Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)

by Rebecca Yarros

Magic feels different when I change color.

“‘Your wings won’t hold the weight of this ice,’” Andarna blatantly mocks him. “And yet yours miraculously carry the burden of your ego.”

Her long silver braid swings free of her hood as her attention whips in our direction, and her eerie red gaze jumps to mine and widens slightly under a faded tattoo on her forehead. My blood chills when a smirk tilts her mouth, distorting the red veins at her temples, and then she…disappears.

My brow knits. “I’m not quite sure how I even did it. Is the thought sharing an inntinnsic thing? Or a bond thing? It’s happened more than once with us.”

fumble the conduit and nearly drop it. Xaden and I are the first of our signets to live simultaneously since the Great War?

them. “Not a dragon,” Andarna corrects me. “A wyvern.”

Safah

Xaden.” There’s no point confirming what he already knows. “Eight hours away.”

Chradh,

The dark wielder cocks her head to the side and runs her gaze over me in blatant appraisal, then pauses about ten feet away. The scarlet veins beside her eyes remind me of a masquerade mask topped by the faded tattoo on her forehead, and the red glow around her irises is ten shades brighter than Jack’s. A Sage, probably…maybe even a Maven, and were it not for the physical signs of her lost soul, she’d be stunningly beautiful, with high cheekbones and a full mouth, but her skin’s eerily pale.

“Let him go!” I draw another dagger and shove every hint of fear aside. Nothing’s happening to Garrick on my watch. “This might not kill you, but it will hurt like hell.” “Let’s not compare weapons.” She reaches for a knife sheathed in the belt of her gauzy purple robe and reveals just enough of its green tip to seize my breath for a heartbeat. “Our paths are too intertwined to begin with such hostility. I know: you answer a single question and I’ll return the walker to the ground. That seems a civil start to our relationship, don’t you think, Violet?” “Ask it.” I feel Andarna hovering along our bond, alert and hopefully nowhere near us. “Warn the others.” “They’re coming.” Frustration sharpens her words. “You prize his friend’s life over information. Interesting.” She shoves the knife back into its sheath. “I’m Theophanie, by the way. Seems only right that you know my name, seeing as I know everything about you, Violet Sorrengail.” Fucking awesome. “Because of Jack?” It’s the only logical explanation. She shrugs in a dismissive gesture that reminds me of the Duchess of Morraine. “Bonding one dragon is…enviable. All that power just given to you.” Her mouth tightens. “But two is unheard of. Aren’t you the luckiest girl on the Continent? Or maybe that’s me, being close by when your morningstartail was spotted.” “Is that really your question?” My fingernails cut into my palms as Garrick’s kicks become more desperate. “Just an observation.” Her gaze flicks toward Garrick. “For...

“Control and knowledge.”

completely that anyone questions why I only present with one,” he answers. “Our

dragons came looking for us. They knew what they were doing.”

anthology.”

locking mechanism that holds the thick, leather-bound book closed. It’s a six-letter

Violet

“I picked up on a lot of things he was thinking.”

The uprising suddenly failed overnight on December 13, 433 AU, in what has been called the Midnight Massacre. The foreign troops disappeared, and the rebels were killed in their beds by Poromish forces. It is not their disappearance that strikes this scholar as particularly vicious but their obvious betrayal. There is a saying in Deverelli: The word is the blood. When they make a trade, broker a deal, it is considered law. I cannot help but wonder what part of the deal the Krovlan rebels did not uphold.

She won’t understand why you’ve kept her in the dark. You left too soon, left too many of your plans unfinished. Now we can only hope the bond between our daughters is strong enough to endure the paths they’ve chosen. They’ll need each other to survive. —Recovered, Unsent Correspondence of General Lilith Sorrengail

Dain’s eyes widen. “But the raiders spoke Krovlish, and descriptors follow nouns in Krovlish. They were hunting feathertails. Dragons.”

I nod. “I think Deverelli brokered a deal with Krovla and an unnamed isle that the isle would provide the army and Krovla would provide dragons. When they were unable to do so, the deal fell apart, the Midnight Massacre happened, and Krovla remained a part of Poromiel.”

Dain folds his arms across his chest. “They were dealing in dragons.” He looks over to Narelle. “I believe her. It’s just going to take me a minute to absorb it. One does not just…deal in dragons, let alone take babies to isles that ...

“Oh, wait until you realize that your dad knows my dad’s book has something to do with feathertails, which means Dad knew to stop...

Narelle simply smiles and crosses her ankles in front of her. “And that right there is why he didn’t leave them for you, dear. We all have a part to play in what’s coming for us; this one is simply hers. While he was busy raising Violet for this particular mission, your mother was raising you. I wonder what legacy you’ve inherited.”

“That’s just everyday life for me. This isn’t normal for you.” “Andarna shows no sign of trouble. I am inconvenienced, annoyed, and cut off from my source of power, strength, and my mate’s thoughts, but I am still Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from—” “All right, yes, I get it. You are superior in all ways.” I interrupt him before he can get through his whole pompous lineage like I don’t have it memorized by now.

