“These things are never literal.”
“True.”
“Or it could be see, like with the physical eyes, and you need to use the other senses,” Dean offered.
“But I don’t know what I’ve done in my past that didn’t use my physical eyes to see. Other than the spiritual plane, which I already tried and failed at.”
“We could try again,” Ahlvie offered.
She shook her head. “I’m not in the right mindset. I need to think. I don’t know.”
She paced relentlessly, trying to see the solution that Birdie had died for. But it just wasn’t there. She was tired and worn down, and Creator, she wanted a bath. She was emotionally exhausted from what had happened with Birdie. She just couldn’t let it slow her down. It couldn’t break her like Maelia’s death had. Like so many deaths before this one. All dead because of her.
She closed her eyes and tried to shake out that old, familiar tune. She had thought she had escaped the guilt from what had happened. But it crept up on her. Her blood magic creeping out of its corner with it. That gnawing at her stomach that she tried to ignore but never fully got rid of. It had made her something else. The only survivor of blood magic. All the good that had done her.
Perhaps I might suggest a solution, Sarielle said.
Cyrene stopped pacing and faced her dragon. “What do you have in mind?”
Let’s go fly.
“Now?”
Yes, now. It will clear your head.
“That’s a good idea,” Dean said. “Go meditate in the air.”
Ahlvie snorted. “It’s your favorite.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m doing this for you, you know?”
He sobered. “I know. I’m just…you know…I haven’t had humor. It’s good to have a trace of it back.”
“You’re right.” She sighed. “I guess I do need to clear my head. I’m snapping at everyone.”
Come, soul sister. Take to the skies with me.
“You’ll check on Orden?” she asked Dean.
He nodded. “Go.”
Cyrene crossed the mountain and climbed onto Sarielle’s back. She leaned forward as Sarielle maneuvered through the open doorway that led to a sheer cliff below. Cyrene’s eyes widened in alarm. She hadn’t realized how high up they were. The path up hadn’t made it seem so…dangerous.
Ready yourself, Sarielle said with a laugh in her voice.
Then she dove. Down, down, down the cliffside. Cyrene shrieked with terror and then abandon as they plummeted like a rock toward the ground beyond. Then Sarielle opened her wings and effortlessly pulled them up. As if the flying maneuver wasn’t top-notch and they couldn’t have landed, splattered on the rocks below.
Cyrene flung her arms wide and rested back. She stared up at the clouds above them. Then she laughed softly as Sarielle flew up into the cloud cover. She was regretting not bringing a cloak with her for the flight. It was one of the first things she had been taught when flying. But the brisk weather high up in the mountains kept her alert.
I did not want to give false hope within the mountain. But I do have an idea about how we can discover what the mystic woman meant.
“You do?” she asked, sitting up in surprise.
Lie back again and let your mind wander. Don’t enter the spiritual plane, but just remain clear with a soft focus. I am going to bring forth your memories to the surface with my own powers. And it’s best to be away from distractions to accomplish this.
“You’ve done this before?”
I have attempted such feats with other dragons as well as Dragon Blessed. We worked together in the Draco Mountain back home. As you and I will work together now.
“Do you think this will work? That it will shake loose what I’m supposed to know?”
If nothing else, it will bring you the clarity that you desperately need. And perhaps, with that, you will discover the answer on your own.
Cyrene carefully lay back on Sarielle’s back. She did as she had been instructed, keeping her focus soft and unconcerned. She pushed away all the thoughts that she had about what was coming next and the death of Birdie. Her mind was open and receptive. Not the focused meditations that she’d done in the past that she so failed at. Not removing anything, but just letting it all pass by, leaving room for Sarielle. It felt…smooth.
Then she felt Sarielle brush against her.
Flashes of her past appeared before her closed eyes. Memories that she had seen recently and some she hadn’t even known were there.
* * *
She sat at Reeve’s Presenting ceremony. Her family was in the front row. She could see the young queen and king. How charming they were. Their advisors stood off to the side. Her father had been one for a time, too.
Then the announcement came from King Edric.
High Order.
Cyrene jumped to her feet and cheered for her brother.
Still, her eyes slid back to the king…and the presence of the prince nearby.
Her cheeks flushed when the prince returned her gaze.
* * *
Rhea giggled at her side. “You’re not going to do it!”
Cyrene raised her chin. “Of course I am. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“But it’s a boy,” she gushed.
Cyrene ignored her friend and walked straight out of the party that her parents had thrown for her older sister, Aralyn. She and Rhea had been left up to their own devices. Elea had been following them along, like she always did.
Cyrene ducked into the covered gazebo. The trellises were covered in Byern climbing vines, blocking much of the enclosure from view of the other party guests.
The boy stood there. He was older than her by a year or two with ginger hair and a freckled face. Cute if not a bit of a snot-nosed jerk.
Still, a dare was a dare.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he teased.
She walked right up to him, grabbed him by the front of his jacket, and planted a kiss on his mouth.
* * *
Snow fell on the city for the Eos Holiday. Cyrene tilted her head up to the sky and let it kiss her lashes and fall on her tongue.
“This will be our last year,” Elea said.
Aralyn had gone already. By June, Cyrene would be, too. She didn’t want to think if she’d make Affiliate. She felt a tug to the castle, but what girl didn’t have dreams of it?
“But then you’ll follow! We’ll be in the castle together.” Cyrene took her sister’s hand, and they swung each other around in a circle. Burgundy and forest-green cloaks flowing wide. “We’ll have the run of the place. I’ll impress the queen, and you’ll meet a handsome suitor!”
Elea giggled. “Maybe even the prince. He needs a bride after all.”
Cyrene laughed. “Maybe even the prince.”
* * *
Cyrene sat with Maelia in the Eleysian royal gardens.
“Am I being foolish?”
“For falling for a prince?” Maelia asked with a soft laugh.
“A foreign prince.”
Maelia gripped her hand. “You are never foolish for falling in love.”
* * *