Page 97 of Burn of the Everflame

“You should call him off,” Nidara warned. “Tybold hates other gryverns. We always chained him up while other Crowns were here.”

I held my breath, too scared to say or do or feel anything that might disturb this moment. I’d sensed Sorae’s longing—I knew her affection for him was real. And Tybold had saved my life, not once but twice, when the Ignios King wanted me dead. Why do that, if not for the gryvern he secretly loved?

My confidence wobbled when Tybold bared his fangs. His neck arched, the slits of his eyes shrinking to slivers.

Sorae pressed on, undaunted. Tybold jerked to a stop as she rose out of her crouch. At her full height, she was still only half his size, but what she lacked in mass, she had in beauty. Her iridescent scales shimmered under the desert sun, casting flecks of rainbow light across the red clay walls. With her sleek lines and downy feathers fluttering in the warm breeze, no one could deny her glory.

Even among gryverns, my Sorae was a queen.

I sent a pulse of admiration through our bond, and her wings lifted a little higher.

Tybold held his menacing stance as she approached, never tearing his eyes from Sorae. When she stopped in front of him, they both went silent. Her tail swished once, and his nostrils flared as they filled with her scent.

Slowly, Sorae stretched her neck forward. I felt like my heart had stopped within my chest. I grabbed Nidara’s hand as Sorae closed her eyes, folded her wings, and pressed her muzzle into his.

His pupils grew to orbs of black. One talon curled, claws sinking into the soft sand below.

Sorae let out a sweet, almost feline chirp. When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes, looked up at him, and made the sound again.

No answer.

Across the bond, I felt her heart fracture. Despite time and distance and the gilded shackles of their Crowns, her love for Tybold had endured. She’d kept her fire burning, while his had snuffed out.

She lowered her head. Her wings sagged, and she turned to come back to my side.

Tybold took a step forward and chuffed.

Sorae stilled. She swung her gaze back and found Tybold, head low, snout reaching for hers.

The tension between them snapped. Sorae leapt forward, knocking him to his back and caressing her snout against his neck. His low, scratchy purr was as loud as an earthquake as his black-feathered wing stretched out to tuck her into his side.

“Blessed Kindred,” Nidara gasped. “Are they . . . ?”

“In love,” I answered, grinning.

I watched their tails entwine and their foreheads meet, unable to escape thoughts of my mate. What if I died without closing the bond, and Luther’s devotion to me never wavered? Sorae and Tybold’s love had outlasted a thousand Descended lives. Was I a fool to believe Luther’s could fade over one?

I let go of Nidara and walked toward the nuzzling gryverns. They were so engrossed in each other’s presence, neither one noticed my approach. I reached out to stroke Sorae’s back. “I’m so happy for y⁠—”

Something heavy slammed against my chest, knocking me to my back and pinning me to the sand. I caught a flash of jagged teeth before orange flames consumed me.

Then—a roar, a yelp, and the sound of two bodies colliding. The weight on my chest abruptly vanished, and the fire gave way to a large grey wing that blotted out the sun.

Sorae was standing over me, blood on her talon, her lips curled back in a snarl. On her other side, Tybold wrestled to his feet from where he’d been knocked into a nearby wall. He shook his head, sending crimson droplets flying from a fresh gash across his cheek.

“Are you alright?” Nidara asked, helping me to my feet.

I looked down at my body—my clothes had been badly burned, dragonfyre still glowing from their scorched-black edges, but my body was unhurt. I snuffed out the lingering flames with my shadows. “What just happened?”

“Tybold attacked you, and Sorae intervened to stop him.” She frowned. “I thought gryverns couldn’t hurt their Crowns.”

Tybold’s posture shifted. He leaned back on his legs, wings pulling high and tight. Fur stood on end along his spine as his throat quivered with a growl. His eyes sharpened on Sorae, a predator ready to strike.

She met every move with a matching threat. She shifted to block me from his reach, then flared her wings and hissed.

“I’ll fetch a whip from the stables,” Nidara said. “It’s the only thing that keeps him in line when he’s like this.”

“Wait,” I said.