Chapter 74

The muscles in Mariah’s back were an agonizing ache. Her chest burned, the fires long-extinguished, energy leeching from her body with each powerful stroke of her wings.

And still, she flew.

Maybe one day, she could fly whatever distance she wished. But it was all so new, so uncomfortable. She gave herself to instinct, but faltered each time she was pummeled by an updraft or when the winds shifted to drive her back.

Those instincts had at least guided her away from Khento. East would’ve taken them to the Mirrored Sea, where the only haven would be the same cutthroat pirates of the Kizar Islands who’d threatened her city not long ago. Idrix and Vatha to the south were too much of a mystery for the refuge they sought; despite occasional trade, no Onitan had seen or heard from any southerner in thousands of years.

Which left her only option to head west. Just where she’d told Ciana and her court to go if things went horribly wrong.

Mariah could only beg the gods that they’d left. That by some miracle they heard of Mariah’s failure and fled. She pleaded desperately that they wouldn’t be trapped in Verith, vulnerable and alone.

All she could hope for was that they were waiting for her in the west or were on their way there now.

To Kreah, the desert nation just over Onita’s western border.

The sun was scorching as it beat against the gleaming silver-gold scales of her back. It grew stronger as they flew toward the rust-colored sands looming just over the horizon.

A hot updraft bludgeoned the undersides of her wings, rocking her violently to the side. The cargo she carried shifted precariously across her back, surprised cries reaching her ears. More warm liquid pooled between her shoulders. Blood.

Feran’s blood.

Mariah unleashed a guttural roar and beat her aching wings, fighting against the wind to right herself.

It was a battle between a beast of the skies and the wind itself. With more effort than she had left to her, Mariah twisted her body, correcting herself. She leveled off over the increasingly arid land, trying to ignore that sticky warmth sinking beneath her scales.

Her wings faltered with the next beat, and the ground grew closer.

A hand pressed against the armored skin at the base of her neck just as a steady presence brushed over her mind. Like rocks beneath the waves, unmoving and strong. She cracked open their bond at the request.

“You need to rest, Mariah. We’ve flown far enough; take us down.”

She gritted her teeth against Sebastian’s words. “No. We still aren’t to Kreah. We have to make it—for Feran.” But just as she thought the words, a small splattering of buildings appeared in the hazy distance. A small village or trading outpost on the Kreah border, a resting place for weary travelers braving the barren lands bordering Onita and Kreah.

Her eyes sharpened on a well in the center of the ring of structures. And despite her pain-fueled resolve … she wavered.

This place must have a resident healer. Someone who could stabilize Feran, at least until they could get him real help.

More minds brushed her own. They must’ve seen the outpost, too.

“You must rest, Mariah. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Trefor said, repeating words he’d said to her in all those training sessions.

“M, it’s hot! You have to land. And this form is badass, but I’m starting to chafe.” Mariah chuffed at Quentin. Not quite a laugh, but as close as she could bring herself.

Her resolve broke with the third voice.

“Please, Mariah. Feran—he is so cold. He’s lost so much blood. We need to get him help, now, while we can.” Drystan paused, fear and heartbreak and pain washing down his bond. “And don’t forget your father and brother. They’re not well. They need water and rest, and they need you. Your family—all of us—need you.”

With a shudder, Mariah angled her wings toward the village, and let the hot winds spiral her down to the burning sands below.

People watched from the stoops of their stone houses as Mariah’s taloned claws met the sands, their jaws slack as her exhausted body slammed heavily into the ground.

“We need a healer!” Drystan bellowed, sliding from her back. “Do you have a damned healer ?”

Stunned silence greeted them. Mariah lifted a lip and snarled, shattering fatigue pulling her into the sand.

She supposed there was no better way to announce the return of the dragons than one on their doorstep. But still, she needed these people to fucking move .

Another growl rumbled low in her throat just as the crowd parted.

