Ashborn Chapter 13
Dareya enters the Dragon Territories—where memory is eternal and every word can wound. When her bond to Veyrakh collides with blood ties and old laws, she learns dragons never forget nor ever forgive.
It was close to dawn by the time we’d flown into the Dragon territories. In the cave, all the dragons had shifted back to their true forms, massive, each with different colors of scales, before taking flight.
Some of the dragons had volunteered to carry my family. Naturally, Veyrakh insisted that I stay with him.
We’d stayed low, almost hugging the ground, below any radar. The world blurred beneath us: ridges, burned forests, the cracked remains of human outposts long reclaimed by stone.
Flying was easier than walking. The cool air whipped past us. From this height, I could see the faint glow of molten rivers threading through the mountain spines.
Veyrakh’s wings beat a constant reassurance, each downstroke sending a pulse through the bond. His mind brushed mine in quiet intervals, steadying my breathing, slowing my racing thoughts. It lulled me to sleep, as we flew through the moonless, starless night sky.
Wake up, Vel’shaari.
Veyrakh’s voice curled through the bond, gently interrupting my delicious dream. I cursed inwardly.
We’re here.
He landed softly on a cliff as the other dragons came in alongside. I blinked awake to a horizon stained pale gray with the first edge of dawn.
Sethus and Orin each tumbled from their respective mounts, high-fiving each other and chattering about how cool it was. The dragons just looked at the boys, amused at their antics, slowly blinking, tails flicking.
Their transitions back to their human forms was almost eerie: the same power restrained under matte-black utility uniforms and Flight insignia dulled by ash.
Earlier, Veyrakh told me that if Tamsin had gone through the Crucible, the dragon who carried her, Kaelin, and Alira would have bonded with her. But she hadn’t—and now that same dragon is waiting. Not for her. For her daughter to come of age.
As the others peeled off and rose into the sky, Veyrakh transformed back into his human form. Tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform dark as volcanic glass.
“Don’t touch anyone without invitation,” he said, resting his hand on the small of my back. “Bonded riders are granted some forgiveness, but their families are only just barely tolerated.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Humans have not walked these lands in over a thousand years. And dragons remember everything.”
A thousand years, that’s generations for us. Ancient history. For a dragon that is practically yesterday. I nodded, understanding.
He paused to let that settle before he continued.
“There are things that are harmless to you, but grave insults here. Staring. Interrupting. Showing teeth when you smile. Or any showing of teeth to anyone who outranks you. It’s seen as a challenge.”
I blinked at him. “How…”
“Assume that’s everyone.” We closed our mouths.
Tamsin tightened her grip on Kaelin’s arm as he adjusted Alira’s blanket on his shoulder. Their daughter had fallen asleep during the flight. When they’d dismounted, they’d jokingly commented that they might need to take Alira on dragon flights to get her to sleep longer than an hour. The laughter felt fragile as glass.
“You’re under my protection.” Veyrakh’s voice was calm, but stern. “But that protection only stretches so far. I can’t hold off the whole court if one of you breaks a blood-promise without knowing.”
“Great,” Kyran muttered. “First the Order tries to kill us and now we’ve walked directly into the dragon’s den. Literally.”
The mountain pass gave way to a wide valley. Jagged spires of black stone rose from the ground. Nestled between them, half hidden by mist and clouds, the city revealed itself. Forged. Grown. Not built. Shaped over eons by claw and flame. Towers curved like claws. Bridges hung in suspension over rivers of lava and the occasional geyser. The air hummed faintly, alive with heat and breath.
Veyrakh slowed, watching the horizon. Through the bond, I caught a flicker of unease—not fear, but calculation.
They will smell you before they see you, he sent quietly. Some will resent it. My return changes the order of things.
You mean the Courts?
Some are loyal. Others… remember old debts.
He said no more.
A delegation awaited us. Not soldiers. Not servants.
Their faces were unreadable. Then one stepped forward, transforming into a tall, androgynous individual wearing shimmering robes that shifted between silver and slate. Their silver hair braided in intricate coils threaded with tiny crystals. I thought their pupils slit like a cat’s for a half second before the light shifted and I wasn’t sure.
