Ashborn Chapter 14
Before the court of dragons, Dareya is forced to choose: blood or bond. But when the truth ignites, no one—human or dragon—can deny what has always been destined.
The antechamber was comfortably warm, but I couldn’t stop shivering.
We’d been sitting in the room for about an hour. Unguarded. Unattended.
No Veyrakh.
I kept glancing at the doors, expecting him to join us any moment. To explain what would happen. To offer reassurance. But the doors, both to the hallway and to the room we had yet to enter, stayed firmly shut.
He had not come. And I hated how much that bothered me.
The seating was functional, but surprisingly comfortable. The stone benches were cushioned with a dark gray silk. Pillars glowed with embedded crystals. A table on the side had held trays of bread, cheese, and fruit and a pitcher of a cold golden liquid which had been delicious and sweet. At least the table had held the trays of food until Sethus and Orin had gotten hold of it. Luckily, Mother was able to convince them to allow the rest of us to enjoy our breakfast.
A screen flickered to life on the far wall, capturing our attention.
“We return now to our special coverage of the Aerie Collapse.” A news anchor stated from the news desk. “We join Amreth Jinstin on location at the Dragon Aerie of the Citadel of the Arakita Order.”
We looked at each other, confusion evident.
The video opened to a reporter standing next to the Order’s Commander in front of the still-smoldering ruins of the collapse Aerie. Heavy equipment and cranes had been brought in, and it looked like a search operation was underway.
“Thank you, Virla.” she spoke into her microphone. “I’m here with the Order’s Elder Warden, Commander Serina Bracksmit, Commander of the Arakita Order, where a search is currently underway for any possible survivors and to recover the remains of the deceased.”
She turned to Elder Warden Bracksmit. “We’re being told that the dragons responsible for this devastation may have been bonded to Riders within the Order, itself,” Amreth Jinstin said solemnly. “Sources suggest one of those Riders may have deliberately aided the dragons. Commander Bracksmit, can you confirm?”
The Commander’s expression was grim. Practiced. “We are still investigating the full scope of the breach. But yes, preliminary analysis suggests the involvement of at least one bonded Rider.”
The reporter added, “The footage you are about to see has been verified by Order surveillance teams. Please be warned that some may find it disturbing.”
The screen flickered again.
There I was, walking into the chamber with my family. Looking nervous, my eyes darting around. Then Veyrakh coming behind me and transforming, his arms around me. They slowed the replay. My eyes closed. My body pressed to his. As he held Alira in the arm that was not wrapped around me.
“Insiders claim this was not the first meeting between the two,” the anchor’s voice droned. “Sources suggest a covert bond, formed well before her Crucible participation. Some believe this was a premeditated reunion hidden under the guise of a family visit. You can see her face, the body language. Clearly familiar. Clearly intimate.”
Kaelin swore at the screen. “They’re twisting it.”
The next scene, Alira was back in her mother’s arms. Crying. The wetness blooming across Tamsin’s chest.
The dragon’s snarl.
The wall of fire.
The collapse.
My chest tightened. They’d taken real surveillance footage. Real training footage. Then they edited it out of sequence and stitched it together with surgical precision.
“The dragon never touched her.” Tamsin’s jaw clenched. “Only looked at her. And in the tunnels, he was telling me about how he was eager to get home to his mate and hatchlings.”
Sethus added, “and it was completely out of order. We were in there probably a couple hours at least.”
“Did anyone notice Alira?” Kyran asked. “She was never out of frame, but,” he looked pointedly at his sister-in-law, “you were holding her, and your blouse is wet, then suddenly you aren’t there and Veyrakh is holding her. It doesn’t show you handing her to him. Then you have her again and your blouse is dry. And he isn’t even in the frame. In fact it doesn’t show where anyone came into frame or left.”
“You’re right. She started crying just right after the doors closed.” Tamsin rocked Alira. “I’m surprised she lasted that long. My shirt took hours to dry.”
I glanced at the door again.
Still no Veyrakh.
Still silence.
