Zabriel was running to Scourge, his face white with panic. Everyone was shouting questions, but no one knew what was happening. Stesha and Onderz bolted over the bridge as I heard Zabriel calling to the dragonriders to mount their dragons and search for Princess Mirelle and Prince Emmeric.
I remember wondering,Why Prince Emmeric?What did he have to do with Princess Mirelle’s flight from the castle? I hadn’t laid eyes on the prince all day, but orders were orders, and I ran to Minta.
Only Stesha grabbed me, and he ordered me not to leave Lenhale. I’d never seen him so afraid, and I still don’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to search for the princess. Two years later, here I am in the mountains, with orders from the queen to look for her daughter’s remains.
It’s a clear day, and the snow on the mountain slopes is bright white. There are crevasses ahead, and I think this must be close to the spot where Mirelle threw herself from her dragon.
Minta spirals down and lands on the snow. I take a long, careful look around with the back of my neck prickling. Emmeric could be hiding in these mountains. It’s not far from here that we killed the dark sorcerer and destroyed his phylactery.
I get down from Minta and approach the crevasses in the ice, peering into each one and searching for any sign of the princess. My dragon does the same, but between us we see nothing. I’m lying on my belly, and I have my whole head inside a crevasse when I hear a strange rumbling sound. Looking up, I wonder if it’s a dragon, but there’s nothing in the skies above us.
I’m lost in thought when I notice that cracks have formed in the powdery snow around my feet. I glance over at Minta and realize the same thing is happening to her. How strange. Then I hear a distant rushing sound. Whatever it is, it sounds big, and it’s coming closer and closer. I look up again, fearing that Golden Terror himself could be swooping down on us.
But what’s rushing down at us isn’t coming out of the sky. It’s descending from the slope above. A great white wall of snow. Minta screams, and a moment later the avalanche slams into us.
17
Stesha
Nilak spreads her wings and beats them, scattering snow in all directions. The beating travels through her body and up her long neck, and she finishes the motion by tossing her head. As she returns to stillness, fresh flakes land on her scales. The sky clouded over in the middle of the afternoon, and snow began to fall soon after. There are several inches on the ground now, and it’s settling over the flare, making the older dragons restless and the younger ones playful.
I tip back my head and groan, rubbing my aching jaw and then the back of my neck. I didn’t want it to be true. I’ve been ignoring the signs all day, but I have a rut coming on. I disliked my ruts before, but ever since Zenevieve left me I loathe them with a passion, because they’re the reason she’s gone. I no longer need to go to the ruthouse because my home is my own, but pacing around the rooms I used to share with her is worse. Occasionally I’ll catch her scent on something and snatch it up, inhaling deeply, before I throw it aside with a frustrated snarl.
Iyearnfor her. I hate the gods who drove Zenevieve into my home and into my arms, made me adore her, but fated me to another. Maybe I’ve done something in my life to deserve this torment, but Zenevieve hasn’t. As I stare across the dragongrounds at the falling snow, misery settles over me, and I remember all the little touches I gave my former ward. The kisses I dropped onto her brow and her hair. How our fingers looked when they were entwined, my large, calloused hands and her slender fingers. Her body a warm weight against mine as she rested on my chest. The happiness I felt every day because she was close to me. She can’t be my mate, and we can’t even have the simplicity of a tender friendship because of my fucking, godscursed ruts.
A thousand times I have begged the gods to banish from my heart the certainty that my mate is an unknown Omega. I have spent long nights on my knees in the deserted Flame Temple, but the gods don’t listen, or they don’t care. I wonder if she even lives, or if she’s as wretched as I am. Perhaps she’s given up searching for me and has made her home with another Alpha. When he kisses her, does she feel a painful tug knowing that her heart belongs to another, or has she shrugged me off as an irritation and made herself happy without me? I can’t do that. I wantmywoman. When I take her into my arms and kiss her, I want to feel free. I don’t want to inflict pain on her day after day as she wonders if I’m longing for someone else.
Sighing, I take stock of the flare, checking that all the dragons are accounted for. It’s snowing heavily now and getting dark, and I have to brush flakes from ice-crusted scales to be certain which dragon is which. That’s when I notice that Minta is not at her usual resting spot by Omaira, a swift and sweet-natured pink dragon. I frown and circle around the entire flare again, looking for her.
No Minta.
I proceed to the barracks and pound my fist on the door to the women’s building and ask for Zenevieve, only to be told by Sundra that she’s not there.
“Minta isn’t at the dragongrounds. Who saw Zenevieve last?”
It’s probably nothing. The dragon and rider may have gone for a dusk ride and are finding their way slowly back through the snowstorm, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
Sundra calls over her shoulder to ask the other riders. Menelope, Omaira’s rider, comes forward and tells me that Zenevieve flew to the Bodan Mountains this morning to search for Princess Mirelle’s body for the queen.
A jolt goes through me. The queen asked her to do this? When? Why is Zenevieve alone in the Bodan Mountains while the storms are so unpredictable? Before, when Zenevieve trusted me, she would have spoken to me of such a heartrending mission over dinner or while we tended our dragons. I would have gone with her to keep an eye on the sky and to comfort her if she needed it.
I glance toward the north, but I can’t see the mountains through the darkness and all the snow that’s falling. If Zenevieve has been gone since this morning, she and Minta should be back by now.
“I will go after them.” I turn on my heel and jog toward Nilak.
Menelope calls after me, “The weather is turning stormy, dragonmaster. It would be safer to wait until morning. Are you sure you’re thinking clearly?”
She must have noticed my scent. Rut or not, I would never just go to bed if I thought one of my dragons or a rider was in danger, least of all Minta and Zenevieve. By morning it could be too late. A dragon can survive icy weather beneath the snow for several days, and a rider can huddle against them for warmth, but only if they’re together, and uninjured. Zenevieve couldhave fallen from her dragon. Minta could have been attacked by Golden Terror, or something worse. I think of Prince Emmeric, his heart filled with dark and violent thoughts toward Zenevieve, and a fury toward the queen bursts through me. She should have asked me to look for Princess Mirelle, not Zenevieve.
Nilak is as eager to go after Zenevieve and Minta as I am, and as soon as I climb upon her back, we launch into the sky. I’m almost blind as we fly through snow flurries, but Nilak’s senses are better than mine, and she has an excellent sense of direction. She remembers where Princess Mirelle threw herself from her dragon, and so we head there, starting in the valley and flying back and forth as we ascend the mountain, looking for any sign of dragon and rider.
The snow is falling more thickly now, and the wind is whipping through my riding leathers. Every sensation is heightened by my rut, turning irritations into cataclysms in my head until I can barely think straight. I have to shield my face with my arm just to get a glimpse of the dark ground below.
As we fly low over the slopes, Nilak notices something strange about the snow in one area. I open my eyes to look. Instead of a smooth white surface, the ice on this slope is choppy and churned up. There’s been an avalanche, hundreds of yards across, and it happened not long ago. It has the barest covering of fresh powder. Avalanches at this time of year are not uncommon. A slight thaw can make drifts on these steep slopes unstable. A horrible vision comes to me, of Zenevieve and her dragon buried beneath dozens of feet of snow. Injured. Bleeding.
I press my hand against Nilak’s scales.Can you see anything? Can you hear anything?
Nilak doesn’t respond, but I feel her scouring the ground below.
