Page 36 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

A LESSON IN BARGAINS

L ater that night, after we join the town in their community hall for dinner, we’re led to our own quarters.

The residence designated for Cyrus in this town is no different than the last. Lush, intricate stonework on the outside and lavish furnishings on the inside.

And a peculiar set of restraints adhered to a far side of the wall.

He really must have had anger issues.

Sethan’s soldiers escort Darian into the room and hook his restraints into the wall, before leaving the two of us alone in an awkward silence. I swallow the memory replaying in my mind of a shackled Darian fighting against Sethan and winning .

“What?” Darian grumbles, his eyes narrowing in on me.

I clear my throat, shifting my attention to my feet and tapping the bedpost with the tip of my boot. “The way you fought Sethan…”

“Go on.”

I sigh, looking up at him and crossing my arms over my chest. I can’t admit I was impressed or that such a theatrical event nearly gave me a heart attack.

Even with the blood pact, it only meant Sethan couldn’t kill him.

But what if he injured him enough to knock him into an indefinite state of unconsciousness? What then?

Darian’s eyes darken, and a smug tilt lifts his lips. “Ahh, you were impressed, weren’t you? Or were you scared for me? Either way, I appreciate the sentiment.” He laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back against the wall as he watches me.

“No. It’s just…” I duck my head, fighting to get the words out and debating about dropping the conversation entirely. Gritting my teeth, I take a full breath before asking, “Do you think you could train me?”

He snorts. “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, what do you want?”

His gaze floats up to the ceiling in a playful thought before he tilts his head to the side, regarding me with that haunting, predatory gaze.

“Within reason,” I blurt before he can get ahead of himself.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun. I was about to request a bathtub full of gold?—”

“As if the royal houses don’t have enough?”

“It’s a joke.” His voice dips to something lethally quiet. “Like I give a shit about money.”

“Well then, what do you give a shit about?”

He watches me, jaw working in a calm fidget as if he’s waiting for me to falter. Or run away.

“Well?” I prompt again. “If this is a test of my patience, I assure you we won’t get far.”

He rolls his neck as if the mere existence of me in the same vicinity of him is exhausting and emotionally challenging. “You let me out of these chains.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You let me out of these chains every night we’re in here.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “No.”

“You let me out of these chains for two hours?—”

“I said no.” Though, I have to give him the unabashed credit for his persistence.

He mirrors my body language, folding his arms over his chest. “What kind of bargain is this if you’re not willing to compromise something ?”

“Releasing your shackles is off the table. What else would you want?”

He sits in silence for a few heartbeats to mentally run through some sort of list. Finally, he says, “Letting me free.”

“Forget it,” I grumble, shuffling into bed, and wrapping myself in sheets.

I wait.

After what feels like forever and doubt trickling in that Marge won’t come, a knock taps on the door.

Darian shifts a suspicious look to me. I ignore his questioning gaze, pulling my boots and cloak on and slipping out the door.

Marge and I walk silently through the quiet, dark streets and out to the hills where the dragons rest. Daeja perks her head up, watching Marge and me from a distance, her white eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“Marge said she’ll be training me.”

“Training for what?” She shifts in her spot, and the other dragons open their eyes.

“She calls it pulling. Basically, controlling magic. Don’t worry about me, go back to sleep.”

Daeja lowers her head to the ground but keeps her eyes trained on me. She lifts her chin off the ground a few inches to turn her head every time we stride out of her vision.

After we’ve left the dragons behind and venture further into the forest, I turn to Marge. “Why is it only you and I can hear the humming?”

“I can’t hear it. I can only feel it.”

“Okay, well, how come you and I can both sense it? Does it have anything to do with the fact you’re a Spoiled?”

“No. Well…possibly,” she mutters.

“So why can I hear it now?”

“Most riders can sense it due to their magical bonds with their dragons. But you are likely extra sensitive, especially the longer you wear the Blood Ring, and now that you know what to look for.”

“Can the dragons sense the rings as well?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. That might be a better question for your dragon, but I imagine they do, just as they sense Spoileds.”

“So…let’s say I manage to master pulling. What can I do with the magic? Sethan said before I entered the blood pact that the ring holds power, but what kind?”