“Veyrakh,” they said, voice smooth as glass. “Your return was not, um, expected. Nor this.”
Their hand waved over us. My parents. My brothers. Kaelin. Tamsin. Alira. Me.
“High Steward Rhysael,” Veyrakh replied, inclining his head slightly. “You will find that expectations have changed.”
Something like static prickled at the edges of my awareness. The dragons behind Rhysael exchanged glances too fast for human eyes. Words passed mind to mind, silent but sharp. I couldn’t hear them, but I felt them—heat in the back of my skull.
“Guest quarters have been prepared,” Rhysael said finally.
No more words. Just a nod as we were ushered though the winding halls cut directly into the mountain itself. The walls glowed faintly with embedded crystals, like the whole place breathed.
Finally, we were shown to a low-ceilinged chamber carved with the most beautiful details. Plush sofas and chairs. Chairs circled a low stone table covered with food and drink that steamed faintly in the chill air.
“The sleeping quarters are upstairs.” Rhysael gestured, then pointed at Tamsin and Kaelin. “Take the staircase to the right. For you and the infant.”
“The ones to your quarters,” they said, addressing Mother and Father, “are to your left. There are two rooms. One for you and one for your sons.”
Mother looked confused. “Where would Dareya sleep?” Her brow furrowed.
The silver-haired dragon blinked slowly. “Tempered Calderin will not be with you. She is bonded. Her quarters will be with her mate.”
“With him, you mean,” father snapped.
“She is part of his house now,” the dragon said, coolly.
“No.” Mother spoke firmly, her tone turned to steel. “She is our daughter. She stays with us.”
“She isn’t a child,” Rhysael said. “She is...”
“Still our blood,” Father growled. “She’s barely recovered from an assassination attempt. If you want trust from this family, you don’t start by separating us in a foreign land.”
Silence stretched, thick as smoke, heat rising from the walls. I felt Veyrakh beside me go perfectly still, the air bending slightly with the restrained pulse of power through his body.
Then, to my surprise, Veyrakh stepped back half a pace. His hand dropped from my back.
“Very well,” he said, voice smooth but distant. “For tonight.”
The silver-haired dragon raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Veyrakh turned to me, gaze unreadable. “You may stay in your family’s quarters until tomorrow’s hearing. After that... it will be decided.”
“By whom?” Kyran asked warily.
Veyrakh didn’t answer.
A heartbeat passed. Then Rhysael bowed ever so slightly.
“As you will, my lord.”
I turned to stare at him. My lord?
Veyrakh didn’t meet my eyes. “We’ll speak tomorrow,” he said to me, then turned and walked away. His boots made no sound against the crystal floor, but the weight of his absence hit like a missing heartbeat.
Only after he was gone did Mother exhale. The tension left the room like a breath held too long.
I yawned. “But seriously. Where will I sleep?” I asked.
“I’ll take the sofa,” Father said. “If you bring me a blanket and pillow. You can take the bed with your mother.”
Mother gave him a long look but did not argue. “Come on,” she said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder, guiding me up the stairs. “Let’s get some rest.”
I nodded, following her up the staircase that curved along the outer wall, the stone veined with light. As we climbed, barely awake enough to register Veyrakh’s absence, I could hear faint murmurs echoed below. Dragons speaking a language not made for human throats. I caught fragments through the bond, half-sense and pulse more than word. Unbound. Dangerous. The bloodline returns.
Our room was small but beautiful. A single crystal window overlooked the valley below. The city shimmered faintly beneath dawn’s pale edge, towers like blades catching the light.
Mother sat on the bed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t trust them,” she murmured. “Even him.”
I didn’t answer. Through the bond, I could feel Veyrakh’s presence somewhere below. Distant, but steady. He was speaking with someone, his thoughts shielded. The connection pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and went still.
I lay down beside her, staring at the crystal-lit ceiling.
The silver-haired dragon had said mate like it was law.
And maybe here, it was.
Outside, a low rumble of wings catching air echoed through the valley. Dawn painted the cliffs in blood-orange light.
I’d deal with it later. For now, I just needed to sleep.
But I dreamt of fire, and of eyes that remembered everything.
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