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Draithus was a victory. On paper it was a miracle, the city intact--mostly--and more citizens alive and evacuated than dead. Of the non-human corpses littering the cobblestone streets, the walls, and the valley around it, more were wyvern than dragons. Riders, infantry, and fliers were gathered and were spilling out of the main hall of Riorson House, exhausted but celebrating, the kitchens working hard to get food on the tables and the wine flowing.
It was a victory, but not everyone was feeling the relief. They had missing riders and dragons still, and that included the two people most important to this household. The three most important, if one accounted for concern about the throne, but Dain was choosing to stick to one worry at a time.
He stood on one of the balconies overlooking the courtyard, as if being able to see any survivors approaching would hasten them returning, holding a glass of wine that he hadn’t touched yet. From below, the sounds of revelry were a muted sort of ambience, like wind around the towers of Basgiath, or wingbeats during long flights between outposts. Objectively he knew that they were right to celebrate, that they had won, and yet Dain felt as if everyone downstairs had already crossed the finish line to earn their joy, and he had fallen behind.
Footsteps on the stone made him refocus, turning his face as gold and blue flickered in the mage lights. Sloane had bathed post-battle, wearing a clean uniform now, her blonde hair drawn back in a loose ponytail and her blue gaze intent as she came up beside him. She held up a glass, and it took Dain a moment to realize that she wasn’t offering it to him, but rather presenting a toast.
Blinking, he remembered his own drink, and tapped it against hers. They both sipped, and remained quiet some more, watching the lights from the house spill out across the courtyard.
“You’re worried about Sorrengail.” Her voice was quiet.
Dain exhaled, feeling as if he’d been holding the breath too long. “Of course. She’s my best friend.” He blinked. “....guess I should have asked which Sorrengail you meant.”
Sloane smiled faintly. “One’s downstairs trying to be happy while being as stressed as you are, and one’s sleeping up in the infirmary. I swung up there after I changed, Dyre said she’s stable.”
Dain looked down at her, surprised that she did that. “Thank you. For checking on her.”
She nodded, a blush crossing her cheeks. “I wanted to make sure I helped. Didn’t mess it up, or anything.”
That got a tired chuckle from him. “You did amazing. Your signet is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. Even the ones that seem like they’re only weapons....it comes down to the rider. Who you are, and what you do with your gift.”
Sloane raised her chin. “It manifested when I was cornered in a cave by a pissed off dragon, and I accidentally started draining Cordella. And then the first time I actually used it, I killed their mother.”
“No.” Dain’s voice was flat. “You need to stop wallowing and start hearing what Brennan and Violet have both said to you, Sloane. You did not kill her. She made a choice to save her children, her school, and every single life in that battle. And the only way she could do so fast enough was with the aid of a conduit to channel her power into the stone. Like I told you today: you are the artery for that power.”
Her lips twitched. “What an energizing pep talk, Wingleader. ‘Don’t wallow.’”
“I told you.” Dain couldn’t help smiling as well. “I’m done coddling first years.”
“I can’t imagine you ever doing so,” she said with a snort. “Did you actually? Or was it just Sorrengail?” Seeing his brow furrow, Sloane went on, “I’m not being rude, it’s just clear how it was for you two. You were in love with her, weren’t you?” she asked, looking down at her drink.
Dain rolled his neck, feeling it crack, relief in the joints. “The way that teenagers can be, working through their feelings as they grow up. We both knew we’d end up at Basgiath, so that was always the looming reality.” He sighed. “I overcorrected with protectiveness when I found out Lilith put her in the Riders Quadrant. I didn’t give Violet the credit she’s due, and it crushed anything that was left of that between us.”
“Do you still feel it?” Sloane asked.
Dain looked at her, expecting to see....judgment, or pity, condescension, something that said she assumed the answer and looked down on him for it. But her eyes were big and earnest, purely asking, ready to accept what he said on the matter. She’d never looked so much like her brother to him.