A soft chime rang, and the inner door slid open. A dragon, shifted into human form, walked through. His expression was unreadable. His attire was formal. Courtly.
“Follow me,” he said, stiffly, as he turned on his heel and walked back through the doorway. “The court is assembled.” He didn’t even look behind. He just expected that we would follow without question.
Father rose, brushing the dirt from his wrinkled shirt.
We hadn’t had fresh clothes or a good wash since before yesterday morning. Since before the Aerie was destroyed. Since before we’d had to flee halfway across the continent in the dead of the night.
Tamsin’s blouse was still milk-stained. Orin’s knees were covered in dirt. My braids were completely frizzed, and my boots were muddy, as was the hem of the dress I’d worn. Alira’s diaper, fashioned from what had been a sheet last night, was already leaking.
We looked a sight as we traipsed through the doorway into a large room.
No, it wasn’t a room. Not really. More like a crater. The crystals that were everywhere gave off light and polished metal amplified the light so brilliantly that for a moment I thought that it was sunlight coming through the top. But no, we were deep inside a mountain.
We had entered on the lowest level. Dragons, those who had shifted into their human forms were wearing what we presumed to be their finest attire. Others, in their natural forms, lined the upper rings, as though it were a theater or stadium.
Another chime caught my attention, and I saw a panel of dragons, all in human form, seated around a stone table, wearing fine, courtly robes. The embroidery impeccable. Their hair was impeccably plaited and coiffed.
And still no Veyrakh.
Was he that insulted by my parents’ refusal to allow me to stay with him?
The panel whispered amongst themselves, glancing over our heads, as if they were waiting for someone to arrive before they could begin. Finally, they seemed to have come to a decision and the one in the middle stood and the one at the end both stood.
“This court is now called to order.” The dragon who was on the end called out, then sat back down. Everyone fell silent.
The dragon still standing was tall. His hair, the color of black opal, was braided in coils that shimmered faintly in the crystalline light.
“We are here,” he began, his voice echoing through the room, “to determine the status of these humans present within the sovereign domain of the Dragon Host.”
His unblinking gaze passed over each of us in turn.
“While your presence is not a crime,” he continued, “it is unanticipated. Uninvited. And unresolved.”
I felt every pair of eyes settling on us from the gallery above.
“This is not a trial of guilt,” he stated, “but of place, of whether you belong.”
The words hung there. Until he added: “And whether you may stay.”
Another dragon on the panel shifted and spoke without rising.
“The Bonded,” she said, eyes fixed on me as I rocked Alira. “You are Calderin. Ashborn. And yet, you are unclaimed.”
The words felt like a slap.
“Your place is not contested, but theirs is.” She nodded toward my family.
“Do you stand with your mate?” She paused. “Or with your blood?”
Another dragon leaned over to her. “Who are you saying is Ashborn?” His amused voice was just loud enough for us to hear. “I detect more than one.”
Another dragon tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “The elder is unclaimed, but bonded. The younger...”
“Is unbonded,” another murmured. “The blood sings, but she’s too young.”
I held Alira a little tighter as the whispers rose around us. Tamsin covered her eyes as she leaned on Kaelin. Kaelin looked ready to jump up, grab Alira, and take her far away from this place.
“So,” the dragon who had addressed me before looked at me, “Your blood or your mate?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
How can I answer that question? He hasn’t even shown up since yesterday. Since my parents made me stay in their chambers. Maybe he’d taken that as my decision.
My fingers curled tighter around my niece. She shifted in her sleep, breathing softly.
I wasn’t just deciding for myself. Or for Veyrakh. Or my family. I was standing in front of creatures who would remember my answer for centuries.
And I didn’t even know if he wanted me. I couldn’t stop seeing the way he had wrapped himself around me in the Aerie, Alira in his arm, every touch and breath perfectly framed for the camera. At the time, I’d believed it real, that he wanted me. Later, though, when I watched the feed I saw it for what it might have been. Theater. A show to distract the watchers while Tamsin and Father worked. Not love. Not mine. And now, they have asked me to choose between blood and bond when I couldn’t even be sure he’d ever chosen me.