“They say the most powerful magic can be done with blood and bones, but I’m not sure anyone alive today knows its extent other than the King himself.

I’ve personally seen King Aaric shatter another person’s bones without doing so much as lifting a hand.

I’ve seen him raid people’s memories and transform his own form to look like someone else.

Since he couldn’t locate the Blood Ring, he’s been attempting rituals with blood to mimic it, but he’s been unsuccessful. ”

I shiver, not wanting to ask, but doing so anyway, “What kind of blood has he been using? And for what kind of rituals?”

“Mostly dragonblood. But humans and anything else he can get his hands on, too. As for the rituals…nobody is quite certain what he’s trying to accomplish.

That’s why it’s so important you don’t take the ring off under any circumstance, Katerina.

He needs it. And if it falls into the wrong hands…

if he gets hold of it…” She shakes her head.

“There’s no telling what he’ll do. But in the meantime, if we are to stand any chance, you need to learn how to power it. How to use that magic for good.”

“Even if it’ll bind me to it?”

She sighs. Already knowing what I’m implying. Because if I bind to it, then the only way to kill the King is to kill myself.

“Yes. Even if it binds you to it,” she answers. “But that is exactly why we need to get to Vitalis. We need to find answers because the prophecy speaks of you and Daeja. You’re destined to restore the balance, so there must be a way to end him without killing you both.”

“And if there’s not?”

She stops walking, and I mirror her.

Finally, she swings her gaze to me. “We don’t have room for ‘not.’ So, let’s not even entertain that reality.”

She continues, and I watch her go. Then, realizing she won’t wait for me, I catch up to her.

We come to the southern part of Driftmond where a patch of trees encircle a small clearing.

She crouches with a grunt, her body creaking as she lowers to the ground.

One hand braces herself against her staff, while the other stretches out before her, grazing the tips of grass on the ground. “Can you sense it now?”

I close my eyes, settling into myself as I listen to the sounds around me. Second by second, the humming rises from the chatter of the forest sounds, lifting like an audible fog. “Yes.”

“Good. Now…feel it.”

Crouching down beside her, I remove my gloves and take a deep breath before I let my fingertips skim the ground.

Something underneath the surface jolts to my touch like a shot of electricity.

I push my palm down flat against the surface.

The euphoria of it steals a gasp from my lips, and I rip my hand off the ground, my eyes flying open as I stare at Marge.

I swallow hard, a lurking danger prickling my skin. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. It’s a little stronger tonight, but channel it like you did last time. Don’t let it override you. You are in control—remember that.”

But how much is a little stronger? A new spike of fear rises within me.

“Go on,” she encourages, nodding to the ground.

Slowly, inch by inch, I press my fingers down into the ground again and close my eyes.

The energy beneath the earth rushes toward me, and this time I don’t pull away.

An agonizing pain spiders up my fingertips, webbing out through my hands and slinking up my arms. Despite my every effort to control my panic, my pulse quickens, and my breath rattles in my lungs as I curl forward to tuck my chin into my chest. The pain—the power—it floods me. And I can’t contain it.

“Slow down,” Marge warns. “You’re pulling too fast!”

“I can’t!” I scream, beginning to writhe against the growing agony slipping up past my elbows as if I were dipped in hot oil.

“You can! Focus! Channel it!”

Squeezing my eyes tighter, tears leak from my eyes and jet down my cheeks, and yet I still can’t escape the pain.

A liquid fire fills every crevice, every vein and drop of blood.

With every inch it gains, I fall closer and closer to the ground, succumbing to the raw power, subject to its endless torrent of anguish.

“Help…please!” I gasp out, opening my eyes only to discover my field of vision is clouding in white.

“Katerina, lower it!” Marge calls again somewhere, buried deep within the earth. “Lower it back down!”

But I fucking can’t.

I can’t pull any last bits of strength out. Not when every nerve in my body screams against the drowning power. Pulling me into the earth, as if I belonged there amongst the dirt. Calling me to return to what I once was before this life.

I slip.

And everything fades to white.

I’m lost in an endless abyss of white. Emptiness. It overrides all my other senses. I can’t feel my fingertips or the beat of my heart. All is silent. The chaos and overwhelming sensation of life is gone.