Daybreak (68 page)

“Is that what he told you? I’ve known Ulric for quite some time,” Kyleigh said when he nodded. “And I can assure you it’s far more likely that he sold himself on
accident
than on purpose.”

“Really?”

“His potions certainly never worked.”

Devin was quiet for a moment. He grimaced when his collar flared red — the jab of Ulric’s command. “Come on. Let’s get you to the tower.”

He pulled her onto her feet with ease. The curse had stretched him so tall that Kyleigh’s head didn’t quite reach the bottom of his chest. As they made their way through Midlan’s winding halls, Devin had to walk half-bent most of the way — and at a full duck for the rest of it.

Midlan had been built for warriors. Its halls were wide enough for armored men to walk side-by-side, and so long that they felt more like roadways than anything. Well, she supposed they
were
roadways: the entire region of Midlan fit within three layers of walls, and there were passages connecting everything from the ramparts to the throne room.

It’d been a long while since Kyleigh had walked through Midlan, but she never remembered it being quite so jammed.

Stewards darted from room to room, moving at a brisk, shuffling pace. Soldiers charged through, bellowing for clear passage. The servants plastered themselves against the walls so frequently to make way that she thought it might be days before they reached the kitchens.

An intoxicating scent filled every stretch of the air — a potent mix of excitement and fear. Kyleigh breathed it in, and the dragon woke with an exhilarated hum. There was no better place to start a little mischief than in the midst of chaos.

Though all of Midlan was clearly in an uproar, no one seemed willing to come too close to Devin. Servants balked at the sight of him and bolted behind the nearest door. The soldiers edged past him warily, their necks turned out of his reach. They came around a corner and nearly ran smack into a steward coming from the other side.

The poor man had to shuffle backwards for several feet before he found a door to jump through.

At last, Devin stopped at the base of some winding stairs. They were tight, with just enough room for a man to walk through comfortably — which meant the climb would be far from comfortable for Devin.

“I can’t let you out of my sight, remember?” he grunted as he squeezed in behind her. “This’ll have to do.”

“All right. Just watch your horns.”

He smiled uncertainly at her wink.

The tower was a small, rounded room filled with all sorts of books and instruments. There were char marks on the walls and large chips in the stone floor. What little remained of the curtains were tattered — and heavily singed on their bottoms.

But at least there were windows.

From where she stood, Kyleigh had a good look at the northern reaches of Midlan. Its outermost walls stretched to nearly touch the swamps. The falling sun drifted through the trees and brightened them. They seemed far less like drooping, pitiful things with the evening set beside them.

Rows of barracks filled the land between Midlan’s walls like houses. Tiny dots of soldiers rushed from their doorways as Kyleigh watched. She expected them to climb the towers, man the ramparts. But only a few stayed behind.

The rest moved as fast as their legs would carry them for the western walls. How quickly the sunlight blinked off their armor told her most were moving at a sprint. She stuck her head out to follow them, just to see if she could catch a glimpse of the west.

But her collar bit down with a burning force the second her head crossed the window’s ledge. She stepped back with a gasp.

“What is it?” Devin said as he crouched in beside her.

Kyleigh shook her head. “It’s nothing. I like this hour of the day, is all.”

“You always have.”

She stiffened the moment his voice went deep. Hairs rose down the back of her neck when his arms curled around her waist. He pulled her onto his knee and rested his spiny chin atop her head.

Kyleigh knew she would have to be careful. The man who held her now wasn’t Devin — it wasn’t a
man
at all.

It was Dorcha.

“How many ages has it been since we watched the coming of the night? For how many journeys of the sun have we stood apart? The stars must’ve danced above me countless times … but I saw not a one.” His lips moved to her ear as he growled: “The night has no meaning without my heart.”

When his arms tightened, Kyleigh swallowed hard. “Dorcha, please —”

“You must remember them. Surely, you remember.” He turned her around. The yellow heat of his gaze dug into her, searching. “I haven’t forgotten a single night you lay by my side.”

“She’s gone,” Kyleigh said quietly. She was prepared for the fires to rage, but had to brace herself when they suddenly faded back. “Your mate is gone, Dorcha. She left the moment the Tree called her soul away. We’ve become a new creature, she and I — a halfdragon with new memories, and a new heart.”

