Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

My heart starts to race as his words pierce a shield of denial I wasn’t even aware I’d been hiding behind, exposing a truth so blatantly obvious I feel foolish for not having seen it before. Tairn will always lead, and I will always be his rider.

“Then Tairn chose poorly.”

“Say that to him when he’s awake and see how it goes for you.” Xaden brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “I’ve seen the moments you don’t just rise to the occasion—you own it. Deverelli. Unnbriel. You poisoned the entire triumvirate of Hedotis, for fuck’s sake. Imagine who you’ll become when you finally learn to not just embrace that confidence but live it.”

“There is no cure for me.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s why you have to become better than me. There’s only you.”

“She’ll be back tonight.” “I’ll say the same when you’ve been unable to communicate with your mate for weeks and are then deprived by choice,” he grumbles, stalking into the woods. Swaying trees mark his passing. “Humans don’t mate!” I call after him. “Another sign of your inferiority.”

“He’s getting me back because I won the last round.” He flashes a grin. “I bought enough itching powder to fill a bucket, then dropped it between his scales on the back of his neck right after flight maneuvers a few weeks ago. He had to submerge his entire body in the river to avoid everyone in the Vale knowing I’d gotten the best of him.”

“TAIRN!” My heart jumps to a gallop as the air before me shimmers, then solidifies into gleaming sky-blue scales between two enormous nostrils.

Six dragons of varying scale tones fill the beach, and all of them rival the size of Sgaeyl. Their massive claws dig into the sand as they lower their heads one by one. My breath falters. We didn’t find the irids; they found us. We did it. They’re here.

The one directly in front of us flares their nostrils, and a sound like a slide whistle fills my head, pitching from low to painfully high in less than a heartbeat. “Hello, human.”

What we know about dragonkind is nothing compared to what we don’t. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

“Why do you not answer me?” the dragon asks. “Perhaps the human female lacks intelligence,” a high voice chimes in, and the dragon on the right lifts her head. My jaw drops. Guess arrogance is a universal dragon trait. “She’s just surprised.” Andarna rises, but she leaves her head level with the others. “And you’re in her face.”

“You speak our language?” I ask the irids. “We are magic,” the male replies like it’s the most obvious reason in the world.

The one diagonally to my left lifts their head. “She is the criterion.”

“They won’t hurt her. They’re my family.” She turns in a circle. “She’s my human, too.”

“What have you done to your tail?” The one on the left reels back. Andarna cranes her neck to check her scorpiontail. “Nothing. It’s fine.” My gaze jumps from irid to irid, my stomach sinking lower as I count from one to six. They’re all feathertails.

“Seeing as I’m the eldest of my den in Navarre, there was no other to object to my Right of Benefaction,” she continues with excitement and more than a little pride, which makes me smile. “And so Threshing began.”

“You bonded as a juvenile?” the male to the right shouts. Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

“For my human.” Andarna tilts her head. “She is part of me, as I am of her. You undervalue our connection.” That last bit reeks of adolescent snark.

“My apologies,” the female says. “Damn, this breed apologizes,” Ridoc signs, lifting his brows. “Maybe we should have held out.”

“There are hundreds of us,” the male to the left replies, speaking for the first time. “Please continue.”

“Why? She’s incredible,” he signs back. “Brave. Fierce. Vicious. Everything the Empyrean respects.”

“You were just testing me, right? To make sure I’m fit to visit our den? Where is it, anyway?” The hope in her voice would cut my knees out if I were standing. “You were never the one being tested.” The female sighs and looks over at me. The hair rises on the back of my neck. “You were.”

“She uses you.” The female’s eyes fill with sadness, and the scales of her brow scrunch. “She took advantage of a vulnerable child. She used your power as an instrument of warfare, forced your premature growth—and look what you have become.”

“You think I’m broken,” Andarna hisses.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” His words sharpen. “Our breed is born for peace, not violence like others.” He spares Tairn a single glance before returning to Andarna. “You were left behind as the criterion. The measurement of their growth, their ability to choose tranquility and harmony with all living things. We’d hoped you would return to tell us the humans had evolved, that they had blossomed under the wardstones and no longer used magic as a weapon, but instead you have shown us the opposite.”

“And dragonkind has not learned their lesson, either. While you”—the male in the center’s gaze jumps to Aotrom—“gifted your human with ice”—he dares to shift his focus to Tairn—“you armed yours with lightning.”

