Each step into my own rooms was tenuous, filled with the blind panic that my mana would change its mind, rearing up the moment I left him. Or was it just panic at leaving him, like some part of me wasn’t sure he’d be there when I got back?
I’m not the one with a history of disappearing, Morta Mea.
I froze as the words reverberated through the bond, equal parts accusation and reassurance.
Had he pushed the thought the same way I pushed the vision, I turned to face him, eyebrows raised as he lounged against the headboard. Yes, he had done that on purpose.
Now I just had to hope that I hadn’t been accidentally sending him mine.
“Everly?” Wynnie’s voice tugged me back to her. “Did you hear me?”
I shook my head, apologized softly, and turned toward her as Draven rose from the bed with cautious, measured movements.
“I asked what happened to you yesterday,” she said. This time, I caught the raw edges of her voice.
My sister had always been a healer at heart, but between the blood she’d scraped from the walls of her estate and the sheer amount she’d been forced to see yesterday, I knew it was taking a toll on her, even if she hadn’t been worried about me.
And I also knew she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
Between the tight set of her shoulders and her bloodshot eyes, it was clear she was still processing everything in that way of hers, so I resisted the urge to ask about her in turn.
Instead, I exhaled slowly and stared up at the ceiling before forcing myself to speak. “I went to see the Dragon.”
She froze, and Batty nestled a little closer to me, burrowing further into my hair as if to remind me that she had been just as upset about my excursion.
My throat tightened when she didn’t immediately respond, and her words from before echoed through me.Honesty, always.
So I told her everything from the moment I sent her away with Lumen until I saw her again in the infirmary. About the terror I felt as I watched the Dragon shift form, the way he spoke into my mind, and the images he’d shown me from my mother’s visit to him so long ago.
I told her about the endless flames and the crushing weight of mana and the fear of not being able to control it…
“I thought he could help. With my mana. With… everything.”
Anything.
My sister’s expression softened, though her pale brows were still furrowed in concern.
“So… what are you going to do now?”
I had thought about that at length the night before, and the ideas only solidified as I retold my story to my sister.
Familiar emerald eyes flashed in my mind, followed by the comforting scent of steel and moss-soaked forests.
The Dragon did nothing without purpose, yet he had shown me my mother, the only person in the world aside from him who knew exactly how and when and why my mana was bound, and one of only two people alive who knew what it was to possess the Dragon’s power.
I told myself that was the only reason I needed to see her—to talk to her, not just because our only time together in a decade had been marred by the presence of my uncle and the oppressive weight of all my doubts. I had believed in my soul that she was dead, had grieved her, and hadn’t even gotten to celebrate the fact that she was alive.
Regardless, I needed to find a way to get in contact with her.
And this time, I wouldn’t let her retreat behind silence or half-truths, no matter how much she believed she was protecting me. I loved her, but I refused to keep stumbling in the dark.
I met my sister’s questioning gaze, the pale twin of my own, debating what to tell her.
I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t want to broach the subject of the Skaldwings without so much as a warning to Draven when things were already so tense between us.
Fortunately, my stomach intervened, emitting a sound that was not unlike the growling of a rabid frostbeast.
Wynnie blinked, then let out a small snort.
