The Skin Thief

Chapter 96

Kiora

Kiora and Illyria sit on a marble bench in peaceful quiet. A soft breeze flutters through the air, making the tulips around them sway.

"I love spring," Illyria sighs.

"It has its charms," Kiora replies, gazing at all the vibrant flowers that fill the perfect gardens. Not a day goes by without a team working hard to keep the gardens maintained. From cleaning the white stone paths to planting new bulbs or cutting the grass, the gardens are always perfect. Kiora doesn't think she's seen a dead flower since the moment she arrived.

Illyria chuckles and runs her hand over Liros' head. He's curled up by her feet and his head rests on her lap. It makes a deep, pleased rumbling sound in its belly.

"I suppose you're not a fan of spring, given that it means winter is over," she says.

"Every season has its purpose," Kiora replies, her voice distant. "Though I am sad to see that the winter just passed was little more than a touch of frost now and then."

"It's the same most years," Illyria replies. "Occasionally there are colder years than others. About ten years ago, we had snow up to our ankles. But it is rare. This is the realm of dragons and they are creatures of warmth and fire. Winter doesn't have a place here."

Kiora nods her head and sighs sadly.

"What is it like where you're from?" Illyria asks curiously. "I've barely seen snow."

Kiora smiles softly. "My temple was high in the mountains. A palace built into the stone where the air was thin and the storms blindingly brutal."

"It doesn't sound pleasant," she replies. Kiora chuckles.

"For most, it isn't. Many lives were lost in the mountains. But for us, it was home. And though the storms were dark and loud as they thrashed against the stone, it was strangely comforting. But on the days when the skies were clear and blue, you could see for miles. There is nothing more spectacular than sheer, snow-covered mountain peaks, spanning as far as the eye can see."

Kiora sighs sadly and closes her eyes, trying to cling to the images of her mountains.

"I'm not sure I'd fair well without colour. I spend every day in these gardens, but I could never grow sick of them. I could never get tired of looking at all the different flowers and their unique shapes and colours."

Kiora nods in agreement. "They are a marvel," she replies.

They fall back into silence again. Kiora watches the gardeners work in the distance. Today's job is cleaning the marble sculptures and polishing them so they gleam in the sun.

"May I ask what your home was like?" Kiora asks.

Illyria's dragon stirs and stretches out by her feet, yawning.

"It wasn't as rich or grand as here," she begins, "my city was a lot smaller with sandstone buildings and red-tiled rooves. The keep where I and my brothers lived stood atop a great red-stone cliff. The city was surrounded by waters that were crystal clear and the most spectacular shade of turquoise to exist. I grew up jumping off the cliffs and into the warm waters. I swam around sea caves, explored secret coves and spent my days lying on the warm white-sand beaches. It was perfection," she whispers.

"It sounds it," Kiora replies.

Illyria smiles sadly. "Then Athan came," she whispers.

Kiora sighs and nods her head, thinking about her own home. "Then Athan came," she repeats.

Before she can say anything else, she spots the other wives approaching. Kiora bites the inside of her cheek nervously.

Their time of peace is over.