Onyx Storm: Chapter 47

A dragon determines its last flight, and its rider’s.

—Article One, Section Two The Dragon Rider’s Codex “

ou’re sure you only want me here the first time you try this?” I ask Sawyer two days later as we stand in the middle of the flight field with Tairn, Andarna, and Sliseag at four thirty a.m. “I’m not exactly the best one to catch you if this goes poorly.”

He tightens the straps on his pack. “No, but you’re the only one I want seeing if I fall on my ass.”

“Or going for help if you break your leg?”

A small smile plays across his mouth. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Do you want to talk about this?” I gesture to Sliseag.

“Thanks, but I’ve been talking to Jesinia. I’m ready. I need you for the more practical side of…this.” He nods toward Sliseag, then crouches down, then pulls a lever on the inside of his prosthesis. A flat, two-inch-wide piece of metal with a curved end pops out of the toe of his boot. “And it’s not my first time. I need a second opinion because it didn’t go so well for me yesterday.”

“You made that?” It’s pretty damned cool.

“Yeah.” He stands, then stares at Sliseag’s left front leg. The Red Swordtail is smaller than Sgaeyl, but his talons are still enormous given what Sawyer’s about to try. “His scale pattern in this one row doesn’t overlap.” He points upward. “And in theory, the hook should just catch the top of each scale as I climb, but I can’t get there without fall—”

Sliseag lifts his head over us and breathes out a huff of steam that I’m going to have to wipe off my goggles.

Ugh. It’s too early to be sticky.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Sawyer argues. “It’s not like we haven’t discussed the scale pattern, and you don’t have to—”

Sliseag steams us again, the heat stinging my face. If he gets it any hotter, he’s going to blister my skin.

Tairn stalks forward and tilts his head at Sliseag in a way I never want to see aimed at me, and Andarna is quick to follow.

“Because I don’t want you to have to!” Sawyer shouts up at Sliseag, who narrows his eyes.

This would be a really ridiculous way to die.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Tairn warns.

“Just let me try it,” Sawyer argues.

Sliseag bares his teeth.

Sawyer bares his right back.

“I will never understand the relationships other riders have with their dragons,” I say down the bond. I barely understand my own, but giving Andarna a wide berth seems to be working, since she’s here. Not that she could stay behind for the length of our rotation, but I’m declaring it a victory.

“You’re not supposed to,” Tairn remarks.

“Here we go.” Sawyer rolls his shoulders, then runs toward Sliseag’s claw.

He makes it two steps before the tip of his boot catches in the mud and he falls forward.

Shit. I lunge for his pack and grab hold with both hands, yanking Sawyer upright before he yucks a set of flight leathers. My shoulders both pop, but the joints have the decency not to subluxate on me.

“Thanks,” Sawyer mutters, staring at the boot. “See?”

“I do.” I crouch to peer at the device. “Can you kick the lever open?”

“In theory,” he answers. “But it’s probably a little small for that, and I don’t have time to make changes before movement today.”

“Well, let’s try it as it is. You can modify in Aretia. None of us want you to stay behind.” Mud squishes under my boots as I stand. “You can run, right?”

Sawyer nods. “I wouldn’t try this if I couldn’t. My gait is off because I can’t quite get the flex right, and I’m just not nimble enough to run the full length of his leg like I used to.”

“We can work with that.” I nod. “How about you run just like you’d mount before, and right when you feel your momentum shift, like you’re about to fall back, kick the lever open. It should catch your foot just like you designed it to, and you climb the rest of the way.”

Sawyer looks down at me. “That’s how you did the Gauntlet, isn’t it?”

“Kind of. I waited until I felt my weight shift backward, then stabbed a dagger into the wood and pulled myself up. But I somehow doubt Sliseag would be appreciative of that approach.” A corner of my mouth lifts.

Sliseag huffs another breath—this time without steam—as if in agreement.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Sawyer pops the lever closed, then nods to himself. “Here we go.” He takes off running, and Sliseag flexes his talons, flattening his claw. Sawyer’s long legs eat up the first half dozen feet of the climb, and I hold my breath when his progress stalls.

He kicks the lever, then clings to Sliseag’s leg about halfway up, his foot scraping the scales for a place to grip for a heart-stopping second before it catches.

“You’ve got it!” I shout. “Climb!”

His left boot holds steady, working as he’d designed, but his right slips, leaving a streak of mud down Sliseag’s red scales.

My chest clenches as he tries again, then again, with the same result.

“Fuck!” he yells, then lays his forehead against Sliseag’s leg.

“I can flatten the tip of my tail and boost him,” Andarna offers, having crept closer.

