Текст книги "Desire in His Blood"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 29

Gemma

Two days later, Azur appeared in my rooms as Ludayn was fussing over wrinkles in my dress.

“Kyzaire,” she gasped softly, wide eyed with surprise before stepping away from me, dropping back from view to allow my husband to stride forward.

“Good morning,” I murmured, meeting his eyes, feeling my belly flutter with anticipation.

“We’re going down to the village today,” he told me. His red eyes swept my body, nostrils flaring when he saw the slit that ran up the length of the sky-blue dress Ludayn had insisted I wear today. I’d given up trying to fight her on my outfits about a week ago. She was incredibly strong willed, I’d come to find.

“Oh,” I said, a wiggle of excitement making my fingers twitch. “Really?”

“The marriage was announced to the Kaalium yesterday evening. It’s expected we make an appearance in the village.”

That deflated my excitement a little bit. This was a duty for him. Not because he wanted to take me down to the village, even though I’d been hinting the last couple days at breakfast.

“Just yesterday evening?” I asked, tilting my head. “But we’ve been married for close to a month.”

Azur didn’t say anything. He stretched his neck, and I heard a small pop.

“All right,” I murmured, shrugging it off. “Will this dress be suitable?”

He’d called my others hideous, after all. I knew perfectly well that this dress was more than suitable for a visit to the village, but I wanted to hear him say it. It was made of a light, buttery-soft material that hugged my breasts and hips. The neckline was open, and Ludayn had left my hair up at my request, though she’d tucked the strands into a soft bun, decorated with a glimmering silver pin, instead of the severe bun I usually raked it back in. My neck was on display, and I knew that Azur could just make out the bite he’d left on me last night, the one on the top of my right breast.

“Yes,” he grunted, those red eyes sweeping me again, and my toes curled in my slippers, trying to ignore the little bloom of desire between my thighs. In a dark, husky tone, he said, “Perfectly suitable.”

A thrill went through me.

I might not have been a great beauty, not like my sisters, but Azur could hardly take his eyes off me. It was a heady sensation. Addicting like the pleasure that coursed through me as he fed.

With Ludayn trailing us, though at a great distance, we left my rooms and the northeast wing entirely. Keepers bowed as we passed, and when he reached the landing that opened up to the bottom floor, Azur stepped up to it. His arms came around my waist. Over his shoulder, to Ludayn, he said, “Meet us at the village.”

All I heard was, “Yes, Kyzaire,” and then Azur was stepping us off the edge.

I clung to his shoulders and gave a little shriek when the skirts of my dress billowed open. Azur actually laughed, a brief, huffing sound, as he watched me scramble to cover my exposed sex, flaring his wings wide about halfway down the core of the keep to stop our quick descent. My skirts settled, though his warm hand slid up my thigh, getting dangerously close to where he’d find me wet and slick for him.

“Now I know why Kylorr females don’t wear dresses,” I grumbled, my cheeks hot, hoping that no keepers had seen. Or worse, Zaale. I shuddered to think about that.

I slapped at Azur’s hand when it strayed too close, and his lips twitched. “I’ve never noticed how enticing dresses are until just recently.”

My cheeks burned hotter. Was he…was he flirting with me?

We landed gently on the bottom floor. The stretch of the grand staircase was to our left. Poor Ludayn, she’d probably just made it to the second floor. I’d seen keepers use the landings and watched them fly up to the different levels, but I’d never experienced them myself.

Instead of taking the back entrance, however, Azur led me down another wide, bright hallway just to the right of the staircase. I’d never liked traveling down this particular one, though I’d discovered it a couple days into living here and it was the easiest path to the front of the keep. The carvings on the walls depicted Kylorr in various stages of battle. Panels in the stone that had been smoothed with time—but time that had done little to soften the gruesome scenes and the expressions of blood-splattered victory.

I kept my eyes away from them until the hallway funneled us to the front of the keep, to the grand and awe-inspiring foyer. The main entrance of the house. The neck-craning, tall double doors—inlaid with silver leaves and polished regularly—would be open wide for the harvest ball, as Kalia had informed me.

Azur opened them for me now.

Outside, the morning sun was warm and inviting. I smiled, breathing in the crisp air, the scent of the sea drifting over my tongue.

“Kyzaire,” came Zaale’s voice behind us.

