“I’m surprised to find you here,” Cyrene said.
Vera smiled grimly. “I had a feeling this would happen.”
“You knew they were going to kick me out?”
“No. Not exactly. But I know Malysa’s influence when I see it.”
“This is Malysa’s doing?”
“There are those who seek to grab power. You have it. They want it. Taking you out of the picture for even a day reminded them of what they could have. And power corrupts.”
“Ah, so Malysa’s forte.”
“I do not think it’s a coincidence that she ignited your blood magic at this precarious position. She wants to sow discord among our ranks.”
“Am I walking into her plan by leaving then?” Cyrene asked.
“That depends entirely on what you do after you leave here.” Vera didn’t wait for her to tell her what it was that she was doing. She just withdrew a gold coin from her pocket. The mirror image to the one that Cyrene had with her. “In case you run into any trouble, use this. Just try not to use it too often. I’m not sure if Malysa is monitoring the portal doors.”
Cyrene reverently took the portaling talisman in her hand. The other coin she had would only take her to Malysa. A coin she would never use. This one was far more valuable.
“Thank you. I’ll be careful with it,” Cyrene said. She slipped it into her pocket. She had spent so much energy the last couple of days, hating Vera for her deception. And now, she was one of the few people being kind to her despite her failure on the battlefield. “Thank you. Truly. For everything.”
“I did the best that I could,” Vera said, patting her arm. “You’ve come a long way. I’m proud of you.”
Cyrene swallowed the lump in her throat. “And you? How are you after what we did? Your magic?”
Vera frowned and glanced away. “It’s gone.”
Cyrene shivered at that thought. Of the magic just being gone. She remembered the dull, hollow nothingness when her magic had been removed during the dragon tournament in Kinkadia. To feel like that all the time, it was unthinkable.
“My apologies. I wish that there had been another way.”
“Me too.” She smiled sadly. “What’s one more sacrifice in this?” She said it like a woman who didn’t expect to survive much longer. Vera, who had survived thousands of years in a foreign world, severed from her sister, and watched generations of her children die. Perhaps it would be a mercy in the end. “It’s okay, Cyrene,” Vera said. “Go change the world.”
“Will you relay a message to Dean?” Cyrene asked.
She wondered how differently it would have been if Dean had been at the war council meeting. If he would have been on her side or not. But, since he had returned with her to Emporia, he had taken his dragon, Halcyon, and been restored to his position as a military captain in the Eleysian army. She hadn’t seen him since the battlefield. His absence made her heart ache.
“Are you sure you do not want to tell him yourself?” Vera said, intuitively guessing where her thoughts were.
“No.” She sighed. “No, he’ll convince me to stay. And I know I have to go.”
“Perhaps he’ll go with you.”
She shook her head. “This is where his place is. It was always with Eleysia. That was why he left to begin with.”
“And yet, he still crossed the bridge to earn his magic for you.”
True. He had spent what was mere months to them but years to him in Domara, earning the magical powers he now had access to. He had said he would follow her once they returned, but it seemed that Eleysia was where he belonged.
“I will tell him,” Vera said simply when Cyrene didn’t respond. “Safe travels.”
Cyrene nodded in thanks and then vaulted onto Sarielle’s back. “Are you ready to take to the skies?”
I thought you would never ask.
Then, Sarielle, the show-off, vaulted straight up into the air.
They flew unceasingly. Cyrene nibbled on the provisions she had brought and Vera had thought to pack for her. By the time the sun was setting on the horizon, the events of the last two days were beginning to catch up with her.
She tugged on the bond with Sarielle and gestured for her to find a place to land. Despite the fact that spring had arrived, the skies were still chilly. She was thankful for the cloak wrapped tightly around her and the gloves that kept her fingers from going numb. But, if she was to brave the Haeven Mountains, she was beginning to think she would need warmer clothing than she had at present. That meant that she would have to go into a city. Something she had hoped to avoid.
Sarielle touched down on the banks of a small river that ran through from the western side of the Hidden Forest and deposited into the Huyek River in Aurum.
Cyrene slipped off of her back. Her knees buckled beneath her as they tried to take her weight after so long of her being hunched over.
“Ugh,” she groaned when she caught herself in the grass.
If we had gone through the year of Society training, you would know how to avoid that.
“A little busy here. If I’d given up a year, I’d have come back to a wasteland,” she grumbled.
When this is complete, we should return and become the greatest there ever was. They will write ballads, and minstrels will weave tales about our adventures.
“This isn’t a big enough adventure for you?” Cyrene asked. She removed the supplies from Sarielle and went about collecting firewood.
This will be the beginning for us, my young dragon bound. Just you wait.
“I wish I had your confidence,” Cyrene muttered under her breath.
Sarielle’s only response was gently nudging her with her snout before scouting down the river for meat to sustain her insatiable appetite.
Cyrene started a fire, being careful to follow Orden’s teachings on how to obscure the smoke trail. She caught herself two fish, cheating just a little by using her magic. But she wasn’t in the mood to wait. She was hungry.
Sarielle still hadn’t returned by the time Cyrene finished her meal and was curled up into her bedroll, staring up at the night sky. And that was the moment when it all hit her.
She had lost so much. Maelia, her parents, Daufina, Edric, Mikel, Matilde—all dead. Avoca nearly killed. Ahlvie gone. Not to mention, she had lost her belief in the teachings of Byern. Her status in society. Her homeland.
She had been threatened.
She had been hunted.
She had been stabbed.
She’d fought for her life more times than she could possibly count at this point.
And now—now—after all that, they were doubting her.
The tears that she had held back all day finally fell down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and let the pain slice through her.
Inept. Untrained. Playing at hero.
Every horrible thing she thought about herself had been thrown in her face and used against her. All the doubt that welled up. The parts of her that had always been her greatest assets—her courtly manners and diplomacy—were now her greatest weaknesses. If she’d been trained like Gwynora as a battle commander, instead of etiquette classes, if she had been trained to use a sword instead of to dance or bow, instead of having her nose stuck in a book, then maybe they wouldn’t doubt her.