Page 89 of Ashborne Phoenix

They were strong enough to do it, but while Koa chittered and shrieked wordlessly in my head, she also sent me flickering images of the dragons milling and sending impressive flames toward the walls. One climbed a turret. But most remained on the gravel and grass of the land below the castle foundations.

When we emerged into the wide entrance lobby, Voski finally slowed. The way his head tilted and he peered as if he could see through the walls, I was certain he spoke with Kham in the link—but it was chaos. People fleeing. Men preparing to fight. Others directing women away from the doors.

His mother, her skirts gripped in white-knuckled hands, finally slid to a halt at his side. She panted heavily, but not a drop of sweat glistened on her face.

“Vane, you must stop and think! You can’t possibly expect to—”

Jerking his elbow from her grip, he whirled on her, lips peeled back from his teeth, his expression twisted with rage.

“Watch and learn, Mother!”

Then, with one deadly glare, he pulled me with him toward the door, through the crowd watching, against the tide of servants fleeing, and out, into the darkness that looked almost like sunlight, because the dragons lit it with their flames.

Outside was terrifying, even to me. Dragons everywhere. Some flying. Others prowling on the grass and gravel.

Still more climbing walls or roaring at the windows.

“CEASE!” he roared—and impossibly, the single syllable amplified. I clapped my hands over my ears as it drowned out even the dragons’ roars, and all the screaming.

Cease!... Cease!... Cease!...

It echoed, bouncing from the castle walls, over the courtyard, and out, into the night.

And every living creature that heard it, froze.

Every human stopped, midstep. Every dragon hesitated.

Voski stood at the top of the wide, grand stairway. He’d positioned himself at the peak, precisely where the king had stood to greet Breckon and me when we arrived.

The position of power.

He let go of my hand, though he thrust a wave of calm and reassurance at me through the bond. He stood hands loose at his sides, feet shoulder-width apart. And he stared Kham down.

His dragon had swallowed his flame, which he’d been breathing in a plume. But as he lowered his wings, and dropped his head to meet Voski’s eye, he weaved back and forth, shifting his weight from one front foot to the other, as if looking for a way past him.

The two stared at each other for a long, breathless moment. No one spoke or moved. I saw what the Cruors must see—a man. A mortal, human man, bearing down on a massive, golden dragon, pinning him by sheer force of will.

But I dimly felt what really passed between them through Voski—Kham’s anger and frustration. Voski’s deep remorse, but stubborn insistence, and the echoing, resonant love that both of them held. The pain of resistance flowing right alongside the reassurance and unity of the bond.

Kham was furious with him. And would remain faithful.

Voski hated what he was doing. But insisted it was necessary.

Koa groaned. And I felt it… the stretching. The pulling. The pain of a bond pulled too tight when its members moved in opposing directions.

Voski raised his hands, as if to soothe Kham. He puffed from the run, and probably still for show.

“Cease… I’m here. I’m safe,” he called hoarsely.

Kham snorted, smoke and vapor pouring from his nostrils in twin plumes.

But then I clapped both hands over my mouth in shock, and love, and sadness, as Kham, with a long, rumbling, angry growl, folded his wings, bent his foreleg, and lowered himself until he could press the broad flat of his face against his Bonded One’s chest.

Tears pinched my eyes, and I had to swallow a lump in my throat at the sight of the proud, beautiful dragon humbling himself at Voski’s request.

And I felt the jolt of pain and self-loathing in Voski, the inner turmoil churning within him as he rested a hand on his dragon’s nose.

~ VOSKI ~