“And you”—the male lowers his gaze to Andarna—“our very hope, have handed this human something far more dangerous to wield, haven’t you?”

“You have weaponized your magic, even your tail,” the tallest irid continues. “You’ve become the very thing we abhor, the horror we fled from.”

“Is that the dark wielder’s cure?” Andarna asks, her head moving in a serpentine motion. “To evolve?” My breath freezes in my chest. The female’s golden eyes narrow to slits. “There is no cure.”

“You are magic,” the female says, a note of sadness in her tone. “And yet all you seek to use it for is violence.”

“You preach peace while only having known its privilege,” Andarna hisses in retort. “You are all a disappointment to me.”

“The world was not ready for you, and though it is no fault of your own, we cannot accept you.”

“Leothan may feel differently”—the tallest male glances at the other one—“but our majority has determined you are irid in scale and name only, Andarna. You will not be allowed entrance to our isle nor instruction in our ways. We part here and wish you peace.”

“Andarna, no,” I whisper. “You are fierce, and smart, and brave, and loyal. None of this is your fault. You’re perfect.”

“The uniformity assures all hatchlings are cared for without deference to breed or den—” Leothan startles as Xaden looks up. The female recoils, baring her dripping teeth. “How could you align yourselves with this?”

“Abomination.” The female hurls the insult, her eyes narrowing. On Xaden.

My head snaps in Xaden’s direction, and I gasp. The rims of his irises shine bright red.

“Fuck.” His tone could cut scale as his fingers slip out of mine. “You’re not an abom—” He slams his shields down, blocking me out.

“I’m guessing he’s why you’ve been so hung up on finding a cure.” Ridoc’s accusation hits me like a bucket of ice water, and I snap my gaze to his. Oh. Fuck. “Yeah.” He nods at me. “I saw his eyes turn red.” “Ridoc—” Xaden starts. “Not a single word from you, dark wielder,” Ridoc grits out, his eyes locked on mine. “Vi, you’ve got one chance to come clean and tell me what the actual fuck is going on.”

“They always channel!” Ice forms at his fingertips. “Just because I like to crack jokes doesn’t mean I’m not serious about reading the same shit you do. There are no accounts of initiates just walking away from the power.”

“That’s why I have to find a cure.” My voice breaks.

“They just told us there ...

“And I’ve had about five minutes to process that information.” Anger and fear war for control of my emotions, and both bring my power to the surface, sizzling my skin. “Everything I’ve done over the last few months, from securing the deal with Tecarus for books to searching for Andarna’s kind, has been in service to the Continent, but also to find a cure for him, and hearing from the most likely source that there isn’t one?” I shake my head as the heat rises within me, growing exponentially with my panic. “I don’t know what to do with that yet. I don’t have all the answers, Ridoc. I just know that I have to find them whether ...

“I will save him.” My throat tightens. “And not just because I can’t fathom living without him. I’m selfish when it comes to loving him, and maybe a little self-destructive lately—”

“—but if I don’t save him…” My voice drops. “If I don’t cure him, and he…” I can’t say it. “I keep serum in case of emergency, but Ridoc, we have to keep him on our side, or this war is already lost. There isn’t a rider alive capable of stopping him at full power now, let alone what he could become if he truly turns. And don’t say that I can, because the truth is that I won’t. Even if I hone my signet to his level, which would take the years he’s had, I could no more hurt him than he could hurt me. He is…everything to me.”

“Not good enough. Give me a real, logical line he has to cross for you to walk away, and I’ll keep the secret. I’ll help you scour every fucking book you can find. I’m here for the I’m-going-to-save-my-man-at-all-costs mantra and will be on your side in this horrifically dangerous situation if you can just acknowledge there’s a breaking point. You can put all your faith in him as long as you leave a little logic for yourself.”

“Never said you couldn’t love him.” He squeezes my shoulders gently. “You can still love someone after you let them go. But you have to tell me there’s a line where you will let him go. Because if there isn’t one, it’s not just him we’re going to lose, Vi.”

“I would never—” “Would you channel to save him? Or is that the line?”

“If it makes it easier, then pick a line where I can turn him in,” Ridoc whispers. “Tell me now, when you think there’s no chance it will ever happen, so if he ever gets there, the decision isn’t on your shoulders.”

“Fine. Hypothetically, he’d have to kill another rider without cause or hurt civilians. Hurt my friends, my dragons. Hurt…me,” I end in a whisper. “If he hurts me, then he’s not him anymore.”