As I was thinking, tears started falling down my face. By the time I’d concluded that I wasn’t sure he wanted me, I was full on silently ugly crying. Hiccupping.
Father steps forward, putting his arms around me. “How can you make her choose?” He sternly addressed the panel. Not threatening. Just a father who’s young had been hurt. “They have not seen each other since yesterday. I don’t believe they have even had a chance to talk anything over. You want judgement, but you’ve made this thing a trap.”
His arms stayed around me, shielding me from creatures older than the world itself. “You ask her to choose between two lives, when she hasn’t been given a real choice.”
One dragon on the panel shifted uncomfortably. Another just stared.
“Let them speak with each other,” Father continued. “Privately. Then you may ask your question again.”
“Privately. Then you may ask your question again.”
I stopped just inside the threshold as I’d entered through a door on the upper level.
Still reeling from the newscast I’d just watched.
No sound. No movement. Only her.
She stood at the center of the chamber. In the scorched circle where those accused of crimes against the Dragon Host stood as judgement was passed on them. A place where I, myself, had passed judgement on many. Frayed. Exhausted. Her father’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Holding Alira like a shield. Her breath came in hiccups. Her cheeks wet. And yet she stood facing the court like a shieldmaiden.
Her blouse was damp from the child. Her boots and hem caked with mud. Her braids undone.
I’d never seen her like this.
She wasn’t standing battle-ready in a ceremonial uniform. She wasn’t composed. Wasn’t prepared.
She’d walked into judgment anyway.
Then I noticed that the entire family still wore exactly what they’d had on the moment we’d left the Aerie.
The Court watched her. I could hear their whispers and pity. Their unspoken, hopeful dismissal that she would choose her blood.
I stood at the balcony overlooking the circle from behind, my knuckles white on the banister. My throne to my back.
She hadn’t noticed my presence. I’d let them – let her – stand there, beneath the judgment of immortals with ash in her hair.
I stood motionless a beat longer. Then I started down the staircase.
I didn’t take the steps quickly, although every instinct I had told me to run. To skip steps.
But I walked.
Down. Step by step.
Toward the scorched circle.
Toward her.
Her father looked up as I approached.
Finally, I’d stepped onto the lowest floor of the chamber. A place I’d never before set foot.
A place no dragon, unless on trial, had set foot.
Then I walked to her.
Her red-rimmed eyes met mine. Questioning. Accusing.
“Where were you?” Her voice was quiet. Sad. Defeated. Her shoulders slumped.
The Calderin Patriarch took his granddaughter from his daughter. Dareya’s arms hung limply at her sides.
And in front of the Court. In front of every ancient thing.
I took her into my arms.
Not demanding.
Not claiming.
Comforting.
Asking.
She pressed her head to my chest. I buried my nose in her hair, kissing the top of her head. I just held her for that moment, as her arms embraced me, pulling me closer.
The Court remained silent. Then the question was asked again.
“Your blood or your mate?”
She turned her head up to me,
She turned her head up to me, searching. Waiting.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.
Then her lips met mine. finding my mouth with hers.
Soft, but certain.
No fanfare.
No dramatics.
Just truth.
A choice made from will. Not pressure. Not tradition.
She chose.
Every dragon in the chamber felt it as the bond settled.
It rippled through the air like heat off stone.
Some gasped. One wept. Another backed away, bowing instinctively.
As if it had always been waiting for this very moment to take form.
“All right,” Mother said, her voice brisk, eyes sparkling. “So. Where’s the priest?”
She looked straight at Veyrakh and me. “I mean it. I’m not letting you shame this family by eloping in the middle of a political incident. I raised you better than that. Put her down. You are going to have a proper wedding first.”
No one argued. Not even Veyrakh.
No spoken commands were heard, but movement rippled through the chamber.
Female dragons in court attire descended from the gallery.
One approached Mother and inclined her head. Another reached for Tamsin. A third took Alira from Father. A fourth curtsied deeply before me. I looked at Veyrakh, confused. He simply chuckled and told me to go on and promised to not be late.
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