Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)

It was the perfect day for travel as Kiaran sat atop her dragon. It was wingless, its skin smooth and gray. A few, simple horns stood from its head like a crown. It was a simple dragon, but one which was useful.

Nurra sat on her shoulder, flexing his one wing. Kiaran’s hand gripped the pommel of her saddle, her eyes dead ahead. The dragon tensed its muscles, ready to go.

Cyrin rode Ruthianna over to Kiaran, her black scales shining magnificently. The white speckles across her underbelly looked much like the night sky upon a fading purple hue. Kiaran looked to Cyrin, his eyes keeping forward.

Finally, they were ready to head out. Their dragons carried them across the terrain toward the Hollow Mountain. Kiaran still needed to speak with Kriettor on the matter of Brinn, though he probably already knew it.

After a day’s travel, they reached the cave. As Cyrin set up camp outside the mountain, Kiaran journeyed inside to find the dragon.

As she rounded the corner, the dragon’s eyes were on her, waiting for her arrival. She watched him from the entrance of the cave and he purred long and deep as a greeting. "So you’ve traveled the trees as I’ve done,” he said.

“I have,” she replied. “Do you know what has happened?”

"I do,” he nodded. He tucked his talons beneath his chest like a comfortable cat. ”What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, walking to him. She stood just ahead of him, his hot breath washing over her. “They want in our mountains...Was that always a part of his plan?"

“Perhaps,” he lowered his head to eye level. “I will be sure they protect the mountains...Kiaran. Where are you headed to?”

“Trinelim,” she answered. “It is where we found the letter.” She knew he could easily find these answers without asking her. However, it seemed he respected her enough to allow her the opportunity to explain.

“You hope to find answers there?”

“Yes.” She ran a hand over the plate-like scales on his nose.

“Did you enjoy your friends’ visit?” he asked, closing his eyes to her touch.

“I did,” she nodded, though her voice said otherwise. He peaked through a partly opened eye and she sighed. “It only made it difficult...I had just gotten accustomed to being without them. And Davin did not even come.”

“I understand,” he chuckled, his laughter like soft, rolling thunder. “Come,” he hummed.

He moved a leg out, his claws facing upward so she could sit in his talon. Hesitantly, she did so and he pulled her toward his chest. She leaned against him, his heart thumping steadily against her. “Sleep, ta escile,” he said. “You need it.”

The next morning, Kiaran stretched to wake herself up. Kriettor grumbled, keeping his eyes closed. Though she could feel a question resonate from him.

"You want to ask me something, then ask it," she finally said sleepily.

"You once spent much time with the younger Holloway brother," he began. She turned to him, now faced with his large, open eyes.

He was quiet and she asked, "Is there a question?"

She could feel a smile coming from him and she frowned. "Not from me, but...perhaps you have one of your own."

She narrowed her eyes at him curiously. There was no meaning behind what he said. What could he mean by that?

"Take care, ta escile. I will see you next time."

After the next few days, they could finally see Trinelim at the end of the road. From the crest of the hill, they could see the small city several miles ahead, tucked away in low hills. It took about an hour of silent travel before they finally reached their destination, weaving through trees and mountains. The city was much smaller than Vintar, but had some impressively tall buildings.

Once within the city, the people were excited by their queen’s unexpected arrival. As they rode the dragons down the street, people began hanging flags and bells from the lanterns. Men stood in the streets playing instruments and women tossed little flowers to the road.

The dragons walked across the flowered road up toward the largest, most extravagant home. Reaching the stairs, the dragons came to a stop.

Kiaran couldn't get her mind off what Kriettor had said. What did he mean by that? Of course she spent a lot of time with Torin. She was possibly closest to him over anyone else.

"...Your Highness?" Cyrin's voice was quiet and warm. She glanced his way, his purple eyes on her.

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" She nodded once. "You seem distracted."

She shrugged a shoulder, dismounting her dragon. "There's a lot going on," she replied.

"True enough," he grunted while leaving Ruthianna. After a moment, he said, “This is where Lord Varthen lives. He’d likely know more information on the letter. And...he will probably ask for us to stay here rather than an inn.”

Nurra wrapped his tail around Kiaran’s neck, touching his nose to her head. Cyrin walked up the stairs, Kiaran rushing after him. The two dragons left, finding their own way through the woods surrounding them.

“Cyrin,” she hissed under her breath. He shot his eyes over his shoulder at her. “You really should relax. You've been tense all day.” He seemed agitated, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the stress under everything that was happening.

With great reluctance, he slowed his pace to allow his queen to pass him.

Finally, they walked into the building where everything was perfect. Everything was made of gold, and if it wasn’t, it was made of silver. The walls were dark, a few tall, narrow windows lining the wall opposite of them. Trees were visible through them from the backyard.

“My queen,” a man greeted her with spread arms, bowing exaggeratedly. “It is great for you to visit.” This was the man named Williem Varthen.

“Yes,” she said lowly.

He wore heavy, expensive clothing, his braided hair falling down his back. His gray eyes looked from her to Cyrin and he said, “I was unsure if you were to leave Lady Ritiann and assist the next queen or not.”

“I am where I am needed,” he answered.

“Wonderful,” he beamed. “Queen Kiaran Krutia,” he faced her once more, “It is great for morale for the queen to see us.”

“Well, it is the least I could do for the men who are willing to fight for our land,” she replied. Cyrin smiled, for the first time in days. She could tell her response was exactly as it should be, and he was proud. The town held many retired soldiers, most of which were unable to fight anymore do to permanent damage.