“No,” Dain replied, his smile easier now. “Not when I saw the way that she looks at Riorson. Not after I heard the way he talks to her. That is a love that will burn down empires to survive.”
Sloane nodded slowly, taking a long drink of her wine. “Enviable.”
“Mairi!” someone yelled from downstairs. “Come on, these fliers actually think they can out-drink us!”
Sloane hesitated, and Dain smiled at her gently. “Go on. It is a day to celebrate, even with loose ends. Just don’t make yourself sick if you can help it.”
“Gods, you’re bossy,” she sighed, flipping her hair in his direction as she turned to go back inside. “It’s a good thing you make it sound good, or I’d hit you for it.”
It wasn’t until she was already off of the balcony and on the stairs down to the main hall that he realized what she had said, and Dain looked back, startled, but she was too far to call after.
* * *
He didn’t know how long he remained out there, but it was well into the night when the chill became enough for him to make his legs carry him back inside. He’d been found once or twice and brought refills, so he’d continued enjoying the wine as he waited and worried, and now there was nothing to do but keep waiting while staying warm. The beautiful old clock in the foyer showed it was well past two in the morning.
Climbing the stairs to the residential level, Dain turned down the corridor where he’d been given a room, and then stopped in surprise when he found Sloane waiting at his door.
She pushed off of the dark wood, uncrossing her arms and ankles, staring at him as if trying to find an answer to something. Dain waited, then resumed walking, reaching the door and touching the handle, the wards reacting to him and letting it open. He gestured, and Sloane entered first, Dain following and closing the door again.
“It’s sound warded, if this is private--” he started, turning from the door to face her.
Sloane launched herself at him, and Dain reflexively caught her by the waist as her mouth crashed against his.
Heat raced under his skin, and Dain didn’t know it was power she was harboring, or pure desire, but he didn’t really care. He twisted them around without breaking the kiss, driving her back against his desk hard enough that it jolted them apart. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Mairi, are you drunk?”
She blinked, staring at him in shock. “What? No, I--no.” Her cheeks flushed, eyes widening. “You called me Sloane before. The way you looked at me, I thought--that you also feel...” Alarm and mortification flared in her sky blue eyes, and she tried to pull away from him.
Dain’s hands tightened, not letting her budge. “I didn’t say I don’t. I asked if you’re drunk.”
Sloane frowned, and shook her head. “No. I wasn’t....they had enough people for their contest, I just kept sipping and hanging out. And I saw that you never came down and started thinking-- I mean, it doesn’t matter.” She leaned back. “Just forget it.”
“No.” He kept hold on her waist, and the other hand rose to grip her chin. “Eyes on me, Sloane.”
The blush deepened, and her eyes snapped back to his face. She was remembering, too.
“All I asked is if you’re drunk,” Dain clarified. “Because I am not going to let the first time I touch you be under...questionable conditions.”
Her pretty eyes widened. “The first time?” And then those baby blues betrayed her, flicking back down to his mouth.
Dain nodded. He lifted one hand from her waist to brush back the strands of her ponytail that had fallen across her neck, his fingers sliding to grip the back of it as he leaned in closer. “I do feel it too. But I’m your wingleader.” She opened her mouth immediately, and he placed a finger against her lips, stopping her retort. “So you have to be sure.”
Her pupils expanded, lips parting, and she nodded.
“Say it.” He saw the flash of defiance that instantly sparked, and smirked as he dropped his hand. “You might want it and yet deny it. I need to know that you’re certain of what you’re asking for.”
And there was the Sloane he’d started thinking about too much, who’d been infiltrating his dreams, eyes flashing in what seemed to be mingled annoyance and competitiveness. Her chin rose again, jaw set stubbornly, and only the heaving of her chest gave away any nervousness as she stared him right back down. “I’m not denying shit,” she bit out. “I shouldn’t want you.”
She took a breath, and Dain braced to assure her that it was fine, this meant nothing, and he would never bring it up again.
