Page 62 of A Matter of Destiny

“Of course it didn’t,” she says. Her eyes roll once more, that brilliant gesture she’s perfected. “So you led her here, to the Tarn of the Maiden, on the eve of the Queensmoot. And now she’s disappeared.”

I blink, then turn to face the ridge where I last saw Rayne. Now even that bleak rock face is shimmering before me, swirling like steam as the exhaustion of the last three days chooses this exact moment to crash down on my scales.

“And apparently,” Wendolyn finishes, “her father is planning some sort of attack. Right here. Exactly where this woman who’s been trained as a soldier, in Valgros, for her entire life just deserted you.”

I make a noise, but it’s nothing like a word. I snap my jaws shut before it can happen again.

Because Wendolyn’s not wrong. But she can’t be right. What’s happened between Rayne and me, it simply cannot be a lie. Not all of it, at least. Not pressing Rayne against the door of my room in the Valorous Arms, our bodies burning together, lips and tongues and limbs entangled. Mothers, not that night in the Knife’s Edge Mountains, beside the campfire, when she said she didn’t fly all the way to Cairncliff for the Iron Mountains. She came for me.

Wendolyn shakes her head.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, in a surprisingly delicate voice. “I’m sorry, Doshir. But you’ll have to come with me.”

Wendolyn’s wings stretch above her, testing the wind. She gives me one final glance, with a sad sort of expression on her snout, and then pulls herself into the wind. I look back toward the ridge before forcing my exhausted wings to stretch out once more as my mind spins through all the possible ways to explain myself to the beautiful dragon who betrayed me. The first beautiful dragon who betrayed me, at least.

Because Wendolyn has to be wrong about Rayne, although I can’t for the life of me imagine how I could explain that to her.

Chapter28

Rayne

My skull rings like someone just smacked it with a mallet, and the back of my throat tastes like blood. I open my eyes slowly, trying to figure out if the ground really is spinning or if it’s just me. Pine branches dance gently above me, black against a brilliant turquoise sky. The ground isn’t spinning, then; it’s just my head. I take another breath, wincing as I turn on my side. Something hurts.

No, everything hurts. I raise one hand, then the other, running my fingers gently over my body. A series of lacerations along my right side leak blood onto my fingers, probably a souvenir from crashing into the ground. My ears still ring, but I don’t feel anything hot or wet leaking from my head, so I should be okay.

And I’m naked. Great. I press my palms into the dirt and sigh. Something yips in alarm in the distance. A moment later the birds in the trees around me explode into a flurry of wings and sharp, insistent chirps. I push off of the ground and stagger toward a tree, bracing myself against the rough bark. The forest swims for a heartbeat before settling down. I hold my breath, listening for whatever it was that startled the birds.

“Rayne!”

Every muscle in my body pulls tight. My fingers dig into the bark of the pine tree as my name booms across the mountainside. A moment later it comes again, desperate and howling, and then a gust of wind sends the pines trembling above me.

Doshir flies overhead, moving low and fast, his brilliant golden body gleaming in the first light of the rising sun. I see his wings, his claws, the shimmering tip of his tail, and then he’s gone, already screaming my name into the ravine below.

My heart catches in the back of my throat, and I’m already reaching for my dragon form, my heart clawing to get back to Doshir, when another shape passes overhead. I shrink back, my naked hips and thighs digging into the tree’s rough embrace.

Green scales. Flying low, and slower. Wendolyn’s teeth gleam as she swings her head from side to side, examining the pine grove. I hold my breath until she passes.

“The fuck was that?” a deep, male voice mutters.

That voice sounds like it’s coming from below me, somewhere in the shadows still pooled beneath the trees. Panic courses through my body, hot then cold; I sink my teeth into my lower lip and force myself to hold still.

“Shit for brains,” another man snarls. “That means it’s starting. Just like the General said.”

Oh, no. My insides sink into the heart of the mountain.

I know that voice. Anslo, a Captain of His Majesty’s Royal Army. My first lover, and the first man to break my stupid, stupid heart.

Of course, it has to be Anslo.

Footsteps thud against the mountain, snapping twigs and sending stones ricocheting down the slope. They move closer, until I can hear the rasp of their breath and the creak of the leather scabbards they must be wearing.

Shit. I sink my teeth into my lip and take one final look at my own pathetically human body. Scars twist up my left arm, mixed with dirt. Blood streaks my abdomen, just below the swell of my breasts, where both of my nipples stand out like kings-damned signal fires in the chilly air. It’s light enough now that even humans will be able to see every bit of my completely naked body, from my tits to the flush of scarlet hair between my legs.

Damn it. Damn it all.

Someone snorts, then spits. They’re almost here. I take one last, frantic glance around the woods, as if maybe someone’s hung a full guard’s uniform up on one of the tree trunks that I just hadn’t yet noticed. The branches beside me tremble as someone pushes them aside, and my brain lands on the one possible explanation I can offer.

Anslo steps into the little clearing. For a moment he doesn’t see me, and the entire trembling forest holds still.

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