Page 31 of House of Ashes

Kirana’s smile grew wider, showing every single one of her pearly white teeth. “Drink. It.”

I leaned my head forward and managed to catch the straw, taking a deep gulp while holding my breath.

The resulting shudder nearly dislodged Jenra and all her careful work.

I coughed, my stomach flipping this way and that. “That’s terrible,” I said, my voice coming out thin.

“It’ll put the meat back on your bones quickly. I wouldn’t do this if we had any other choice.” She poked a lacquered nail at the bony hollow between…well, what had once been nice breasts. They were now wasted away into barely-existent pads. “Right now, there’s nothing to hold your dress up.”

The next time she proffered the straw, I drank as fast I could, holding my breath the entire time.

It took me almost half an hour to drink it all, with breaks while my stomach tried to heave itself right out of my body. Jenra looked scandalized during each of these rests, grabbing cloth out of the way and shouting things like, “That’s Kyrian silk, you barbarians!” and “Not on the velvet, your mother would spin in her grave if she knew you’d treated a family heirloom this way!”

The cloth made it out unscathed. I could not say the same for my innards.

Even Kirana winced as she gave Nilsa the empty bottle, waving her hand in front of her nose to waft the stench away.

“You’ll have to drink one of those every day for the next two weeks, but you’ll—”

“Every day?” I was aghast. No one could do that. It would be pure torture.

Kirana took pity on me and brought me a cup of sugar-laced fruit juice. Even that failed to completely wash away the rancid taste of whatever in the Nine Hells had been in that bottle.

“Every day,” she said firmly. “I know it’s disgusting, but I am fully committed to seeing my brother’s plan through, and when you agreed to join him, you made the same commitment.”

I closed my eyes. She was right, of course.

I had made the commitment. They had made it clear they were willing to put their hatred for my family aside to see this through, and I could do no less but follow the plan.

Even if it meant drinking sewer sludge through a straw.

If I failed to give this agreement anything less than my absolute best effort, then how could I claim to be worth a damn as the Dragonesse? This was small in comparison. This was nothing.

“You’re right. But please, can I eat real food now?”

Jenra sighed and pulled a pin from a sleeve. “We might as well call it for the day. If you’re going to be feeding her up, there’s no point in starting the fittings now. She’s going to be bursting through these seams in a week.”

Kirana agreed, and they began to undrape me. I was allowed to pull on a fluffy robe and nibble a roll, watching as they loaded the unused bolts of cloth into trunks.

After the seamstress had begun directing servants on where to store them, Kirana joined me at the table. She buttered a roll, pouring us both tea.

“I swear I’m not trying to torture you,” she said, looking up at me with those bright hazel eyes. “It really will help. I designed it myself for our cousins in the Horde when they took in some refugees from the Eastern Wildlands…and it earned me my final healer’s stone, too. After an extended period of starvation, eating as much food as Rhylan is stuffing into you might just as easily kill you. The, ah, mixture will provide necessary nutrients, and prevent your body from going into shock from the new intake. And, fortunately for me, your dragonblood will make it easier. In a month you’ll be as good as new.”

I had to keep in mind that she was an ordained healer. She would have seen something like this before. It was true that those of more ancient dragonblood healed quickly, just like their ancestors—but only as long as I could keep the sludge in my stomach and not on the floor.

“Whatever it takes to get to Varyamar.” I couldn’t believe I was still hungry after that.

Kirana watched me, her brow knitting. She looked so much like her brother when she made that face, it was uncanny.

“What made you agree to his plan?” she finally asked, picking a cookie into crumbs on her plate. “Since he was the one who…who sent you there.”

I stared into the depths of my tea cup. The leaves had settled on the bottom in little drifts.

I used to think fortune-readers could tell the future from the leaves, but now they didn’t seem to be telling me anything at all. Maybe that was a sign from the gods.

“Because he was my only choice. The exiles despise mainland Akalla. They’d happily see all your eyries ripped apart stone by stone and burned to ash. If I’d stayed, there was every chance one of them would’ve found me, mate bonded to me against my will, and used me as a pawn to initiate a war.” I set the tea cup back on the table. “At least with Rhylan, I know where I stand. I only ever wanted to go home.”

“I can understand that,” she said softly.

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