemed reckless to me, but clearly Rykaia had no intentions of letting me walk out of here without a dress. Besides that, a ceremony would mean leaving Eidolon. Leaving Eidolon might present an opportunity. For escape? It seemed irresponsible at that point, but on the other hand, I refused to give up on my sister.

“Black,” I said.

“What?”

“I’ll wear black.” I sifted through the dresses and yanked one out. A beautiful, black rose jacquard gown with long, draping sleeves.

“And I’ll wear red,” she said, holding up another gown.

From the dress racks, Rykaia scampered toward the jewelry set out in glass cases, and asked the attendant there to retrieve a beautiful moon and star necklace that rested across the chest like a sky full of constellations.

I scanned over the options, and my gaze fell on a long, black chain with a scorpion. “I’d like that one,” I said, and the woman lifted it from the case and handed it to me. The attached tag read three hundred keltzig. Leaning into Rykaia, I whispered, “How do we pay?”

“Like nobility,” she said, leading me toward the woman at the front of the shop. “I’d like both dresses added to my tab.”

Eyes wide, the woman looked up and scrambled to grab the dresses from our hands. “Oh, my, yes, Lady Gwyeth.” She turned to me and gave a small nod. “My apologies, Lady Festwyn, I didn’t see that you had an appointment with us until this evening.”

“I needed these in a hurry. The Becoming, you know.” I gave a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, of course. We’ve been quite busy.” She stuffed both dresses into long bags and handed them to us, then placed the jewelry in boxes. “Do you need a fitting for the dress?”

“Uh, no,” Rykaia answered for me. “We have a personal seamstress.”

“Very good.”

Something moved in my periphery, and I glanced down to see that the ends of my hair had begun to turn black.

I twisted toward Rykaia and lowered my voice, “We need to hurry.”

Rykaia cleared her throat. “If you could bag those quickly, I would appreciate it, dear.”

“Of course, of course. Shall I schedule your next appointment while you’re here?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well, then.” She handed off another small satchel with the jewelry, and both of us hustled toward the exit. On the way out, we passed a woman who looked frighteningly similar to the face Rykaia wore.

Rykaia lifted her gaze to the woman, who stared back at her, frowning. As if on cue, both of us sprinted out of the store and down the street, to the alley where we’d first arrived. By the time we reached the center of the alley, both of us were laughing hysterically again.

When the laughter had died down, though, I sighed. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Lady Gyweth wears vivicantem as jewels, while the spindlings and Nilivir starve. She makes a point to wear that necklace everywhere she goes, and it makes me sick.”

“Jewelry?” I remembered Zevander telling me vivicantem was necessary for Rykaia. “Why?”

“Because they can. Never show pity on them. They don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves.”

“So, why mingle with them at this celebration?”

“Because we can.” She drew a line in the wall of the building, which, as before, glowed a bright blue.

“Do you think this is going to be a good idea at The Becoming Ceremony? I was nearly recognized.”

“No need to worry about that at the ceremony. Everyone wears a mask.” She stepped through the glowing seam, and I followed after, but instead of stepping back into the dungeon, we found ourselves on a misty patch of an upward sloping yard, with decaying grass and the monstrous black stone castle in the distance. Too far of a distance.

“Oh, no,” Rykaia said beside me. “Run.” She darted toward the castle, and on a gulp of panic, I gathered up my dress bag and took off after her. The upward trek had my lungs burning, my thighs weak with exhaustion.

A strange, guttural growl rose up from the side of me, and I turned to see three black scaled creatures with spikes along their spines bounding toward us on all fours, their long tails whipping behind them. The fyredrakes I’d seen from the balcony. Instinct told me to drop the dress, but I didn’t. I clutched the damned thing and ran like a madwoman.

“Faster, Maevyth!” Rykaia shouted over her shoulder on a wheeze of breath. “If they … catch us … they’ll … eat us!”

Eat us? I didn’t know what I’d imagined they’d do if they’d caught us, but eating hadn’t been a thought, for some reason. “Can’t you … blast them … with something?” The waning air in my lungs thinned, the faster we ran uphill, a burning agony that clamped over my ribs.

“I don’t … have that … kind of magic! I’m an empath!”

One of the drakes leapt out in front of her, and on a scream, she skidded to a stop. I plowed into her from behind, nearly knocking her forward, and the other two caught up to us, prowling and pacing, as if waiting for the order from the bigger animal to dive in and feast. Long, black claws pierced the ground with every step, the spikes on their backs sticking straight up.

“We’re too far from the castle to call on Zevander.” Rykaia’s voice shook with fear, but something kept me from believing this moment was the end. Denial. Ignorance.

I couldn’t place what in seven hells was keeping my hysterics at bay.

I twisted around, standing back-to-back with Rykaia, watching the two beasts that prowled closer. “Can you cleave?”

“I need a surface to cleave. I can’t just cleave into the air.”

“So, what do we do!”

“I don’t know! This has never happened to me.”

“Ever?”

“Well, no. But to be fair, I don’t typically cleave back. Zevander usually comes and fetches me.”

The beasts, tall as a carriage, loomed over us, like giant, black-scaled lizards. Starving lizards, I’d bet.

“They’re getting closer, so we need to do something.” I could hardly speak, my jaw so tight with tension.

