I froze for a beat but continued dumping out the vase. “She did.”
“She claimed you, Vale.”
“What?” I turned toward her. Jezebel still reclined against her pillows, eyes closed.
“I felt a shift, even despite the pain. When Dynaxtar followed your command over mine, that was her claiming you as her rider.” She peeked an eye open, and her next words rang like the fulfillment of a prophecy. “Will you have her?”
My fingers curled into the vase, and that same stillness that had taken over my blood and breath with Dynaxtar washed over me now. “I’d be honored.”
“Good.” She sighed. “She deserves a good rider. And I can think of no one better.”
I didn’t ask about Erista. She was never Dynaxtar’s permanent rider. I didn’t ask how it was possible, that the mythical creature chosemeover everyone else.
It lit me up from the inside out to be tied to her, a constellation given life. To have that connection, to be claimed when for so long, all I’d wanted was a place. I floated about the room with that knowledge.
When I was done with the flowers, I moved to the dresser beside the door. “I brought this,” I said, “in case you wanted to see it.” From the top drawer I removed the obsidian arrow.
Jezebel sat up straighter. “The Bodymelders didn’t take it?”
I shook my head as I approached, holding the lightweight weapon across my palms. “They cleaned it and are studying the poison but returned it. Though, they warned we should be careful. In case the poison is ejected on impact.”
“I won’t go impaling myself,” Jezebel intoned, taking the arrow. “It’s airy. But I don’t know what material it’s made of.”
“Me neither,” I said. “I was going to give it to Cyren to study, but I wanted to show you first.”
Jezebel nodded, handing it back and sinking into her pillows again.
“I’ll let you rest,” I offered. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to write to Cypherion and tell him you woke up, then deliver that arrow to Cyren.”
That sentence caught her attention. “You told Cyph what happened?”
“I did.” He’d written back in a panic. Tolek had just left for Engrossian Territory and Santorina was off on her assignment with Lancaster. I’d worried about how Cypherion would fare with the news without any of his close friends there—he’d certainly blame himself for sending Jezebel here with me—but he deserved to know. And he had his hands full with Ophelia and Malakai back now.
She pursed her lips, feigning disinterest. “Have you heard from Erista?”
A small smile playing around my lips, I crossed back to the dresser and pulled out the other item that I’d stashed in the top drawer. Or more specifically, items.
I dropped the pile of letters onto Jezebel’s lap.
She gaped at them. “You said I was only unconscious for a few days.”
“You were.”
“How many?—”
“Fifteen,” I interjected. “Erista wrote to me fifteen times to check on you. I swear if Dynaxtar or Zanox were in Xenovia, she’d have flown here herself.”
Jezebel worried her lip, staring wide eyed at the pile—a tangible sign of Erista’s love.
“Can I offer you some unsolicited advice?” I asked softly, leaving room for her to say no. She only nodded, still gaping at the letters. “We’re living in a very tumultuous time right now. Don’t turn away someone you love—who loves you with every ounce of their spirit.”
Cool blue eyes pierced my mind. The scent of bergamot and sage beneath the night sky. The tension in Cypherion’s muscles when we’d fought recently.
Perhaps I was a hypocrite for telling Jezebel this now. Or perhaps it was the advice I needed and hadn’t realized.
Jezebel toyed with one of the letters, folding and unfolding the edge repeatedly. “When the truth of mine and Ophelia’s Godsblood came out, I was scared that for four years, through all the secret messages and distance, Erista had only been using me. That our relationship was founded on the need for this Godsblood, what status a union could provide her family if the truth was known among her people. And I realize now she couldn’t have known it was inourline, but I guess I feared that had been a lie, too. That she’d never truly loved me.”
I squeezed her hand, and Jezebel finally looked at me. “No one writes that many panicked messages from any place besides true love,” I whispered. “Don’t push love away out of fear.”
