Page 92 of The Reckoning of Starlight

The hours ground on as Blossom led Lykor and Jassyn deeper into the tunnels, leaving root, lichen, and pale light threaded through the mountain’s dark. Wherever people gathered, questions and reports followed.

Zaeryn advised that the dracovae had been concealed along the lower slopes, where the air was warmer. Velinya confirmed that the hatchlings they still had were secure with Cinderax in chambers below. Koln appeared with bowls of steaming soup and a curt account of scavenging Asharyn with Fenn and their squads.

Even Lykor added his own burden to the pile between strides, beginning with the strike he’d led on Kyansari. Jassyn’s attention snapped to him, questions already gathering, but Lykor kept moving through the rest—Essence the wraith had harvested in the capital, the Vallende stockpiles his warriors were securing as they spoke.

When Blossom turned her power toward the prisoners, Lykor broke away to inspect her work. Koln’s squad had already delivered Elashor and the flame-haired female into a temporary holding area. Lykor sent them away as Blossom carved deeper into the stone, driving the captives into two cells before the dragon drew the walls shut.

He stayed with Elashor while her power sealed the chamber into the mountain. Rock flowed across the entrance, thickened, and fused with the surrounding stone until it became a buried pocket of darkness.

The general sat silent, his stare burning crimson. Jassyn’s work.

Elashor deserved worse, but that wasn’t what gnawed under Lykor’s ribs. Whatever Jassyn had made himself do, Lykor would stand between him and the cost of it.

He portaled out, leaving the general alone without comforts.

The cavern system had doubled since they’d entered. Hot springs now steamed where Blossom’s claws had split the stone and fresh water spilled through channels she’d opened. She communicated with Jassyn alone, but Lykor’s beastblood sensed her magic winding through the rock, a deep hum of her contentment vibrating through his bones.

At last, the dragon halted.

She exhaled once, then folded into a crescent in the last chamber she’d shaped. Moss crept over her scales as she settled, the earth reclaiming its own.

Then her power stilled.

Lykor’s body ached with exhaustion he’d been outrunning since the mountain prisons. They’d eaten twice, though he couldn’t remember tasting either meal. Down here, time had no sky to answer to.

“We should rest,” Jassyn said quietly.

Lykor blinked against the burn in his vision. He’d spent the day measuring Jassyn’s every falter and missed his own. Jassyn hadn’t.

“Where?” He didn’t want to retrace their path or wedge himself into some packed grotto where questions would find Jassyn before sleep did.

Jassyn tilted his head and pressed a hand to the wall. Vines unfurled from the ceiling, braiding into a living veil across the chamber mouth, thick enough to conceal the tunnel beyond. “Why not here?”

Blossom already slept, her breathing rumbling through the stone. Steam curled from a stream she’d unearthed nearby, seeping warmth through the cavern.

Lykor’s instincts bristled. He crossed to the entrance and parted the vines. One of Fenn’s squads waited in the gloom beyond—Jassyn’s silent guards, the same shadows that had trailed them through every new tunnel.

“I’ll eviscerate anyone who disturbs this chamber unless the king himself is in these caverns,” Lykor growled.

The guards straightened, eyes glowing in the dark.

“Rotate out and get some rest,” Lykor said, scanning the tunnel beyond. “I don’t want to see the same faces still holding this post when I step back out.”

He released the vines, letting them close between him and the guards without waiting for their reply.

Jassyn knelt where the moss had begun to thicken, palms pressed to the earth. A soft green tide rippled outward, spreading over the stone. He glanced up, and something in Lykor went still beneath the look.

Jassyn’s voice came quieter than the shifting earth. “Would you…” Color crept along his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have assumed, but would you want to stay?”

Lykor didn’t waste a breath on false hesitation. “Yes.”

Jassyn nodded once, like he’d needed to hear it spoken, and returned his focus to the earth. Pale lichens bloomed along the walls, softening the bioluminescence to something close to firelight.

“Is Aiko still in Asharyn?” he asked as roots rose from the floor to frame a hollow wide enough for two.

The palace had still stood when Lykor had last flown over Asharyn. Open balconies and unlatched windows gave Aiko every opportunity to leave. The cushions, curtains, and anything else too soft to defend itself gave her every reason to stay.

“She’ll be insufferable,” he muttered. “Fair warning.”