Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 5: A Familiar Face

He stared, disgusted. His fingers reached for Justice before realizing he'd left his Sverak inside. A careless mistake, but no matter. "Right. Well, I tried." Inhaling, he sent his fist through the air and slammed it into the side of Jake's face. The impact sent Jake stumbling backwards until the wretch lost his footing on the stairs and tumbled off the porch. He hadn't intended to use so much force.

Ignoring Claire's gasp, he walked to the stairs. "If you return, you will be the one in trouble. Have I made myself clear?"

Jake's eyes were like daggers, but he knew he'd been beaten. He cupped his quickly-swelling face and staggered to his feet. He took off without a backwards glance, muttering profanities, before climbing into the large metal wagon that needed no horse to pull it.

Cyrus blinked, only just noticing it. A roar sounded before it began moving away. He stared. What inexplicable magic filled this world! He would have to ask Claire about this horseless carriage later. Dragonwall had no such contraptions.

He turned to her. She stood with her mouth hanging open, but she said nothing. A sudden flood of exhaustion inundated him—left him dizzy. Without a word he left, so as not to let her see his pain. He would nurse his wound alone and in silence.

***

Claire found him in his room after dark. "Dinner's ready," she said, knocking quietly from the other side before poking her head in. He'd been resting, but not sleeping. His mind was elsewhere, wandering over better memories, over Leeana.

Gods he missed her. Not a day went by that he didn't recall her silky black hair and dimpled smile, her calming personality and kind heart, and the way she made his happiness soar higher than his wings ever could. He especially longed for her now, when the pain was worse than any physical ailment he had ever experienced, save the feeling of her mind getting ripped from his.

They once held halves of the same consciousness. When she died, his existence was torn apart. The agony of losing a piece of one's self was a form of torture he would never wish upon any living soul. He never thought it would happen to him. His kind were born to feel invincible, it was in their nature.

That made it more unbearable. His loss of Leeana, his Rider, his mate, created a deep void that would never again be filled. How naïve he'd been to believe becoming one of the king's elite, a King's Shield, would distract him. He was wrong, there would be no distraction from his lifelong mourning.

It was said that males should never shed tears, that it was a sign of weakness. Yet he was more dragon than man, and he had cried for many nights—for many years. The world was a darker place without her in it.

"Cyrus?"

His stomach gave a loud grumble. Claire still stood in the doorway, watching him. She took a step into the room and hesitated. "Look, I wanted to thank you for—for chasing Jake off earlier. I know he can be a total douchebag. He never used to be like that. And I hope—"

"Does he abuse you often?"

"What? He—no! I mean, he's never hit me or anything like that."

"Well he might have, had I not stepped in. Many dealings have I had with males like him. Thank the gods I woke up in time. Perhaps Asjaa smiles upon you."

It was the truth. Asjaa did favor her. He knew it with certainty now. The girl had no notion of the secret he carried. He wished he could tell her, but it would be too difficult to explain.

"Asjaa?" her head tilted slightly, freeing a lock of hair that fell across one eye.

"The Mother."

Her brows scrunched together. The gods were different here, he knew enough about this place to know that. The unnecessary explanation had little to do with his point anyway, so he avoided it. "You should stay away from him from now on—away from this Jake—for your own safety."