Azur’s hand was on the small of my back, leading me down the flared stone steps. Beyond the keep, I had a breathtaking view of Laras. The villages were spread out on a wide, sweeping stretch of land before the keep. Even still, some of the buildings were tall, spectacular in their architecture, and I saw defined, well-used roads, a haphazard pattern that wound around Laras, connecting it like the pathway of veins in a body.

Zaale stopped at the door, and Azur climbed the steps he’d just descended to meet him. The keeper spoke close to Azur’s ear, and I watched my husband’s face tighten, a brief downturn of his lips, before he nodded at Zaale.

“Inform Rivin,” he said. “I’ll be back within the hour.”

Zaale inclined his head, disappearing back into the keep and sealing the doors behind us.

Worrying my lip, I watched as Azur returned to me, guiding me down the last of the steps. Small white stones crunched underneath my slippers. There was a tree-lined path a short distance from the stairs, shaded and cool as we walked beneath the canopies.

“Is something wrong?” I finally asked. Azur’s hand was on my back again. The heat of his palm felt like a brand, and I couldn’t help but press into him.

Azur didn’t say anything at first. The gravel disappeared beneath my feet the farther we walked. On the tree-lined path, the cobbled road was worn with time and use. On either side of the aged stones, between each of the trees, I saw flowering bushes, thriving in its shaded condition. Bright red blooms, unfurling into thick, plush petals. And at the very center, the stamens glowed yellow. Like a Halo orb’s light. They lit up the path like little beacons.

Beautiful, I thought, having never seen anything like it.

“Maazin has disappeared,” Azur finally said, his voice cutting through the silence.

I stilled, coming to a stop beside him. “What do you mean?”

“He likely came to the keep yesterday, saw that the records were missing, and slipped out,” Azur said. “I had all the doors watched, but there’s been no sign of him. Zaale just informed me that his room in the village has been cleared out. His neighbor said he left in a hurry yesterday afternoon.”

My hand came to my throat and I felt my hard swallow. “So…so you think he was stealing from you?”

“I checked the transactions from the accounts he managed the morning after you found the records. The payments were just as they were written. Hundreds of thousands of credits that should have been there. My only guess is that he has connections to Kaazor. Connections that didn’t show up when Zaale vetted him for the position at the keep. He’s been funneling cheap lore to them for years. Crates of it that they might have been selling themselves to interested buyers.”

I breathed out an incredulous breath.

“We only sell lore to reputable and trusted buyers throughout the Quadrants,” Azur informed me next. “Those that cannot get it directly from us…they would likely pay exorbitant fees for genuine lore from the Kaalium. Perhaps that’s what the Kaazor are doing.”

“Why can’t they just grow their own?” I couldn’t help but wonder. “Why steal it from you?”

“Because of the land. It’s always about the land. The Kaalium,” Azur answered. His fingers pressed into my back, his claws digging slightly, but I didn’t mind it. “There’s a long history there. Between my ancestors and the Kaazor. Bloody too. This land is soaked with Kaazor blood. And Kaalium blood. It’s only in the Kaalium that lore grows strong. The Kaazor can grow it. As can the Thryki and the Koro and the Dyaar across the seas. But it’s our soil and our earth that make it renowned across the Quadrants. And we’ve fought many wars over this land because of it. We’ll likely fight many more.”

My lips parted. Again I felt a dizzying wave of overwhelming ineptitude. That I truly didn’t understand anything about the alien race I’d married into.

“War?” I whispered.

His face softened. My heart thudded and skipped in my chest when I saw it.

“Do not fear, wife,” he told me. “Between Laras and my brothers’ territories, the Kaalium has the greatest army on Krynn. If war does come, it will be over swiftly.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I informed him.

He grunted and turned us so that we could continue walking down the path, getting closer and closer to Laras. I could just make out a bell ringing, the deep chimes spreading over the land. It rang at the same time every morning. I’d often heard it from the back of the terrace, even over the crashing of the waves below.

“Then it’s a good thing that your husband is a berserker,” he answered me. “Because I would tear anyone in two if they came for you.”

I barely stifled my gasp. His words had been so flippant. My mind flashed back to carvings in the hallway, depictions of bloody battles and endless violence.

It was easy to forget that the Kylorr’s brutality was infamous. When humans fought in wars, we used weapons. Tech.

But the Kylorr?

They used their bare hands, their fangs, their claws, their blades.

So why wasn’t I frightened by his words?

To distract myself from that startling realization, I asked, “Will you go after Maazin?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t help but imagine Maazin being torn in two.

“Don’t,” I pleaded softly.

