Ronyn spins on Calira, teeth bared. “And what’s your role? Kill the dragons? You are the Crown’sBlade, after all,” he snarls the words.
Calira has been raised to tolerate far more than petty insults and hurt feelings. She steps forward, closing the gap between them. “I collect the blood tithe.”
A strangled sound breaks from Ronyn’s mouth. “A blood tithe? Oh look, it even has a pretty name!” he barks sarcastically. “It’s fucking murder, Calira. You are culling the dragons!”
Jax thrusts her palm into the smooth volcanic walls in an explosion of anger. “So he just kills whoever’s in the way of his plans and calls it politics?”
Yes.
These people speak about peace like it is the natural state of the world instead of something carved from violence and held together by sacrifice. They want safety, but recoil from the brutality required to preserve it. Want order, but condemn the people forced to enforce it. Thalmyr understands what most rulers never do: kingdoms are not maintained through goodness. They are maintained through endurance. Everyone wants the protection of systems. Few are willing to stomach what it takes to preserve them.
“He’ll choose the kingdom over the people every single time. Over the dragons, too.”
Ronyn drops his head back, closing his eyes like he’s about to beg the Stars for guidance.
Futile.
“Gods,” he murmurs. “So this is why you come to Vyrhal. Distract them with weapons orders, and slip away with a Melder to hold The Barrier in place instead?”
Finally. He’s getting it.
Calira nods. “We’ve got a lot of enemies on every continent, Ronyn. The Melders have the power to change everything. If anyone knows where the dragons are, they’d have the power to topple kingdoms.”
He huffs an exhausted breath.
“I’m suddenly realizing I know absolutely nothing about basically everything,” Ronyn groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jax reaches for him, but thinks better of it, withdrawing her hand at the last moment.
“You know what they say, Ronyn,” Vren begins, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
Ronyn narrows his eyes. “I’ve heard it. So what does that makeus?” he ventures, expertly gleaning information.
“It makes us friends. Maireth is coming for Dravara, Zerynthia.She’sthe enemy here. That makes us allies.” Vren quirks an eyebrow, like he’s trying to cut a deal at The Black Stream Markets. The Melders have always been expert negotiators, if not a little underhanded.
Calira doesn’t like it—allying with people she does not know. Though the man who sired her did, and somewhere, deep beneath her training, her conditioning, everything she’s learned to bury… that means something.
“So what now?” Jax snaps impatiently.
Vren leans in. He chances a glance back at Calira, and she gives an almost imperceptible nod.
“You find a way to get the witches to free us, and we no longer have to pay the blood tithe. You don’t, and The Barrier falls, dragons die out, and the kingdom burns to ash.”
Ronyn draws back, analyzing Vren like he’s a problem to solve.
“So just a few things on the line then,” Ronyn mutters under his breath.
Vren snorts a laugh. “Just a few.”
Ronyn sucks his teeth, a plan forming—Calira can see it in his eyes.
“Right. Well. That’s all deeply concerning.”
He rubs a hand over his face.
“I think we need a little sit-down with the witches,” he finally says.
Vren scoffs instantly, almost like the sound was involuntary. “I won’t go anywhere near those fucking cunts.” His voice is all gravel.
