Page 59 of Dryad’s Treasure

A rumbling growl filled the room, low and sonorous. “First, make no mistake, Verona Perez has no legal rights to the eggs. Even less of a moral right. The eggs are not hers. They never have been.” Inhaling deeply, some of the vitriol left Lazarus’s continence and cadence. “I would never have called Verona mentally sound, even when she was younger and before her condition became known.”

“What condition?” I asked.

Lazarus’s lips twisted into a frown. “Although uncommon, there are some wyvern females that cannot bear eggs.”

“She’s infertile?” Gray asked.

“No. Verona can conceive, but the egg’s shells are too thin and the offspring unviable. Verona is incapable of having offspring of her own.” The empathy fled Lazarus’s voice. “The elders believed grief drove Verona’s actions. While that might be true, I believe exile was too lenient. Verona murdered a young mother with the intent of taking her eggs to hatch and raise as her own.”

Keir sucked in a harsh breath, his gaze quickly tracking to the wyvern eggs nesting on his coffee table. “You mean, she thinks these eggs are⁠—”

“That is exactly what Verona believes,” Lazarus answered. “And she is not wrong.”

Gray scooted forward, eyes wide and alert. “But how? If Verona killed the eggs’ mother to get to the eggs, I can’t imagine she’d give them up easily to Huxley. How did he get them away from her, and why… I mean…” Gray’s suppositions dwindled, a confused look filling his face. “That’s all I’ve got.” He shrugged. “My brain’s kinda turned to mush.”

Lazarus’s stoic expression cracked ever so slightly before he cocked his head to the side, his gaze focused on the eggs. “I believe Huxley was most likely an opportunist of sorts. Immediately after Vidia’s death, the eggs were searched for but never found. The elders assumed that, in her grief-stricken state, Verona did something to the eggs, that she destroyed them along with their mother. Verona denied this, but as the eggs were gone, no one believed her.”

“Gaia.” I placed my head in my hands and felt Gray’s hand rub along my back.

Clearing his throat, Keir asked, “And how did Verona find out about the eggs’ existence and location? I did not contact her.”

Another growl left Lazarus’s throat. “Her brother, Axios.” When we all just stared, Lazarus got the hint. “Axios was not banished as she was, although I believe that would have been justifiable as well.” Lazarus grumbled the last part. “I can see how some might believe him privy to the information.”

“And he shared it with his sister,” Gray said. “That’s great. Isn’t that great, Martin?” Gray groaned and flopped back into the couch cushions.

Keir stiffened. “I do not believe this is Lazarus’s fault.”

“Didn’t say it was,” Gray mumbled, a pillow now pulled over his face. His antics made me smile despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.

As I stared at Gray, something tumbled through my head. “Keir, you said there were only two wyvern in the Western Hemisphere. Most of the others are in Europe. If Verona was exiled to South America, then…” I let the rest hang in the air, my gaze fixed on Lazarus. Beside me, Gray’s groan was muffled by this pillow.

Lazarus’s smile was less than pleasant. “I was sent here to keep an eye on Verona. North America was as near as I could stand being to her.”

“Oh” was all I could manage.

Doing little better, Gray groaned again, a barely audible “fuck, we’re fucked,” managing to make its way to my ears.

Twenty-Four

Grayson

Patience wasn’t something I had a wealth of past experience with. Unfortunately, I was now learning it wasn’t one of my strongest assets. Maybe I was being unfair to myself. We were all on edge, waiting for Thalia’s arrival while simultaneously worried about Verona. Martin told me earlier today that Thalia was currently in the air—using an airplane, not her wings—and that she was expected within seven hours. I felt like we were all waiting on the edge of a knife. I couldn’t imagine the eggs would have anything good to say. Then again, their song hadn’t been negatively affected when I’d mentioned Alethia’s name, just Huxley’s. I had no idea what the maturation rate of wyvern eggs were or how cognizant young were when hatched. Were the creatures within capable of logical thinking? Was that even what Thalia was looking for? Complete thoughts and sentences, or was it more of a feeling she needed from them? How did one communicate with a being that wasn’t even born yet, that had been in a state of stasis or possibly hibernation?

Considering all the ins and outs was making my head ache. The constant background hum of the core buzzweed didn’t help. Now that I knew and recognized its song, I couldn’t seem to completely eliminate it. Martin helped, but it was still there, like a niggling thorn constantly poking my brain. It was a huge effort to keep my wisp form from it. So much so that Martin and I’d kind of put any further treasure hunt on hold.

Assuming we were still alive after Thalia’s visit, perhaps my concentration would be better and we could resume the search. Maybe by then, Holland would have a workaround for the core buzzweed and we could finally get rid of the thing.

“You worried?” Henry asked. He’d planted himself on my shoulder and was currently holding onto a lock of my hair, using that chunk to steady himself as I walked through the halls. Martin was currently in his dryad form, soaking up the sun and nutrients from his birth soil. I’d stayed with him for a couple of hours, but I couldn’t get my mind to settle. I’d finally given up and taken to restlessly meandering the never-ending corridors that made up the Magical Usage Council. The farther I wandered, the stranger the place seemed. Was there truly any rhyme or reason to its layout?

“Yes and no,” I finally answered.

“Well, that’s a bit noncommittal of ya,” Henry answered with a huff.

I wouldn’t say Henry could always make me grin, but I did find myself smiling a lot around the house dweller. “Can’t argue that. But to clarify, what I mean is that, yes, I’m worried, but I’m trying not to let it consume me. I don’t imagine there’s much I can do to help or hinder.”

Henry scoffed. “You could leave. No one here would blame ya, not even Martin. Least of all, Martin.”

I didn’t need Henry to tell me that. I’d rarely been so sure of anything in my life the way I was about Martin’s feelings. Such surety should have felt foreign. Instead, it felt right—as if that feeling had been inside me all my life, just waiting for a beam of light to illuminate it.