Page 16 of Curse of the Midnight Dragon (The Moonlight Dragon #2)

Celestina

“I brought you fresh clothes,” Trace said as he entered the bedroom. He had to duck to not hit his head on the doorframe. Keeping his eyes diverted from where I was convalescing in the bed, he placed the small bundle on a table near the door and started to back out. “I cooked dinner if you’re hungry. I can bring a plate up. Or, if you’d prefer, you can come down to the kitchen to eat there.”

“I’ll…” I shifted uneasily in the bed. I hadn’t been awake long enough to assess the state of my injuries. But at the same time, I didn’t want to stay cooped up in this room for any longer than necessary. “I’ll try to come down.”

He glanced over at me. He was tall and broad, and his presence seemed to fill the entire space. “If you don’t feel up to it, don’t push yourself. If you don’t come down within the half hour, I’ll bring up the plate and more healing tea.” He stepped out of the room and started to close the door.

“How long?” I called to him. I hugged the blanket to my chest and wiggled to sit up.

He waited until I stopped flopping around like a fish before asking, “Pardon?”

“How long have I been here?” I felt so disoriented. The healing tea was strong. And while it tasted so much better than Mary’s pungent tea, it had made me sleep for I-don’t-know-how long. I remembered briefly waking several times to find the healer hovering over me. She’d been changing my bandages, rubbing a citrusy salve on my burns, or urging me to drink more of the healing tea.

“Four days,” he answered. “You’re stronger now. Awake. It’s good. If you don’t come down, I’ll bring up the plate. But…” he paused again. “Please, try to put on the clothes. Juniper says I should encourage you to move around today.”

He didn’t wait for me to reply before closing the door.

I sat in bed while digesting the fact that I’d been in this room for four days. We were in a small brick house located at the far end of the market street. The front of the house was filled with weaving equipment. He’d hurried me through the shop and up a narrow set of stairs that led to this room.

The healer had entered shortly afterward. She’d placed her large basket at the foot of the bed and then pushed Trace out the door. Smiling, she’d introduced herself as Juniper, the village’s only healer. She reassured me over and over that she was going to help me feel better before removing the sheer dress that was even more indecent now with a ripped arm strap and the bodice hanging so loose that I was showing off most of my right breast. She’d cooed nonsense words as she’d carefully washed my body with a warm sponge.

Before she did anything, she would explain what she was going to do and had asked my permission before doing it. I’d appreciated that. And I’d appreciated her calm manner.

After she’d coated my burnt skin with a cooling salve and pulled a soft cotton shift over my head, she’d had me drink two mugs of her special healing tea. With my injuries tended and my belly filled, she’d tucked me under a pile of heavy blankets and had left with the promise that Trace would watch over me.

How had that been four days ago? Soren must be out of his head with worry. He’d once promised me that even if I ran away from him, he’d come fetch me.

Come find me .

He would come. He always kept his promises.

I eased myself from the bed. Even after four days of healing time, the ripped skin on my neck still stung like fire whenever I moved. My wrist, thankfully, seemed to be mending. While it still pained me, I could open and close my hand, which was a relief. I’d been worried that I’d lose the use of it.

Still, everything hurt, especially my one arm that had been pulled from my shoulder joint when the dragon had yanked me into the sky. I needed to get to Soren. He could heal me.

I groaned as I pulled the thin cotton shift off over my head. It took quite a long time to pull on the clothes Trace had left for me. I fell twice trying to pull up the brown leather trousers that seemed to fit like a second skin.

“Are you okay in there?” Trace had banged on the door each time I’d fallen, but he didn’t burst in.

“Just-just getting dressed.” Which was hard to do with just one working arm.

It took time, but I finally managed to dress myself in the trousers and warm green sweater Trace had provided. Before heading down to the kitchen, I peered into a small mirror hanging on the wall next to the door. My eyes looked bruised. Heavy bandages encircled my neck. My hair, although it looked clean, was a tangled brown mess. I was sure I had Juniper to thank for keeping me washed. At least, I hoped it was the older, kindly Juniper who’d washed me these past four days and not Trace.

If it had been Trace, dinner was about to be damned awkward.

I made my way slowly down the stairs, taking in everything in the home. There were two other bedrooms on the second floor. And one bathroom, which I made use of. Clearly, one of the bedrooms belonged to Trace. The bed was unmade and there were dirty clothes in an overflowing basket.

But other than that one bit of untidiness, the rest of the house was impeccably neat. Framed paintings of landscapes and dragons in various poses filled the walls in the hallway and stairwell. I studied each one as I made my way to a small living room on the first floor. Once there, I stopped and gaped at the large painting hanging over the fireplace.

