“Lord Daynthazar did warn me to be mindful of your sense of humor. I see why he thought we’d be a good fit together.” Nyssa sighs.
I frown. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re a lot like me. Do you know why a Tier 4 military apprentice is working as a servant in the royal palace?”
“I figured it was a coveted assignment.”
She scoffs. “Tending to the whims of royalty? Hardly. I belong at the dragon pit, sparring in combat drills. At least the plumbing and thermal baths keep me alive. Chamber pots would’ve killed me.”
“Nyssa, I am… impressed.” I can’t help but give a short laugh. “You don’t like serving the royal family of Draethys, then?”
She rolls her eyes. “I defied Colonel Rogon on a training mission, then talked back. Lord Anees decided six months of palace duty beats expulsion.”
“Lord Anees sounds fair, then…”
“He is. He also sees my military value.” Nyssa’s cheeks flush bronze. “I may be young, but I do have potential. He said so. Colonel Rogon had no choice but to agree.”
I glance at her silver hair. “Why’s your hair silver?”
Nyssa glances down at her feet. “A spell gone wrong. I had to learn some things the hard way, I suppose. I was only a child when it happened.”
“That’s what Dayn meant,” I mutter.
“I think Dayn only heard Anees’s version. He was away at the time.”
“A prisoner in Heathborne, I presume.”
She nods slowly. “Lord Anees served well in his stead.”
“And his other brothers?”
“To each his own. Lord Byzu excels in the military, but Lord Arrynth… he’s still young, moody, prefers feasts and leisure. Charming, though.”
The more she tells me, the more complex the picture of Draethys becomes and the better I understand its society. The noble families rule this place. The others abide and serve. But there’s a deep love for their species that rises above everything else. A desire to roam free, to manifest their might of ancient times. They’re allliving in Draethys, but something tells me they wouldn’t hesitate to move topside if they had the chance.
So, the question remains the same.
What of the darkbloods and the clearbloods and all other creatures, if such an event came to pass?
A knock at the door makes us both turn. I finish brushing my hair until it falls down my back like black ink.
Dayn enters—and halts.
I stop breathing.
His tunic mirrors mine in design: black leather cinched by a jeweled belt of gold. His dark hair is slicked back, and a simple gold band crowns his head. Noble. Distinguished. And damn it, my heart skips a beat.
“You’re ready, then,” Dayn says.
“She is, my lord,” Nyssa replies. “Shall I continue serving tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Dayn replies. “Return to the pit, Nyssa. Practice your shifts. You’ve earned it.”
He nods; she curtsies and slips away, leaving me alone with the dragon whose blood runs in my veins, whose presence fills my every breath—whose heart I’d tear from his chest for all he’s done, and for whatever comes next.
Because, deep in my bones, I know our troubles are just beginning.
“Shall we go?” Dayn asks, his amber gaze drifting from my hair to my eyes, lingering on my lips before trailing downward.