Azur growled, stopping on the pathway again. “Don’t?”

“He’s young,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. Maazin was younger than even me. He’d been kind to me. He hadn’t needed to be. In fact, it would’ve served him better if he’d kicked me out of his office entirely from that very first day.

But he hadn’t.

“He made a mistake. Does he deserve to…to die for that?”

“It was a betrayal, not a mistake,” Azur told me, his voice hardened like steel. “No one takes from House Kaalium and gets away with it. There must be punishment for any wrongdoing, or else the balance of the realms is threatened.”

There was an edge in his voice that felt off. His gaze burned into mine. My lungs suddenly felt tight.

“Please,” I whispered, reaching out to take his hand.

A rough sound rose from Azur’s throat, guttural and raw. His eyes were angry, but he pulled me closer until I could feel the strength of his body against mine. My back arched so I could look up at him.

“And what would you do, wife, to ensure his life?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, one I was bewildered to say made my pulse flutter and my thighs squeeze together.

“Anything you want,” I answered. Softly. Carefully.

Another of our games. Only this time, it felt much, much more serious.

His hands tightened on me as his nostrils flared. His cock was thickening against me, hard like his voice but hot like the fire in his gaze.

He leaned down and I held my breath, tilting my neck back. He liked it when I submitted to him like this. And a part of me liked it too. To let him take control. It felt freeing to just let go.

I was thrumming in anticipation, but his bite never came. Instead, he leaned back.

He grunted, “No. There is no time.”

Disappointment crashed into me. Azur saw it, and the maddening male actually smirked.

Then I watched it slowly die.

“We’ll discuss Maazin later,” he told me, straightening.

Relief threaded through me. “All right.”

He pulled me along the path, and I stumbled after him. The path was widening, more light filtering in, and I saw a silver gate at the very end. Was this the only path up to the keep? I wondered.

“Thank you,” I couldn’t help but say quietly.

“I haven’t decided to spare him yet, Gemma,” Azur informed me, frowning down at me.

“No,” I said. “I meant thank you for telling me about Maazin. You didn’t hide the truth from me. You told me when I asked. I…I appreciate that.”

Azur went quiet, but I was proud that I’d voiced the sentiment. There were too many lies in my life. From my own parents. Lies I’d told my sisters. I appreciated the truth for once, even if it led to unfavorable conclusions.

“I will endeavor to be honest with you, if I can be,” Azur finally grunted, leading me through the silver gate at the end of the pathway. “Now, come. We’ll take our morning meal in the central square.”

Now that we’d broken through the line of the trees, it seemed like the sounds of the village hit me in the face, though it was still early in the morning.

“Can we get steam cakes?” I asked instead. “From Ludayn’s mother?”

Azur stilled. “Steam cakes?”

“Yes,” I said, want threading through me, my belly rumbling at the mere thought of them. “Please? I’ve wanted to visit her shop. And it’s still early, so the line might not be too long.”

Azur sighed. “Very well.”

Chapter 30

Azur

Kalia had been working hard, I saw, when we stepped into Laras. I’d flown into the village nearly every night but hadn’t stopped to really notice all the changes. The banners for the harvest festival were on full display, glimmering in the sunlight, stitched with silver.

I knew the north end of the village would be cleared already, vendors setting up their temporary shops to accommodate the influx of travelers and visitors who lived beyond Laras’s borders. Even those who would travel from all stretches of the Kaalium to journey to the capital for the week-long festivities. The inns were preparing too, though I knew they’d likely been booked up for the last month at least. The blood givers would be taking extra doses of baanye. The food stalls and shops would be preparing for the longest week of the season, working tirelessly. The seamstresses were likely bleeding from their fingertips to get all the orders out for the upcoming ball.

My own brothers would be coming for the harvest ball at the keep. The single event of the year where we were all together, though my father wouldn’t be in attendance.

My brothers would finally meet Gemma.

I still didn’t know how I felt about that.

I turned my gaze to where my wife was chatting quite happily with Ludayn and her mother, who plied her with yet another steam cake, one she was all too happy to accept. I knew the female’s name was Yeeda, with blue hair like her daughter’s and small horns to match. Dyaar males, in comparison, had some of the largest horns of our race.

Looking toward Ludayn’s limp wing, my lips pressed as I thought, And the Dyaar have some of the most brutal males.

A crime like that, especially against one’s own blood, would be punished in kind in the Kaalium.

Ludayn’s father would have had his wings ripped from his own body as penance. Then he would’ve been put to death.

