Page 7 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

MOON DRAGON

A shadow falls over one of the windows in the office behind Sethan, and I jump. A white eye with a slitted pupil appears, scanning the room from the outside. When I make eye contact with her, her pupil dilates.

“Very subtle of you,” I snort.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety.”

“What in the Gods’ names is a moon dragon? Have you heard of one?”

“No. I know about as much as you do.” Her attention shifts over to Sethan, and she pulls her head back to face the window head-on. As her lips curl up to reveal her jagged, dripping teeth, the window clouds with her hot breath.

I turn my gaze back to Sethan, finding him anything but intimidated. “A…moon dragon? I only know of fire, water, earth, and air dragons.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he walks from his desk to a matching mahogany bookshelf crammed tight with rows of dusty, muted tomes. “Of course you don’t.”

I narrow my eyes. How can he possibly be irritated with me for my lack of knowledge when I’ve lived my entire life in a kingdom that forbids even the mere mention of dragons?

The only knowledge I have is because of my father’s journal.

And I shouldn’t even have that, considering it could have cost me my life had I been caught with it.

Or cost Cole his—since he hid it within his possession for so long to keep me safe.

And because he knew how much it had meant to me.

I lift my chin. “So, you expect me to just know these things? I don’t. I didn’t grow up here in the Dragon Lands.”

“Neither did I. Many of us sacrificed our families, friends, and livelihoods to be here.”

“You mean like Melaina and your wife?” Probably should have toned down the disdain.

I can’t help it. I stare at him as I consider the depth of pain he caused Melaina and her mother by faking his death and living his life out in the Dragon Lands.

And never returning. I can’t imagine how difficult it is for Melaina to process.

She must have felt a surging mix of relief, longing, and anger when she first saw him several days ago.

I wouldn’t blame her for being upset with him, if she is. It’s a lot to process.

Sethan ignores me, but there’s a small tic to his jaw. He pulls a thin brown book from the shelf, strides over to me, and shoves it into my hands. “Educate yourself and make a decision. You need to be the one to choose and to command your people. They’ll listen to you.”

Taking the book from his grasp, I scoff. “What sort of command do you think I’m capable of instilling? I’ll save you some disappointment—they won’t listen to me.”

“You and all the Arterians must swear to stay and never leave the Dragon Lands, and must give up your weapons permanently. And if your people won’t listen to you out of respect, they will listen to you out of fear.”

“I will not threaten them to listen to me.”

He grabs my forearm, his eyes boring into mine. A warning growl rumbles outside the office, quaking the window panes.

“He’s got three seconds until I break this window…” Daeja warns.

Sethan still won’t pay any mind to her, his grip firm on me.

“We don’t get a choice of if we lead through fear or respect.

We don’t have time. You do whatever is necessary to get them to listen to you.

You do what needs to be done for the good of the people.

You have two days to decide, and if you don’t, we’ll kill all of you Arterians. ”

My mouth drops open as I flinch. “You…will not. You wouldn’t kill your own daughter?”

Intended as a statement, it comes out more as a question. The truth is, I don’t know him. And based on the fact he deceived his own daughter about his death, maybe none of us do.

He pushes past me without a response. I turn to face him, my mouth still open as he slips out of the door, leaving me with the two guards.

“Do you think he’s bluffing?”

“If he isn’t…I need to somehow convince the entire squad to stay here. Permanently. And without their weapons.”

“It’s a good thing you’re lousy with a sword. Missing it won’t hurt as much.”

I slide my attention to the window where she’s watching me. “Very funny.”

Her shoulder shifts like she’s shrugging. “Count on me to keep you optimistic. Or realistic…one of the two.”

The thought of so many people relying on me is terrifying.

Clenching my hands tighter around the brown book Sethan gave me to still the shakes, I ignore the stares of the two guards at my back.

I failed to save my mother, my brother, and the little girl in Hornwood.

How can I scale that responsibility up to an entire squad or more? An entire realm?

Sethan’s voice echoes in my head, sending a chill down my spine. “ And all of their blood will be on your hands.”

This isn’t something I wanted. Gods, I long for the easy days I spent by the river, where I was only responsible for one other person. My mother.

I leave Sethan’s office, Daeja still following along the town’s outskirts until I arrive back at the healer’s quadrant.

When I slip inside, the room is empty and quiet.

Everyone must still be in the community hall.

Sitting on my bed, I take out the weathered book Sethan gave me.

I flip open the cover and past the first stained and tattered page.

A curving, floral script fills the pages.

My interest wanes as I read—I’ve seen it all before.

The same information was written into my father’s journal: fire, earth, water, and air dragons.

Hatchlings. The history of dragon riders and bonding.

Everything is the same except the handwriting.

I became so accustomed to my father’s handwriting that I can’t help but mentally note the differences.

As I flip to the back of the book, my heart stops. Loose pages are tucked between the last page and the back cover. The inner edges of the paper are ragged, as if they were torn from a different book. My eyes widen as I realize this handwriting is familiar.

I scramble for my satchel tucked underneath the bed and retrieve my father’s journal.

I compare my father’s entries with the loose pages from the book.

Side by side. Letter by letter. I flip to the back of my father’s journal, where miniscule scraps of parchment had still been attached to the spine. As if…

As if pages were ripped out.

