Zenevieve is crying so hard that I can feel her heart breaking. I pick her up in my arms and carry her back to the castle, tucking her under my chin and holding her close, desperately trying to give her back some of the shelter she’s lost.
In my rooms in the castle, I sit down in a chair and hold her while she cries. It’s a long time before she opens her eyes.
Zenevieve lifts her tearstained face to mine. “Where do I go now? What do I do?”
“You’re going to live here with me. You won’t ever be alone.” I remember my crushing loneliness after my parents died. How no one knew or cared if I existed. I need Zenevieve to know that it’s not going to be like that for her. “I spoke with your father before he died, and I promised him I would always take care of you.”
“Father was alive after he was burned? He was suffering?”
“He survived just long enough for him to know that you would be protected. As soon as I promised him I would take care of you, he was able to leave peacefully.”
The sun has gone, and my rooms are in darkness. The flare has just lost their Alpha, but Zenevieve needs me more right now. Nilak will watch over the flare tonight and ensure that the dragons know that they are protected.
Eventually, Zenevieve cries herself to sleep in my arms. There’s nowhere else for her to rest except my bed, and so I carry her there, and then make my own bed on the stone floor of the living room, sleeping wrapped in a spare cloak.
I wake just before dawn and see the glow of fire from the dragongrounds. It’s Pollex’s corpse, set ablaze by the flare to release him to the sky in ashes and sparks. I watch from the balcony as each of the dragons breathe fire over their dead Alpha, paying their respects to the dragon who died protecting them. It’s a sorrowful, moving sight.
I check on Zenevieve. She has her back to me, looking very small curled into a ball in my bed. She’s not moving, but I think she’s awake.
“Zen. Do you wish to eat something?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you wish to see Minta?”
Again she shakes her head. To not want to see her dragon, her grief must be suffocating. I gently tuck the blankets in around her and leave her to sleep.
Down at the dragongrounds, the smoke from the fire has almost cleared, and I can see right away which dragon has taken over leadership of the flare. It’s with some misgiving and much disappointment that I see how every dragon is clustered around Scourge’s massive black body. He stands tall and proud in the smoky morning light.
Nilak would have made an excellent choice for a leader. She might not be the biggest dragon, but she has experience. Loyalty. Intelligence.
But no one can predict the will of dragons or gods. The flare has chosen its Alpha.
For several days,Zenevieve barely speaks a word to anyone. She stands silently as Minta, Nilak, Scourge, and many more dragons of the flare perform dragon rites on the dead Maledinni in a field just outside the city. Fifty-four people perished in the fires, and there are many loved ones shedding tears as we watch the flare breathe fire over their shrouded bodies and send them up into the skies.
“Forever flying,” I murmur with the rest of the crowd as we watch the ash circling upward, but by my side, Zenevieve is silent.
I comfort her with a hand on her shoulder, inviting her to turn to me if she wishes. She has embraced me so exuberantly when she’s happy, but now she stands as still and cold as stone. I wish I could take her pain away from her. I wish I could make it mine.
Later that week she goes flying on Minta, but she comes back in tears.
“I thought flying might help, but even when I’m in the sky, Mother and Father feel so far away.”
“You find them in other places,” I tell her gently.
Zenevieve wipes tears from her cheeks and says nothing.
“I know how badly it hurts,” I say. “For a long time after my mother and father died, all I could feel was scared and alone. It wasn’t until Destrin took me in and showed me kindness that I started to find my mother and father all around me. In memories. In the streets of Lenhale. In people like Destrin and Queen Magritte. But it could be painful to discover them.Sometimes I wished I could be numb again. In the end, I am glad I was not.”
I cup her cheek and drop a kiss onto the top of her head.
Zenevieve looks up at me. “I had forgotten you lost your parents as well. I’m sorry, Stesha.”
“It was a long time ago,” I start to say, and then breathe in sharply and take her face in both my hands. I study her closely. “Zen, your eyes.”
She frowns. “My eyes?”
Zenevieve’s hazel irises have turned the most vivid, jewel-like shade of green. They sparkle like emeralds. The hair that falls over her shoulders is a rich, lustrous black. I stroke my fingers through her tresses, smiling. I’m always pleased when there are signs that a rider is bonding with their dragon, but with Zenevieve, it feels special.