It was a portrait of the green dragon… my green dragon. The painting depicted the same clearing where the black dragon had landed four days ago. The green dragon stood on his hind legs with his impressive wings spread wide as if about to take flight.

“My mother is a painter,” Trace said, startling me. He nodded to the painting I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from. “She painted that one. And hung it there when I was…” He frowned and paused before mumbling, “When I was away, she hung it over the fireplace. She’s put all the paintings up in my house, save for a few. She’s run out of room in her own place.” He shrugged. “I don’t want you to think I’m vain. I’m not. I would never have put a huge self-portrait like that anywhere in my house. Well, maybe in my guestroom when my brother sneaks over to stay while I’m away. He’s a thief, and I wouldn’t mind him thinking I was watching over him.”

“That-that’s you?” My breath got stuck in my throat. “You’re…?” I shook my head. Trace was the green dragon? My green dragon? I shook my head again, having trouble reconciling the two images. My heart started pounding.

My green dragon. I’d pretended and dreamed that he stayed in the valley because he was watching out for me. But that had been a fantasy dreamed up by a lonely girl with a big imagination. It hadn’t been real. The dragons had simply lived in that valley near the castle. They hadn’t been there for me. Of course not. Because if they had been there to watch over me, why had they left? And why didn’t they ever intervene to protect me from Queen Beatrice? No, I couldn’t have heard him correctly. I was having a mental breakdown, that was what was happening. I was weak from my injuries, weak from spending four days in a drugged stupor. My mind had snapped.

“I think you need to sit down.”

He caught me under my arms just as my legs started to give out. He led me to a cushioned bench that wasn’t far from the fireplace. His hand pressed on my back as he directed me to put my head between my legs.

“Breathe, Celestina. Nice and slow.”

I tried. It was excellent advice. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. That painting hanging over the fireplace of my magnificent green dragon with gold-tinged scales was…was this man? And the more I thought about it, the more my breathing felt out of control.

I batted away the hand rubbing up and down my back and sat up. The world wobbled. “You…you’re…the…green…dragon?”

Trace nodded.

“Gods.” I put my head between my legs again.

“Thank the goddess for your perfect timing. She saw the portrait my mother painted and started hyperventilating,” Trace said to someone who’d walked up to the other side of me. From my perspective, all I could see were black boots.

This new person scoffed. “This is our savior?” I recognized the voice from the dungeon.

“Be kind, Amaya.” That was Juniper, the healer. I also recognized her voice from when she’d cared for me. “Celestina has been raised to believe she was human. We must give her time to accept her new reality.”

Juniper’s worn tan boots came into view. Her warm hand gently touched the center of my back as she crouched down next to me. “It’s okay, Celestina. You’re safe here.”

“Do you think she needs more healing tea?” Trace sounded nervous. “I could go prepare it.”

“So she can sleep for four more days?” Amaya scoffed again.

“Only if she’s in pain,” Juniper said at the same time. “Are you in pain, dear? Do you need more tea?”

The thought of drifting back into that black void of oblivion tempted me. But doing that would only delay the inevitable. I needed to face these people—these dragons . I needed to hear what they had to say.

And I needed to figure out how to leave here and find my way back to Soren.

By focusing on my desire to see Soren again, I managed to steady my breathing. I needed to get back to him. He’d heal my injuries. He’d know how to make things right.

I lifted my head. “I’ll be okay. I don’t need the tea.”

Juniper gave an approving nod. “You’ll feel stronger after you get some food in your belly. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’m sure you have questions. And there’s much we need to tell you.”

Soon, the four of us were seated around an old, well-loved kitchen table. Trace carried four bowls of stew over to us. Juniper handed out spoons and cloth napkins that she’d found in a cabinet drawer. The kitchen had two large windows that looked out onto an overgrown garden. On the opposite wall was a small stove, a double oven, and an oversized sink. Lining the third wall were floor-to-ceiling cabinets that had been decorated with painted climbing flowers, clouds, stars, planets, and silhouettes of dragons. More of Trace’s mother’s handiwork, I guessed.

“Ohhh, this smells delicious,” Amaya said with her nose practically inside the bowl Trace had set in front of her. She looked so much healthier than she had in the dungeon. She wore her long, black hair in a single braid that she’d flung over her shoulder. Her cheeks had a rosy glow that seemed to soften her severe features. She was dressed all in black. Black leggings, black sweater, black boots. After sniffing loudly, she jerked her head up and stared at Trace. “You made this? I didn’t know you could cook.”