“Out of my way!” A rather bedraggled looking man shoved through his neighbors, head wrapped in a scarf to combat the blistering heat. The rest of Mariah’s Armature and her family slid from her back, Drystan catching Feran with Matheo’s help. The healer’s already wide eyes bulged in his face, but he swallowed down his shock as only a healer could.

“This way,” he commanded. “Get him this way, to my clinic.” Drystan and Matheo hurriedly followed the man, Feran limp between them, and disappeared into the crowd.

Mariah finally allowed herself to breathe.

She closed her eyes. She was cracking, breaking. There’d been no moment of rest, no moment of grief, because she’d feared this. This collapse. When her losses would become her identity, and she’d drift like a star far from home.

A warm hand pressed against her cheek. She lifted a heavy, scaled brow and met a familiar handsome face and concerned hazel eyes, brown hair tousled from the wind.

“It’s okay, Mariah. You can let go. We’ve got you.”

She tried to hold herself together. To breathe in the hot desert air, to relax the tense muscles of her wings.

Another figure appeared beside Sebastian. A face that looked so much like her own, albeit older, bearded, and notably male. Wex rested a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, and her Armature quickly stepped aside.

When her father placed his hands on her cheek in the same place Sebastian’s had been, when he looked at her with the same brokenness that dwelled in her soul, she crumpled.

The beast retreated, shuddering back as quickly as it had burst forth. The human, the mortal who hid away inside, curled tight like a child, was reluctantly dragged back to the surface. Silver-gold light swirled and sparked and wove, and though the excruciating pain of the shift burned and broke her body, it was nothing compared to what wracked her soul.

Within moments, the dragon was gone, replaced by the simple girl who once, long ago, had simply wished for an adventure.

The girl, who was trained by her father to defend herself and was molded by the careful guidance of her mother. A mother who’d always known what her daughter was and what she would become. A mother who’d kept hundreds of generations alive in a simple diary, knowing that one day her daughter would right a wrong made five thousand years ago.

A mother who was murdered because of her daughter’s mistakes, sacrificed on the altar of a dark god ready to exact vengeance on a world he long believed to be his.

Wisps of Mariah’s dark hair brushed across her face, human once more. She sagged against her father as a true, gut-wrenching sob tore from her chest and crashed to the sands.

Wex said nothing, only wrapped her in his arms and returned her sobs with his own.

Mariah lifted her head at the approach of a third figure. Ellan’s normally lighthearted face was shadowed and broken as he stepped into their embrace.

And together, the Salis family mourned an unfathomable loss.

The deserts grew cold in the evenings.

Three days had passed since they arrived in the village, which they’d learned was just over the Onitan border into Kreah; from the air, Mariah had missed the border markers, whatever they might be. The healer, by the grace of the gods, had stabilized Feran, but he was in no condition to travel. Word had been sent to Kreah, in hopes that an envoy would come.

Mariah sat beside a crackling fire, wrapped beneath a fleece blanket, eyes blankly watching the flames. Somehow, when she’d shifted, the magic of the transformation had restored her clothing and her weapons, but she couldn’t stay in fighting leathers for long. She now wore clothes borrowed from a woman in town—soft leather breeches and a flowy blouse, both designed to combat the heat of the scorching deserts.

And while she no longer carried her twin short swords, her dagger was still strapped to its familiar place on her thigh.

Her father and brother sat on either side of her, their warmth a welcome comfort. Her Armature was spread around the fire, shooting her concerned stares as they talked quietly amongst themselves. All except Drystan, who refused to leave Feran’s side.

A wall had slipped into place inside her after she’d fallen to pieces in her father and brother’s arms. An aching coldness unrelated to the chill of the desert at night seeped in, a blankness settling over her as she spiraled into places of true darkness.

She’d dwelled on it all for days.

Her mother, gone. Never to come back.

And Andrian. A love who’d betrayed her, then saved her, then reminded her that she was worthy of happiness and worship, regardless of those who might wish her dead or weak. She’d tried, once, to reach for their bond. Her soul frosted over when nothing but dreadful silence answered.

