Chapter Thirty

A Scent in the Night

Their departure from the mountains had been bitter sweet. In a way, Inerys felt as though she were leaving a second home. It was a foolish thought, she knew, but those weeks spent camping with her companions had provided a sense of stability and routine she hadn’t experienced since before her attack. She had always known the arrangement was temporary, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being uprooted yet again, right as she was beginning to settle.

At the very least, their flight back to Kresia had been uneventful. Cydan had flown with them as far as the mountains along the edge of the city before bidding them farewell and veering west toward the capitol. From what she had gathered, he and Rhydian had spent the prior daylight hours hunting elk on her behalf. Two, roughly around the middle of their fourth Ascensions, had been neatly tucked away in Rhydian’s Pocket, to be carved and butchered in the future as needed. Inerys had offered her thanks, having felt a hair guilty that she had slept through their entire hunt and a majority of Ayduin’s packing.

Not that whatever sleep she’d managed could be considered restful.

Ephaxus touched down along a swath of white stone within the complex, his head dipping low to inspect the surrounding gardens, tongue flickering. He shuffled to one side, allowing Tanuzet to land beside him, while Ayduin and Vaelor remained in the air, drifting in a wide, lazy arc above. Rhydian wasted no time in climbing down from the saddle, offering a nod to the two approaching apprentices. They bowed in greeting, though Inerys hadn’t failed to notice the thinly veiled wariness in their expressions, the rigidness of their postures.

She whispered to Ephaxus, “I’m not sure if they’re more worried about you or me.”

He tipped his shoulder toward the ground as she eased her stiff legs from the saddle.

A combination of both, I suspect, he said, inclining his head toward her.

She hopped down onto the stone, her hand lingering along the side of his chest.

“It’s possible,” she said, “but between the two of us, you’re the more intimidating one.”

The wyvern playfully bared his black teeth, causing one of the apprentices to shrink back a step.

Inerys offered the young man an apologetic smile, lightly swatting Ephaxus’ snout for good measure.

“Quit it. You’re terrible.”

He gave an indignant snort. That is not how you pronounce formidable, little one.

“Just try not to flatten the gardens, please?”

I make no such promise, he teased, his lengthy tail swishing behind him.

She hummed. “Just remember, Sorisana’s a fleshweaver.”

He rumbled, though was distracted by Tanuzet’s departure.

Wind swept through the complex as she took wing, easily clearing the outer ring with a few idle beats. She and Vaelor’s clicks rang out in the night, the two banking back in the direction of the aviary. Inerys watched them go with a small sigh, not particularly eager for what came next.

“Ready?” Rhydian asked.

She nodded. “The sooner we get this Soul prodding over with, the better.”

“It’s for the best, remember.”

“Mmm, you say that now, but you’re not the one on the receiving end.”

“True,” he said, “but if it’s any consolation, Ephaxus will be equally indisposed.”

Inerys spared a glance over her shoulder as they walked. “Spirits help whoever gets on his bad side.”

“He may complain, but Ephaxus has always been one of the better patients.”

She raised a brow. “Really?”

“Tanuzet is the most . . . argumentative,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“She’s never hurt anyone, but she’s not shy about expressing her displeasure. Vaelor is the dramatic one. Always has been.”

Inerys chuckled, then followed Rhydian’s lead as he bowed his head to the two waiting apprentices.

“Master Allair,” the young woman, Nivaea, said in greeting, “Mistress Sorithael. Welcome back to the Tower.”

“Thank you,” Rhydian said, “Is the Sage available?”

“She is currently seeing to another patient, but I will notify her of your arrival. In the meantime, I can escort you back to your previous room on the lower levels, Mistress.”

“I’d like that. Thank you,” Inerys said, bowing in the same manner Rhydian had.

The apprentice returned the gesture before she and her peer turned heel to lead them into the central spire. Around them, the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and lavender, the gardens alive in the early morning hours. Sunrise was less than an hour away and the dark of twilight was already beginning to fade in anticipation. Apprentices and other Tower staff milled about, watering and tending the wealth of the gardens. Inside, various other chores were being seen to by young men and women dressed in tawny robes.

