Page 45 of Daghel

I watch everything play out almost as an observer watching it all from the distance, a cool smile on my lips even as the screams from below fill my heart with dark rage. Drisk’s wyvern fire flares through the air over and over and I can hear roars of triumph rising to me from below in response. My lips twist in a cruel grin as Drisk continues to give chase, pursuing the wings of gathol across the skies. They truly believe that I am on their side?

I laugh aloud, but the sound is so cold that I have little doubt that it would be easily mistaken by the right people. And when we finally arrived beyond the two peaks, sliding expertly throughthe narrow gap, Drisk releases his flame in a performance that would never be forgotten if any will live to tell the tale to future generations. And through it at all, the darkness rides beside me, watching and smiling… waiting.

“Have you decided?”Drisk asks, his fire spent now that the performance has played out and we are the only gathol in the sky.

“Yes,” I growl. Time to give it what it wants.

Drawing in a deep breath, I turn to meet the darknesses’ black eyes. It is seated on the shadowy form of its own wyvern, but it is more of a shadow of something that once was rather than containing a true substance like the darkness itself. The darkness smiles and I incline my head. The air vibrates thunderously around me—as if destiny is suddenly winding into place and time stands still—as I let the darkness in.

Not it… Durethikal.

He flows into me, his mount vanishing and becoming nothing more than Drisk’s own shadow as the darkness clasps my forearm and invades me, drawing us together with a magnetic force that is pain and pleasure, joy and anger all once as he settles within me. Fire and ice meet and I bellow at the shock as raw seams of a tear I never realized was there meets and mends and he fills an empty hole as if it was waiting just for him.

Not he… not we…. Me. Everything is still roiling in confusion as my entire being is knit together anew, but one thing is for certain…. It is time to begin the next act in our little performance.

“Driskal,” I rasp. “Let us go and… play.”

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

ANYA

It has been two days since I’ve seen my mates. Two days since they left in the dead of night without a word. My brow furrows as I head out into the corridors. The chill from the cold stone immediately penetrates the soles of my shoes upon leaving the comfort of my rookery, but I ignore it, my concern propelling me forward as I take the twists and turns of the corridors.

Someone has to know something. Someone.

Just ahead I see a door slowly open and a familiar form cautiously slips out, her head turning as she keeps a wary eye on her surroundings. Sneaking… spying. Of course that would be Linahna. I am certain of it before I even clearly see her, so I quicken my pace, heading directly for her.

“Linahna,” I whisper loudly as I come up behind her and her back snaps straight as she whirls around, brandishing a blade that she brings to my neck.

She blinks down at me in surprise and slowly lowers her dagger. Sheathing it once more at her side, she hurries across the small amount of distance between us and grabs me by the arm,dragging me to the heavy shadows of the wall. I don’t want to tell her that the dark shadows frighten me and have ever since I began seeing the strange moving shadow that seems to crawl hungrily all over the palace, but I keep my mouth shut when I see the concern in her eyes.

“Anya? What are you doing out here?” Linahna whispers back. She glances around nervously before pinning me with a hard stare. “It is not a good idea to be out and about in the palace, today,” she says emphatically, and I frown at her in confusion.

“Why? What’s happening? Where is my gathol?” I demand in a low voice. “Drisk I expect to leave randomly as often as he hunts these days but, Linahna, I haven’t seen either of them for two days. I refuse to be kept locked in my rookery without word of what is happening with my own mates.”

She herds me along the halls, back toward the staircase, her eyes flicking around us nervously. “Vorn discovered an encampment of one of my supporting factions in the mountains,” she hisses as we draw nearer to my rookery. “I did not realize that he found them. I do not knowhowhe found them. Their presence was obscured with spells, unless one of the clans he is allied with did it and sent a mage. It is possible,” she murmurs.

I frown up at her in confusion. “That’s impossible. Drisk and Daghel would never have left without me. Gathols fight with their mates at their side.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “Vorn commanded them not to,” she whispers. “I think… I think he had something bad planned for them. I have located where they are being kept and will have someone local to me keep an eye on them until their mates arrive to claim them, but I find this very disturbing as I have not heard of any gathols return yet other than Daghel and Drisk. But maybe he has them scouting for any who have fled,”she says thoughtfully, though the worry in her eyes says that she is not convinced.

I am not convinced either. It just makes it urgent that I see my mates immediately. Something is happening. And though I am worried for the other gathols, I can’t help but feel a heavy weight lift from me knowing that my mates have returned. Even if it does make me feel guilty when the other females are still waiting for word.

“I must see them. You must take me to them, or at the very least tell me where I can find them.”

She shakes her head grimly, her lips trembling around her small tusks. “There is more. There is a good reason that Daghel will not want you to come to him now. The factions have an unprecedented number of humans within them because of the way Vorn’s commanders treat those human males that have grown up within our clan and villages. So, when the encampment was attacked, they—” she swallows thickly, battling back her tears.

My mouth drops open. It is not that I am unaware of the practices among the clans, but I did not think I would ever truly encounter it. Especially not among those that the clans consider their own.

A sob breaks from Linahna, and I quickly wrap my arms around her. The female clings to me as she whispers brokenly.

“They are all feasting in the hall. Vorn has all of his commanders in there and I saw Daghel follow them in when my brother demanded that he join them. I do not understand how they could do this. These humans may not have been our blood, but they were members of our clan. And they feast on them as if they are livestock that we raised or invaders with no ties to us.” She shudders with her grief but pulls away, her hands gripping me urgently by the shoulders. “Stay in your rooms until your mates come to you. Do not leave for any reason. Swear to me.You cannot trust any of them who would eat our own clan and kin.”

I nod, suddenly frightened as she pushes me to the stairs. I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding with fear even as I tremble with the tears of shock and horror that break free and run down my face. The weight of the rookery door slides open as stubbornly as ever, but I get it open enough to slip inside and push it closed once more. I lean against it, my hands working quickly and nimbly as Daghel had practiced with me as I drop the bolts in place, locking the rest of the palace out.

I stare at the black stone as I back slowly away from it, my entire body trembling with my sobs until I reach the common room. Once there, I sag and collapse to the floor. My knees hit the stones painfully and look up, tears streaming down my face as I look at the empty room. What does Vorn have planned? Will I even see my mates again or will I be like the other gathol women, waiting alone for mates that never return. Although Daghel has been caught up in a feast, Drisk has not returned, and it makes me worry that my mate will not escape the feast alive. My gaze eventually falls the Yulen tree in front of me. It sparkles cheerfully in the fire and yet the red glass catches the fire light even brighter than usual, hinting of wyvern fire. And the small gifts of the solstice I had made for my mates—just a tiny token but meaningful—lie unopened beneath the tree.

---