Page 68 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

“Very well. Know that I’m here, whenever you decide to share your thoughts. Have you gained control of when you change?”

I’m relieved at the switch to a new topic, and for a few minutes we discuss the specifics of our transformation and its timeline. But then Kyreagan lifts his head, alarm stiffening his neck and wings.

“What is it?” I ask.

Without answering, he dives from the peak and streaks away toward the mountain where his cave lies.

I follow him. “Kyreagan, what’s wrong?”

“Serylla. I can’t sense her. I’ve been so distracted—I can’t remember when I last felt her presence. Shortly after I left the cave, I think. Fuck…”

I’d forgotten that once they’ve bred their first female, the males of our kind gain a sense of the location and wellbeing of every female dragon. Apparently Kyreagan has a similar bond with the Princess. I can’t feel such a link with Jessiva, probably because I haven’t yet impregnated her. It’s possible that she and I will never share that sort of bond, which I won’t mind as long as I can be with her.

When Kyreagan and I arrive at his cave, Serylla’s scent is stale and faded. My heart sinks for my brother’s sake, but then I spot the two eggs lying in his nest, one a vivid blue marbled with white, and the other iridescent violet.

Wonder floods my heart, and I pace forward slowly, gazing at the eggs. My brother’s eggs. My new family.

“Your little ones,” I say softly.

Kyreagan calls for Serylla, agony in his tone. “Where is she? Where is she, Varex? I don’t see a body. She didn’t fall. She’s not here.”

“Perhaps another dragon came by and gave her a ride somewhere,” I suggest.

“Where? Where could—”

But I cut him off, distracted by a scent I can discern beneath Kyreagan’s and mine, behind the new smell of the eggs and the faded fragrance of the Princess.

“Be still a moment,” I snap. “Don’t move, don’t breathe.” I lower my nose to the cave floor and crawl along it, inhaling carefully.

“Who is it?” Kyreagan asks. “Who do you smell?”

It’s Fortunix, beyond a doubt. I know the stony, harsh scent of the elder dragon. But his presence here has implications I don’t want to consider.

I lift my head, meeting Kyreagan’s gaze. “Fortunix.”

“You’re sure it’s him?” My brother grits out.

“My nose is better than yours, you know that. Fortunix was here, briefly, some hours ago.”

“He took Serylla.”

“He wasn’t at the gathering of the clan, where we chose our partners,” I say. “Several dragons commented on his absence. Maybe he sheltered somewhere alone, and he has been driven mad with the need to mate. Maybe he’s going to—”

“No!” Kyreagan snarls. “That’s not it. Think, Varex. Who wanted the Princess of Elekstan? Who was willing to pay for her?”

The truth clarifies in my mind, and the wretchedness of betrayal fills my soul. “The King of Vohrain. Fortunix is taking her to Rahzien.”

Kyreagan charges from his cave, lunging into the sky, climbing high before flooding the air with streams of wicked flame. His shrieking roar of pain and rage echoes from cliff to cliff, resounding across the island like the Mordvorren’s thunder.

Dragons rise from the forested valley or emerge from caves, summoned by his fury. They’re shaken, confused, wondering what fresh tragedy could have befallen the clan so soon after theMordvorren’s departure. I spot Ashvelon among them, with the enchantress Thelise on his back.

I should tell Thelise what I’ve done. Perhaps she can offer insight about what might happen to me, or what I can do to remedy the situation. But my wellbeing must wait. The priority is Kyreagan’s crisis.

“Give us a few moments,” I call to the other dragons. “We will gather in the Conch Valley and explain what has happened.”

The Mordvorren hisses and whispers inside me, whispers that once again, Kyreagan’s needs are superseding mine. Once again I’m being weak, serving as his support. I should demand his attention, I should confront him, I should destroy—

I cut off the thoughts before they truly become mine. I must not allow the Mordvorren to gain too much influence. I have practice containing the void inside me—surely that experience must be of use here, as I fight to maintain control.

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