Nyravila.

An eye for an eye.

The Dyaar’s laws were lax about such things.

Gemma laughed, husky and soft, at something Yeeda said. I didn’t care much for steam cakes. I thought the sweetness was sickening, but I had forced one down my throat when my wife had handed me one, watching her smile widen as I did.

Since when did it please me to see her pleased?

I frowned, my hand tightening on Gemma’s arm. She cast me a long look, and Yeeda’s words finally tapered off.

“Forgive us, kya,” I murmured to Yeeda. I watched a pleasurable flush darken her cheeks black at the word. A word of respect for a female acquaintance, considered formal but proper. Yeeda shot Ludayn a pleased look, a secretive smile aimed at her daughter that seemed to embarrass Ludayn. I gave the elder female a smile to soften my interruption. “We must make our rounds.”

“Of course, Kyzaire,” Yeeda breathed. Her face had a streak of powdered yellow grain from her baking. She wiped her hands on the cloth tucked into the waist of her pants. “Forgive me for keeping you. My Ludayn says I can keep myself company by how much I talk.”

Even though it was early, there was a line outside Yeeda’s door. A line that had parted me—for us—as Gemma and I had drawn near. Whispers and stares and excited smiles at seeing the new Kylaira of Laras first. Envious stares too, especially from some of the daughters of noble houses, females I’d recognized from the harvest balls and the dinners my mother had often hosted at the keep.

I’d recognized the bulging eyes of realization as we’d walked through the village too. The knowledge that I was in the grip of the blood madness. That my wife was my kyrana. They’d likely assumed that that was why I’d married her—this unknown human female who had seemed to fall out of the sky. It made sense to them now as expressions of knowing, of understanding passed us by.

The line behind us had seemed pleased enough to wait. To eavesdrop on Gemma and Yeeda’s conversation. They would report to their friends and family that the Kylaira had a quiet laugh, that she loved steam cakes, and that the Kyzaire was feeding from her regularly and wasn’t healing the marks he left behind. I would likely find baskets full of steam cakes placed as gifts at our gates come morning. Zaale would grumble as he brought them inside, his distaste at the clutter left at the gates evident. Yeeda would be busy with all the orders from the noble families, all clamoring to meet the new Kylaira, the blood mate to the heir of the Kaalium, to get in her good graces and gain favor among the House.

“Don’t you like them?” Gemma asked as I pulled her from Yeeda’s shop. Ludayn fell back into step behind us, though a respectable distance away so that she couldn’t hear our quiet conversation. I watched as my wife licked her fingers, her pink tongue flicking out to catch a stray crumb from the pillowy cake in her hand, as my cock tightened in my pants.

“No,” I replied. “I hate steam cakes. I have since I was a child.”

Gemma blinked and then laughed. Louder than I’d ever heard her laugh before, stopping nearby Kylorr in their path.

“Then why did you eat one in the shop?” she asked, her smile wide. Wide enough that I rubbed at my chest, feeling a strange flicker there underneath the bone.

Because you wanted me to, I thought.

“I didn’t want to offend Yeeda, now did I?” I grumbled instead.

“Oh, I don’t think you could have,” she murmured. “You were perfectly charming. She nearly swooned at your feet.” She lifted her nose into the air, catching a scent on the breeze. And here, I’d thought that humans had terribly dull senses. “What’s that?”

I smirked. “Blood cake skewers. Mixed with meat and innards.”

She wrinkled her nose, but I was already dragging her to the stall. Smaller than Yeeda’s shop, it was a tiny little cart perched on the corner of a busy road, though it was still early. The vendor—a Bartu male, not a Kylorr, with a long beak-like mouth—gaped at me.

“Kyzaire. Kylaira. It is the highest of honors to feed you from my humble cart,” the Bartu said, his voice accented with the universal tongue, dragging out the z and the s within the words.

“Whatever it is you’re making has proven irresistible to my wife here,” I informed the male, tossing him a smile. “Two skewers, if you will. She cannot wait to try them.”

Gemma jabbed her elbow in my side, but she smiled brightly at the Bartu all the same. Yeeda’s steam cake still hung between her fingertips, and she gulped when she saw the blackened mash, roasted on the sticks, as he presented them with a flourish.

When I tried to pay, the Bartu waved me off, the scales around his neck ruffling, and I decided not to press, in case he found it offensive.