Now my ribs tighten for a whole different reason. It’s the first positive thing she’s said since our return.

“That’s an honorable offer,” I tell her, then repeat it to Sawyer.

“No!” he shouts. “Thank you, but no.”

Sliseag rumbles low in his chest, and I stand there helplessly, knowing there’s nothing I can do.

“Because it’s not the same,” Sawyer argues, frustration rumbling through his tone and I know he isn’t talking to me. “You’re the one who took a risk on me, and I won’t ask you to dishonor…” He falls quiet.

“Is that how you feel when you dip your shoulder for me?” I ask Tairn. “Dishonored?”

“I am the second-largest dragon on the Continent and a revered warrior. My tales are legendary. My mate unparalleled. My feats unmatched—”

“Doesn’t change my question.” I cut him off before he starts to list his accolades.

“It would take a great deal more than a change of posture to dishonor me,” he replies.

“But you never had to lower yourself before me, did you? Not for Naolin, or—”

“We do not speak of the one who came before.” Agonizing pain floods the bond, and I immediately regret my choice of words.

Andarna lifts her head and narrows her accusing golden eyes at me.

“I know.” I put my hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

“You know that’s not how I feel about it,” Sawyer says as his arms start to tremble. “We’ve been over this! Any rider would have done the same in my position.” He shakes his head and reaches for the next scale, then pulls himself upward, gaining a foot of hard-fought distance. “Of course I don’t blame you! That’s not—” His head whips sideways, toward Sliseag’s. “No, I’m not punishing— For Amari’s sake, will you just let me get a word in?”

From the silence that follows, Sliseag does not comply.

I shift my weight as my pack grows heavier by the minute, and my lower spine stops whining and starts shouting.

“Because my leg was and still is worth your life!” Sawyer snaps when he can’t reach the joint of the next scale. “Of course you’re allowed to feel the same—” His hand slides back to its previous hold. “Oh.”

Sliseag huffs, then extends his left leg, sliding his claw through the mud. Slowly, it lowers to a walkable degree of incline.

My throat tightens as Sawyer lets go and slowly rises. He extends his arms outward, like a cadet on Parapet, then trudges upward step by step as I catch movement in my peripheral vision.

“Your year-mates arrive,” Tairn says.

I keep my eyes locked on Sawyer as he reaches the top of Sliseag’s shoulder and lowers his arms. His next movements look like a routine he’s performed thousands of times, and with a few quick steps, he finds the seat.

Sliseag rises to his full height as Sawyer settles in, and I back away for a better view.

“Looks like you’ve been up there a time or two,” I call to him as he relaxes in the seat.

“Feels like I never left,” he shouts down with a grin. “I can ride.”

“You can ride,” I agree, my smile instant and wide. “Now, does it matter how you got there, or only that he chose you?”

“You know the answer to that already.” His smile softens.

“I do.” I nod, then turn to Andarna, narrowing the pathway to just her. “Look at me.”

She spares me a glance.

“You can grieve.” If my words don’t work, maybe hers will.

Golden eyes lock on mine.

“You can grieve,” I repeat. “And when and if you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.”

“You do not talk about your grief,” she counters. “Neither does he.” Her tail flicks in Tairn’s direction.

She has a point. “I’m getting there,” I say slowly. “And he’s not perfect, either.”

Her nostrils flare and her scales shimmer to the purple-toned black she usually prefers.

I nod and let the subject drop, but it definitely feels like progress.

“Thank Amari,” Rhi whispers as she comes up on my left side, grinning up at Sawyer.

“Sawyer! Look at you!” Ridoc runs forward, his arms up in victory.

Sliseag swings his head and snaps his teeth shut a few feet in front of Ridoc.

“Look at you from a distance!” Ridoc retreats, his arms still held high. When he bumps into Maren, he turns and sweeps her into a hug as she laughs.

“I couldn’t help,” Rhi says quietly as Sawyer focuses on reacquainting himself with the seat. “Did I fail him?”

“No. You were exactly who he needed you to be.” I slip my arm through hers. Fuck, this pack is heavy. “You’re our friend, but you’re also our squad leader. He doesn’t want to fall in front of you; none of us do. We want to make you proud. And I know you’re used to being responsible for us, and you’re truly exceptional at your job…”

Ridoc puts Maren down, then reaches for Cat, who accepts his hug with straight arms and an annoyed eye roll.

“But?” Rhi glances at me sideways.

“But you couldn’t have made this happen any faster.” We walk toward the others. “Not you, or me, or Ridoc, or Jesinia. It was always down to the two of them. It was only ever going to be on their timeline.”

