Page 35 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

STUBBORN ARROGANCE

S ethan leads our group of Vitalans and Arterians deeper into Driftmond, Cole at the back of the line with Archie.

I can’t bear the sullen look on Cole’s face, so I keep my eyes focused on the town around us.

Colorful ropes with dragon symbols swoop across the street, anchored to tall, sharp-angled buildings.

The cobblestone streets are wide enough for dragons to pass through.

Townspeople dip their heads in respect as we pass, their eyes wide as they behold Daeja—the only black dragon anyone has likely ever seen.

And Daeja eats it up.

Her lips twitch up into the look of a grin, her chin held high as she struts through the town.

Though, she accidentally knocks over a kid crossing the street behind us with the tip of her tail.

I swear it’s the highlight of the kid’s life as he gawks at Daeja.

He dismisses my concern before scampering off and chattering about it with another group of kids across the street.

Sethan leads us to the northwestern part of the town and stops near the outskirts where the buildings give way to a hillside. Daeja grumbles beside me.

“What is it?”

“Apparently, dragons usually stay out here. A’nala is commanding us all to settle here for the night.”

“You’re…you’re nervous about something?”

She shakes her neck like a horse shooing away a fly, avoiding my question. As I scan the bare land, dusted with grass and blocked in by the city against the hillside, with trees far out in the distance… “You don’t like sleeping out in the open, do you?”

She blinks at me, confirming what I already suspect. She’s spent almost her whole life under the cover of the trees. And I understand it on a personal level—because I feel the same way. The Northern Forest was always a sanctuary for me. The smell of sap, the whisper of the wind through the trees.

I run my gloved hands over her muzzle, looking her in the eyes as I say, “You can always admit to me when you’re nervous. Or scared. I’ll do a better job of telling you, too.”

She snorts, silently challenging my statement before closing her eyes as I rub underneath her chin.

“I sent notice to the council of our travel plans, so Driftmond has already been made aware of our needs for accommodations,” Sethan says as he sweeps up beside me.

He turns his head over his shoulder. “Corvin, please take a few soldiers and check in with the Driftmond council to confirm when the rider sector will be ready. Then take a pass through town for any rebels.”

Corvin dips his head and gathers several other soldiers before heading off back into town.

“In the meantime…” Sethan murmurs and opens his hand. “Let me see your blade.”

Giving Daeja one last pat on her nose, I unsheathe my sword and hand it to him.

He takes it, inspecting not the intertwined circles embedded in the hilt but the blade itself.

Holding it near his ear, he flicks the blade a few times and then draws the tip across his palm, watching the blood seep from the fresh wound with careful fascination.

He shakes his head and hands it back to me. “It’s what I thought…dragonblade.”

The dragons all around us shift uncomfortably, one of them grumbling until A’nala snaps at them to quiet.

“Dragonblade?” I murmur.

He withdraws his own sword, then slices his opposite palm, before sheathing the blade and showing me both hands.

The one he sliced with my sword has speckles of light glimmering in his blood.

The other palm has a coin-sized collection of blood without shimmering light refractions.

“A few of the King’s Close Circle members have dragonblades.

They’re forged with dragonblood and bone. Have you ever seen this one glow blue?”

“Erm…no?”

“Well…I suppose that’s a good thing. It’ll only glow blue once in contact with dragonblood. That blade contains a magical energy just like the ley lines. It won’t necessarily siphon the magic, but it can either paralyze or kill a dragon.”

I freeze, staring down at the blade in my hand. My grip loosens until I drop it to the ground. I swear as it lands and the sunlight gleams off its edge I see a shimmer of brilliant blue. All this time I’ve been carrying a weapon that could potentially harm or kill Daeja?

Sethan grabs it off the ground and holds it out to me. “Don’t worry. It’s not immediate death to a dragon with a dragonblade. A lot of factors determine how many stabs it will take to bring down a dragon: age, strength, and overall health. Think of it as…an enhanced blade.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you might need it. Dragonblades are our best defense against other dragonblades. And you never know when we might run into a wild dragon. Just…try not to stab your dragon with it.”

