“We don’t have enough time in the fucking day for that story, Ronyn,” Vren snaps.
Caev steps forward, cropped white hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. “That’s because the story is unbecoming for the fearsome Melders,” she taunts, sarcasm dripping from her words.
The witches snicker at that.
Ronyn crosses his ankles, leaning heavier against the wall like he’s settling in to watch a play at the theater.
Vren growls low and real. “You bitches are no different to the people in power—taking advantage anywhere you can. Taking what should be symbiotic and turning it into possession.” He snaps his gaze to Ronyn, chocolate-brown and unflinching, and says, “I told you they were cunts.”
Ronyn nods, taking a long pull from the flask.
“I have noticed your fondness for the word, yes. But there was another word in there that I’d like you to elaborate on…” he ventures.
Vren waits, confused.
“Symbiotic,” Ronyn announces with theatrical flair. He wags his fingers between Caev and Vren. “Carry on.”
The room settles into hungry silence.
Caev steps forward, all smug and superior. “Oh they didn’t tell you? They used to be our…pets.”
She snorts an arrogant laugh. The other witches snicker behind her.
Surprise flares in Ronyn’s chest.Pets?
His eyes flick between the groups.
We were not their fucking pets!Tarrakai snarls through Ronyn’s mind.We are not possessions—we are creatures of the sky.
A growl rumbles from Vren’s chest. “We weren’t your fucking pets, Caev,” he spits her name like he knows it intimately. “We were your allies. Partners. Deadly fighters with complementary skills that could cut down any army, any force. Until you fell for the promise of coin and protection. When have kings and queens ever followed through on their promises for such things, Caev? Are you safe? Are you free?” Vren closes the distance between them, a finger stabbing in Caev’s direction.
Realization floods Ronyn’s mind.
But Elyssara beats him to it?—
“You used to…ridethe dragons?” she says, directing the question to the witches.
His mind snaps to memories of Elyssara atop Tarrakai. The rightness. The naturalness of the feeling. And he knows in his bones that witches and dragons were once connected in this way. He can feel the resonance.
“Yes,” Vren and Caev answer together, jaws clenched.
Holy fucking Stars.
“Until humans beguiled them with empty promises and pretty words,” Vren admits. “Then they turned on us, trapped us in mortal skin.” He takes another pull from the flask. “All part of the plan… eliminate threats.”
His words hold no bite. Only defeat. Sadness. The kind of loss that leaves a man hollow.
Caev scoffs. “We don’t need you, Melder. What do you offer? Wings?” she asks incredulously. “We can travel by threads any time we please.”
A smirk spreads across Vren’s face. “You can’t tell me you don’t miss taking to the skies, Caev. Threads have nothing on the skies.” He says it seductively, like he can lure the witches into submission.
Caev’s face softens. She looks like she’s going to agree. To admit it.
Vren leans in, desperate for whatever she offers.
Then she says, “The only thing I miss, Melder… is forcing you to do my bidding.”
He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “Fuck!”
