I can smell him on you.
So what? I was with him this morning. That doesn’t mean anything.
He is not for you, Blackblood.
Great, not you, too. Iknowthis. He’s engaged. It's over.
That is not why he is not for you.
What are you talking about, Furi?
You belong to another.
What? No, there is no one else.
Isn’t there?
Okay, I’m not about to discuss my love life with my dragon.
When do we ride?
I sigh, running my hand over her slick scales.
Soon, I promise. When it is safe. You were right about the danger. We were attacked a few nights ago by these…creatures.
What creatures? Why did you not call for me, Blackblood?
Because Furi, I had it under control. I took care of them.
Next time you are in danger, you call. I will come. I will fight. I will protect.
You’re loyal, Furi. But I wasn’t about to endanger you. If anyone had seen you, it would have put a target on both our backs.
Let me see the creatures.
How?
Open your memories to me.
I close my eyes, stilling my hand on her face, and think back to the night of the attack. The swarm of beasts coming at us one after another. Their undying rage, their brute strength.
Stryga.
What?
The Stryga is what they were called in the world of my mothers.
You know them?
They are the spirits of those who died before their time—cursed with an endless cycle of death and rebirth.
What do you mean?
Rather than create a new world for the souls of the dead to inhabit, our gods created a form capable of reanimation. The Stryga do not die, for they are already dead. With each cycle, the soul grows blacker until all that remains is an incurable thirst.
Thirst for what?I ask, already knowing the answer.
The eternal vessels survive on the blood of the dead.
