Page 14 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

The menacing sound alone unnerves me. A tingle flickers in my hands, and I nearly squirm out of my skin. “What is that?”

Sethan tics his head to the side at the next ringing wail. “A ripple.”

“A ripple?”

“Yes. When a dragon is slaughtered by a magical weapon and its magic isn’t returned to the earth, it’s stuck here, somewhere…else. Trapped reliving its final moments.”

A’nala’s top lip curls up, her pupils narrowing and widening repeatedly.

Daeja shakes her head as if trying to rid the sound. “Make it stop.”

“Let’s go.” Sethan motions for me to mount Daeja, and he climbs into his saddle on A’nala’s back.

The four of us take back to the skies, and the ripple’s wails fade into the distance, replaced by the sound of the whipping wind. We land back in the forest outside of the Midkeep.

“Why have I never heard a ripple before?” I ask Sethan and slide off Daeja. “Back in Padmoor, I watched the King’s military kill a dragon. I never heard anything then?”

He works on tying up some of the loose straps from the saddle. “Had you bonded your dragon at the time?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that question. At the time, she hadn’t even hatched. I wasn’t even aware of her existence.”

“Then the reason you didn’t hear it before is because only those with magic can hear it. You can now since you and your dragon are bonded. That, and I imagine King Aaric is careful to not create ripples in his kingdom—it serves as a better reminder for us in the Dragon Lands and our people.”

“So…that creature is stuck there? For eternity?”

Sethan tosses me a side-glance. “Unless you release it.”

“Me? How?”

He strides forward and holds out an open palm. “Remove your gloves, and give me your hands.”

I snort, taking a step back. Marge had mentioned the ring on my finger was tied to being a dragon rider and I should keep it hidden. But now knowing Sethan is also a dragon rider…does that make him trustworthy? I’m still unsure how I feel about him.

He flicks his fingers impatiently. “Come on. You have nothing to hide from me.”

Daeja growls in warning. “If you don’t want to take them off, don’t.”

I pat her side to quiet her as A’nala locks in on Daeja. “Easy. Let’s not aggravate either of them.”

“Why should we care? They aren’t our friends or allies. I might be a little more than half the size of the she-dragon, but I bet I could outrun her.”

“She’s double your size, and considering the scars littering her scales, she has far more experience in combat.”

“Some people just call it old age.”

I toss her a glance. “Daeja!”

When I look back at Sethan, he has an eyebrow quirked up . “Or... do you have something to hide?”

Chewing on my tongue, I race through the possibilities.

If I don’t remove the gloves, it’ll only make me seem suspicious.

And besides, what do I have to lose other than the fact he’ll know for certain I’m a dragon rider?

Sliding my gaze to Daeja, she’s already watching me.

And it’s already obvious I am a dragon rider.

Removing my glove, I reluctantly offer him my right hand with the dark circle that represents my bond with Daeja. In our proximity, I recognize a band of dark skin wrapping around his wrist, with its shape mirroring something of the ring around my finger.

He shakes his hand and motions to my other hand.

While I lock onto his steady gaze, I pull the glove off my left hand finger by finger and hold it out to him.

His brown eyes fix to my hand, sucking in a gasp as soon as I rest mine in his.

He hovers a fingertip above my fingers, right over the ring Cole gifted me. Not daring to touch it.

“This ring…” He clears his throat and drops my hand before taking a step back. His brown eyes are still glued to my hand. “...this ring has much power. More power than you could ever imagine. Enough power that you could release a ripple.”

“I could?”

“With some training…” He nods, before shaking off his mesmerization. “Look. If you really don’t think you can trust me or those here in the Dragon Lands, then we can make a blood pact. But we need you. The dragons need you. And the entire realm needs you.”

“A blood pact?”

“A blood pact is a binding agreement. Should either party venture outside of the agreed to terms, they’d die. So, you won’t have to trust me, and I won’t have to trust you. Because we’ll be magically bound to it.”

I flinch at the severity of such an agreement. If I don’t hold up my end of the bargain, Daeja will also die. But it also means him and A’nala dying if he doesn’t hold up his end. If I can’t trust his words directly, I can at least trust the magic of such a pact. Right?

He jerks his head into the direction of Midkeep. “But there’s one last thing that belongs to you, that you need to see before you make a decision.”

Back in Sethan’s office, he pulls open a hidden drawer in his desk and hands me a letter.

I take it from him, and when I note the front is blank, I flip it to the back.

A broken wax seal with the symbol of the rebels—a capital ‘A’ with a dragon perched on top—is stamped across the two folds.

Unfolding the paper, Sethan stalks around the room out of sight.

Sire,

I pray this letter finds you well, and I apologize for such a lengthy silence.

I write to you to inform you of my official resignation as a spy.

During my return to the Dragon Lands I was caught by an Arterian in Padmoor.

She held me prisoner and, somewhere along the way, we fell into an undeniable companionship.

And now I have a child on the way. As you can imagine, I can’t leave the babe in this kingdom or at the very least, not alone.

I can only hope someday I see you again. May the Gods grant you a lifetime of peace and prosperity. May we win this war. And may we set our people and dragons free from tyranny.

Forever,

Leland Blackwind

I fold the letter closed and scan the room to find Sethan leaning up against a wall and watching me already.

I shake the letter. “What does this mean? Why did you want to show me this? I already knew my father was spying on the King.”

“Because of how he addressed him,” Sethan whispers.

I blink, opening the letter back up and scanning the first word. Sire. “How is that relevant?”

“Because no one called Cyrus sire. Many of us have reason to believe that your father, Leland Blackwind, was sired by Cyrus. Making you the granddaughter of?—”

“Cyrus,” I breathe.