Page 3 of I Dream of Dragons

How is it possible? Wasn’t he killed, after all? I was assured by my family that his life was cut short.

A bland way to describe an event that splintered my heart.

But the words the king spoke to me last night are words nobody else had ever heard apart from me. Nobody had been around, I never told anyone about them—and then Mars was killed, and I was gone, too.

Gone and lost in the dark, dissolving into nothingness.

My point is, the fae king had no way of knowing those words—unless he was the one who spoke them in the first place. And if it was him…

The implications.

All my grief, all my anger… was for nothing?

No, not for nothing. My family is dead. My people decimated. I followed their fate until I returned to avenge them—but given that this fae king was the one who gave the order of their deaths… then how can I reconcile my feelings? Anger and relief. Hatred and love.

I wipe at my eyes. They are dry but they feel wet, as if the tears are only waiting to flow.

Meanwhile, where in the hells is Jai? We’re about to board. The barge is tied below, a few scant steps away, at the dock.

The barge is black, but that much I remembered from the first trial. It’s so low that the deck is almost flush with the water lapping at its sides, washing the gold swirls and symbols engraved and painted into the ebony edges. Two golden eyes shine on either side of the prow—an eosphoric symbol, the all-seeing eye, the symbolism echoed in the wings carved on the stern.

In the middle of the barge stands a tall pole made from the same ebony wood, the king’s banner fluttering at the top—the pillar and the crowned dragon—along with two other banners.

One of them is the banner of the temple, a tower divided into nine horizontal segments representing the worlds, a bird of prey flying over it with wings outstretched, holding a snake in its beak.

The third banner I don’t recognize. It depicts what looks like a rose inside a cage, stitched with golden thread. Whose coat of arms is that?

A shout echoes, breaking my attention, dropping into the human group like a stone in a pond, causing ripples. “Humans!”

I’m pushed and pulled by the movement, and it takes me a moment to recognize the voice as the priest’s.

That is, the telchin’s. Telchins are mysterious, humanoid beings who move between worlds to protect and control nexuses of power, such as gates, rivers, and passages, and the dark spaces connecting the Nine Worlds.

Now he has climbed out of the barge and onto the dock, coming to stand before us.

The wind whips his long, gray beard, making it look like a living thing, and his dark eyes flash like storms—so unlike Jai’s and yet so similar, full of secrets. His long robes are white, threaded with so much gold he seems to glow, reflecting the dawn spreading over the firmament in splashes of pink and orange.

“Humans!” he thunders again and thumps his tall staff on the flagstones, making the entire terrace shake. “Listen.”

“Shit, he’ll sink us and kill us right here and now,” a familiar female voice quips. “What a pity, and I wassolooking forward to becoming monster-breakfast at last.”

“Mera,” I whisper.

“Hey, the mute girl isn’t mute anymore.” Mera arches her dark brows at me. “Fancy meeting you here. And what a strange voice. It’s fitting for a strange human, I suppose. Not worshipping Anafia anymore? Are your vows of silence over?”

“The goddess of silence will have to forgive me.” I sketch a tiny curtsy and keep my voice low. “I serve the Gods in other ways.”

“Such as by joining the games.” She wags her brows. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

I fight an answering grin—which is insane, given where we’re standing and what we’re about to do.

“Where’s your amazing black moth?” she asks. “And where’s your dragon summoner and your little dragon? How come you’ve lost all your accessories?”

I swallow hard. “I seem to have misplaced them all.”

“A mere human now, are you?” she huffs. “Wow.”

No, I most certainly am not a mere human, and my grin fades at the thought. I’m stronger now, despite my loss of magic, and as for my past, I shouldn’t dwell on it, except…