Ridoc spins toward Neve, and the third-year flier looks at him like he’s grown another set of eyeballs as she dodges his embrace and bumps into Bragen. He whirls toward Imogen, who puts up her hand as she walks by with Quinn.

“Don’t even think about it, Gamlyn,” she warns.

“You’re so warm and fuzzy!” Quinn says, slinging her arm around Imogen’s shoulders.

“Only to you.” She looks up at Sawyer. “Nice to see you where you belong, Henrick!”

Ridoc spins and throws his arms around Dain, who lifts his brows, then slowly brings his hand up and pats Ridoc’s back twice in an awkward exchange. “Looking good, Sawyer!” Dain calls up, then continues on toward Cath.

“Good job, Matthias,” Bodhi says to Rhi as he walks by. “Got your cadet back in the seat.”

“I didn’t—” she starts, and I squeeze her arm with mine. “He did it himself, but we’re proud of him. Thank you, section leader.”

Bodhi nods with a smile that looks so close to Xaden’s my whole rib cage draws tight. Neither Bodhi nor Dain had a chance to take the rune course because of their duty schedules and our failed mission, so we get them both on our rotation.

“Look at him!” Ridoc races our way and smooshes us in a hug. “All is right with the world!” His arms slacken and he draws back, his gaze soaked in apology. “I mean, other than what’s going on with Riorson.”

“I know what you meant.” I shift my pack and force a smile. “And hopefully, I’ll see him there.”

Hope stows away like a little windproof passenger as we launch for Aretia, and somehow lives through the night when we make camp just inside the Tyrrish border. Have to admit, it’s freeing to fly without worry that we’re about to be spotted by a wyvern patrol or found by Theophanie. Only once we’re sure the gryphons can still handle the altitude after being gone for months do we start the final leg of the trip, entering the lone protection of the Aretian wards.

Landing in the valley above Aretia that evening feels like coming home, but Xaden isn’t here. Or Sgaeyl isn’t, which means the same thing.

“This sucks,” I tell Tairn with a heavy sigh.

He growls in agreement.

Andarna snaps at Kaori when he walks a little too close over Panchek’s blustering protest, then takes off after a herd of sheep as I dismount from Tairn.

“I’m sorry,” the professor says, knitting his dark, slashing brows. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” I interrupt. “And I sympathize with why you’ve come, but she’s not going to let you study her. Not even here.”

“I understand.” Kaori nods, then looks around the high hanging valley with its lush green foliage and snow-tipped peaks. “Selfishly, I also wanted to see how this Empyrean functions. I suspect it’s why Panchek has tagged along as well.”

A smile tugs at my mouth. “Good luck asking them.”

“You ready?” Rhiannon asks as she approaches with footsteps that border on bouncing.

“Yeah.” I flat-out grin at my friend’s happiness. “Let’s get down there so you can see your family.”

“I’d prefer we hold formation—” Dain starts as he comes up on my right.

Rhiannon and I both level a look on him.

“—tomorrow morning,” he quickly corrects course. “Family first, and all.”

“Family first,” Rhiannon agrees with a quick smile, and he passes by, heading toward the rocky path down to the house. “I get that he has to come for rune training, too, but why our squad?” Rhi whispers.

“Same reason I’m here.” Bodhi pops up on our left and lifts his face to the sun like he’s greeting an old friend. “This is the best squad.”

“I forgot how fucking hot this place is,” Ridoc says, unbuttoning his flight jacket.

“It’s a hatching ground,” Rhiannon reminds him with a wide grin. “I bet it’s almost the same temperature as the Vale with how many dragons are here now.”

“We beat the storm, but I bet it lowers the temperature tomorrow.” I flick the buttons open on my jacket, well aware I’ll be freezing the second we cross the magical barrier that defines this territory as the hatching grounds.

Sure enough, it’s glacial by the time we make it down to Riorson House.

Gods, just the sight of it makes me miss him.

The squad files past the guards and through the front doors, into the massive entryway that looks up five full stories set into the mountain like giant steps. It’s quiet for this time of day. Or maybe it just seems empty because the halls are no longer bustling with cadets.

Kaori turns around with a stunned look of disbelief.

Felix pats him on the back, then says something to Rhiannon before leading Kaori away.

“Eyes on me!” Rhiannon’s voice echoes, earning everyone’s attention. “Find your bunks as previously assigned. The night is yours to do what you want, but formation is at seven tomorrow, so I’d think twice about finding a tavern.”

We break and climb the first flight of stairs.

“Let’s get out of here as quickly as possible,” Rhi tells Maren just ahead of me.