Daeja snaps her head into my direction with a ‘hmm?’

Hesitantly, I take the blade back and sheathe it at my side. Archie jogs up to us and claps me on the shoulder with a goofy grin. I don’t miss Sethan’s narrowed glance of irritation.

“Hey! How was the flight? Heard you fell out of the sky, that was super badass!” Archie laughs, then tosses a wink at Daeja.

Melaina follows close behind, exchanging a look with Sethan that borders on the line of discontentment before she looks back at me and her expression softens.

“Marge make it here okay?” I peek over the other soldiers’ heads toward where people are hopping out of the wagons.

“She was a little ornery with all the bumps and sitting for so long on a wooden bench. I tried to give her my jacket to cushion her seat, but she refused.” Archie shrugs. “Anyway, she went off into town.”

I raise an eyebrow. “By herself?”

Archie holds up his hands. “Well, I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“Should we be worried? Can you send someone after her?” I ask Sethan. I can’t imagine what Marge is doing wandering a town she’s never been in on her own. And as a Spoiled.

Sethan directs two of his soldiers to search Driftmond for Marge.

While we wait for Corvin to return with word from the council and assessing Driftmond, the dragons settle into spots in the grass up against the hillside.

Daeja’s black figure is a shadow against the green backdrop, with the other menagerie of fire dragons curled in on themselves, most of whom watch us with yellow eyes.

I settle into a spot by Daeja, throwing one ankle over the other and leaning back against her ribs. My eyes are heavy, and my stomach grumbles. As I’m about to lose to fluttering eyelids, Archie walks up to us.

“You’ve had a long day…” He crouches and pulls out a chunk of wrapped bread, then offers it. “…hungry?”

I lean up. “You brought that from Midkeep?”

“I always come prepared.” He smiles. “Food is just as important as weapons.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Daeja purrs, then sniffs his hand and recoils. “On second thought, I’m not that hungry.”

Without waiting for a response, he tears it in half and hands it to me. Tossing a glance up at Daeja, he points to the spot next to me. “May I?”

Daeja blinks at him, and he slowly slides up next to me, and we both lean back against Daeja. My stomach feels better once I’ve swallowed the last bite.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but…you look spent. Are you alright?” he whispers.

“It’s been a long day to say the least…” I sigh. “I don’t know, Arch. Sethan’s adamant I’ll save the realm because of the prophecy.”

“The one about the sun and…death and stuff?”

“That’s the one.”

“My ma used to say when you’re angry, you should eat first. And when you’re sad…you should sleep first.” He tosses me a smile and pats his shoulder.

“Won’t…Melaina get jealous?—”

“No,” he chuckles. “She knows who you are to me.”

When I hesitate, he prompts, “Kat, get over here and just close your eyes. I’ll wake you up when Corvin gets back. It could take them a few hours, and you need to rest.”

With a small smile, I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

It’s nearing sunset, and I wake to the sound of blade against blade. Flinching forward with my heart leaping out of my chest, I reach for my sword at my side.

Archie grabs my shoulder before I can get to my feet. “Shh, you’re alright. Just sparring.”

Arterians and Vitalans are gathered in a circle, watching a pair of soldiers spar in the middle.

After stretching out my aching bones against a dozing Daeja, Archie helps me up off the ground.

We watch the spar for a few minutes until it ends.

And then Archie playfully taunts Melaina until she gives into a match.

Melaina beats him, and the two of them come to sit next to me.

Sethan turns his attention to Cole sitting over with his back to the dragons. “My father used to always tell me fighting your way out of a problem could be just as successful as talking it out. Care to test the theory?”

Cole’s eyes darken despite his hauntingly calm expression. Wordlessly, he stands and begins to withdraw his sword at his side.

“Ahh, ahh,” Sethan clicks. “Wouldn’t want us to get too carried away. Let’s start small, shall we?” He snaps at his men, and they retrieve two wooden rods from one of the wagons.

