Dragon Empress

Chapter 34

“In that metaphor, cousin, you are not the flame,” said Sorin. “Think about what it means to love a person like her.”

He strode into the darkness, heading for his ship, yet his words stayed with Viran.

I’m as stupid as Roxanne said. He would not, could not let this be the end of him and Keriya. He would find her, fall to his knees before her, beg her forgiveness.

But he didn’t have to find her. When he returned to his palace room, he found her standing by the balcony doors. Shafts of silver-blue light from the crescent Oldmoon floated around her, cradling her form.

“You left my mess,” she murmured without looking at him.

A dam burst in Viran’s chest. Everything he’d been bottling up for the past week—for the past month, since they’d fought—came pouring forth.

“I left it, hoping you’d come back to me,” he whispered. “And you have.”

Overcome with relief, he reached for her. He would hold her, kiss away the hurt he’d caused—

“Don’t.” The word was so soft he barely heard it, but Keriya raised a hand that halted him in his tracks. Still she didn’t look at him. She stared determinedly through the glass panes of the doors.

“Keriya, let me explain.” Viran took another tentative step. “I can fix this. Please let me fix it.”

“You can’t fix it. I have no magic.”

“Helkryvt’s blood, you think that’s what I’m talking about?” With two long strides, Viran caught her in his arms. Her body was soft and compliant as he pulled her to his chest, resting his cheek atop her moon-kissed head. “I love you, no matter the magic in your soul.”

She didn’t return his embrace. Every moment she remained immobile made his heart hammer faster. He leaned back and looked at her. His left hand drifted up, cupping her cheek, so he could turn her face to him.

“No.” She came to life and pushed him away.

Struck by the vehemence in her tone, Viran stumbled backwards. “I know I hurt you—”

She raised her hand again, and the gesture silenced him. Her head was bowed. Flyaway wisps of hair obscured her features, and he could discern nothing of her expression.

“I am angry,” she said at last, though her tone was far from it. She sounded as distant and detached as the emotionless dragons. “I’m angry you said those things to me. But I’m more angry that you were right, as usual.”

Viran wanted to argue, to explain that he’d never been more wrong. Keriya continued before he had the chance.

“I failed the Dragon Empress’s test. I proved myself unworthy, and now the world will suffer for my mistakes. Since I can no longer wield, I have to secure an army for Allentria.”

“Allentria has an army.” It was the only thing he could think to say. “The Ghoren Islands, Tortava, Myos—”

“None of whom are strong enough to face what’s coming. You’ve read about darksalm, but you’ve never seen it in action. I watched it destroy a city firsthand. I watched it devour a soul.”

For the first time, there was a hitch in her tone. Viran saw her shoulders rise and fall, and his heart broke.

“I’ve been talking to Belbreeze,” she went on. “She says an alliance with Syrion would be most beneficial. Its people wield dark- and voltmagic, so they’ll be able to stand against the necrocrelai hordes.”

That reminded Viran of the secret he’d been keeping, his hidden powers. She was about to do something drastic, but he could stop it. “We don’t need them. You and I can take up our old lessons, we can break through your block like we did in—”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?”

The cold anger in her tone froze his tongue. She was rigid now, every muscle taut. One hand gripped Aurelas, the other curled in a fist. “Do you think I haven’t spent every free moment trying to dig through the layers of that block to reach my magic? Nothing’s there.”

“You’ve only had a week,” he reasoned.

“And it took me nine months to wield a b****y speck of light!” Finally, Keriya looked at him. A tempest raged in her red-violet eyes. “I am out of time and options.”

Viran longed to argue, to convince her she wasn’t making sense . . . but unfortunately, she was making sense.

“So, with Empress Aldelphia’s blessing, Belbreeze is going to broker an alliance with Syrion. I am accepting Ambassador Indrossae’s marriage proposal.”

Subconsciously, Viran had known this was coming. Known for months, in fact. He’d tried to brace for it, but still it hit him like a cannonball, ripping a wound in his chest.

“You don’t love them.” He’d resorted to the most irrational of arguments. Logic and science had abandoned him. All he had left were the words in his heart.

“This has nothing to do with love. You were right on that count, too. It’s over. We weren’t destined to be together.”

He willed away the sting of tears. He hadn’t cried in seventeen years, and he wouldn’t start now. Now was the time to fight—his last chance to fix the worst mistake he’d ever made.

Again, Keriya spoke before he could.

“I hope your path leads you to peace and happiness.” The harshness had drained from her voice, leaving only exhaustion. “But I was marked by Shivnath. She ruined my life and set my destiny in stone. My path leads to Darkness. It always has.”

“This is my fault.” Viran blurted the first thing that sprang to mind. “I did this. I pushed you away.”

“No, it’s mine. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, because I knew I’d get hurt. Worse, I knew you’d get hurt. I did it anyway, because I’m selfish.”

“You’re not.” Viran reached for her but she shrank away, flinging open the balcony doors. Icy wind snaked into the room, bearing flurries of sparkling ice particles.

“Stop!” she said again. He froze, watching snow and starlight dance around her. “It hurts too much right now. I look at you and it hurts. I look at you and—and I’m angry. Because you made me believe I could have everything.”

She seemed as distant as the stars above. In that moment, he knew she was lost to him. No amount of reasoning or arguing would bring her back.