“That …
human
?” Dorcha hissed. His glare roared to life at her nod. “You cannot possibly feel anything for him. He’s weak, and a fool.”

“He isn’t weak,” Kyleigh said back. “He can be a bit of a fool sometimes, but so can I.”

“You are never foolish.”

“Yes, I am. It’s the human in me — I like to think it keeps things interesting.”

Dorcha shoved her off his knee with a snarl. “Your human is dead. I crushed his body in the swamps.”

Kyleigh met his glare with one of her own. She didn’t care a whit for Dorcha. He was an angry creature who clung to his past like a drunkard to grog: it would kill him slowly, poison him from the center of his heart. She could see the darkness growing in his eyes even now. The curse would eventually snuff his fire out.

If Dorcha’s soul were to dry up and blow away, the Kingdom wouldn’t have lost a blasted thing. But Devin was a different matter.

Though he had every right to be angry, he didn’t give in. The darkness had no hold upon his eyes. There was so much good in him — an almost childlike yearning in his stare. She truly believed that he wanted nothing more than to be at peace with those around him.

He would even give in to Dorcha, in the end. He would step back rather than battle through the dragon’s rage. And the moment he refused to fight, Dorcha would trounce him with his stronger will.

So Kyleigh decided to fight for him.

“You didn’t kill my mate. I would’ve felt it the moment he passed. His death would’ve crushed me, stolen all the light from my world —”
 

Dorcha grabbed her around the throat, every line of his face alive with fury. “Do not insult the valtas! You could not possibly share such a powerful bond with so small a creature.”

“I do.”

Red bloomed across Dorcha’s flesh as he hissed: “You
lie
. The valtas cannot be broken.”

“And it never was. Your-Dorcha loved you to her end. But she’s gone,” Kyleigh said quietly. She tried not to squirm when Dorcha tightened his hold. “Whatever there was between you passed away the moment her spirit fled her bones —”

“No! It hasn’t passed! You may try to keep her from me, but the valtas cannot be stopped.” He ripped his hand from her throat and slammed his fist into the wall beside her, rattling the stone. His eyes slipped closer to the edge of darkness — to the maddened, shining black of the curse as he screamed: “I will meet her again in my death!”

Kyleigh didn’t flinch. Seeing the black in his eyes so clearly meant that Devin was running out of time. She couldn’t afford to take a moment to be frightened.

Instead, she reached out and touched Dorcha’s fist. Her fingers brushed across the scars that lined his knuckles — the shining marks left by the trail of her blood. “If Your-Dorcha was still here, wouldn’t she fight for you? Wouldn’t her heart speak the truth?”

Kyleigh slid her fingers down the scars to the edge of the wall. Blood welled inside the crack where his fingers met the stone. She stopped at its edge and steadied herself with a breath. “If you won’t believe me … then at least believe the valtas.”

Though she knew the pain was coming, the fires of his blood still shocked her.

Thousands of white-hot needles stung her flesh. They bit down upon her fingertips with such force that for a moment, she thought they’d been severed. But then the pain spread: it leaked up her bones until her hand shook with the throb.

When she cried out, Dorcha grabbed her wrist and brought her close. He used the ragged hem of his tunic to wipe the blood away. His lips pulled back from his teeth and agony stung his eyes, but at least the darkness was gone.

He stared dully at the blisters that rose across her fingers. “It’s true,” he whispered finally. “I would’ve fought for My-Dorcha with every breath of my lungs, every beat of my heart. The valtas’ promise would’ve given me the strength I needed to endure any span of time, any edge of torment. But it’s … left me, hasn’t it?”

“No,” Kyleigh said quietly. “No, the valtas will never leave — you’ll always carry it in your soul. And one day you’ll find a creature to share it with. But you can’t keep pushing Devin aside. He belongs to this body as much as you do. His heart is equally important. You’ll never find your purpose without him.”

Kyleigh smiled when Dorcha looked away. The pain sharpened her eyes, cleared her head. For the first time in days, she could no longer feel the collar …

And she planned to make the most of it.