“Thank you very much. They look delicious,” Gemma said, waving back at him as we left. I smirked. Shortly after, I saw a flock of Kylorr flood the poor Bartu’s cart, each clamoring for a skewer of their own.

“You’ll pay for that,” my wife grumbled, though her spirits seemed high enough and she looked to be fighting a smile.

“How?” I pressed. “Will you force feed me the last of your steam cake as punishment?”

She peered down at it, seemed to deliberate doing just that, before she popped it into her own mouth. Around the sticky sweet mess, she said, “No. Wouldn’t want to waste it on you.”

I chuckled. “Eat your skewer, wife.”

She threw me a dark look, but I was surprised when she plucked off the first misshapen blackened ball and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh…” she murmured, the word muffled as she chewed. She held my eyes, defiant and stubborn even now, and I found myself stopping in the middle of the road to watch her. She swallowed. “That’s, um, grainy.”

My lips twitched.

“But good,” she said, her tone triumphant, her eyes shining in the morning sun. Her gloating expression made my cock pulse.

“You like that?” I rumbled.

Her smile slowly died, suddenly realizing how near I’d drawn to her, the way my wings flared subtly behind me.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. Awareness passed between us. I could smell her. Even if she did smell like steam cakes, my venom flooded over my tongue, hungering for her.

“Mmm.”

Over her shoulder, I caught heads poking out of windows and people lingering on the streets to watch us. Now was not the time to get entranced by my wife. Too many eyes were on us.

Gemma seemed to realize this, too, because she took a step back. “Can we go see the lore fields?”

“It’s a long distance out from the main center here. Most fly,” I answered. The purpose was to be seen. To show the Kylaira to the villagers in Laras before the harvest ball so hopefully the worst of the gossip would be behind us then. “But there is a good vantage point from the shrines.”

“The shrines?” she asked frowning.

“I’ll show you,” I told her, though I didn’t know if I would show her our shrine. Showing her somehow felt like a betrayal to Aina, whose own beacon was still lit every single night by myself or Kalia. The ever-present knot in my chest tightened. “Come.”

I ate my skewer with lightning-fast speed, though it did nothing to diminish my hunger, and guided her through the streets, taking the longest possible path. One that led down the Row, as we called it. The noble houses. Descendants of the great families that had worked closely with my own ancestors to create the Kaalium. Families that had stakes in the lore yields as payment for their services and their loyalties.

I took Gemma down the busiest stretch of the village too, a street with shops on both sides, bustling with activity, though most of it stopped at the mere sight of us.

We encountered Kalia there, speaking with a female I knew was decorating the keep for the ball. Neela, her name was, a friend of Kalia’s. She was human with warm golden skin and soft, wavy hair. She’d come to the Kaalium originally as a blood giver, seeking refuge from a nearby colony. Now she helped with the harvest festival and all the other festivals in between and after.

“Sister,” I greeted as we passed.

Kalia looked frazzled, as she always did this time of year.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, mouth agape, as Neela looked on with delight. My sister glared at me. “I wanted to show Gemma the village. How could you go without me?” she whined.

Gemma couldn’t help but stare at Neela. She’d known that there were humans in the village. Maybe she just hadn’t believed it. There were many different alien species living on Krynn—not just in Laras but throughout the Kaalium.

“Good morning, Kylaira,” Neela greeted, blinking her green eyes at Gemma and smiling. Showing fangless, white teeth, just like my wife’s.

“Good morning,” Gemma said, processing the words quickly. She smiled back and acted like this was just another everyday occurrence. It always struck me how adaptable she was. How easily she could mold herself into a situation, however unexpected. She held out her hand. A human gesture of greeting, I knew from experience. “Gemma Hara. Pleased to meet you.”

“Neela Thorne,” she replied, taking Gemma’s hand and shaking it. “Pleased to meet you as well. I heard you come from New Everton.”

“Yes,” Gemma replied, her smile serene and soft. “From the Collis.”

“It’s beautiful there,” Neela said. “I visited once. Long ago.”

I couldn’t read the expression on Gemma’s face. It looked like longing, perhaps. Did she miss her home? How could she when it had only ever brought her grief?

“Yes, it is,” Gemma said softly.

Kalia cut in. “Where are you going now?”

“She wants to see the lore fields. I’m taking her up to the shrines to see them better.”

Kalia exchanged a look with me. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Neela and I are just finalizing the floral arrangements and the lore vendors for the ball.”

I inclined my head, guiding Gemma forward. “Make sure there will be lore from the harvest five years ago. It’s Kaldur’s favorite.”