Trace’s cheeks flushed as he glanced in my direction before answering Amaya. “I haven’t lived in the village for a long time, as you know. I had to learn to care for myself and the others who’d come stay with me.”

Amaya turned and frowned at me with a look that felt accusatory.

Instead of thinking too hard about any of that, I tasted the meaty stew. It had a spice in it that I didn’t recognize but made my tastebuds dance with pleasure. Soon, my spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl.

“Do you need more?” Trace had already pushed back his chair and was reaching over Juniper to grab my wooden bowl.

Juniper put her hand on his arm. “She’s had enough for now. It’s time we talk.”

I’d been expecting this. I needed to hear about them…and about myself. Was I a dragon? Was I the moonlight dragon?

I wanted answers. And yet, I didn’t feel prepared. I drew a long, slow breath and held it as I nodded.

“Let’s start with the basics. Do you understand what you are?” Juniper asked.

I slowly let out the breath I was holding. “I was told that I was a moonlight dragon.” My body tensed, waiting for the collar to punish me for saying that aloud. One time, when I had tried to tell Soren how I felt connected to the dragons, the collar had hurt me so badly that I’d bled from my ears and eyes. No punishments came now, of course, because the collar was gone. Still, it was hard to convince my body that talking about dragons wasn’t going to harm me.

“You are the last moonlight dragon,” Juniper confirmed. “That’s true.”

“And I was stolen? From a cave?”

“You were taken,” Trace said. “You hatched twenty-three years ago. You and Amaya both hatched on the same day. A moonlight dragon and a midnight dragon.” He smiled at the other young woman. “A few days after the two of you hatched, a woman with strong magic blew through the village and took you. She left ten of our brethren dead. Our leader, my father, was one of the dead.”

“So were two of Trace’s older brothers and a sister.” Juniper squeezed Trace’s hand. “Your family lost more than any of the others that sad day.”

Trace grunted and looked away.

“My parents recently told me that Queen Frieda had brought me to them when I was a baby. They knew what I was, but they never told me that I wasn’t human. Queen Frieda had ordered my parents to keep me safe.”

“Those humans aren’t your parents,” Amaya snapped. “And Queen Frieda only kept you safe because she wanted to use you.”

“Who are my parents? Were my true parents one of the ten who were killed when the queen had stolen me?” I asked.

“We don’t know who your parents were,” Juniper said. “During the Vampiric Wars the vampires had decimated our numbers. Those who remained hid themselves away. Save for a few solitary dragons on the continent, we are the last surviving clan. There are legends of dragons that left the Jayden Continent to find safer lands elsewhere. If the legends are true, hopefully, those dragons were successful in finding a safe place to live. Sadly, no dragon has ever returned from another land. There’s just us. And the Vampiric Wars killed off two of our most powerful kind—the moonlight dragons and the midnight dragons.”

“I’ve heard the stories of the moonlight dragons,” I said. “But I’ve never heard about a midnight dragon.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Juniper was quick to answer. “Midnight dragons were our most deadly warriors. They lived in the shadows. Our enemies never saw them strike, never knew their full power, until it was too late.”

“If no one knew about the midnight dragon’s magic, how could the vampires defeat them in the War of the Magics?” That didn’t make sense. Just like it didn’t make sense that Juniper didn’t know who my true parents were.

“They’re the Vampiric Wars to us,” Amaya corrected.

“We’re not sure how the vampires managed it,” Juniper said at the same time. “They used a magic never witnessed before or since. But the legends talk about a magical blanket attack that took out our strongest, our most fierce without touching them, without knowing where they were, or even that they existed.”

I tried to imagine such a weapon. None of the stories about the vampires had ever mentioned that level of destruction. But then again, many of the stories I’d been told about vampires had turned out to be wrong.

I supposed the stories about the dragons could be faulty as well.

“After the blanket attack ended, the vampires came in and destroyed all our nests, killed our babies, smashed the eggs. Only two eggs survived the attack. The egg that held you. And the egg that held Amaya. Our ancestors hid those two precious eggs. They watched over them, praying for the return of their most fierce fighters. But the eggs never hatched. Still, generation after generation, the clan guarded the eggs. The elders began to speculate that the eggs were waiting for a time when the world was ready for the return of the fifth kingdom. I’m sure you can imagine the excitement we all felt when the first egg—your egg—formed a crack and we could hear movement inside. What a time to be alive, we all anxiously thought. This was surely the return of the dragon age.”