Page 91 of Of Scale and Blood

I wearily—carefully—rubbed my forehead, though it didn’t ease the pounding ache, and looked around. I was still lying on Kaia’s leg, my feet touching the end of her nostrils, her warm breath washing up my legs. She remained asleep, and though her thoughts were still and distant, I could still hear them.

What I couldn’t hear was the other drakkons.

I sat so abruptly, pain hit in a wave and doubled me over. I clasped my arms over my stomach and rocked back and forth, breathing deeply in an effort to control not only the agony but also the soft “What the fuck have I done?” litany running through my mind.

Footsteps approached, and I forced myself to look up. My vision swam, briefly blurring the figure, but it was very clearly female, not male.

The Prioress, not Damon.

Disappointment—and perhaps a touch of anger—washed much of the pain away. “Where is he?”

She stopped just shy of the circle we remained encased in and raised an eyebrow, her expression tolerantly amused. “I’m so pleased to see you, too.”

“I haven’t the energy for word play right now—where is he?”

“The scribes weren’t working in this place, so he returned to Esan in order to report to your parents.”

It wasn’t a lie... but it wasn’t the entire truth, either. “Why didn’t you go?”

“Your appreciation of my presence and my efforts truly makes my heart swell.”

I sucked in another breath and tried to calm the anxious anger rising within. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so?—”

“Rude? Ungrateful? Curt?”

I waved a hand, the movement weak. “All of the above.”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “How do you feel?”

“Weirdly incomplete... and I can’t hear the other drakkons. Are they okay?”

“They’re all alive, if that’s what you’re asking. Whether they are all okay is something we will only know when they wake.”

“Kele and Hannity?”

“Also alive. They, like their drakkons, stir, but have not as yet woken. I expect they will soon.”

“If the drakkons stir, why can’t I hear them?”

“Because, dear child, you bound your being—your essence—toyourdrakkon. Any ability to hear the others has now likely gone. We did warn there would be a cost, remember, and if that is the only loss you face, then you will have escaped lightly. Can you flame?”

I reached for my inner flames, but pain rose instead, clubbing me so hard that tears sprang to my eyes. I gasped and bent over, once again clutching my stomach even though the pain was absolutely everywhere.

“That would be a no, then,” the witch replied, somewhat dryly. “Though I do suspect it’s too soon to be testing the range and limitations of the merging. You will need more time for flesh and essence to heal.”

“We haven’t got time,” I ground out, rocking back and forth again in an effort to control the waves of agony still rolling through me.

“The spells performed here tonight are the most powerful spells Angolan witches have ever done, and the fact all survived is a miracle. The bigger miracle will be them working as designed. Remember, while the base spell was listed in our archives, the framework we built it upon was never tested, hence our harping on the dangers involved.”

I nodded. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do now, except hope. “Is Damon okay? I’m aware blood magic takes a serious toll on the body?—”

“Indeed, it does, which is why I stepped in to finish the spell. We could not afford to have him drained to the point of utter exhaustion. Not now.”

I frowned. “Why not now?”

She waved the question away. “He will tell you when he is able.”

“A reply he’s made multiple times and, let me tell you, one I’m getting mighty tired of hearing.”

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