Inerys’ interest fell once again to the intricate scenes carved into the face of the marble within the interior, along the walls and thick columns supporting the massive structure. She wondered if perhaps she’d see more of it during this visit, now that she was both stronger and more coherent. Though, she was more inclined to explore once the sun retreated beyond the horizon. With so many windows, Inerys was sure to go blind if she dared venture out during the daylight hours. She appreciated the warmer, softer glow of the amber stones in the lower levels. Their shine was minimal, while also allowing Inerys to appreciate the lights as they were. The small crystal structures were fascinating.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Nivaea said, pausing to open a wide, ironwood door part way down a familiar hallway.

Inerys peered inside, her nostrils delicately flaring at the fresh scent of the darkened room. Half a dozen faint scent trails lingered within, some older than others. Though, one of them smelled distinctly other. For a moment, she couldn’t quite place her finger on why. From her experience, most Adai possessed a light, almost woodsy scent, while their Nar’Adai counterparts were more arid with faint floral or citrus undertones. This scent, however, was faint, alluring and elusive in a manner that intrigued her. Like the phantom essence of a lover’s perfume.

“Is everything all right?” Rhydian asked, watching her with half raised brows.

She slowly sank into one of the chairs. “I think so, I just - Does it smell strange in here to you?”

He humored her by taking a whiff, but shook his head. “It smells like the Tower. I’m not quite sure how else to put it. It doesn’t smell lived in, if that helps. My nose isn’t half as good as yours, though.”

She nodded absently, the fragrance teasing her nose from time to time. Curious as it was, she decided not to linger upon it. One of the Sages or apprentices could have simply been wearing perfume or something of the like.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve been around anyone other than you and Ayduin,” she said, “and the wyverns, of course. I may just have to get used to the smell of other people again.”

Rhydian took a seat across from her. “Sometimes I forget just how sensitive you are. If you like, I can find you a new set of earmuffs. I’m not sure what I can do for your sense of smell, but the Sage may have some ideas.”

“I won’t say no to new earmuffs,” she admitted.

The city, even at this hour, was far louder than the forest. At least, as far as ambient noise was concerned. The same went for the barrage of odors, but there was little that could be done to quell that particular sense.

“The Sage may have some on hand. If not, I can venture back out into the city once you’re situated.”

Inerys’ gaze fell to her gloved hands. “Will you stay with me? Until the examination is done, I mean.”

His expression softened. “Of course. I’ll stay as long as you like.”

Her lips quirked, but didn’t quite find their way into a smile. “What do you think she’ll find?”

“A healthy young vampire who’s one step closer to making herself whole again,” he murmured without hesitation.

Her chuckle was light. “I think you put too much faith in me.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “but I’ve also seen how far you’ve come first hand. It’s true, your Soul is still damaged, but you’re a far cry from what you were when I first brought you here.”

She wondered if it was normal to feel broken despite coming so far.

“I’m not quite so skinny,” she joked.

He grinned. “And not quite so sickly pale, either.”

“I’m still pale, Rhydian.”

“In a sense, but there is a clear line between radiant and anemic,” he said, “this new, silvery sheen suits you.”

Before Inerys could answer, a feminine voice cleared her throat in the doorway. Her cheeks flushed. She should have heard the woman enter. Though, she recalled the Sage’s steps as being far lighter than most.

“May I come in?” Sorisana asked.

Rhydian rose to his feet with a hasty bow. “Of course, honored Sage.”

She raised a delicate hand. “Please, you may call me Sorisana. You’re hardly one of my students.”

She moved with regal grace, ever the poised and humble queen of this tower. Her golden skin still radiated with that strange inner light, the sun to Inerys’ moon. The vampire bowed in turn, the gesture smooth and deep as the respect she held for the woman.

“You’ve progressed even farther than I’d hoped,” Sorisana said in her honeyed voice.

Straightening, Inerys inspected herself. “I was fortunate enough to find myself in good hands.”

“That much is clear indeed,” she said, gaze surveying every inch of Inerys’ new body.