Kalia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, at the rate he goes through it, he’ll have nothing left soon. He’d smoke his way through our entire vault in one night if he could.”

Gemma was quiet as we strode farther and farther away from the shops and closer to the temple, sitting at the highest peak of the village. It had been built by my ancestors. The same ones who had built our keep so the sweeping lines of stone and the arched roof were similar in style. Beneath the temple, underground, were the shrines. Thousands of them and ever expanding, should a citizen of Laras request one for their bloodline. The shrine of House Kaalium, however, was in a private vault at the back of the temple, at ground level.

“Will I meet your brothers?” Gemma finally asked. I’d flown us up the steps to the temple, telling Ludayn to wait for us below.

“Yes,” I answered her. “They’re coming for the harvest ball. You’ll meet them that night. But they rarely stay long.”

She swallowed and nodded. She didn’t even seem to register the view—the one of the lore fields that stretched to the south. Bright blue and twinkling in the sunlight, nearly ready to be picked and processed. Workers were in the fields, even this early, tending carefully to their precious crops.

“All…four of them, is it?”

Had I never told her how many I had? She must’ve learned it from Kalia.

“Yes,” I murmured. “Kythel and I are the eldest. Then there is Thaine. Kaldur. Lucen. Kalia is the youngest. The only daughter of House Kaalium.”

Her brows furrowed. She leaned against the gray stone of the banister. We were alone up here, not a soul in sight near the temple at this time of the morning.

“I thought you were the oldest son.”

“I am,” I answered. “But Kythel was born mere moments after me.”

“You have a twin?” she asked, gasping softly, her eyes rounded. “Another one of you?”

I grunted, fighting the quirk of my lips. “We look nothing alike, I assure you. And are nothing alike. But we are close. Very close.”

Gemma studied me. “So many sons,” she murmured. “Your mother must’ve had her hands full.”

“She did,” I answered. “The curse all Kylorr females must bear.”

“A curse? To have sons?”

“In case you didn’t notice in the village or at the keep, Kylorr females are rare,” I informed her, leaning back against the banister. Not facing the fields like she was but facing the temple. “Males outnumber them nearly four to one.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and I watched her brows furrowed. “I…I had wondered why there were so many male keepers. I didn’t realize.”

“There are many females in the village but not necessarily Kylorr females.”

“Like Neela,” she commented softly.

“You were surprised to see another human here,” I guessed. “There are over two hundred humans in Laras alone. Even more beyond our borders. In Kaldur’s territory, there’s even a food shop that sells human food, imported from the Earth colonies.”

Gemma’s eyes widened.

“I…I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it all. You must know the rumors and stories that circulate through the Quadrants about the Kylorr,” Gemma said, her tone soft. She didn’t want to offend me, I realized. “Is that done purposefully? Keeping those rumors alive and well? Making others fear you?”

A loaded question. But my wife was intelligent. She would want to know why.

“We like our way of life,” I told her, lifting my shoulder. “Fear is a good motivator—as good as any—to keep most away. We open up the borders when we have need for it. But residency contracts are rare and hard to come by in the Kaalium. I can’t speak for the rest of Krynn. They govern their nations independently.”

Gemma stared at me. She looked like she wanted to ask me something. That it was just on the tip of her tongue, but she was holding back. And that fascinated me. For someone whose expressions could be as closed off as mine, I could see the indecision and vulnerability on her face, and I wanted to know what was causing it.

“My sisters… Would you…would you consider—”

Before she could finish, I heard a ripple of screams from the south. Shouts of alarm, and suddenly the alarm bells were sounding from the fields, reverberating through Laras.

Gemma’s face paled, her eyes glued to something on the horizon. “What is that?”

I growled, a pulse of the rage swimming in my veins, readying to be let free, when I saw it.

“Kyzaire!” Ludayn shouted in alarm, already racing up the steps of the temple to reach Gemma.

To Ludayn, I ordered, “Get her back to the keep!”

Taking Gemma’s wrist in my hand, I pushed her toward the stairs to meet her keeper. “Go to her. Hurry.”

“Azur, what—”

“Now!” I snarled. I didn’t wait to see if Ludayn reached her. “Go back to the keep and stay there!”

With that, I launched myself off the high peak of the temple hill, using the banister to help propel me into the air, my wings flaring wide and pumping hard.

I veered south.

Toward the kyriv, whose deafening roar echoed in the morning skies as it flew straight toward Laras.