“If you …. If you show dominance, they’ll back off. But you have to challenge the alpha.” She roared at one that stepped a little too close, and it backed away, snarling at her. Still, they prowled, their teeth sharp and dripping with saliva. “I’m sorry, Maevyth. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Literally.”

“Are you toying with me, Rykaia? Because if you are, this really isn’t funny.”

“How could I possibly toy about this! I learned to cleave because of these awful beasts!”

The bigger one lurched forward and roared, and while the urge to scream and cower rattled me to the core, I swallowed back the fear, eyes blurred with the threat of tears. My muscles turned weak, the air heavy and suffocating with terror.

“This was so stupid.” Rykaia smacked her head. “Stupid!”

The drake tipped its head, backing up a step, as if confused.

“Hit yourself,” I whispered to her. “A lot. And give yourself an extra for me.”

I growled at the beast and smacked my face. Hard. The sting of the strike brought more tears to my eyes, but I didn’t care. The act seemed to confuse them. I struck again and bared my teeth.

The drakes grunted and paced, still closing the circle around us.

“It’s not working!” The panic in her voice didn’t help my quickening pulse.

One lurched for me again, and I grabbed Rykaia’s hand. The gravity of the situation finally weighed down on me, as the two of us remained back-to-back, circling to keep the beasts in front of us at all times.

“How does Zevander not get eaten?” I asked, eyeing the saliva stringing from the maw of the beast that watched me intently.

“He has them trained. They follow his command.”

Like trained dogs. Trained. An idea sprang to mind.

I tugged the whistle from my pocket. Not that I’d effectively trained anything with it, but just in case it had worked the last time, I gave one hard blow.

Rykaia kicked her head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Calling my own little pet.”

The distant echo of a roar came from overhead, and both Rykaia and I froze.

“What was that?” she asked, her hands shaking in mine.

Even the drakes seemed curious to know, as they continued their prowling with the occasional upward glance.

Another roar from overhead.

That time, the drakes halted, their attention fixed toward the sky.

A flash of black was the only warning before a treachery of ravens swooped and cawed at the drakes, while they flinched and snapped their enormous jaws at them in return.

“There’s an opening between them,” Rykaia whispered. “We can run.” She tugged my arm, and we sprinted in the direction of the castle, though we were still too far for me to feel any relief.

Growls reached us from behind once again, and we ground to a stop as the drakes caught up with us, abandoning their earlier preoccupation with the birds.

One of them lunged at me and took hold of the dress bag, thrashing it so hard, the beast ripped it from my hands. Teeth bared, it stared at me with eyes that looked too human.

A thud beside me shook the ground beneath my feet, jerking my muscles.

Rykaia screamed.

Raivox stood beside me, his colossal size twice that of the fyredrakes.

“What in the name of the gods!” Rykaia tugged my arm, urging me away from it. “Run, Maevyth! Run!”

As I reached out to pet him, the raptor roared, sending a blast of glowing silver from its mouth over the three cowering drakes. One of them yelped and hobbled away. The raptor lunged forward, and all three scattered off.

Feathers ruffling with a shake of his head, Raivox hobbled his way back toward us.

“What is this?” Rykaia asked, keeping her distance from him.

“He’s a Corvugon, from what I’ve gathered.” I ran my hand over his rough scales, careful of the long, curled horn that stuck out from the top of his head, sharp enough to stab right through me. “His name is Raivox. He hatched in my bedroom back home.”

“I’ve never heard of a Corvugon .”

“They went extinct, according to Allura and Dolion.” As I continued petting him, he let out a purring sound that brought a smile to my face. “He’s grown so quickly! He was no bigger than a hawk when I left Mortasia.”

Rykaia took a careful step forward, eyes on Raivox. “It is strange. Dragons tend to grow quite slowly.” She didn’t seem interested in petting him, but kept her hands clutched tightly to her new dress.

“He’s come to my rescue twice now.” The raptor bowed his head toward me, allowing me to scratch his crown. “It’s almost as if he senses when I’m in danger.”

“Well, I’m grateful for it.” She gave a nod of her head toward him. “Thank you, Raivox.” The moment she stepped closer, Raivox bared his teeth and lurched toward her, and Rykaia jumped backward with a gasp.

“Hey! Hey,” I said, pressing against his feathery scaled chest. “She’s a friend.”

As if the raptor understood, it sniffed and chuffed at her, closing its mandible over those vicious teeth. With one fast flap of its wings, I jumped back as he took flight. Sighing, I watched him climb higher until he disappeared behind the white clouds overhead. “He never seems to stay.” Still shaken, I turned in time to expel whatever was left of my last meal onto the ground. “That was horrible.”

“Part of your sickness might’ve been from the cleaving. It tends to make one a bit nauseous.” She rounded me, careful not to step in the mess, and swiped up my dress. “Hopefully, the beast didn’t tear anything.” Handing it over, she gave another glance toward the sky. “I think I could use a drink.”

“Will they come back? The drakes?”

“I’m fairly certain your little dragonbird established your dominance.”

“I don’t understand why in seven hells your brother would keep such dangerous animals on the premises?”

She huffed and stepped past me in the direction of the castle. “Because you haven’t seen the kind of animals that sometimes want to get in.”