Chapter 39 Embers in the Vein
Serika Thane POV
The city below Pyraen Hold pulsed like a living furnace. We called it Verrath, the City of Sparks. Its streets were veins of obsidian and glass, its people a crawling mass of dragons in their lesser skins, merchants, thieves, and courtiers, all pretending civility while the volcano dreamed of burning them alive.
I liked Verrath. The heat kept secrets soft.
The tavern was buried near the cliff base, half carved into the mountain itself. The sign outside flickered between languages, The Scorched Feather. A charming choice, given tonight’s topic.
Inside, the air tasted of soot and wine. I took the corner booth, my back to the wall, facing the door. Always. I might be vain, but I wasn’t stupid.
She arrived late, cloaked and hooded, and smelling of iron and old storms. When she pulled her hood back, the candlelight kissed silver hair bound in a braid that shimmered like a serpent.
“Lady Eryndra,” I murmured. “The corpse that never rots.”
Her smile was all teeth. “And the consort who never conceives.”
I laughed, low and delighted. “You always did know how to charm a room.”
She sat across from me, resting her gauntleted hands on the table. The joints gleamed with etched bone, ivory carved into her armor like jewelry.
“I heard the rumors,” she said. “The Ghost lives. And Korr burns for her.”
I poured us both wine, black vintage, heavy as blood. “Rumors are all Verrath trades in. But yes, the whispers are true. He guards her like a dragon guarding a relic he doesn’t deserve.”
Eryndra’s gaze was sharp enough to flay skin. “Then he’s more fool than I thought.”
“I prefer ‘predictable.’” I lifted my glass. “Men who think themselves gods always crumble when a woman bleeds brighter.”
She didn’t smile. “Tell me, Serika. What do you want from me?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Korr’s Council won’t move openly. They fear him too much. But you, dear sister, you have no such hesitation. You’ve always wanted his throne.”
Eryndra tilted her head. “And you’ve always wanted his bed.”
“Correction,” I said smoothly. “I want to ruin what keeps him out of it.”
That earned a soft chuckle. “Ah. The Ghost.”
“She’s not a ghost anymore,” I said. “She’s something worse. Something divine. They say phoenix fire runs through her blood.”
Eryndra’s eyes brightened. “Phoenix. You’re certain?”
“Certain enough to risk meeting you in a tavern instead of poisoning your wine,” I said.
She drummed her fingers on the table, each tap metallic. “A phoenix heart could restore dragon fertility. Do you know how long we’ve tried? How many humans I’ve broken looking for the spark that never comes?”
“Oh, I’ve heard the hymns,” I said sweetly. “The Silver Brood’s glorious mission to ‘renew creation.’ Your little hybrid experiments must make the gods weep.”
“They weep because they’re obsolete.” Eryndra’s grin was wolfish. “And you, my dear, have just handed me the key.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I murmured. “You’ll need my access to the High Courts, my influence among the Tri-Scale, and my pretty lies to make this work.”
Her expression cooled. “So we work together.”
“For now,” I said.
The tavern door opened, spilling in a gust of ash and laughter. We both went still, watching a group of miners stumble past. When the noise faded, Eryndra leaned closer.
“Korr will fly to the Wildlands,” she said. “You know this, yes?”
“I encouraged it.”
Her brows rose. “You encouraged it?”
“Oh, darling.” I smiled. “Never interrupt a man while he’s marching toward his own ruin.”
Eryndra’s eyes glowed faintly. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“That’s the only kind worth playing.”
I sipped my wine, savoring the heat. “When he’s gone, the Council will panic. They’ll look for strength elsewhere, perhaps in you. If you can deliver them a weapon.”
“A phoenix.”
“Half of one,” I corrected. “We drain her, keep the rest alive. Enough to breed from, or forge spells with. Whatever your twisted brood needs.”
Eryndra’s smile was slow and wicked. “You think small, Serika. I think of armies. Imagine, hybrids with dragon hide, phoenix flame, and mortal adaptability. They’d burn the world clean.”
“Then we’d rule the ashes.”
She raised her glass. “To ashes.”
We drank. The silence between us shimmered like the air over a forge.
At last she spoke again. “How do you plan to reach her? The wolves will guard her, and Korr will arrive before I can move.”
“I have allies in every dominion,” I said. “The wolf nobles want her gone, the vampires want her blood, and the Council wants to dissect her. I simply have to open the right door.”
Eryndra’s gaze flicked to my throat. “And if Korr finds out you opened it?”
“Then I’ll tell him the truth.” I smiled. “That I did it for him.”
For the first time, Eryndra laughed, a low, vicious sound. “You really are mad.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But madness is what makes empires.”
She leaned back, satisfied. “Fine. I’ll prepare my laboratories in the Ashen Range. Send me the girl when she’s caught.”
“She won’t be easy to catch,” I warned. “She’s fire itself.”
“Then I’ll learn to hold fire,” Eryndra said, rising.
As she adjusted her cloak, her eyes glinted with the same molten hue as her brother’s. “You always thought you were the clever one, Serika. Just remember, when you dance with dragons, it’s never clear who’s leading.”
I watched her go, the tavern’s shadows swallowing her whole.
When she was gone, I allowed myself a long, trembling breath. My pulse thundered like molten metal through glass.
Vaelrith’s sister. The ghost reborn. Korr’s obsession.
All paths led to the same flame.
I traced the rim of my goblet, watching the red wine catch the light. “You think you can love her, Korr,” I whispered. “But love doesn’t save. It devours.”
Outside, Verrath’s night sky burned with embers.
The volcano murmured like a sleeping god, and for a heartbeat, I almost heard it laugh.