Page 33 of Of Scale and Blood

Fuck.Kaia…

See.

She swooped around to the right and flew hard toward the tree line. A long stream of liquid streamed after us—it wasn’t brown, but rather this odd greenish color, meaning it wasn’t the same substance the gilded riders used—but lost speed and fell away inches from Kaia’s tail. Still, the cylinders could throw liquid farther than anything else they’d hit the walls with over the decades, and that was not a welcome revelation. Not given the destruction they’d already caused.

The Mareritt scrambled to reload their weapon, but we were now over the trees and beyond their immediate line of sight.

Safe, at least for the moment.

I relaxed just a fraction, and that’s when the pain hit. It washed over me, thick and fast, and darkness loomed, threatening to sweep me into the deep well of unconsciousness. I fought it with every remaining scrap of strength I had left. I would collapse once we were home, not before.

It was a vow I kept right until the moment Kaia placed me gently in the palace’s courtyard and I all but fell into my mother’s waiting arms.

* * *

I woke to the sound of my childhood—a melodic song as bright and airy as the scent in the air. Mom, sitting near my bedding platform, softly singing while she waited for me to wake.

While the inner child smiled, the inner woman was disappointed it wasn’t Damon.

Rather than immediately acknowledging her presence, however, I reached for Kaia.You safe?

Am. Hunted earlier. Gria caught large runner.

What Kaia called a runner was what we knew as capras. She sounded so very proud, and I smiled.She’s very clever.

Is. Train new riders now?

Next task on the list. I paused.Any sighting of the gilded ones?

No. Is dark. We in aerie.

If it was now dark, then I’d been out for a couple of hours, at the very least. So why wasn’t Damon here? Were he and the squad even back yet? The sharp stab of concern had my eyes snapping open. Mom sat on a comfortable old chair that again harked back to my younger years, her booted feet propped on the platform, her wiry red-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and a colorfully woven blanket draped around her shoulders.

“What time is it?” I asked softly, somehow managing to keep the anxiousness from my voice.

Her gaze met mine, and she smiled widely, then put down the cotte she was embroidering for my father. It was something she’d been doing for as long as I could remember, and a task I seriously doubted she’d ever finish, given she only ever worked on it when sitting by either my bedside or his, waiting for us to recover and wake.

“It’s just on seven.”

She shucked off the blanket, then stepped onto the platform and walked to my end, dropping a kiss on my cheek before lightly brushing the hair away from my eyes. It was another thing she’d always done, and I couldn’t help but feel safe and loved. It was a feeling I had the sudden urge to hang on to, because its memory might be the only comfort I’d have in the long, cold years that awaited in Zephrine. I had Damon, but one man, however wonderful he might be, however strong our relationship might yet grow to be, would never be able to replace the joy, love, and memories that echoed through the very foundations of this place.

“The healers,” she added somewhat wryly, “wanted to keep you unconscious until the morning to give your wound time to properly seal, but given the seriousness of the situation and the impatience of our queen, we reached a much shorter compromise.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Patience definitelywasn’tone of Kaia’s virtues. Nor, in truth, was it mine—except when it came to watching the drakkons, anyway. Patience had never been an issue when it came tothat.

“Are Damon and the squad back yet?”

“Not yet, although they scribed your father half an hour ago and said they should be here around eight.”

I relaxed a little, though I wouldn’t be entirely happy until I saw the man myself. “Why has it taken them so long to return? Were they attacked?”

“They encountered a few patrols, but there was no major battle and, aside from a broken arm, no major injuries.”

“Any day there are no major injuries is a good damn day.” I pushed upright, then tossed the blankets back to study the wound on my leg. A thick line of red and rather puckered flesh ran down the outside of my calf from just below my knee to the top of my ankle. It was definitely going to be an impressive scar, and I was okay with that. The healers could, of course, smooth the skin and make the scarring far less noticeable, but like many in the military, I considered them badges of pride—visible memories of close calls and survivals. That said, if I ever received a scar to my face, I’d definitely get it fixed. My womanly assets weren’t all that many, and my facial features one of my few “good” points.

I carefully prodded the scar; it felt tender, but that was to be expected given how recently it had been healed. I returned my gaze to Mom. “I take it I am allowed to move about?”

“Yes, but there will be no major hikes until tomorrow morning. They were quite insistent on that.”

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