Page 155 of House of Ashes

“She was wrapped in Garnet’s skin,” Alriss said in a low voice, hovering helplessly. “We didn’t…we wanted to…”

“I can give her something for the pain.” I blinked, looking up at Viros. I hadn’t seen him. My brain was too saturated with horror to comprehend anything around me beyond this.

The Eyrie-Master looked older than ever as he withdrew a vial from the interior of his pocket. A vial filled with clear liquid, only half full.

“All of it at once,” he said heavily. “It will make her…not feel anything.”

I looked down at Kirana. At the slick wetness of what had been her face. All I had to do was force her lipless mouth open, create a small gap between her teeth…

But she had gone for us. She had been tortured for us. For a throne she had no interest in…for a vengeance she had wanted to let release for the sake of peace.

We had forced her into this. We had taken all her cards.

I could not let her die, even if I created something else in the process.

Something she had feared to do to me.

I took the vial from Viros, and the old man knelt before her head, preparing to open her jaws. Rhylan screamed silently, the emotions twisting his face reflected in the wild agonies of the Ascendant behind him.

“No.” I tucked the vial inside my leathers, in the pocket that held the perfume of Varyamar, out of his reach. “We will give her something else.”

I stood up, feeling numb and cold and distant. “Erebos, give me your arm.”

But he did not hear me. The great dragon only saw what had been done to his blood, the agony visited on a child of his, a thousand times removed, but no less painful for that distance.

He screamed where Rhylan could not.

I dropped my gaze to my Ascendant, who still quivered with horror. “Myst. I need you.”

She shimmered through the air, coiling around my legs. “Sera…if you do this, it cannot be undone.”

“The choice is clear.” Was that me speaking? Was that my voice that was so clear, was that my mouth moving, even though I felt nothing at all? “She dies now, or she dies later. We can make that difference.”

“She will live a life reliant on true dragons.” Myst’s eyes swirled, like smoke and shadow. “On blood. Any food that passes her lips will be ashes and dust to her. She will never be the same.”

I closed my eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.

If it were me…I would want a choice. I would want someone to extend a hand, no matter the consequences…so that I could have the choice for myself.

Even with the blood-craving that would tear at her for the rest of her life. Even with the things I had read—I would want a choice.

“Then I will hope she can bear the price of survival.”

I drew my sword, my Ascendant and I kneeling on either side of the dying draga. “Viros, open her mouth.”

The Eyrie-Master stared at me disbelievingly. “We…we must not.”

“Do it, or she will die. If you want her back, open her mouth.”

He reached for her face—and his hands fell back. He shook his head. “I can’t do this to her.”

A rough voice I didn’t expect to hear filled the room.

“I can.” Rhylan pushed him aside, and delicately took his sister’s face in his grasp. The tips of his claws slid between her teeth, and he carefully prised them open.

She made a terrible sound, and a shiver raced down my spine. “Myst.”

My Ascendant extended a thin forearm, her claws flashing like immaculate pearls against the ruin below her. I gripped them with one hand, positioning her arm over Kirana’s mouth, and dug the sword’s point beneath two scales.

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