“I can’t wait to see my brothers.” Maren claps excitedly, light catching on the long silver scar on the back of her hand. Pretty sure there’s not a single one of us who has come through the last few years unmarked in some way. “Cat, are you coming?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the little terrors,” she says with a nod as we reach the landing.

“Vi?” Rhi asks over her shoulder.

“Sure,” I answer with a quick nod. “I love your family.”

“Sawyer and I are going, too.” Ridoc heads up to the third floor.

“All right,” Rhi calls up the stairs as she climbs. “Whoever wants to go to my house, we meet in the foyer in forty minutes, which should give you a chance to bathe and change. My mother will boot you out of her house if you walk in smelling like sulfur, and I’m not even kidding.”

I pause on the landing, my gaze flickering from the steps ahead to the hallway on my left.

“Please don’t tell me you’re lost,” Bodhi says, coming up the steps last.

“Of course not.” I shake my head slowly. “It’s just that I don’t have a room here, and I’m not sure where I should sleep.”

He scoffs and gestures down the hall. “You have a room. It hasn’t moved.”

“It’s his room,” I correct him quietly. “And he’s all broody.”

“We’re home, Vi. Act like it.” He grins, then turns around me, walking backward down the hallway on the right. “Sleep in your bed. He’ll just brood harder if you don’t.”

I sigh when he disappears into his room, and then turn left and head to mine—ours.

The handle won’t turn, so I flick my wrist and picture the mechanism opening, using lesser magic to unlock it.

Walking in is surreal. Magic tingles across my skin when I step through the wards. It looks just like we left it in December, except most of our things are now at Basgiath. After shutting the door, I swing my pack from my shoulders and set it on the chair Xaden waited in for all those days while I slept after being stabbed over Resson.

The bedding is the same dark blue, the curtains beside the massive windows are open to the evening light, and every book in his collection is exactly where it belongs on the built-in shelves to my right.

There are a few pitiful attempts at tempered runes on the desk, left from my last lesson, along with a forgotten notebook in the top drawer. I check the armoire and find one of my sweaters, a uniform for each of us, and the blanket his mother made him tucked up in the right-hand corner.

And gods, does it smell like him. My chest threatens to split straight open at the sudden, acute stab of pure longing. I’ve left my mark here, too. The bathing chamber still smells like the soap I use on my hair, and I find the bar right where I left it. I take a few minutes to clean up, then dress in a fresh uniform, half expecting Xaden to walk in at any second and ask me about my day.

It’s almost like this room is removed from time itself, a tiny corner of the world where we simultaneously live together yet don’t. The only indication months have passed is the glass box from Zehyllna on his nightstand, and the emerald-hilted Blade of Aretia resting within. It’s missing a single stone near the top, but looks no worse for wear after having been in Navarrian possession for six hundred years.

Someone knocks on the door, and I glance at the clock. Has it already been forty minutes?

I swing open the door and find Brennan on the other side. His eyes are tired, but his smile is bright as he gives me the standard sibling once-over.

Can’t help it—I do it, too, coming away satisfied that he’s not wearing any new scars.

“Pull me in.” He holds out his hand. “He fucked with the wards the last time he was here.”

“Of course he did.” I grab my brother’s hand and pull him through. He immediately yanks me into a hug.

I soak up the rare moment of peace until he steps back, having lost his smile some time in the last ten seconds. “Do you need anything mended?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Are you sure? Because every time you show up here you’re an inch from death.” He studies me like I might be lying.

“I’m sure.”

“Good.” He kicks the door closed. “Sound shield only works with the door shut, right?”

“Right.” I retreat a few steps in apprehension. “What’s wrong?”

Brennan’s face falls, and he stares at the ground. “I can’t mend him.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” I lift my brows in utter confusion. “We’re all healthy. No one was hurt on the way here.”

He looks up, and the sorrow in his eyes sends me staggering backward. “Xaden. I can’t mend him, Vi. I tried every day that he was here last week.”

I struggle to draw adequate breath. “You know.”

“I know.” He nods once. “He must be further along than Jack had been when Nolon started working with him. I’m so sorry.”

That unit of measurement is unfathomable. “Me too.”

“We tried silent offerings in every local temple, pushing magic back into the earth, even sitting with the eggs in the hatching grounds. We’ve tried everything either of us could think of, though the letter he sent from Lewellen yesterday had a weird—” He looks at me like I’ve grown horns. “Are you…smiling?”

“Yesterday?” I don’t even try to fight the hopeful little curve.

Brennan nods. “He wants to try mending the spot at Basgiath.”

“Good idea.” There’s nothing small about my grin now.

He might be broody, but he hasn’t given up.