“What purpose?” Dorcha whispered. His hand trembled as it hovered above the iron around his throat; his brows cinched tightly. “I have no purpose, now. There is no longer any need for my fire, no reason left to fight —”

“Fight for Devin.” Kyleigh pressed a fist against his heart and held his eyes tightly. “Fight for each other. No curse can last forever — it’s going to be over sooner than you think. And once you’re free, you’ll have to set your eyes on another horizon.”

“What horizon?” he moaned.

Kyleigh shrugged. “I’m not sure … but I suppose the two of you can discuss it when you wake.”

Dorcha must’ve been too lost in a vat of self-pity to see Kyleigh’s fist. He didn’t fight her. His body hung limply and he let himself wither beneath her blows. The first staggered him, the second dropped him to his knees. A third caught him under the chin and sent him into a reeling sleep.
 

“Hold on for a little while longer,” she whispered as she laid his head upon the floor. “I promise you … it’ll be over sooner than you think.”

Eveningwing had never seen such a flock gathered together. There were humans of every feather: pirates and giants, little mots and the wild ones. He remembered some of their faces, but most were new. He’d spent so long trying to learn them all that his eyes began to throb from the effort.

But he was too excited to blink.

While most of the humans slept or ate, the leaders gathered together. They filled the night with the different noises of their talking. The pirates’ voices hardly ever slowed. They were as quick and constant as bluebirds. The giants spoke in booms and bursts: their calls were far between, but powerful enough to silence the others — well,
almost
all of the others.

No matter how the giants boomed, the wild ones would not be quiet. They carried on with a squabble so fierce that it would’ve shamed the crows into silence. Their voices forced the others to speak louder, and soon Eveningwing’s ears were ringing with the noise. It didn’t stop until their Gwen finally smacked the loudest one with the flat of her hand.

He yelped and tumbled from his seat. She raised her fist at the others. “I’ve got one ready for each of you. I promise you’ll tire of having your ears rattled long before I tire of slapping them.”

They went straight-backed and quiet.

“Thank you,” Lysander said. He turned his glare from the wildmen and onto the giants. “So you’re telling me you have no idea at all where they’re keeping Jake?”

“No, I … wait a moment.” Brend raised his brows and swatted Declan across the arm. “Didn’t one of those mages stop to tell you where they planned to stash him?”

“Yeh, floor
and
cell. We had a nice long chat about it, and then I told him we were planning on coming up to Midlan for a visit —”

“All right, that’s enough,” Lysander said testily.

Eveningwing didn’t understand why he stopped them, or why the giants laughed. But even though it sounded as if they were about to find out where Jake was, the giants didn’t finish their tale. And Lysander never asked about it again.

Maybe Eveningwing had missed the answer.

“Enough with your teasing,” Nadine said, prodding Brend with the shaft of her spear. “This is no time for jokes. Our friend is in danger!”

He flicked the weapon aside. “Calm yourself, wee mot. We’re getting to it.”

“Yeh, and you’ll only make yourself sick if you worry over it,” Declan added. When she still fought, he picked her up by the shoulders and set her aside. “Why don’t you take your folk and go for a walk about camp, eh? See what’s out there.”

“It is dark — there is nothing to see!” Nadine insisted.

But the giants shooed her to the edge of the trees until she finally led her warriors away. The poor mots had voices that were smaller than the rest. Their words were no less important to Eveningwing, but they often got swallowed up.

“It’s this
Ulric
we ought to worry about,” Brend said, dragging a hand through his spikey mass of hair. “From what I’ve heard, it sounds as if he’s the one controlling all the mages.”
 

“He’s got them collared up like Titus had his beasts,” Declan said with a nod.

Lysander tapped his chin. “So if we manage to kill Ulric, it’ll free the others?”

“It should —”
 

“
Why
are we still talking about this?” Gwen cut in, dragging a hand down her face. “Talking will get us nothing. My warriors could have the King’s walls beaten flat by dawn. My craftsmen will chop his army into pieces and scatter his mages to the wind. By the time the sun sets, we’ll be using his monsters’ hides for cloaks!”