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“Not as much as you might think,” Luka admitted. “We’re both on the same team, but we have very different jobs. He’s a weapons specialist and a highly trained tracker. There’s nothing he can’t find in the wild once he sets his mind to locating it. I’m just…a glorified bookworm. I do fight, and I can hold my own, but I’m mostly there because of my speed. I’m the fastest in the clan.”
Amaru wrinkled his nose at Luka. “I don’t like how you say that. Glorified bookworm. The historians are the ones who preserve our past. They keep alive those who passed away centuries ago. You’re important too.”
Heat rushed to the tips of Luka’s ears and he had to drop his gaze to his half-eaten food or risk blushing himself to death. He’d never questioned his place on the team, but he knew his job wasn’t as exciting or as sexy as what Vasily or even Gregori did.
“Soooo,” Amaru drawled out. He wiggled his butt, inching even closer to Luka so they were touching almost from shoulder to knee. “Tell me. In all your studies and research, did you ever learn anything about the Sousa?”
Laughter launched out of Luka, forcing him to toss his head back. “Imp!” He cackled.
Amaru giggled and resumed eating, grinning wide. “I know Sam studied my people. We’ve already had long talks about all the things he and other historians got wrong about us. Mostly other historians. Sam is quite smart.”
“He is. He’s devoted his life to trying to learn all he can about your people.” Of course, Sam’s future as a mage was riding on his ability to unlock the secrets of the Sousa.
“But what about you?” Amaru bumped him again, to the point of almost laying his head on Luka’s shoulder.
“I did. A little. But nowhere near as much as Sam. He learned to read your writing. I mostly collected stories told by other dragons and some mage clans. The Sousa…” Luka paused and tipped his head up toward the blue sky he could see through banks of thick white clouds. “You were like the Atlanteans of South America. Other than the stories from the metal dragons, no one had actually seen you, and most of the stories from the metal clan were of the Tupã lightning dragons. They didn’t talk about you much.”
Amaru picked up his burger and took another large bite. “We didn’t get out much,” he admitted around a mouthful. “The Tupã were very protective of the Sousa Clan. Our clan never grew very large, despite the fact that we faced few natural disasters or diseases. It was like they believed if other clans met us, we’d be destroyed overnight.” He toyed with a spiral pasta noodle with his fork, moving it around the plate. “But it’s our own fault too. We didn’t push to explore more of the outside world. We were happy to be lost in our inventions and our quiet clan life.”
“Keeping to yourselves meant you weren’t hurt by the war like the other clans. Entire mage clans were wiped out in a night. Dragons lost their mates in the blink of an eye. And as a result, dragon clans were decimated.” Luka looked down at Amaru, taking in his beautiful face and his wild hair. “A dragon can’t live without their mate. Some do for a while, but grief and madness consume them completely before they die a matter of months later. Most just follow their mate into death.”
“And you were alive for all of that, weren’t you? You fought in the war. With Vasily.”
Luka nodded. He placed his plate on his lap, the last bit of his appetite leaving him as his brain dusted off old war memories. Not that he blamed Amaru. It was only natural for him to have questions about something that had so changed the majority of the world.
“I did. It was dangerous and frightening. We lost the majority of our Ice Dragon Clan, but we were willing to face complete extinction if it meant stopping Kaiser Jaeggi and his followers. We put aside old grievances and fought alongside dragons who we’d viewed as enemies only months earlier.”
“But after…when the Jaeggi were defeated, you didn’t go back to regular life, right?”
“There was no going back,” he whispered, his voice becoming low and rough. “All the leaders of the remaining dragon clans got together and agreed that dragons would simply disappear from the world. Humans were left to think we’d all died in the war. We thought it was safer for us since nearly all the mages had been wiped out. The Burkhard dragons were the only ones I know of who remained in their ancestral home. We tried to return to Russia, but there were too many ghosts waiting for us there. Rodrigo wanted to give us a fresh start, so we moved to Brazil.”