“But I do.” She met his gaze again, the fire in her eyes like the sun in the midday sky. “I shouldn’t, but I want you, and unless you’re throwing me out--”
“Enough.” Dain used his hold on her neck to pull her in as he leaned down to kiss her, and her words were lost as he captured her mouth.
Her lips parted immediately, and he took the invitation, licking gently past them. Sloane moaned instantly, her hands flying up to his shoulders to clutch at him, and he accepted the offer, probing deeper until she surrendered to him. “Dain--”
And oh, the way his name sounded on her lips. He couldn’t stop his growl of approval, dropping his hands back to her waist and lifting her onto his desk. Her legs wrapped around his hips immediately, and he could feel her strength as she tightened them, trapping him against her. He certainly had no objections. And her hands, small but capable, stroked down his chest almost shakily, as if she wanted to explore but wasn’t sure she was permitted. Dain put one hand over hers, pressing down, letting her feel how his heart was hammering beneath her palm.
The kiss slowed, and broke. Sloane stared up at him, her fingers flexing against the fabric of his shirt, and Dain’s breath was punched out of him at how lust blown her eyes were, lips swollen, cheeks flushed red. If that was how she looked just from being kissed, he could only imagine--
The barest hint of insecurity bled into her wide eyes. “You said you also....”
Dain nodded. He knew she would feel how his heart leapt. “I’ve tried not to,” he said softly. “So many reasons not to, reasons you deserve better, but I couldn’t help....wanting.”
Sloane considered that, then seemed to reach a decision, her small shoulders straightening with certainty. “Guess it’s a good thing, then, that it’s up to me what I deserve. Because unless you’re letting any of those reasons stop you--”
“I’m your wingleader.”
“Discouraged, not forbidden.”
“I graduate this year.”
“Okay. I’m not fucking proposing, Aetos.”
He snorted at her reverting back to his surname. His smile faded before it had even settled. “I got him killed.” He still could not bring himself to say Liam’s name when he confessed this.
Sloane’s eyes hardened, but it was with grief, not anger. “Did you mean to?”
Dain sucked in air. “Fuck no. I trusted my father. I had no idea he would--”
Sloane covered his mouth with her hand, and Dain couldn’t help puckering his lips, kissing the shockingly soft skin of her fingers. She had callouses, all riders did, and yet they were still gentle. “I’ve read his letters.” Her voice was much quieter. “The way that he described Sorrengail, how he grew to cherish her--Riorson may have assigned him to protect her, but he chose her. Liam loved her, and dying for the people he loved was just....him.” Sloane swallowed. “Did she forgive you?”
Dain nodded silently.
“He would have,” Sloane said. “Riorson said he gave them the choice to obey orders or stay. Liam stayed. That was forgiveness.” Her hand moved to cup his cheek, and Dain leaned into the tender touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “Dain?” He reopened them, meeting her gaze as Sloane leaned in. “I forgive you.”
This kiss was infinitely more sweet, but just as hungry, and for the first time since the morning he had watched Violet and Riorson walk back into the courtyard, very much so not dead, but missing a brightly smiling blond in their company, Dain felt as if he could fully breathe again.
Her hands were stroking down his chest again, and Dain shuddered as they brushed over his abdomen, seemingly on a mission. “Sloane, if you’re--”
“I think I’ve made it clear that I’m sure,” she cut him off, nipping his bottom lip and sending fire racing through his veins. “So unless you’re--”
“Fuck’s sake.” He yanked her into a harder kiss, his hand sliding up into her hair, not caring when the frayed hair tie snapped and let her blonde tresses fall loose. “It’s going to take some work to keep you quiet, isn’t I?”
“I’m sure you’re up for the challenge, Wingleader,” she said sweetly. “Now--”
“Violet!”
They jerked apart at the sound of Brennan’s shout. In unison they ran to the balcony, watching the oldest Sorrengail bolting down the front steps towards his sister, who was sitting in the heart of the courtyard, looking around in bewilderment.
Dain looked at Sloane, guilt warring with urgency. “Sloane--”
“I know. We can revisit this later.” She caught his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go.”