Page 78 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“Right. Just one of those meaningless things you say.” His voice is rich, warm, and loving.
A shadow passes over us, and a slender black dragon drops to our level on the right. Varex, the second prince.
Again I sense the difference in his aura, like a shiver in the air around him, like a slight, gnawing tug on my magic. It’s worse now that he’s closer to us. Something is deeply wrong with him.
“Prince Varex,” says Ashvelon. “What can we do for you? Nothing too strenuous, I hope. The enchantress is weary and needs to rest.”
“Don’t mind him, Varex,” I say. “How can we help you?”
“I need to confess something,” says the Prince. “You may have noticed how the Mordvorren left—how it didn’t move slowly onward, but disappeared abruptly.”
“Come to think of it, yes,” I reply. “Do you have an explanation for that, Prince?”
“My void magic.”
“Your void magic… oh shit.” I stare at him from between Ashvelon’s claws. “What did you do?”
Varex makes a pained sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. “Come to my cave as soon as you can, and I’ll explain.”
“She must rest first,” Ashvelon snarls.
“A very short rest,” I assure the prince. “Some water, some food, a little breathing time, and then we’ll come to you.”
“I will await your arrival.” Varex dips his sleek horned head. “And thank you for everything you have already done for us.”
He flies away before I can respond.
“I won’t lie, a little gratitude feels good,” I say, relaxing in the cage of Ashvelon’s claws.
“I’m thankful, too.”
“Have you said it in actual words, though?” I tap my lips with my finger. “I can’t recall.”
He chuckles, a deep burr that vibrates through his claws into my body. “Thank you, my love.”
“Now was that so hard?”
He scoffs lightly and sweeps into his cave, depositing me gently on the floor. He refuses to let me go to Varex for another hour, insisting that I lie in the nest to recover. Finally I resort to calling him a naughty disobedient dragon and refusing to look at him, whereupon he pouts like a rebuked puppy and grudgingly agrees to carry me to Varex’s cave.
Varex’s captive, Jessiva, is a white-skinned woman with bright red hair. She’s painfully thin and seems to be very upset with the dragon prince. After learning that he used his void magic toswallowthe fucking Mordvorren, I can’t say that I blame her. The Mordvorren is alive inside Varex somehow, and it’s causing him significant distress.
I wish I felt stronger. I wish I was better prepared to deal with something this unusual. But the Mordvorren nearly killedme, and I don’t think my magic would be much use in assisting Varex, even if I were at full strength.
“What do you think?” Jessiva asks crisply. “Will he be alright?”
I sip from my flask of restorative tonic, pondering the situation. “No idea.”
Her eyes flame. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Can’t, love. I never studied the Mordvorren in depth. Wish I had—maybe I could have done something to turn it aside. But as you may have heard, spellwork can go terribly awry if it’s attempted beneath the Mordvorren’s shadow. While it hung over Ouroskelle, I couldn’t perform any magic at all. In fact, I was not entirely myself. If the storm had continued much longer—” I clear my throat. “Let’s just say I’m grateful to you for stopping it, Varex.”
“As am I,” says Ashvelon.
“There’s not much information about the origins of the storm, how it moves, or why it chooses specific areas,” I continue. “What we do know is that it contains magic within itself—a twisted, toxic, arcane magic that no one today understands.”
“So you don’t know anything,” Jessiva says, her eyes sharp with pain and condemnation. “If you can’t help him, just say that.”
She’s hurting. She loves Varex, and because I can’t fix him, she’s angry with me. I understand, but it doesn’t mean I’ll put up with her disrespect or pretend that I have a solution when I don’t.
