Still, Ghreid snarled, shifting as he clawed through the window, arms still draconic, body stuck in an alarming half-shifted state as he snarled. Eyes, billowing with golden fire, flared until Varis walked him to the closet, opened the door, and lifted the skirt on the cart. “Safe.”
Ghreid fell to his knees, body a messy smear of ashes, soot, and grease. One by one, he held the eggs to his chest, listening to them. “My babies.”
His hoarse whisper of a breath brought tears to Varis’s eyes, and he choked on a sob. Lurin tried to sit up with a whimper and collapsed once more.
A second dragon came up to the window, clinging to the cliff face as his great head thrust into the shattered remains of their windows, sultry red scales glittering in the distant flames where it appeared the water itself was on fire, every pass of Asha’s great dragon ebbing the flames a little more.
Betrayal.A snarl of hatred curled from Falustus’s maw, fire sparking behind bared teeth.
“I’m not sure what it was, but he saved me and our babies.” Varis held his hands up, still bloody with the evidence of what his dragon had done.
With a snarl, Falustus stared at the dead priests that Varis hadn’t consumed and snatched one up to devour as easily as a hawk might a mouse. He grabbed the body of the last one and retreated, flying off as the snarling of two bickering dragons came to an abrupt halt.
“What’s going on out there? What’s going on in here?” Varis strode to Lurin and touched at the claw marks on his face, the burns over his neck and chest. So much of his ruddy hair had been curled and singed.
Lurin grabbed for Varis’s hand and squeezed, but he didn’t speak.
Varis wished so dearly that Lurin could or would speak. He also wished that he knew more about his magic so he could possibly heal the young male. A young male that, when laid out like he was, was surprisingly solid. He looked so stricken in the robes walking about, and that confused Varis more. The claw marks on his face had ceased to bleed, already healing at the very edges. “What are you?”
“My very naughty pet, it appears.” Falustus stormed in, a set of priestly robes draped over his shoulders and nothingelse. He stood standing over Lurin, staring down at the boy. “I knew he was… I’ll see to fixing everything he broke, Brothers. I apologize.”
“He saved me, Lust.” Varis glanced up and blanched at what hung at right about eye level.“Alim bei dinna’r!”
The swear to Alim’s name was such a foreign thing to Varis. It’d been years, butgods alive. “Put that thing away, Falustus! You should have to register it as a weapon. Fuck!”
Varis covered his eyes and scooted away as Falustus scooped the boy into his arms. “Tell me what happened.”
“He came in, warned me that something bad was about to happen, hid the eggs—” Varis told the story in quick detail. Falustus stared down at the boy with a complicated expression.
“Interesting.” Still, that complicated expression stayed.
“Find Graylan. He needs a heal—”
“Graylan can’t heal humans. His magic is very dragon specific.” Falustus took a deep breath. “I’m going home, Brothers. I’ll care for the boy and return come morning. I’ll do my best to save him.”
Ghreid, holding an egg in his arms, stood and gave Lust a nod of appreciation.
Chapter Thirty
Ghreid
It’d happened so fast, the bells ringing through the streets, further along, criers calling outFire! Fire! The sea is aflame! The docks are burning!
One by one, they’d left the estate, leaving their servants locked within the basement with the hatchlings, as even Asha joined the fray, asking something silly about the cement quarry for the masons.
Ghreid made his way to the parapet and the paddock, looking out at the docks and the teeming sea. Two Rammolian ghost ships floated into the harbor fully aflame as liquid fire raced across the top of the sea in an oily blaze.
It was done as a declaration of war, but something wasn’t right. The ships were ones he recognized from the stacks, ones barely fit to float. No Rammolian ships had been seen, and the flags flying were too new.
Ghreid shifted and flew without thinking, grabbing the wyverns’ water trough with his enormous talons.
He flew over the flaming sea in a great swoop, picking up water as he went before dumping it over the flaming sea to no avail. He wasn’t even certain why he thought it’d work.
From somewhere, Falustus flew with him, a tattered ship sail in his maw. He soaked it in water and flew to shore, flinging the wet canvas over the flaming docks, beating down the flames and smothering them.
Rath, who seemed more capable and levelheaded than the rest of them, by rights a true king in choice, billowed flames as hard as he could, coming at the sea from inland, the countering stronger flame burning off some of the floating oil, but the scale at which the oil had spread made the gesture futile. How they’damassed that much bog oil and managed to leak it, was beyond Ghreid’s understanding. Still, they fought.
Slath soared above, diving down to breathe streaks of icy wind over the fires, frost coating creaking docks and sagging rafters.