The woman studied her as if she were a painting.

“We were hoping to have a more thorough examination of her Soul performed,” Rhydian said, “in preparation of our flight to the capitol.”

The Sage nodded, then gestured toward the bedroom. “If what I sense passively is any indication, the inspection should be brief.”

Inerys breathed a subtle sigh of relief. However, there was still the matter of her passenger. With luck, Sorisana would not have to antagonize the splinter of Ezra’s Soul in order to detect it. She wasn’t keen on having it take control again.

“Have you experienced any weakness since your Ascension?” Sorisana asked as Inerys laid back against the bed.

Rhydian took his position in the doorway, leant within the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“On occasion,” she admitted. “Usually when I overexert myself.”

“And while you're idle?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, sending a certain anticipation through her veins. She hadn’t realized how much her nerves affected the flow of her essence. It grew quicker, more erratic. She shook her head, forcing herself to relax with a smooth, meditative breath through her nose. She exercised her will over her cores, recalling the techniques Ayduin had instilled in her.

“Most of my pain has subsided,” she said once settled, “It’s nice not to feel so brittle.”

Sorisana nodded as she studied the dim, blue fractals along her bare arm, the glove set with care upon the nightstand.

“Your relief should only grow from here. With each subsequent Ascension, your body reforges itself. In subtle ways, at times. In more drastic ones, in others, as you’ve experienced with your recent third. Your Soul strives for perfection with each advancement. Strengthening and repairing itself brings it that much closer.”

“I never expected my body to change so much,” Inerys said.

She had yet to work up the courage to look in the mirror. What stranger would she find staring back at her? It was enough to feel the changes that had occurred, but to see them . . .

“If I were more familiar with the anatomy of vampires, I might be able to provide you with a better explanation as to why the changes occurred. The species is a unique one and one we’ve never had the privilege of studying first hand. I suspect the drastic transformation was a result of the Inheritance, to bring your physiology more in line with that of your forebear. It is . . . a unique form of reproduction."

Inerys resisted the urge to shudder.

Reproduction.

As if Ezra had somehow become her mother.

She dared to ask. "Should I expect any more?"

"It's difficult to say for certain," she said, expression pensive. "Unfortunately, there is no way to predict further alterations before they happen."

She'd feared as much.

“I do believe the majority of your transformation is behind you, though,” the Sage said, then teased, “I’m confident you won’t sprout wings and turn into a wyvern any time soon.”

“A shame, I was looking forward to those,” Inerys said with a half smile.

“They would be rather useful, wouldn't they? From what I understand, you have a wyvern to handle the flying for you, though.”

“I do,” she said with a small smile. “His name is Ephaxus.”

“Was that who I heard chirping like a songbird outside?’

“Likely.”

“I’ll have to see him for myself, once we’re through,” she hummed, studying Inerys’ long, black talons, “Physically, you appear to be healthy, but I will have to examine your Soul to be certain.”

Inerys steeled herself. “Do what you must.”

The Sage’s presence melted into her, warming her limbs as if she were laying flat in the morning sun. Her touch was exceptionally light, and at times, difficult for Inerys to even detect. She slowly relaxed, easing muscles that had stiffened in anticipation of the intrusion.

“Both your meridians and your channels appear to be mending well. Especially the main meridian through your heart. The remaining Shackles seem to be holding for the time being as well. Was this cycling technique your suggestion?” She asked, glancing to Rhydian.

He nodded. “It's a Talhavar standard. Easy to perform at lower Ascensions, but effective.”

“It’s served you well,” she told Inerys. “However, your other primary meridians are lagging in their recovery. I will find you some suitable techniques to practice. They’re more advanced, but difficult as they are, they will benefit you in the long term. Your branching channels are stable, so we’ll focus on your meridians. If those fall behind, any future advancement might be compromised. Best we address them now.”

Inerys wasn’t thrilled to start a new cycling technique from scratch, but if it aided her recovery, so be it.

“There’s something else,” she said, hooking her lower lip with a fang.

Sorisana’s golden eyes found hers. “Oh?”