“We aren’t married.” He fucking smirks. “I’ve noticed. But ‘girlfriend’ is missing that permanent tone. If it makes you more comfortable, consort is used pretty loosely in Navarrian aristocratic circles. Pretty sure the Duke of Calldyr has had four different consorts in as many years. The designation just gets you the invitation into this place, plus gives you the protection and privileges of my title—” “I

“Ah, then it is good we did not complete your dedication.”

Gods bless Brennan.

face. “I have four uniforms, but only one fucking flight jacket, and I”—punch—“hate”—punch—“sewing!” Ridoc yanks my dagger from the cook’s hand, and the man slides down the doorframe, his eyes fluttering shut. “For fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to be the civilized isle!” He wipes my blade on the cook’s tunic, then turns and walks back toward me. “What is the wisdom in a kitchen cook attacking two trained killers?” His face falls. “Vi, you all right?”

“Good.” Ridoc gestures at the door, and we both head back toward the dining room. “And I want a patch for this shit, Violet. A quest squad patch. Understand?”

Garrick is given a rusted steel bucket.

Aaric receives a fractured hand mirror that immediately cuts his thumb when the man hands it to him top first.

He’s given an empty glass box the size of his foot, with pewter hinges and edges. “Better than getting slapped.”

“The compass!”

I lift my chin and his mouth tilts into a smirk as he nods subtly, as though finding my reaction worthy. Extending his hand silently, he offers me a black compass on a dark chain. I glance down as I take it and notice that the needle doesn’t point anywhere near north. It’s broken.

“You?” I force a smile. “Better than me.” His thumb grazes my lower lip. “You have to be. You promised to help me protect Tyrrendor, remember?”

remember.” I nod. “I meant it. I’ll stand by your side.” Exhaustion slows my breath and weights my eyelids. “And between Andarna’s kind and the research we’re compiling about dark wielders, we’ll cure you.” My eyes give in, sliding shut. “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.”

“But you never had to lower yourself before me, did you? Not for Naolin, or—” “We do not speak of the one who came before.” Agonizing pain floods the bond, and I immediately regret my choice of words.

“Sawyer! Look at you!” Ridoc runs forward, his arms up in victory. Sliseag swings his head and snaps his teeth shut a few feet in front of Ridoc. “Look at you from a distance!” Ridoc retreats, his arms still held high. When he bumps into Maren, he turns and sweeps her into a hug as she laughs.

“Please don’t tell me you’re lost,” Bodhi says, coming up the steps last. “Of course not.” I shake my head slowly. “It’s just that I don’t have a room here, and I’m not sure where I should sleep.” He scoffs and gestures down the hall. “You have a room. It hasn’t moved.” “It’s his room,” I correct him quietly. “And he’s all broody.” “We’re home, Vi. Act like it.” He grins, then turns around me, walking backward down the hallway on the right. “Sleep in your bed. He’ll just brood harder if you don’t.”

It’s almost like this room is removed from time itself, a tiny corner of the world where we simultaneously live together yet don’t. The only indication months have passed is the glass box from Zehyllna on his nightstand, and the emerald-hilted Blade of Aretia resting within. It’s missing a single stone near the top, but looks no worse for wear after having been in Navarrian possession for six hundred years.

tug the perpetually slipping strap of my Deverelli silk nightdress back up my shoulder and flip the page in Tecarus’s book. My brows rise at the next passage I read, and I go over it once more to be sure I’ve caught on to a pattern. That makes three.

While most deities allow temple attendants to choose their timeline of service, only two require a lifetime of dedication: Dunne and Loial. For both war and love change souls irrevocably. —Major

“I’ve got you,” he promises, his voice hoarse. “My power, my body, my soul—it’s all yours.” He slips a hand down my stomach and lightly strokes my hypersensitive clit.

annihilate their forces if I have the courage to let go of the impossible dreams I’ve clung to and accept the fate Zihnal has dealt me.

“There is if you’re a dream-walker.”

“They haven’t spotted any venin among the patrol flight,” Brennan adds as Rhi reaches my side, Imogen close on her heels. “But it’s fucking huge, so they must be expecting to breach the city walls. Their course was noted as due west.”

“Fuck,” Xaden says under his breath, then turns to me and leans into my space. “I love you more than this city. Do not die defending it.”

“It’s how you save Tyrrendor.” Aaric’s voice drops to a whisper. “By

“Perhaps I am not welcome,” Theophanie muses, her feet planted in the grass, “but they are.” Two more venin, men wearing red robes, walk through the grass behind her, and Andarna leaps over Tairn’s tail, blasting a stream of fire Theophanie’s way. The scents of ash and sulfur fill the air, but when Andarna lands at the base of the steps to my right, Theophanie still stands untouched. “Why?” Andarna shrieks. “Marvelous,” Theophanie says with a smile. “Did that make you feel bet—” Theophanie’s gaze rises to the sky behind me, and she backs away, her eyes widening. “Leave them and go!” she shouts to the approaching dark wielders and breaks into a run toward them. “Now!” All three grasp hands, and the one in the center takes a single step and vanishes. Just like Garrick. “Incoming!”