Page 38 of House of Ashes

Gods, if he wanted me to assign a secret signal directive to it, he might as well have just said so.

“It’s fine.” He turned, heading back towards the harness. “I don’t mind.”

I had seconds to move.

Dropping into a crouch, I dug a handful of frost from the cracks in the granite, packing it against my gloves. I dashed towards him, running lightly on the balls of my feet in the soft boots.

He let out a snarl when I slapped it on the back of his neck, his warm skin breaking out in goosebumps even as the ice melted immediately.

Steam wafted from his golden skin as he spun around, glaring at me.

I smiled sweetly into those flashing blue eyes. “Like I said, you won’t see me coming.”

Chapter

Eight

It was an awkward flight home, with both of us studiously ignoring each other. I focused on the vast world before me, trying not to listen to the dragon’s occasional grumbles, and certainly not dwelling on his inscrutable expressions.

As we dived over Jhazra Eyrie, the flutter of wings far below caught my eye: ferrymen, riding dark brown wyverns through the narrow canyons of the Krysiens, heading for the crevasse carved low on the mountainside where the eyrie’s wyvern roost was kept.

Fear jolted through me, locking my entire body in place.

They’d followed us all the way from Mistward. I searched the crowd of wyverns, looking for a glimpse of crimson against the brown scales and black stones, then craned my head upwards. A dragon would be high, looking to strike at his prey from above.

There was nothing above us, only clear, pale blue sky. Where was Kalros hiding?

Rhylan let out a much louder growl, his wings beating the air furiously as he lowered us through the eyrie’s dragon door and hit the floor with a thud.

I practically fell out of the saddle in my scramble to get down, and Rhylan shifted before I could take two steps. He gripped my wrist, holding me in place.

“Let go!” I hissed, my heartbeat thumping in my ears. “He’s here!”

Every fiber of me screamed to flee beneath my bed, the only bolthole I had in this whole eyrie. Kalros would smell me from miles away—

“Sera.” Rhylan did not let go, but his grip gentled. “They’re not from Mistward.”

I stared up at him, heart still racing, trembling in his grasp. Rhylan held my gaze, not even blinking as he stroked my wrist with his thumb, right over the tiny patch of skin where my pulse pounded furiously.

“They’re the same ferrymen we see every week. The same kind you used to see in Varyamar. You left Mistward behind. There’s no danger here.”

Slowly, his words penetrated through the haze of panic fogging my brain.

I’d forgotten that ferrymen were a common occurrence in eyries, delivering goods and correspondence. It’d been so long since I’d been home, their presence had been erased from my memories entirely. When I thought of ferrymen now, I thought of Mistward…of wyvern-riders who would squeeze me for every last half-moon, and give me rotting, unwanted food in exchange, and I’d had to be grateful even for that.

I took a shuddering breath, and Rhylan squeezed my wrist.

“Kalros isn’t here,” I whispered, but I couldn’t quite force myself to close my eyes, to believe him. With my back to the large windows, my neck prickled like spiders crawled over me.

“He is not,” Rhylan agreed. He lightly pulled me with him, and I followed on wooden legs as Viros emerged from the storage room, a question already forming on his lips.

Rhylan simply shook his head at him, grimly leading me on.

He opened the door to the interior, guiding me through.

“Breathe, Sera,” he said, one hand on my back as he led me down the hall to the spiral stairs. “You’re in my eyrie. Nobody here will take you against your will.”

I obeyed, unresisting as he brought me into a dark, windowless room and sat me on a plush chair in the corner, where I had a good view of the door.

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