They hand one to Sethan. The second rod goes to Cole, who snaps his gaze back up to Sethan before accepting it.

The two of them stalk out into the makeshift circle of people and begin to spar.

They spin and lunge, swinging and striking like two angered snakes.

Each contact of the rods is a heavy, hard smack.

After a quick minute, Cole disarms Sethan, and the rod flies off several feet away.

Cole drops his rod and turns his back to Sethan, returning to his previous spot on the sidelines. Not a drop of sweat on him.

Darian snickers from the crowd, still manacled and held between two soldiers.

Sethan drags a lethally slow glare over to him. “That funny to you?”

Darian’s lips tug up into a coy grin. “Hilarious. Would have never guessed you were in the King’s Close Circle. Though, I suppose you’ve always been lousy with lifting your weapon any higher than your knees. Explains why you were always second in command next to Jurrock.”

Sethan narrows his eyes. “You mean your father ?” He kicks Cole’s wooden rod toward him. “Seems to me you never had that stubborn arrogance beaten out of you.”

Darian tilts his head to the side, watching as the wooden rod rolls and bumps into his boot, before glaring up at Sethan. “Is that you asking for a chance? Because I assure you, if it’ll be anyone getting their ass beat, it’s you.”

Sethan snorts. “I’d be glad to finally put you in your place, boy.”

The two guards at Darian’s side step away after Sethan gives them a nod.

Darian snatches the wooden rod off the ground, his eyes trained on Sethan.

When he rises, he snaps the rod over his knee, the crack splitting through the clearing and creating two wooden rods with jagged edges.

“Let’s see if your legs run as fast as your fucking mouth. ”

My pulse leaps into my throat as Darian strides into the center and everyone else falls away silently.

Archie watches with wide eyes. “That…doesn’t seem like a fair fight? Darian’s still manacled?—”

Melaina rests a hand on his arm, as if he might spring into the circle himself. “Don’t. You might be surprised. My father might not want to admit it, but age has slowed him. It might be as fair of a fight as any. Let them work it out.”

It still doesn’t convince me. Because while Sethan agreed in the blood pact not to kill him, we never specified he couldn’t hurt him.

But as Darian strides closer to Sethan, confidence exuding from each step and swing of his shoulders, I begin to question my concern.

If the chain connecting Darian’s wristlets were only a foot apart instead of a generous two feet, it might be enough of a limitation for an easy loss. But it’s not a one-foot-long chain.

And it’s Darian.

Considering the way Darian glowers at Sethan, I can’t find any guarantees Darian won’t try to kill him.

The cracking whip Corvin drove down against Darian’s back the night he was held in the dungeon replays in my mind.

At the time, I thought Sethan was only desperate to get answers.

And maybe he was. But there’s an extra layer to it.

Something that has soured with time. A hatred rooting deeper and deeper from both sides. It’s impossible to miss now.

Darian swings out first, though his range of motion is limited due to the chain connecting both of his manacles.

Despite the disadvantage, he moves with confidence, grace, and lethality.

Sethan catches Darian’s strike with his rod before sweeping it to the side and stabbing toward Darian’s chest. Darian blocks his attack with his opposite hand and then twirls his other rod to thwack Sethan on the side of the head.

Sethan seethes, thrown off a few steps as his lips twitch up into a silent snarl.

They explode into whips and spins, striking and swiping.

Darian ducks, dodges, and jumps, avoiding each of Sethan’s attacks.

A few moments in, and Sethan’s heavy panting is nearly as loud as the wood cracking as their poles connect.

Darian’s only wearing him down. Playing with him.

Darian finally smacks Sethan’s pole down from his chest with one hand, spins, and rears back onto one leg, kicking Sethan straight in the chest and sending him flying back.

Sethan lands and skids across the ground a few inches.

Darian tosses the poles at Sethan whose chest rises and falls quickly as he fights to regain his breath.

“You’re lucky I don’t fucking kill you,” Darian spits at the ground and stalks out from the circle.