“For what it’s worth,” she added, “our time together was the best time of my life. But I always knew there couldn’t be a happily-ever-after for someone like me.”

She edged outside, leaving Viran alone in the room. A shadow rippled across the balcony, and a moment later he heard the soft, steady beat of dragon wings.

Valerion Equilumos descended from on high, hovering to Keriya’s level. She clambered onto the marble balustrade, preparing to jump.

“Wait,” said Viran. “Take this.”

He unbuckled Sethildras from his waist, offering her the hilt. “For protection.”

A war raged on her face—her lips trembled, her eyes tightened. She reached for the weapon. Her fingers brushed his as the sword passed between them, igniting a terrible burn in Viran’s blood.

Then she was gone. She leapt toward Valerion, landing deftly on his back. The dragon bobbed in midair before steadying himself. He tucked his wings, angled away, and dove into the night.

“I take it the conversation didn’t go well?”

Keriya huddled in a miserable crouch. Wintry wind tore at her clothes. She missed the warmth of the uniform that had burned in the Broken Vale. “It went how it was supposed to go.”

“War has changed over the past ten ages,” Valerion growled, rising over Noryk. Lights suffused the city with a golden haze. The waning Oldmoon was bright, the Rift aurora glowed far to the northeast, and the stars were crisp. “It has become complicated.”

“War hasn’t changed, just the politics around it,” she replied bitterly.

Politics were incomprehensible, but war was straightforward.

Face Necrovar. Defeat him.

Then again, that’s hardly a straightforward task.

“Why did Shivnath do this to me?” Keriya stared at her hands, pale as snow in the moonlight. Her fingers curled into claws. “Every action she took, from the moment we met, was to set things right on Selaras. She said so. She can lie through misdirection and omission, but saying something so plain has to be the truth, right?”

Valerion stilled, gliding silently for several long heartbeats.

“I suppose.” His voice was soft, unreadable. She had told him everything: his relationship to Shivnath, Shivnath’s relationship to Necrovar. He’d accepted it with admirable grace, but she couldn’t imagine how it was affecting him.

His mother and his nemesis. Creation and Destruction. Two halves of one whole. They’d roped Keriya and Valerion into their cosmic war, and the four of them were locked in a stalemate.

“If destruction isn’t the answer,” Keriya breathed, “then what about creation?”

“What would you create?” asked Valerion, tilting his head so he could look at her. He’d continued circling Noryk’s central district instead of angling back to the palace.

“I don’t know. Something that would negate Necrovar’s power, or send him away, or—” She broke off with a mirthless snort. The gods of Selaras had already tried that. Shivnath had lobbied for creation of the Etherworld over the destruction of the Shadow.

And see how well it turned out, Keriya brooded, glaring at the aurora.

Creation was too weak a solution, and destruction too strong. Destroying one half of valemagic would ruin the balance—that was the reason Necrovar hated dragons, and why the dragons had never struck against him.

It’s one of the reasons he hates dragons. The other reason is because of what Shivnath did a hundred-thousand years ago.

As that thought flitted through her head, another followed it, blazing like a comet:

And it’s only one of the reasons the dragons never struck against him. The other reason is because they’re being controlled.

Controlled by a Spider, one of Necrovar’s creations.

Necrovar, who was Shivnath’s other half.

At every step of her journey, she’d made excuses for Shivnath, because she’d loved Shivnath. That had kept her from acknowledging how insidious the dragon’s meddling had been. She was a god, bound by magical laws to protect and preserve—yet her actions reeked of destructiveness.

“Head north,” she told Valerion. “I need to speak to the Eminarchs.”

Valerion banked toward the mountains, soaring over the moat to reach the Galantrian stretch of the range. As they passed the plateau where the dragon eggs were hidden, shapes rose on silent wings, following them. So it was that when Valerion landed in the Eminarchs’ enclave, four dragon elders joined them. They settled on their stone ledges, folding silken wings.

“Dragonspeaker and Valerion Equilumos.” Nordrion addressed them without inflection, as if it wasn’t a miracle Keriya had survived the Broken Vale and Valerion had survived annihilation.

Keriya jumped from Valerion’s back. “You’re being controlled by someone who doesn’t want you to fight Necrovar, right?”

No reply from the Eminarchs, but it didn’t matter. Keriya had the scent of blood now.

“You told me the Dragon Empress was your god and ruler.”

“We did,” Nordrion agreed.

“And did she issue your edict not to fight Necrovar?”

She heard Valerion’s intake of breath. The Eminarchs remained unmoved. They couldn’t be moved—but Keriya caught an odd gleam in their eyes.

“I’m familiar with lies of omission,” she said softly, holding Nordrion’s gaze. “I’ll take this as truth by omission.”

“A convenient loophole,” said Nordrion.

The cryptic reply solidified her certainty. After five years she’d found the answer, cracked the code. “Shivnath is your Spider, which means Necrovar is controlling her.”

A fluttering of nearly imperceptible movement stole around the circle. Scales winked as massive bodies shifted ever so slightly. The Eminarchs’ silence spoke volumes.

Shivnath had admitted she was a prisoner—Keriya had seen the cage. Only now did she realize how deep Shivnath’s enslavement ran.