"A form of Frost magic. Passed down to you through Baila's line," Sylvane confirms. Though she says it with confidence, I see her eyes are filled with a confusion that masks my own.
"Do you find yourself colder than your companions in warmer climate?" Thrane asks, not allowing Nyx a moment to process anything.
Nyx's eyes widen and for the first time looks unnerved. "Sometimes."
"And when you're injured and your magic works to heal, do you feel as if a thousand icy needles are patching you up?" He rattles off another question.
The youngest Harland takes a step away from everyone. "That's not possible," he whispers, shaking his head.
"I don't know how her magic managed to remain dormant in your bloodline for this long, but here you stand." Thrane drawls, either bored by the conversation or masking his annoyance.
"So, Nyx feeling a pull to Drexel? Is that because he has Basilius ancestry?" I ask for clarification. This all seems so far fetched, but blood is blood. There's no denying it.
Sylvane nods. "It would appear so."
"I thought you said no dragon could be ridden by another rider and no rider will have another dragon?" It's one of the first things she told me when I first met Seraxes.
"Up until now," she plants her hands on her hips, "that's how it's always been."
"But dragons don't abide by Frost Elf laws and expectations," Thrane includes.
"Meaning Drexel could choose Nyx to be his new rider?" I ask, glancing at a now-spiraling Nyx.
"It's not been done before, but seeing how Armas did not honor their bond, perhaps Drexel is ready for someone worthy to sit in his place." Sylvane glances at Drexel who is resting peacefully in his pen.
Nyx looks pale. On the verge of throwing up.
I think back on all the interactions Nyx has had with the Frost Dragons during our stay here. They all immediately took to him. Even when we were warned they might not welcome him in Fendruil. Seraxes permitted him to touch her upon first meeting. She despised me because I was the rider who abandoned her. Perhaps her not choosing a new rider is what gave my mother hope I was still alive somewhere. Seraxes was proof our bond was still intact.
Armas is dead. The bond between him and Drexel, which was shaky at best, is now severed.
And if Drexel senses the faintest Basilus blood in Nyx, then …
"Nyx?" I inch toward him when he plops down on the ground and stares wide-eyed at Drexel. "Are you all right?"
The dragon stirs, his eye fixed on Nyx. There's some kind of silent conversation passing between them.
I see him spiraling. Just like I had in Magikos Grammata.
I kneel before him, slip my hands on either side of his face, and draw his watery gaze.
"Breathe with me," I instruct, and he obeys.
Together, we breathe in sync until he pats my leg, reassuring me he is better.
"Are you ok?"
"I don't know," he whispers. "I don't want to believe any of it."
"Why? Drexel wants a rider who will be worthy. Why should that not be you?" I ask.
"I am not a Basilius."
"You have Basilius blood – "
"That's not the same," he cuts me off.
"I know this is a huge shock to you, Nyx, but what if your path was meant to cross with Drexel's?" I slip my hand in his and run my thumb across his. We both look over at Drexel. "He is lost and alone. Would you deny him honor and companionship because you don't think you have enough Basilius blood in you to bond with him?"
