Page 39 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

“Well…while I agree raiding a farm isn’t the best practice, I’ll always find a way to get you chicken if it’s your favorite. And if I need to speak to Sethan about it ? —”

“No, no. Don’t. I don’t need you to step in on my behalf.”

“Then don’t let them dictate what you like and want.”

“After she let me try elk, there wasn’t much room left to dictate anything.” Her tongue flicks out across her lips like she’s still savoring it.

“I’m sorry I was never able to provide something like that for you.” I stare up at her massive head as she tilts her face down to look at me eye-to-eye.

“You gave me everything I needed. Don’t even try to feel guilty.”

Smiling, I reach up and brush my hand across the side of her jaw. Curious, I tap two fingers against the side of her muzzle.

She blinks out of view for a few seconds before flickering back into existence. We need to keep working on that. And we need to test what other abilities she might have.

I glance over to the saddle and the bags sewn into the back half of it to carry extra cargo.

It’s freeing now that I can wander these lands without having to worry about hiding Daeja or my father’s journal.

Taking a bite of chicken, I fixate on the spot where I know his journal is, trying to recall his notes on the sun dragons.

If a sun dragon could control the position of the sun and channel solar power, what can Daeja do?

As far as we know, she can turn invisible. At least, for a second or two.

Daeja shifts her folded wings, aware of me zoning out on the saddle.

“Is it uncomfortable? We haven’t removed it since we put it on.”

“The saddle?” She rests her head on the ground between her forelegs beside me. “I imagine it’s something like wearing boots on your feet. It takes some getting used to, but I don’t really notice it much now.”

Minutes later, Sethan rounds us up with the dragon riders.

When I sling myself up into the saddle, Cole appears and double-checks all my buckles. “I trust you’re feeling well enough to ride?”

“As well as I’ll ever be.”

As soon as he tightens a strap, he dips his head and pats Daeja. “Be safe.”

I can’t help but watch him walk back to the wagons, my heart sinking with each step he takes away from me. I haven’t had a full conversation with him since our argument outside of Driftmond. Nor much of a chance to tell him I’m sorry.

“He’ll get over it. Don’t you fret.”

“I sure hope so…”

“He’s in love with you. And I don’t think anything will ever change that.”

Sethan and A’nala say their peculiar little stars and skies motto before launching into the sky, the rest of the dragon riders on their tail. Once I lean forward and have my hands wrapped around the saddle horns, I narrow my eyes and chase away the queasy anxiety with determination.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Daeja rumbles, and then breaks into a few strides before launching into the sky.

We lift higher and higher until Driftmond becomes a small cluster of buildings in the expansive landscape below.

My stomach roils, threatening to upheave my breakfast. Perhaps it was an oversight, eating right before we fly.

I won’t make that mistake again. I tear my gaze from the ground below and focus it ahead on the other dragons dotting the horizon line.

“A’nala is calling us to the front of formation for your second flight lesson.”

I sigh but clench my jaw. “Here we go again.”

I fell three times.

Three.

Fucking.

Times.

Daeja swooped up and grabbed me every time, long before the ground could be a threat.

But it still made every fiber of my instincts scream.

On the third fall, I found myself able to peek my eyes open and watch as Daeja descended upon me with outstretched wings and extended claws.

Her grab was gentle. And I realized, this was training for her, too.

She’s just much, much better at it than I am.

I will say, I didn’t manage to upheave my breakfast. I’ll call that a win.

By the time we land with Sethan and the rest of the dragon riders, my nerves tingle with exhaustion and adrenaline.

Throwing my braided hair over my shoulder and out of my way, I work on unclipping my hooks and removing the waist belt before sliding off Daeja.

Gods, the ground feels so steady beneath my boots.

I didn’t realize how much I take it for granted until it’s hundreds of feet beneath me.

Sethan dips his head in a half-assed sign of approval, and his posse regards me with long glances before they turn their attention back to their dragons.

“Was that better?” I ask Sethan weakly, fighting against the urge to brace my weight on my knees.

“I suppose so.”

“How long do the riders at the academy usually train for?”

Sethan grins and slides his gaze over to the other riders in an open invitation to answer.

“Six years for me,” a man with a burly, brown beard says. His build is stocky, his head completely bald.

“Three for me,” a woman with black hair cropped to her jaw answers.

“Show off,” another woman with half her head shaved replies.

A man with black braids down to his abdomen interjects, “Generally, it takes about four years. But it mostly depends on your classification and ranks.”

My gaze bounces from person to person. “What do you mean by classifications and ranks?”

The man with black braids answers me first, “Each classification is broken down into the elements: fire, water, earth, and air. And from there, each classification has its own set of ranks: scouts, combat, messengers, healers, assassins, breeders, strategists, mages, and guards. Some of the ranks and classes take longer than others. Unless you’re Lexi. ”

“At least you tell the truth, General,” the one with short black hair—Lexi—responds as she crosses her arms over her chest with a flirtatious grin.

“Enough, let’s keep moving. We’ll walk the rest of the way to Kilamber,” Sethan says, his gaze fixed on the city in the distance.

“Why didn’t we fly closer?” I ask.

“Kilamber has one of the several dragonblade forges in the continent. It’s been shut down since Aaric took the throne.

As you witnessed yesterday, we have our own rebels, and I’d rather not risk any more run-ins if we can help it.