She tried to tell herself it was only the distance. But she always was a terrible liar, even to herself.

A week ago, Mariah was ready to burn the world down to save her family.

Now, with one of them gone and her heart taken captive …

There was no limit to what she might do.

Across the roaring fire, Matheo shot to his feet. He scanned the pitch-black desert and skies, an arrow already notched in his longbow. Sebastian stood, moving to his brother’s side.

“Something’s out there,” Matheo murmured.

A faint glow appeared on the horizon. Her Armature slid smoothly into action, drawing weapons and settling around Mariah and her family.

A figure on horseback emerged from the darkness, carrying a glowing torch. And another. And a third.

Two great prowling cats—one black panther, one golden leopard—followed, gleaming eyes reflecting the firelight.

Mariah rose slowly to her feet, something unfamiliar spreading through her limbs, softening the ice encasing her.

Hope.

She padded around her Armature, her blanket falling to the sand. The two big cats broke into a jog and then a run, sprinting towards her.

To their queen.

Mariah sank to her knees as Kiira and Rylla slid to a halt before her. She threw her arms around them both, their purrs rumbling from beneath soft fur.

“You’re here,” Mariah whispered. “You made it.” She kept repeating those words, so many times, until the figures on horseback had neared. Kiira and Rylla drew back, glancing over their shoulders as the first rider halted and slid from her mount's back. She sprinted across the sands, blonde curls flying behind her.

Mariah had thought herself empty of tears, yet she still choked out a sob.

“Ciana,” she said, the sound broken and soft as her best friend slammed into her, small body hitting Mariah with the same fierceness dwelling in her heart. Behind Ciana, a second woman with long auburn hair raced across the dunes. Mariah barely had time to open her arms before Delaynie crashed into her and Ciana, the three girls collapsing as their tears fed the sands.

“We’re here, Mariah. We made it.” Delaynie’s whispers were soft and calm, but she gripped Mariah with a desperate viciousness.

Mariah pulled back, scanning them both. They wore comfortable clothes—those meant for traveling. Clothes that Delaynie in particular would never be caught dead in outside the safety of her rooms.

“What happened?” Mariah asked quietly, instincts prickling.

Her friends shared a glance.

“It is …” Ciana started.

“Quite unbelievable,” Delaynie finished.

Mariah frowned. “I think I can handle it.”

“I’m just …” Ciana swallowed. “I’m not sure it’s our place to say. So much has changed, Mariah. All the legends and stories?—”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” Mariah’s voice wavered. “Was it just you? Who got out?”

Delanie smiled softly. “No, Mariah. Not just us. We all got out.”

“We?” Mariah didn’t dare let herself be too hopeful.

“Everyone who cares about you. Me and Ciana. Kiira and Rylla. My mother, Ryenne’s ladies. Even Brie and Mikael and a few other palace staff we knew to be wholly loyal to you.”

Mariah released a heavy, broken sigh. She was still cracked, still shattered, still hungry to tear the world apart, but something loosened in her soul. A heaviness at knowing that those she cared for most had at least been bought a momentary safety.

Although a part of her wondered if they would ever know true safety again. Not with Kol returned to the world.

“I brought something else, too.” Ciana’s amber eyes crackled in the firelight. “You told me to keep it safe and hidden, and I didn’t want to leave it there. Not with us all gone, and the future uncertain.”

Mariah dropped her gaze to Ciana’s hands. Where she was reaching into a satchel on her side and pulling out a small, gray leather book.

A journal. With Ginnelevé etched on the cover in silver foiled script.

The pain, the loss, the heartache swept over Mariah, and she did not fight it.

With trembling hands, she took her mother’s journal from Ciana. Tears streaked her face and stained the sands, her magic quiet and shuttered.

“She’s gone,” she whispered into the night breeze. “I failed, and she’s gone.”

