Ashborn Chapter 11
Sealed in the Aerie. Explosives hidden in the walls. A family waiting to die. Will Dareya’s be able to say goodbye to Veyrakh?
I remained still on my perch. Waiting.
I did not sleep. I waited for a sun I could no longer see, for the sky had been closed. I waited for the soft tremor of wings.
My mate had been curled around our clutch of eggs when I’d left home the morning the doors had been sealed. Our first clutch. Four eggs. Each smaller than a shield, speckled like stone, and warm with promise.
I had not seen my mate since I had been imprisoned. Had not heard her voice. Had not smelled her or the fire-musk of our young.
The air shifted as the doors opened. Barely. Not wide as they should to sun and flight. But wide enough for a human to walk through.
I watched as a group of humans were herded into the central chamber of the Aerie.
Three males. No. Two men. But obviously father and son. The third, although taller than the first two, still had the scent of youth clinging to him.
Two more boys followed behind, still on the verge of becoming men.
And three women. One I recognized. The only person in the group I recognized. Veyrakh’s bonded Rider.
Another of the women was an older version of Veyrakh’s Rider. A third woman carried an infant in her arms.
As soon as the woman carrying the infant stepped across the threshold, the Soldiers who had escorted them pulled the doors shut,
Sealing the family inside.
The silence in the chamber was deafening. Their rapid heartbeats thundered.
The younger of the men embraced the woman with the infant. The elder embraced the older woman and the three boys.
Veyrakh’s rider, wearing a silk dress instead of the uniform I was accustomed to seeing her in, stood off to the side.
Then a sharp wail pierced the gloom.
It struck through the stillness. My head turned before I meant it to. Neck muscles coiling, eyes narrowing.
The infant wailed again. Louder. Not with anger. Not with fright. She was too young to understand what was happening. The wails were those of need. I smelled fresh milk as wet spots bloomed on the chest of the woman holding her.
The young mother frantically tried to calm the infant as she watched me, fear and fire in her eyes, as though she was saying that if I wanted to harm the baby, I’d have to go through her.
And I remembered the scent of my mate. The heat of the eggs beneath her. The fire-musk of new life. And the hope that if she believed our young to be threatened, she’d have the same fire in her eyes.
Veyrakh’s Rider had lifted her head, scanning the room. Counting. Calculating. Fear masking her features.
I walked over to the camera, looking straight into it. Inspecting it.
It was just high enough to be out of Kyran’s reach.
No stools. No chairs. Nothing that could be pulled over to step on to reach it to spread something on the lens to obscure its view.
Even if there had been, the floor, normally covered in soft peat and hay, had been swept bare. Not even a pebble remained.
The sharp smell of fuel danced almost imperceptibly around my nose.
“Darey,” Kaelin’s voice was quietly stern. Not my brother’s voice. Lieutenant Calderin’s.