Page 92 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

CONDOLENCES AND A CLEAN CONSCIOUS

A fter being given directions by Gavin, I knock on the door where Melaina is staying. When it swings open, I smile at the man on the other side.

“Hey…” Archie clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. The bruises still mottle his face, and he grins through his swollen lip.

Melaina strolls up behind him and when she sees me, she glances at Archie. “Do you mind if we have a few moments alone?”

“Absolutely,” he answers as he dips his head and slips past me, squeezing my shoulder before walking down the cobblestone street and disappearing behind a row of shops.

“He’s a good man…” Melaina whispers, her attention still fixed on the distant spot where he disappeared, with a bittersweet smile on her lips.

“He is.” I swing my gaze to her. “And you had him imprisoned just last night.”

She jerks her head back to the room. “Can you come in?”

Working through my consideration by grinding my teeth, I finally nod and sweep into the room.

Once she closes the door, she releases a heavy breath, her hand still on the handle. “I’m…really, really sorry, Kat.”

As I open my mouth to fire off all my anger, she flicks her brown doe eyes to me.

And Gods, are they so much different than they were yesterday.

Tears line them, her lip quivering. “I was…out of hand. I didn’t know how to cope.

How to handle it all again. And I lashed out…

and…I said some awful fucking things to you. ”

My anger dies down a bit, each of her sincere words washing it back. “You were right though, about there being a traitor. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“It doesn’t even matter if I was right or not. How I treated you, how I treated everyone, was terrible. Despicable. It’s been haunting me. And I thought finding the traitor and killing them would make me feel better. But if anything…”

“It made you feel worse,” I finish in a whisper.

She bites her lip to still it, tears racing down her cheeks as she drops to her knees before me.

“Please, forgive me. I know it means nothing, but I never intended to torture anyone. I used it as a threat. I was keen on finding the person who hurt me, but instead I hurt you. I hurt Archie. I hurt everyone.”

She covers her face with her hands as she cries.

Each passing second breaking me down further and further until it shakes off my fury.

The time I discovered Daeja’s egg is an example of how familiar I am with being emotionally overwhelmed.

With reacting in the wrong way. Lucky for me, I got a dragon out of it.

And while my father might have died once… she experienced Sethan dying twice .

I drop down and rub her arms. “Shhh. Grief can bring out the…less than ideal sides of a person. Someone once told me, ‘hurt things bite.’”

“Marge,” she sniffles in her hands. “Yes. She used to say that all the time.”

Her name alone is like a punch to the gut. But I smile wistfully. “Yes. Marge…”

Melaina lifts her wet face out of her hands. “But you handle it all so well. How? How can you possibly maintain such grace with all that’s happened to you?”

I can’t help but laugh at such an absurd statement.

“Me? Handling it well? While I’m flattered you think so…

it’s far from the truth. If anything, I’ve come to learn loss and grief aren’t a linear path.

It’s cyclical. It doesn’t disappear over time, you just learn how to move with it.

Each loss is like carrying an unsheathed dagger, and eventually you learn how to stride without cutting yourself back open.

You just have to be mindful. To take it slow, until you can run. But it will always stay with you.”

I twist the metal bracelet she gave me off my wrist and hold it out to her.

A silent truce.

Her eyes flick back and forth between the bracelet and me. It’s the same exact gesture her best friend—Celeste—did when she thought her father died the first time.

I can only imagine how hard her brain is trying to trick her into believing it isn’t real, since he hadn’t died the first time.

Even now, the reality of losing Marge is a painful stab.

There are still times I catch myself subconsciously looking to ask her a question.

Or share with her a finding. Expecting a whack anytime I use profanity.

And yet, I have to remind myself she’s gone .

What awful, hellish things the human mind can do under grief’s nasty veil.

Melaina’s lip begins to quiver as she grabs the bracelet and looks at it.

“I’m so sorry, Melaina,” I whisper genuinely.

The walls of her self-assurance crumble, and I pull her to me in an embrace. She dips her head into my shoulder, crying quietly as I rub her back. After a few moments, she leans back as she wipes tears from her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “And I’m sorry for what I said about Darian?—”

“Don’t. You’re right. Which is why I’m not going to be…” I tilt my head to the side to imply it, “him. Again.”