“Oh, Mariah,” Ciana whispered back, arms wrapping back around Mariah. “I am so—gods, M, I?—”

“We mourn your loss with you, Mariah,” Delaynie said, tears thick in her own voice. “And we will do so properly once we get you and everyone safe. Right now, there is someone you need to meet.”

Mariah met Delaynie’s fierce, icy stare. From anyone else, those words would have been harsh. Callous. Cold.

But from Delaynie, they were necessary. A reminder of strength when Mariah had none left.

She nodded, and the three women stood, Mariah clutching her mother’s journal as if it were the only thing keeping her rooted to the earth.

Another figure had approached. They dismounted their horse, stepping forward into the firelight. The townsfolk who’d gathered at the new arrivals gasped, a few bowing their heads, hands fisting over their hearts.

The newcomer was regal and poised, sky blue robes flowing around a tall and androgenous frame. Their black hair was cropped close to their head, gold jewelry adorning a viciously beautiful face. More gold dusted their umber skin, highlighting their arching cheekbones. They smiled warmly at Mariah, hands clasped together, more gold upon their fingers.

“Mariah,” Delaynie said, nodding respectfully. “I would like to introduce you to Amasis, High Counsellor of Kreah.”

The High Counsellor bowed their head, the portrait of regal grace. “I wished to be the first to formally welcome you to Kreah, Your Majesty. You are most welcome here, for as long as you need refuge. I cannot imagine the journey you have made or the trials you have endured.” Amasis’s voice was as warm as their smile, their shockingly blue eyes glowing in the light.

Mariah blinked in surprise. “That is—thank you.” She remembered herself and dipped her head. “You didn’t need to come all this way yourself.”

Amasis cocked their head. “Perhaps not. But this is a special occasion. Thousands of years have passed since a Queen of Onita crossed into our lands, and not because we have wished her to stay away.”

Mariah understood. Onita was distrustful of outsiders and had been for far too long. A distrust, she realized, that was likely fueled by Kol’s subtle influences upon the kingdom’s powerful men who had long grappled desperately for control.

“Well …” Mariah glanced at the group by the fires. Wex and Ellan, her court, her Armature. Even the townspeople, Kreah citizens who hadn’t hesitated to help a foreign queen arriving on their doorstep in the form of a dragon.

“I am honored to be the one to break the drought, then.”

Amasis’s eyes sparkled. “There is one more who has traveled with us. One who is most desperate to meet you.”

Something stirred in the dark, and Mariah knew.

At first, it was nothing but a gentle rustle, like the shifting winds across the sands. Then louder, like the beat of a butterfly’s wings, growing deeper until it whooshed like the Attlehon eagles.

A roar tore through the desert night, and a dormant part of Mariah’s soul sang in answer.

They were buffeted by a surge of winds, the sands whipping and stinging their cheeks, as two taloned legs landed heavily on the desert floor, a familiar reptilian shape illuminated in the firelight.

Even in the flickering dimness, Mariah was not afraid. This dragon was not black and gold, like the one she feared. Instead its scales shone a delicate blue, fading to white at its wingtips, the horns atop its head the color of soft white clouds on a brilliant summer day.

When the dragon’s mind brushed Mariah’s, it felt like open skies and changing moments, as lasting and fleeting as nature and the heavens themselves.

It was also unmistakably female.

“Welcome to Kreah, my sister. I have waited many long years to meet you.” Her pale-yellow eyes glinted in the firelight. “Or, perhaps, I have waited a long time to see you again.”

“Who are you?” Too stunned to voice back through her thoughts, Mariah spoke out loud. Confusion and alarm and awe danced down her bonds, chasing away some of her broken coldness.

The dragon lifted her long neck, shifting her great wings.

“My name is Rulene, and I am Goddess of the Day Sky and the Changes of Nature. You have endured so much, and have done so well, sister. But I fear this is only the beginning. War is coming, and we will need all our powers if we wish for this world to remain standing by the end.”

To be continued…