Page 110
He did not turn into the warrior that Rathyn became. He did not bring pride to our people through strategic battles or the death of high-ranking Tarek.
He was always studious. Always a scholar. I would find him awake at all hours, poring through old history files, and it took me too many years to train him not to ask inappropriate questions every time I brought him with me to council.
There is no shame in his curiosity, and I did my best when he was growing to teach him that there is a time and place for those passions. But he took that as a rejection. Then Kori came along—Kori, who got more affection from me than Dhoryn ever did. He watched me dote on him, and I could see the craving in his eyes for touch, for comfort, for tenderness.
I could not take the risk of giving my hatchlings what I knew would encourage them to grow into Vyastil that would deserve the love of a human. They would be thrown into the mines and left there to rot if anyone on the council so much as suspected I was not teaching them the proper Eretharian way.
And Dhoryn has hated me for that.
The last time we spoke with any real meaning was after I was released from my punishment, battered and torn to pieces. He carried me home and fed me every tonic he could get his hands on until my wounds stopped bleeding.
I recall his eyes meeting mine and a single question slipping from his lips. “Was he worth it?”
At the time, I believed Kori was. And even now I know he did no wrong. His crime was merely existing, and we both paid dearly for it. I couldn’t give an answer to Dhoryn then, and now watching him stay distant and cold from his own human is unsurprising, but it aches in a way I did not expect.
I will perhaps tell Luca the story someday, when I find the courage to tell him the entire truth about Kori. But I doubt it will be any time soon.
“Why are you here?” he growls, taking a step back from me. His eyes cut down to the sleeves covering my scars, and I know he’s remembering.
I fight the urge to lay my hands over them, like a barrier of protection from the past. “I was put on an assignment by Prince Jyrion.”
Dhoryn’s eyes flash. He and Jyrion attended the same classes together when they were young, and while Dhoryn never got as much attention from the prince as some of the others, Jyrion was always unnerved by Dhoryn’s stoic, silent nature.
And for that reason, I know he uses council gatherings to torment and humiliate Dhoryn and his human.
“I will let you continue your wor—”
“I need your assistance,” I blurt, cutting him off.
He blinks in surprise. “Mine?”
“Perhaps you can come to my cottage—”
“No.”
I swallow heavily. I know he’s been near it recently. He’s met Luca, who has become something like friends with Dhoryn’s human.
“It is…important,” I tell him.
He studies me for a long time, then just as I’m certain he’s going to reject me again, he inclines his head once.
Relief hits me like a physical blow. “If you wish to bring your companion…”
“I do not wish it.”
I fight back a small sigh. “I know that he and my—” I nearly slip there. I nearly declare Luca as mine. “My companion have become acquaintances.”
His eyes flash at me, and his ears flick in irritation. “I do not wish them to be anything. Your human will give Lucius ideas.”
I want to argue, but in reality, it’s probably true. My Luca could start a rebellion on his own if he ever had the urge. “I think he simply enjoys the company of other humans who speak his language. He has been…lonely here.”
“Then perhaps you should spend more time with him instead of putting that burden on other Vyastil’s companions,” Dhoryn bites out.
I suppose, in a way, I deserve this. I deserve more from the former hatchlings I did not give the time and attention they were quietly begging for. I could have created an army full of power, strength, and empathy if I had given the future any real thought.
But I failed us all in that regard, and it will take so much more effort now to enact my plan and break the conditioning on those willing to be broken.
And I can’t guarantee Dhoryn will be one of those Vyastil.
