Page 85 of A Matter of Destiny

Behind it, I discover a towel, a comb, a very large washbasin, and a rather ridiculous dress. I take my time running the towel over my face and brushing out my hair. There are no pins or ties, so I leave my hair loose across my shoulders as I turn to stare down the dress.

It’s deep blue, a sapphire explosion of silk and velvet, with impractically long skirts and a bodice that’s rather more low-cut than I would choose. I run my fingers gingerly over the soft fabric; the skirts alone feel richer than the entire of Valgros. Shiny stones embedded in the bodice twine together in a pattern that’s maybe supposed to look like leaves or vines.

I peek around the corner of the screen, my mouth open, ready to ask if perhaps there’s another dress because this obviously isn’t meant for me. But the expression on the white dragon’s face makes me close my mouth, breathe deeply, and sink my fingers into the fabric.

I pull the dress over my head, convinced it won’t fit. But the soft fabric settles onto my body like it was made for me. The arms flare open, revealing my scars but sparing me the discomfort of rubbing velvet against my stitches. I sink my teeth into my lower lip as I step out from behind the screen, half expecting the white dragon to snort, explain that the dress wasn’t actually intended for me, and perhaps suggest that she can go and find a linen tunic that would be more appropriate.

But instead, she simply turns and begins to walk across the room. I follow, my bare feet padding on the cold stone floor. She clears her throat as she leads me into a narrow hallway. It’s dark in the hall, but light bleeds through from somewhere just ahead.

“Doshir,” the white dragon calls. “She’s ready.”

I don’t feel particularly ready when the white dragon pulls back, leaving me alone in the narrow hallway. My stomach flutters and my mind hisses with the reminder that I abandoned Doshir in the mountains and flew off without an explanation, leaving him with only the beautiful Wendolyn.

“Rayne?” Doshir’s voice comes down the hallway, turning my name into a question.

Blood thrums through my body. Part of me, perhaps even most of me, wants to spin on my heels, shift into my dragon form, and run as far and as fast as those four legs could carry me. Fear turns the back of my throat bitter, and for one distracted heartbeat, I wonder if I was this afraid when I faced Rensivar.

“Rayne?” Doshir asks again. His voice is closer this time.

I try to swallow the hard knot in my throat and step forward, toward the light pouring through the hallway. Wind flutters the hem of my dress and tugs my hair back from my neck. It’s so blindingly bright that it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, to make sense of what’s before me.

It’s the sky. Breath catches in my throat, and I step back almost involuntarily. The sky opens before me, a cerulean sea studded with flocks of plump, billowy clouds. Kings, has it always been so beautiful?

And Doshir steps forward. The sky falls away; my heart forgets how to beat. The wind ruffles his dark hair, and the sun makes his skin glow. He’s smiling at me in a way that’s almost apologetic, with both hands held out in front of him, clasped around a massive bouquet of wildflowers.

“Rayne,” he says, and this time my name is almost a whisper.

I can’t speak. I can’t even think. My own heartbeat thuds inside my skull like a drum as I stare at him. He’s wearing something elegant, of course, velvet and leather with a short scarlet cloak. He looks like he’s been plucked straight out of a royal court.

But of course. He has. My heart sinks like a stone tossed into a well, or a gold coin weighed down with an impossible wish. Doshir is a part of this royal court. His mother was the queen; he belongs here, in the Iron Mountains.

Which means our journey is over. We’ve done what we set out to do, haven’t we? There was a reason I crashed into his garden, and we rode like all the nine hells were nipping at our heels into the Iron Mountains. We had to warn the dragons. We had to stop Rensivar.

And now it’s over. Rensivar is locked in some other world, tangled in the throne he tried to claim. My eyes sting; I force them to stare at the flowers in Doshir’s hands, the delicate bluebells dancing in the wind and the daisies mirroring the sun. If I look at Doshir, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from doing something humiliating.

“You did it,” Doshir says. “You destroyed the Throne of Claws.”

I nod as my vision blurs. My throat is too tight to speak.

Kings, this is goodbye, isn’t it?

Doshir makes a little coughing sound, then shuffles on the stone ledge. The flowers tremble in his hands, and I make myself turn away. Perhaps this will be easier if I’m staring out into that vast sky. Perhaps I’ll look like I have some idea of where I should go after this, what I should do.

“How are you feeling?” Doshir asks.

I turn back to him, ready to say that everything is just fine. Doshir steps aside, sweeping his hand behind him. There’s a bench carved into the sun-washed stone, with a little ledge beside it. I blink; someone has set a pot of tea and a plate of cookies out on the ledge.

“Would you like some tea?” Doshir asks.

He’s moving before I can respond, setting the flowers down on the edge of the bench, then pouring a stream of steaming, scarlet liquid into a delicate cup that looks like it’s made of gold. He holds the cup out to me, still with that apologetic half-smile on his face.

I don’t respond. I can’t respond, even though my mind is screaming at me to do something. I’m standing here like an idiot, frozen in silk and velvet, numbly wondering how Doshir is being so calm about this.

Doshir pulls his hand back. Some of the red tea splashes over his fingers, and I imagine licking it off, my tongue on his knuckles, my mouth against his skin.

Kings above. I shake my head as if I could knock that thought loose, then watch as Doshir puts the teacup back down. It clinks against the ledge, making a sharp little cracking noise. He turns back toward me, his hands knotting around each other.

“We, uh. We need to talk,” he says.

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