That was when I saw it. A fight in the field, where the acolyte riders were. And even from this distance, I could see the familiar form of Ryak, all broad brawn like a trueDothikkar’s guardsman, struggling with someone in the dirt. He got the upper hand as a gasp sounded from Ethrisha, straddling whoever it was and pummeling them. Over and over as the riding instructor and a few of the other acolytes tried to pull them away.
Even from a distance, the sound seemed to funnel straight toward us, and we could see the ferocity of the fight. The sickening sound of Ryak’s fist meeting flesh, the gurgle of blood, and desperate grunts.
It was brutal. And horrifying. And it made my gut churn with nausea to see what Ryak was capable of.
It took three riders—andNevin,I saw—to pull Ryak off his fellow acolyte, who lay limp and unmoving on the ground.
Later that night, I was pacing the hatchery, unable to sleep. I wound down the hallway outside the sleeping quarters, drifted into the kitchen, picking at little bits of bread in the basket, checked in on Kyr—sleeping in the nest, along with the other hatchlings—and then observed the remaining eggs in the incubation room before the heat grew too uncomfortable.
Outside the night air felt blissfully cool against my heated flesh. I sat down on the stone bench, closing my eyes. But all I saw was Ryak being dragged away, his expression thunderous but almost…gloating. They’d locked him away in an empty dwelling, apparently, with guards posted outside the door and windows.
I couldn’t ignore the long looks that had been cast my way in the evening as I returned to the hatchery. The whispers and abrupt conversations that ended when I drew near. I knew what they were saying, but the only thing Icoulddo was ignore it.
Before Syris had gone to bed, she’d told me that Alaryk had just returned to Grymia at the urging of Myzalla. Maybe that was why I couldn’t sleep. Well, one of many factors.
The acolyte still hadn’t woken up, apparently. And I’d begged Tarkosh to let me go to him, but she’d looked torn. She’d told me to wait for Alaryk’s decision, the worry of exposing my magic at the forefront of her mind.
So I was waiting. But as the moon rose and the hour grew later and later, I knew sleep would elude me if I didn’t do something about it.
I didn’t go back to my quarters. Instead I jumped over the half wall of the courtyard, my feet landing on the stone road that wound all throughout Grymia, and I went searching myself.
I didn’t knowwhyI felt guilty. I wasn’t responsible for Ryak’s brutal actions. I’d learned that he and the acolyte had been at each other’s throats for days, barbed comments and pricklysmirks being exchanged, before it had apparently erupted this afternoon. I wasn’t responsible for Ryak, no…but I felt guilty that I could’ve helped the acolyte on the field earlier.
I’d beenfrozen, my mind reeling with consequence and fear, an old habit.
And so I’d done nothing.
But that night, I scoured the village. I avoided the dwelling that I knew Ryak was being held in, knowing I wouldn’t get any help from the guards—most of them trained Grymian riders, apparently. But most of the village was quiet. As was Alaryk’s dwelling, to the point that I wondered if Syris had heard wrongly that he’d returned.
At the base of the village, however, where the road looped around the landing field and cut through the land that led to the farms below, I saw a glow of torchlight and the familiar silken sheen of Alaryk’s silver hair as he spoke with a guard standing outside a small stone dwelling. I recognized Myzalla and a handful of riders who had been present when we’d been transported from Dothik.
When he heard the crunch of my boots and one of the guard’s eyes flicked to me, Alaryk turned, his expression unreadable as his blue eyes met mine. I hadn’t seen him since that night in the mountain, since that strange, electric energy had been shared between us, sweet and aching on my tongue.
He turned back to the guard, said something I couldn’t hear, and then approached.
“Is he in there?” I asked, nodding my chin at the dwelling that looked like any other.
“Yes,” Alaryk told me.
I moved to step past him, but he snagged my wrist.
“Don’t.”
I heard something in his voice that made me still. I frowned. “I want to help him, Alaryk. I’ve waited long enough. I don’t care if anyone finds out anymore.”
And I hoped he heard the seriousness in my tone because I wouldn’t be sent away. I’d waited for his decision, but I didn’t want to wait anymore.
Alaryk’s soft curse met my ears, and he took my wrist in his grasp, pulling me away.
“What are you doing?” I asked, struggling against him. “Icanhelp him.”
“No, you can’t,mariss,” he told me, bringing me to a stop a short distance away from the dwelling. He took my face in his palms so that I met his eyes steadily. His voice was almost gentle when he told me, “He’s dead.”
Everything went still. Even the wind.
At first I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly.
“What are you…” I trailed off. Frozen in place as I looked up at him with wide eyes. “What are you saying?”
