I don’t know what happened to her after Slátra’s fall, but I can see the fractures she hides so well. The missing pieces.
The pain.
She’s just like Slátra. Just as broken.
What I wouldn’t do to help her feel whole again. To piece her back together, much the same as I did her dragon. Weathering the cuts to my flesh. The frostbite. The endless fucking regressions when the entire thing would crumble and I’d have to start all over again.
And again.
And again.
Keeping her tucked close, I move with her, breath stilling when she settles her head on my chest like she means to stay, braiding my heartstrings into a perfect rope she tugs.
Forcing myself to relax again, I graze my fingers up and down the silky skin at the small of her back—maneuvered by lures of the past.
She shivers against me in the way she always did, deepening my grave with another shoveled scoop.
It’s an effort not to groan. To break away and smash my fist into a wall until my knuckles bleed.
I should’ve let her walk away rather than pretending I’m okay with this.
But I’m weak.
Soft hearted.
I drift my touch up the side of her long, elegant neck, and her entire body trembles, melting against me, our fingers interlacing like a quiet dance of their own.
“Your hands know me,” she whispers.
“Yes,” I murmur against her hair. “Know you, crave you, worship you.”
Her breath hitches.
I could go on. Tell her our bodies clash like they were made to tangle for eternity. That I could spread her in the mist and make her body sing. Have her unravel in seconds from a few tender touches coupled with a nuzzled nip to her neck, just below her ear.
I’d mulch her enemies with my bare hands to see those dimples. Or at the very least, pave a bloody path for her to slaughter them herself.
I was living an eternal solitude, more than prepared to spend forever feasting on her memory, yet here she is, fully intent on erasing me like a stain. Despite knowing—at least in part—what we had.
What we were.
History is repeating itself all over again, and it makes me want to rip the fucking world in two. Crack it open in hopes of finding the answers to the heartbreaking riddle of …
Her.
A deeper beat pounds at the air—
Folk scream, and my stare whips up at the same moment a large Sabersythe plummets from the sky, straight toward the dome.
A buck, based on his heavily spiked tail.
He spreads his wings and scoops around, giving us his back, looking toward a second Sabersythe now charging him from above—jaw cranked so wide I can see the churn of fire welling on the back of its tongue.
Fuck.
Folk drop, flattening to the ground. I tuck Raeve behind me as a plume of dragonflame pours across the dome, preparing to catch it should my blood-runes fail.
The ruddy blaze clamors against my shield, volcanic heat boiling my blood until I’m certain my organs are mush— The beast bites down, gnashing the air, and a cool breath of relief fills my lungs when they churn into a skyward chase—the smaller beast luring the bigger one to court her closer to the moons.
I spin, heart plunging as I scan the now-empty dance floor, screaming folk still ducking beneath tables or clustering at the base of frosty sculptures. Raeve nowhere to be seen.
Like she vanished.
My heart resumes its rampant beat when my stare latches onto the slab of shadow between two ice pillars. The entry to the maze.
Raeve peeks around the corner, her gaze cast on the retreating dragons. Almost like she’s … hiding from them.
Something fierce rises inside me like a boil of liquid flame, setting every cell on edge.
Raeve doesn’t hide. Not unless she’s got something to hide.
I frown, studying the tightness around her eyes, her blanched knuckles a tribute to her crushing grip on the ice, certain I’m peering through a looking glass to something that wasn’t meant for me. But I’ve seen it now.
I’ve fucking seen it.
Her eyes widen, face pales. She inches deeper into the maze before she spins on her heel and sprints out of sight moments before another flare of dragonflame ignites the sky. All but confirming my suspicions.
Something cold and jagged slides through my chest, and I chase—weaving through a tangle of thin paths pressed between pillars of ice that reach for the moons above. Following the intangible path of her butterberry scent.
I take a sharp left that’s a dead end, dragging my hand across the frosty wall, inhaling her on the tips of my fingers. Like she ran in here, slapped her hand against the wall when she realized there’s no way out, then turned around and sprinted back the other way.