Page 31 of Caress of Fire
The dragons opened their wings in the night air, painting the view with scales all the colors of the rainbow. Theirs was a magnificent display of power and beauty as the chant began from low in their throats. The hollow, rolling sounds rose, summoning images of beauty and grief.
Images of the bond that made the Draekons who they were, and their beasts sentient marvels.
Then, after the dragons had paid tribute to their dead, they stopped. Now it was time to put the dead to rest, so man and dragon could fly together in the night sky forever.
They approached, one after the other, gifting scales for the dead, covering Lord Aymond under a shimmering shroud. Then it was the turn of a young Draekon man, a large gray scale in his hand.
“For your grief and the loss to us all.” The Draekon man’s eyes went to Marielle, paused for a long second, then went back to Fedryc. “I trust we will speak soon, Lord Fedryc.”
“Why is that, my Lord?” Fedryc frowned at the way the young Draekon spoke.
“I am Lord Anion of Virhot.” A superior smile appeared on the young man’s thick but weak lips. “And I was in discussion with Lord Aymond before the sad event.”
“Before my father’s murder, you mean?” Fedryc tensed, all his senses on high alert as Nyra bristled behind him. He shot a quick, hard glance at Nyra over his shoulder. She had to restrain her temper, as violence during a Mourning was a blasphemy liable to unite all the Lords of this land against them.
Marielle followed his eyes and she stepped back quietly, placing her hand softly on the fiery scales. Soon, Nyra calmed down, but her sapphire eyes shot bolts of danger toward the young Draekon.
“Of course. A terrible, terrible crime.” Lord Anion bent his head, his eyes darting to the red dragoness. “But I hope this will not prevent the understanding I had with your father, the late Lord of Aalstad.”
“What is that understanding?” Fedryc frowned. Whatever this man wanted, it was highly inappropriate to talk business during such an event as the Mourning of a High Lord.
“The mating with the Lady Silva.” Lord Anion’s eyes shot over Fedryc’s shoulder to where Silva and Isobel stood. “She is compatible.”
Fedryc stared for a long time at the repulsive, mild-mannered man. Anger brewed inside him and it took all his years of training to rein the emotion in. He couldn’t allow it to show, not with Nyra barely containing herself right behind him.
“Tonight we honor my father.” Fedryc finally spoke, his voice cold and full of contempt. “Whatever understanding you had with the previous High Lord of Aalstad died with him. Now, step back, my Lord.”
Lord Anion’s eyes filled with poison as he rubbed the gray scale in his hand. Then the man’s gaze went to Marielle, and a growl rose in Fedryc’s throat. Lord Anion hastily retreated, taking his place next to his gray dragon.
Fedryc watched the Draekon for another few seconds before dismissing him. That one wasn’t strong enough to challenge him, and he would be very surprised if his father had placed his trust in such an obviously weak and obsequious man.
Whatever his flaws, Lord Aymond had never been one to be fooled easily.
Finally, only the eyes of Lord Aymond remained uncovered. Fedryc watched as his aunt approached, her elegant figure clad in a gown of pure emerald, followed by her daughter wearing a gold dress that looked like a jewel. The two had dark, almost black hair and fine features accented by milky white skin.
A surge of protectiveness overtook him at the sight of them. They were his family, and although he barely knew them, it was his duty to keep them safe.
“Aunt Isobel, cousin Silva.”
“For your grief and the loss to us all.” Isobel handed the emerald scale to Fedryc, silently followed by Silva with her golden scale. “May Aymond and his dragon fly together in the Night Lands.”
Fedryc took the scales and placed them over his father’s eyes, finishing the cover of dragon scales that would serve as Lord Aymond’s coffin.
“Congratulations on your Draekar mating.” Isobel glanced at Marielle, her eyes going to the bracelet at her wrist, then back to Fedryc. “Marielle looks lovely. The entire continent will know her now.”
Fedryc nodded, then watched his aunt and cousin walk away to their dragons’ diminutive forms in the assembly. They were dazzling and beautiful, with their dragons shining like jewels behind them. This was the curse of the pure of blood, those who had too many generations of Draekon mating Draekon behind them.
Nyra stirred, pulling Fedryc from his thoughts. Strong or not, this part of the Mourning was Nyra’s greatest test. She had to burn hot, hotter than she ever did, to melt the scales on top of Lord Aymond and burn the flesh of both Draekon and dragon, leaving only their shapes behind. Then, she would have to fly high with them to take them to the Night Lands.
Without waiting, Fedryc jumped on Nyra’s neck with the ease borne of a lifetime bond, taking Marielle with him. She followed his movements easily, leaning into him as he sat in the saddle.
He could feel Nyra growing hotter between his legs as she gathered the unthinkable amount of strength it would take her to burn hot enough to melt dragon scales. She was young, younger than any other dragon he had known to close a Mourning.
Fedryc closed his eyes as pain and suffering traveled down the bond to him. She hurt, burning so hot, and she still had to hurt more. He readily accepted the pain, knowing that sharing would lessen Nyra’s part of it. The pain grew and grew until all he could feel was a blazing white agony and the world around vanished to be consumed by fire and grief.
It spread out of him, all that pain and anger at losing a man he had never known, but who had shaped his life by his absence more than he could ever have done with his presence.
Then it was finally done and Fedryc opened his eyes. His father’s flesh and his dragon’s were gone, reduced to powdery ashes, leaving only the shapes of the man and beast behind, melded together for all eternity.
