He pulled away and drew in his wings, balancing himself as best he could on the balustrade. Then he turned his mind to the magic that he’d been gifted but had rejected for so long… and pushed it away.
Gods, it hurt.
The beast went willingly, despite the loss of its wings. They needed Izzy safe. Together, they let the heat and vitality of the mountain drain away, even as it left burning ice running through his veins in its wake.
He opened himself and let it flow. Back into the cliffs, the rocks, the sand. It clung at first, but then with a crackle of twisting sinews, it released its hold. He bit in a groan as his spine cracked and his scales writhed into skin, but he knew this old agony, and he didn’t dare to make a single noise.
The world wavered. Pain screamed through his skin, his body, his very bones, and he dragged in a shaking breath as he concentrated on gripping the overhanging eaves with his clumsy, numb, too small fingers. He might have fallen, but then Izabel was there, rushing forward to throw her arms around him, holding him as he shivered.
Gods, we do not deserve her.
Luka grunted. Finally, the beast was beginning to realize what he’d known all along. He jumped down from the balustrade. His clothes were abandoned in the garden, but there was nothing he could do about that. And his beast was not concerned about nakedness. If anything, it was rather hoping that Izzy would at least glance down.
But she didn’t. Izzy seemed entirely unaffected by his nakedness. Her gaze didn’t even flicker as she turned back to listen against the shutter once more.
Chapter
Nine
Izzy pressed closerto the shutter and did her best to ignore the warm strength of Luka behind her. His chest. His muscled arms, still gleaming with scales. It took every ounce of her self-control to look him in the eye and turn away. And she didn’t dare look back. If she turned, she would be between him and the door. She would be able to reach him. Touch him. She would embarrass herself. Again.
He wants us.
No, he doesn’t.
Yes, he does,her beast rumbled, tail twitching.If I could take our skin, I could meet his beast, and we would solve this problem once and for all.
Years ago, that thought would have hurt. She’d been a child, desperately wanting something she couldn’t have. She’d watched her brother and their friends in the skies, wishing so fervently she could join them—join Luka, especially.
But over the last years, the grief about her drake had faded. Yes, she wished she could fly. Yes, she thought the dragons were magical and glorious and beautiful. But they were still people, in the end. With hopes and dreams, and sorrows and losses, just like everyone else.
Luka’s grief after Rayan’s death overwhelmed him. It’s why he pushed us away.
Izzy sighed softly. It was time to move past her hurt. Maybe they could be friends again one day. They just had to survive this first.
She pushed the shutter open a crack and listened carefully but didn’t hear anything. She glanced back at Luka to see if his sensitive hearing had caught anything. He shook his head slightly, and she risked opening the shutter a little more, and then all the way. Nothing moved.
The shutter swung open, revealing the soft glow of the multicolored glass panels set into the door. Everything stayed quiet.
Opening the door was fraught with danger, but they couldn’t stay on the balcony either. She gave the handle a gentle squeeze, and the door swung open. Clearly, whoever had shuttered the door believed themselves safe enough this high up not to bother with an additional bolt.
Izzy slipped into the beautifully appointed stateroom, Luka at her heels, and stepped silently onto the fine wool carpet. A fire burned low in its grate, giving a dim, orange light that flickered over gleaming gold-threaded wall hangings depicting majestic dragons in flight over the mountains. A large, four-poster bed dominated the space, with embroidered throws, silky pillows, and heavy curtains falling from the canopy all the way to the floor. Polished stone jars and stoppered glass bottles covered a small dressing table between the bed and the balcony. It was clearly the room of someone immensely privileged.
Luka stepped across the luxurious space to lay Narya gently on her bed. Then he pulled off the woman’s boots and rested them on the shoe rack beside the wardrobe. Meanwhile, Izzy tidied Narya’s skirts, tucked her hair from her face, and foldedher arms over her chest. She almost looked as if she was sleeping.
Izzy pulled the curtains closed and stepped away from the bed with an ache in her heart. She had dressed—and undressed—enough dead bodies in her time. But this was one of the worst. Death was often sad, and sometimes horrific, buteverythingabout this death felt wrong. She swallowed, pushing down the tendrils of anxiety that tightened around her ribs.
“Are you okay?” Luka asked under his breath, watching her with concern in his gray eyes.
“She was so young,” Izzy whispered. “Beautiful and healthy and with the world ahead of her. I don’t understand it.”
And it’s too much like Rayan.
“And it’s so similar… I just….” Mother of the Weave. She didn’t even know what it was she wanted to say. Something about this was bringing everything back—Rayan, Luka, the Nabaspath. It all churned uneasily together.
“I wish he was here,” Luka murmured, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone.
“Me too.” She gave him a sad smile.
