The skathryn book says some of them can sense frostbeasts,I thought toward Draven as he made his way to the war room.Apparently they’re meant to protect their bonded fae.
There was a pause, brief but distinct. Then his presence brushed back against mine, dry and unimpressed.
Didn’t you say they were also meant to be excellent singers,he replied.Unless yours has been holding out, I suspect Batty is… atypical.
I glanced down at the proud little skathryn, and tried not to recall the few times she’d regaled me with her particular efforts at musical prowess.
Perhaps she’s just focusing her efforts on her more important skills,I offered dubiously.
Whatever you say, Morta Mea, he answered.
A grin teased the corner of my lips, and I felt a similar brush of amusement from Draven’s side of the bond, though it was edged with something darker.
Is the Lord General more amenable in my absence?I prodded, suspecting that was the source of the darker part of his thoughts.
Sure enough, any trace of amusement abruptly faded.He has always been averse to change.
So no, then.
I suppose that means I should hold off on finalizing our friendship bracelets, then.
A reluctant chuckle hummed through the bond before Draven went back to addressing Eryx, and I went back to my book. Or at least, I tried to.
Instead, blinding agony went through me.
It was happening more often now, instead of less, and there was never any warning. Sometimes Draven could be gone for hours before my mana spiraled out of control. Other times, it was a matter of minutes.
Batty trilled in concern, but her abilities didn’t extend to catching my power as it swelled. It seemed that she had to wait for my powers to spill out to enact her interruption, something that got more painful each time.
The waves of power crashed and raged against one another, battering against my bones like a living, feral being that was trying to claw its way from under my skin.
Finally, my shadows shot across the floor, chased by a volley of icicles that felt like they were shooting straight from my soul. Nausea churned in my gut, and my vision went black under another assault.
Morta Mea…
Just as Draven’s voice sounded in my head, Batty did whatever it was that she did, stopping my mana in its tracks.
Fine. Even in thought form, my voice was weaker than I wanted it to be.I’m fine.
It’s getting worse,he returned flatly.
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t respond. Not when there was nothing I could say without telling an outright lie.
Itwasgetting worse. And I couldn’t help but wonder if there would come a time when nothing—not Batty’s intervention, not Draven’s siphoning—would be able to tame the power of the dragon before it consumed me from the inside out.
I had finally managed to focus on my reading again when I got to the page with the Gorenvyr. I froze.
This wasn’t the first time I had read about it since my father’s death, but this was the first time I had let it sink in. This was the monster that had killed him.
This time, I noticed things I hadn’t before. Its horns were twisted spires that curled out from a massive, bull-like head. Where the Korythid’s face was eerily expressionless, the Gorenvyr looked openly malicious.
Or maybe it just felt that way to me.
My heart beat faster in my chest, my hands trembling for reasons that had nothing to do with the shock Batty had just given me.
I blinked and saw blood spattering on navy furs, pale blue eyes shot through with red.
This kept happening, these moments where the grief leaked out the way blood seeped from a wound when the stitches were tugged.