I stand and help her up off the floor. “Though, I’m glad to see you and Archie are back on the same page.”

She smiles sadly. “He’s just as gracious with his forgiveness as you are.”

“I’d argue, even more.”

We both giggle, the lightness of it cutting through the sadness.

She takes her hands out of mine to wipe the wetness away on her cheeks. “The Vitalan council sent notice they want us all to report to Millton for discussions on who should take my father’s spot. They want us there in two days’ time.”

“But…shouldn’t we head to Bayrock and see if we can find the elder Honora to translate the Queen’s journal? What happens if she moves again before we can locate her there?”

“I know. I have the same concern. We still don’t know what it’s going to take to kill the King, nor a plan to execute it.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Her head rears back. “You’re asking me?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…” Her shoulders relax. “You’re supposed to be the chosen one. You’re supposed to lead the Vitalans, so you should be the one to make the decision. And after what I did last night?—”

“I’m sure there are many people who’d love to argue that. Preferably with swords. But…I forgive you, Melaina. Don’t let your grief override your heart and kindness. I want to know what you think.”

“Thank you…” She clears her throat before continuing, “Millton is a two-day trek from here, and Bayrock is at least a week away. I think we can split up our forces. If we have the dragon riders take the journal to Bayrock, they could get there in less than half the time. The rest of us can travel to Millton, and after the council meeting, we can meet them back here in Nightfort.”

“I think that sounds like a solid plan. Though, do you feel like you can trust all the dragon riders on a mission of their own?”

“If my father trusted them and forged a blood pact with them, I will trust them, too.”

That’s right. With Sethan dead… I glance down to my palm where I sliced the skin to make a blood pact with him. The scar has lightened to a shade that makes it almost invisible. The only way I can see it is if I angle my palm enough the light catches it just right.

“There’s one more thing.” She retrieves a paper on her desk and holds it out to me.

I take it and scan it, only to find it’s filled with the same five lines, repeated over and over in a foreign language. “What is it?”

“Before he died, my father said this was written multiple times throughout the journal. And the few words he did know were ‘air and night.’ He seemed to think it was important, so I wrote it down on a separate paper, just in case.”

I brush a thumb over the corner of the page as if it’ll reveal what the incomprehensible words really mean. “I think it’s the prophecy.”

“What’s odd, though…” She leans over to me, then underlines the top sentence with her finger. “Is he said this wasn’t translating the same as the prophecy we all have known since we were children. Some of the words look similar but are different.”

I blow out a breath. “Well, I really hope the dragon riders can find Elder Honora quickly.”

“Me, too.”

Positioned three buildings down from mine are Cole’s temporary quarters. Wanting to check in on him, I take the two steps up to the door and stretch a fist forward to knock. The door is already parted open a few inches.

“Cole…?” I call out gently, and when he doesn’t answer, I edge the door open with my fingertips and peek inside.

Hoping seeing him will settle my heart. Because maybe distracting myself with Darian all this time was foolish.

Perhaps I should have closed myself off.

Or accepted that since Cole is still technically engaged, I should just be alone.

Cole stares blankly at the wall adjacent to me, his eyes blank and distant. Even when I tap against the inside of the door to announce my arrival, he’s frozen.

“Cole?” I close the door behind me gently.

He clenches a paper in his right hand, his arm trembling slightly.

I tip-toe over to him and toss glances at the wall he’s fixated on, finding nothing but a standard pattern of worn rocks.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, I tilt my head to the side to try and catch his eye.

His skin is pale, with his stare round and flickering back and forth as if he’s reading something on the wall.

“Hey, tell me what’s wrong?” I whisper, squeezing his broad shoulder.

“Read it,” he mutters, then offers me the letter.

I take it slowly, watching his face all the while for some sort of hint. He dips his head and then walks over to the window, leaning up against the wall next to it on his forearm as he stares outside.

The letter has a broken red seal on the back. But rather than the ancient symbol of Arterias with a dragon perched on top of the A, it’s plain.

King Aaric.

“Why do you have a letter from King Aaric? How did he even get a letter here—” My voice dies off when I open the letter, and my eyes scan the first line.

Cole Ashbourne,