Inerys hesitated, briefly glancing past the woman to Rhydian, who gave her a small, reassuring nod.

“I think it may be a piece of Ezra. It usually only flares up if I’m hungry or in danger, but it's always there. It's like it’s sleeping. I’m just not sure where.”

The Sage’s lips formed a narrow line. “I see. It’s possible it’s tied to your Inheritance, but I will have to search in order to know for certain.”

Inerys suspected the woman already knew where to look. Her stomach twisted, watching as the woman’s hand rose to hover above her middle. A deep heat bloomed along her spine, traveling and shifting in accordance with the woman’s fingers. It chased shivers up and down her back, prickling her limbs. The woman’s expression darkened.

Rhydian stepped closer, his jaw tight, arms still crossed. “What is it?”

“There appears to be another presence attached to her primal meridian,” she said, heat focused in the center of Inerys’ spine.

“The Inheritance?” He asked.

“Perhaps,” she said, “it isn’t sentient, which makes sense, given how it only stirs during periods of hunger or flight or fight scenarios. If it is some fragment of the late Matriarch, I don’t foresee it becoming a threat anytime soon. However, I would keep an eye on it.”

He stroked his chin a moment, “We may want to mention it to the Patriarch as well. He may know something we don’t.”

“He would be the best resource for you,” Sorisana agreed, her hand falling to rest in her lap as her presence withdrew.

Inerys sat up in the bed, one hand straying to her back. She wondered if that was a hint of envy she’d detected in the woman’s voice. Considering how eager she was to inspect Inerys, she imagined the woman would jump at the opportunity to speak with someone more knowledgeable in matters of their unique anatomy.

“Thank you, Sorisana, your assistance and discretion in all this has been of great assistance,” Rhydian said.

“The pleasure is mine,” she said, rising on long, graceful limbs, “I would advise the two of you to remain here for the time being. I will have a few recovery pills brought down, as well as the technique scrolls for your meridian cycling. Your wyvern will be seen to as well, in preparation for your flight.”

“Thank you,” Inerys said.

Sorisana smiled and bowed her head. “An apprentice will be down shortly. If you require anything else, you need only ask.”

With that, the Sage took her leave. Rhydian watched her go, then let his arms drop when his attention returned to Inerys.

“Will you be all right if I return to the aviary for a short while?”

“Do what you need to,” she said, rising to stretch, “I’m sure I’ll be here when you get back. I may even take the opportunity to bathe without eyes. Wyvern or otherwise.”

He chuckled. “I’d capitalize on the privacy while you can.”

“I will, then,” she decided, beginning to undo her braid. “I’ll see you later?”

He offered her a lopsided grin. “Soon enough.”

With that, he dipped his head and turned to take his leave. Inerys moved for her pack, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she crouched. At some point, she would need to retrieve some of her belongings from Ephaxus’ saddle, but she had what she needed in the meantime. She slid the jar of elk’s blood from the leather satchel, studying the contents in a moment of deliberation before sighing and setting it near upon the nightstand.

As she did, she heard a slight disturbance in the living space. One of the apprentices, perhaps? They certainly arrived sooner than she expected, but Sorisana struck her as the sort of woman who sought efficiency and instilled it in her pupils. Inerys moved for her door, only to pause when that unusual scent struck her at the threshold. Her passenger stirred, intrigued, and her heart quickly found its way into her throat.

Cautiously, she stepped out of the bedroom, attention fixed on the young woman donned in flaxen apprentice robes. Locking eyes, the woman halted a few steps shy of the low table situated between the sofas. Though she appeared to be an Adai, her scent was all wrong.

And yet, she somehow felt familiar.

Inerys sucked in a breath, “What are you?”

A slow smile spread across the woman’s lips, the peculiarities of her face beginning to take shape. Her chin sharpened, a feline cast framing her eyes and narrowing the once rounded pupils to narrow slits. The irises bled from brown, to an icy blue so crisp they were nearly white. Inerys took a step back as her sandy hair suddenly shone a brilliant shade of red.

“You must be our wayward heir,” she purred.