Page 90 of Wings of Frost and Fury
He’s taking three pieces of bone-tribute from her. One for Kyreagan, of course, and one for Mordessa’s family. The third tooth must be for himself. Something by which to remember the friend who helped him break his dependence on alethia.
I stoop low in the grass and touch one of the teeth. It’s lightly grooved, not pure white but a sandy color. When I close my eyes, I can sense the potential in it, the latent breath of dragon magic. Mordessa had lightning, and each time she used it, her teeth absorbed a little of the power. This tooth would be a powerful aid to the working of spells. But that isn’t its purpose.
“You deserved better,” I say softly, running my fingertips along the curve of the tooth. I press my palm lightly against thesharp point. “Thank you for everything you did for him, Mordessa. I can’t promise to love him like he deserves—I’m too much of a mess, truth be told. But I vow to love him with everything I have, until the day I die.”
I have never believed in ghosts, afterlife spirits, or cycles of repeated lives. And yet, crouching in the grass, with my eyes closed and my palm against Mordessa’s fang, I could swear I feel the faintest crackle of her presence in the air—lightning and a flash of gold, like sunshine on the sea. The rush of sensation takes my breath away.
Ashvelon lands heavily at my side. “Are you alright?”
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. “What color were her scales, Ash?”
“Golden.”
“Of course they were,” I whisper.
“We should go.” His voice rumbles by my cheek, his muzzle brushing my hair. “We have what we came for. Perhaps in the future we can return and lay them all properly to rest, but for now, I am content with this. I am more than content—I am so fucking grateful to you, Thelise. You know I would have gone anywhere with you today, and the fact that you wanted to come here, to do this—it means more than you will ever know.”
A flush of heat rises to my face, mingled with an anger I can’t quite define, except I know it’s centered on my father.
“Your clan deserves some peace,” I say tightly. “After everything, you deserve to have the honor of reclaiming your dead.”
He traces the curve of my cheek with his tongue. “I’m sorry there was nothing left of your friend.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
It’s not the same thing, not at all. That isn’t what any of this is about. That isn’t why I’m weeping silently, holding Mordessa’s tooth in my hands. Katlee isn’t the reason I leanagainst Ashvelon’s shoulder and tilt my forehead against his scales and allow myself a quiet sob.
“All the power I possess, and still I can’t fix the sorrows of the world,” I whisper.
His sharp ears twitch backward to catch my words. “And yet you try. There is beauty and redemption in the work that you do.”
“Is it even worth it, though, if the goal is never really achieved?”
“My darling, of course it is.” He swerves his horned head to look at me. “Mordessa taught me the same thing about alethia. That battle is never fully won. It will always be there to tempt me. Even if I am not tempted today, this month, or this year, the compulsion may try to seize my mind and my life again. Its resurgence does not mean I am defeated. It means I am a warrior for my best self. There is courage and value in the effort, even if the victory is never truly ours.”
The burden of the bones proves too much for Ashvelon to safely carry across the sea to Ouroskelle that evening. As we head for the coast, he has to keep landing to rest or to adjust the position of the barrels and bundles he’s carrying. We’re both exhausted, dirty, and smelly from hours of digging through refuse and remains.
“We need to find somewhere to spend the night,” I tell him. “You’re tired, and you’re going to switch to human form soon. We can hide the bones somewhere, then look for an inn. Tomorrow you’ll be rested, able to carry the bones to Ouroskelle.”
“I hate waiting uselessly,” he growls. “I should be helping my clan rescue Kyreagan and Serylla.”
“You’ve been anything but useless, pet. Have you already forgotten that you saved the poisoned dragons and all the women from being dinner for starving fenwolves?”
His only answer is a disgruntled rumble.
“We’re near the Resting Cliffs, aren’t we?” I ask. “We’ll find a good spot to hide the bones, maybe a thicket in those woods over there, and then we’ll look for an inn. If your clan returns to Ouroskelle, they’ll probably head back along this route, and you’ll either hear them overhead or you’ll catch their scent tomorrow. And if not, we’ll head for the capital city and see what can be done.”
“I don’t like this plan.”
“You don’t have to like it,” I say sharply. “You’re too tired to fly all the way back tonight, and as I said, you’ll transform soon. You’re landingnow, pet, if I have to force you down myself.”
Ashvelon snarls and snaps his jaws, but he swoops lower and lands clumsily near a patch of forest. I help him hide the barrels and bundles among the undergrowth. He shifts right after we finish the task, and while he’s getting dressed in the clothes I brought for him, I place a confounding charm on the area to keep anyone from finding the bones accidentally.
“The charm should last for a couple of days,” I tell him. “After the conflict with Rahzien is resolved, you can come back here with a few of the other dragons and collect the bone-tribute.”
“If any of the other dragons survive,” he says morosely.
“God, you’re in a doleful mood. Try to have a little hope, darling. Now come on. We need to find an inn or a pub.”