Jerome.” He tosses a glance over to the man with long braids.

“Take Lexi with you and scout out ahead. Find any guards and alert them we’ve arrived and have them report back if the dragon rider sector is ready for us. ”

Jerome and Lexi dip their heads and walk off together, their fire dragons close behind them. The tremors of their footsteps fade into the distance.

Marge stands before Daeja, tapping her staff on the ground several times.

“What are you doing?” I ask, coming to stand next to her.

Daeja lifts her head from where it was tucked underneath her wing and growls.

Marge takes a few steps back and holds out a hand in front of her, as if it would actually stop a dragon from attacking her. “We need her for tonight’s training.”

Daeja rises from the ground like a menacing shadow, and the other dragons huff their irritation at the late-night intrusion.

The three of us, led by Marge, walk further away from the other dragons and the city of Kilamber.

Marge stops at a spot void of trees and shrubbery, marked only by a cluster of boulders set against a barren hillside.

Without trees to mask the night sky, it’s a beautiful expanse of stars and dark clouds racing across the heavens.

Marge snaps her fingers, pulling my attention away from the sky. “Focus…what do you remember from that night back in Arterias, when Daeja lit the forest on fire?”

“Umm…well…”

“If she’s alluding to the fact she’d like to ride me again, she might as well start digging her own grave.”

I toss a glance to Daeja, who sits back on her hind legs and folds her wings against her sides, curling her tail around her front paws.

“Think, Katerina,” Marge pushes. “Do you remember what happened with the dragonfire?”

“It…” I stare off at Daeja, locking into her white eyes and waiting for the answer and memories to flood me. “...it sort of…moved? I-I don’t know. It sounds ridiculous?—”

“No. It’s not ridiculous. Go on.”

“When I moved my hand, the flames seemed to follow. Almost like they were alive?” I turn to look at Marge over my shoulder, like she’ll confirm where my thoughts are heading.

She nods, then hobbles forward. “Dragonfire is magic. That’s why it’s more destructive than regular fire.

The Blood and Bone Rings were created to channel magic, which is why you were able to move it back in Arterias.

It’s a similar practice to pulling directly from the ley lines. Just at a smaller, more diluted scale.”

She shifts her attention to Daeja and prods her tail with the end of her staff. “Test your rider.”

Daeja’s lips curl up, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Tell her if she touches me one more time, she won’t be here to witness the outcome of your so-called test.”

“Shhh,” I whisper aloud, and then direct my question at Marge. “Is the blade within your staff a dragonblade?”

“Yes.”

I flick my hand to encourage her to back up.

Daeja lowers her head a few inches above the grass, her jaw parting, and a warm glow collects within her broad chest before traveling up her long, serpentine throat and through her mouth out onto the ground.

But rather than a small flame, it blasts out in a wide circle that has the grass blackening and curling in on itself.

“Stop!” Marge barks at Daeja. “Before it spreads far beyond her control!”

Daeja snaps her jaws closed, ceasing the shower of flame. Most of the fire dissipates, with some remaining embers glowing hot like ruby jewels in the dirt.

Marge jerks her chin at me. “Good. I think you can work with that. Take it slowly. Otherwise, you risk your control slipping.”

And I don’t want to do that again. Sucking in a quick breath, I lower to one knee and press my hand into the earth.

That rushing sound of energy hums around me, and I lock in on those wispy flames threatening to disappear.

My mind wanders beyond my control to thoughts of Hornwood.

Of the little girl, and the doll I buried near the river.

The painful memory of not being able to save any of them.

My heart clenches. I normally try to push it all away.

To sweep it under the rug and ignore it.

But I can’t—I need this.

I need to feel angry that I didn’t have the tools to defend them at the time.

I need the overwhelming determination to not allow it to happen again.

And if I need to hang on to the memory that tears open the stitches in my heart, then I’ll do it.

I’ll bleed myself out to promise I won’t let it happen again.

“You don’t have to touch the ground when it’s already surfaced, only when you’re pulling from the ley lines. Try to move it,” Marge directs me.

I lift my hand off the ground and reach toward the flames.

Palming the air between us as if I’m trying to draw the magic to my hand.

The flames hiss, stubbornly clinging to the blackened spot, until I jerk my hand to the left, and it follows.

I sweep my hand back to the right, and as I do so, I loosen its grip on the earth.

“Good…” Marge whispers.

I sway the flames back and forth, until I pull them toward me.

It crawls across the ground, inch by inch, and grows more and more receptive to my call.

As soon as the flames get a few inches from my boots, I take a step back and slam my hand down to stop them in their tracks.

But instead, the fire zips down into the earth and disappears.

A clapping sound pulls my attention off the ground, and Marge is grinning at me.

“I meant to stop it?—”

“You did. You returned it to the ley lines.” She taps her staff on the frozen earth. “Now, let’s up the ante.”

She draws the hidden sword from her staff, the moon behind her outlining the blade in a brilliant blue. Daeja shuffles back, her eyes flicking back and forth between Marge and the sword as the horns on her head bristle.

“She won’t hurt you.” I caress the bond between us.

Marge lowers her sword and draws a lop-sided circle around herself. Breathily, she says, “This time, your job is to keep the flames from reaching me?—”

I snort. “Definitely not that advanced.”

“Well, you’ll have to be.”

As I open my mouth to argue, she flicks a side glance over at Daeja as she finishes the circle.

“Again.”