My hands shake as I take one of the loose pages from the book Sethan gave me and line it up with the ragged edges of my father’s journal.

It’s a perfect match.

I stare in shock. I never gave much thought as to what pages might have been pulled from my father’s journal. I just assumed he made a mistake on previous entries and scrapped it. Or perhaps, deep down, I accepted I’d never find out why, anyway.

I begin to read the missing pages.

Before any creatures and elements sprawled the realm, there was the sun, and there was the moon.

The sun had come first, but it was lonely and desperate for companionship.

The sun searched all the worlds, far and wide, and found the moon in a separate realm.

Rather than compete for the power of the sun—the moon reflected it.

The moon couldn’t shine without the sun.

And yet, without the moon, the tides were unmanageable—destroying the lands.

At once, the two became the very first dyad.

Bonded and inseparable. Endless as a ring, with no beginning and no end.

The ancient carvings in the hatching grounds of Vitalis depict two dragons: one of the sun and one of the moon.

The last documentation of a sun dragon in the era of dragon riders was Queen Elara’s.

Her sun dragon, Vue, was said to be of otherworldly beauty.

His scales gleamed like porcelain and reflected the sunlight into dazzling shimmers when he stepped outside.

The only thing dark about him were his black eyes, deeper than any shadow.

He could control the position of the sun, channel solar power into beams of blinding light, and manipulate dragonfire.

It was even rumored by some that he could resurrect the dead.

Unfortunately, Queen Elara and her dragon died before a moon dragon hatched.

Many theorized it was the sign of the Gods cursing mankind, and this is the last cycle of life in this realm.

As far as what has been documented, the sun and moon dragons are reborn every one hundred and fifty years in honor of the Gods’ battle for blood.

It’s said that the Gods bring dragons as gifts to this realm, in memory of their war for the heavens.

The sun and moon dragon eggs appear in the deepest part of the hatching grounds, coinciding with that sesquicentennial’s celestial event.

Though, now that the sun dragon of this cycle has died, it’s a question of whether the moon dragon is still out there. And if it is, how its hatching may alter the balance of magic and life.

I remove the loose entries from the book Sethan gave me and tuck them into my father’s journal. Where they belong. After I’ve put the journal in my satchel and slid it back under the bed, I exit the healer’s quadrant. Daeja is a reincarnation, reborn every one hundred and fifty years?

“Daeja, does the name Vue sound familiar?”

“No. Why? Should it?”

“I don’t know yet.” But the truth is sitting there in front of me.

Not wanting to be ignored and needing to be confirmed.

I follow the path from earlier to the massive community dining hall, partly shocked none of Sethan’s soldiers have been assigned to follow me.

The drawbridge entrance is still closed, and after explaining to the guards my need to speak with Sethan, they lower it for me.

Every set of eyes in the hall turn toward me as I stride into the building from such a grand entrance.

The enormity of it already makes me feel smaller than I am.

Ignoring eye contact with anyone along the several crowded tables, I approach the one where Sethan sits.

He pauses mid-conversation, pops a piece of potato into his mouth, and turns toward me expectantly.

“Can I…” I toss awkward glances toward Sethan’s soldiers. “Can we speak in private?”

The room falls eerily silent, my skin prickling under the intense quiet.

Sethan stares at me, his jaw working in circular motions as he chews and considers. After he swallows, he says, “Whatever you need to discuss with me, you can say here. I don’t hide information from my people.”

I narrow my eyes. Is this his way of leading with respect? A willingness to converse with Arterians out in public?

Though, what’s the difference between Cole and me?

Or is he scared of me the way the others are?

It’s obvious the rest of the rebels shy away, giving me extra space whenever I walk by.

Watching my every move. Even last night’s stint where Corvin questioned Sethan’s commands because of me.

I swear Daeja would purr if she witnessed how much of a threat she is to them. Even when she isn’t in the room.

But with Sethan, it’s tricky to decipher where he stands and what he thinks.

He hides it all behind his stone-cold mask and well-composed responses.

If Daeja truly is a moon dragon, she might hold more power than I ever could have possibly imagined.

And I’m willing to bet he knows it, too. I imagine it may work in my favor.

I clear my throat. It feels silly to ask, but I do it anyway, “Why do you think my dragon is a moon dragon?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Let me ask you a question first. Have you ever seen a black dragon?”

“Well…no. But I haven’t seen many dragons, either.”

He nods, as if it answers my question. A muscle tics in my jaw—he didn’t need to be so damn condescending. Especially not in front of an entire audience. Gods, even if he is Melaina’s father, I can’t bring myself to like him.

I try again, forcing myself to level my tone. “Earlier, you spoke of a prophecy…and that the prophecy is tied to Daeja because it mentioned air and night. Why do you think it’s me, though? What else did the prophecy say?”

He leans back. “The one son?—”

All together, as if they’d recited it for years, the room joins in a collective whisper, “The one son, chosen to lead them all. Wasn’t a son but a maid. Until binds of death did that grave deed bade. In death blood is shed. But from blood there is life. Restored by air and night to end all strife.”

My blood runs cold. I’ve heard those lines before.

My mother often recited it. And despite having heard it so many times throughout my childhood, it’s the first time I’ve ever given any of the words space.

Or a second thought. It’s the first time I’ve ever considered they were more than a string of ramblings from an unwell woman.

All along, it meant something.

All along, it was meant for me.