“What has our queen come for?” he asked, leading them down a hall. “Whatever it may be, I want you to know you are welcome to stay here.”

“We have some questions about the letter written in foreign runes,” Kiaran answered. “You might know of it?”

He hummed, thinking upon it for a moment. “Only a bit,” he admitted. “I was not sure what it was, but it came on a dying, small dragon. We thought that some scholars in Vintar might be able to translate it.”

“We have, but we need to find some more information on it...to understand it further,” she answered.

“Ah,” he nodded, “I am sure that after such a long bit of travel, you are tired and hungry. Tonight, we will hold a celebration for the arrival of our queen. You will enjoy some fresh food, a bath, and we will prepare a show for you. Please, enjoy your stay.”

They followed Williem up the stairs of his mansion. “How are things, here?” she asked, her eyes skimming over the decor of golds and silvers. Nurra trilled shortly, his head bobbing slightly as he inspected things in passing.

“We’ve been well, I suppose,” he shrugged. “We have few problems with crimes or complaints. I would say, also, that some of those living here have this arrogance about them that they don’t deserve. But all cities have their flaws, no?”

“That is true,” Kiaran mumbled with a stifled chuckle.

“We see eye to eye, my Queen,” he said happily.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Cyrin cut in. Kiaran looked at him quizzically

“Oh?” Williem looked over his shoulder at them. “Why is that?”

“I just don’t want you to get a swollen ego, is all Sir Williem,” Cyrin played off with a sly grin. Kiaran had no idea what was wrong with him. What was going on between them?

Finally up the stairs, he led them to the bathing room. “Please, clean up and we will have everything prepared for a lovely evening,” he bowed and backed away.

Kiaran moved to one of the bathing rooms, Cyrin to the other. After several, long minutes of soaking in warm water and fragrant soap, they reunited outside the rooms in the hallway. They both wore nice, but subtle clothes, ready for any travel or combat they might meet.

"Cyrin," she caught him, his eyes meeting with hers, "why are you behaving like this?"

"...Like what?" he asked flatly.

She sighed shortly and shook her head, deciding to drop the subject.

Soon, they found their way to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard behind the house. The seats were set up comfortably for them, a tray of expensive wine and fruit on the table. “Please,” Williem held a hand out toward the chairs, “have a seat.”

He bowed as Kiaran walked by, sitting in one of the wide, wooden chairs. Cyrin sat next to hear, leaving the chair opposite the little table open for the man. As Williem sat down, he said, “So, am I to expect you are engaged?”

Kiaran lowered a brow and Cyrin said, “No, Williem.”

“I see,” he grinned.

“And she is not looking right now,” Cyrin cut in. “So do not look into thrusting any of your sons onto her.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he grunted. “Please, Cyrin, I am more proper than that, aren’t I?”

Kiaran sighed shortly, taking a grape from the bowl and popping it into her mouth. Nurra sat in her lap, watching her with fixed eyes. She could sense the calmness leaking out of him as she grew agitated. She took a cracker, subtly holding it in her lap for Nurra to eat.

The show began, people playing music, women dancing, and actors putting on a performance in the yard. Cyrin looked stiff, his eyes on them with a hard look. Kiaran looked to him, wondering what was going on. Leaning toward him, she asked, “What is wrong, Cyrin?”

“Nothing,” he answered shortly. She narrowed her eyes and he stared at her, unmoved.

She sat back up and watched as the show finally came to an end. The three of them stood. Kiaran raised a hand to them and they bowed. “Thank you for the performance,” she said. They cheered happily and celebrated amongst each other.

“Now,” Williem faced them, “I will show you to the dinning hall. We have prepared a feast for you.”

Kiaran perked up; food was a great thing in her opinion. They followed him through his home until they reached a room with a long table, full of food. Williem walked to the end of the table and pulled a chair out. “Please, your Majesty, have a seat.”

She sat down, Nurra at her feet. Williem sat beside her on the end, his back perfectly erect. Cyrin sat in the other seat next to her. She could feel the discomfort roll of of him as his muscles grew tight.

Several people walked in happily, each bowing to Kiaran before finding their seats. Kiaran grew even hungrier by all the food. There were apples and potatoes, fresh meats of all sorts, gravies, and vegetables.

Kiaran ate happily, filling her stomach with food nearly as delicious as Vintar’s. She sneaked Nurra a few strips of turkey and he ate them excitedly.

With each minute that passed, Cyrin only seemed to grow worse. She watched him from the corner of her eyes as he picked at his mound of food, hardly eating any of it. Finally, she leaned to him--again. “Cyrin,” she grunted softly. “Tell me what is wrong.”

She could feel Williem staring at them, Cyrin’s eyes flicking to him. He leaned toward her and her blood ran hot. His hand gripped the back of her chair and his nose nearly touched her hair as he whispered into her ear, “I will explain it later.”

The way he moved toward her was unusually suggestive and smooth. It was strangely uncomfortable. She moved back over, looking to her plate. Cyrin dug his fork into a chunk of ham and ate it with a smile. He appeared nearly normal, yet a hint of anger still flickered in his eyes.

After dinner, Williem led them to where their chambers were. “Cyrin,” Williem stopped at a door, “This is your room for the night.”

“Thank you,” he nodded. “Where is the Lady staying?” he asked without skipping a beat.

“The next room down,” he answered.

“Aye,” he said. He remained still, as if he didn’t want to leave Kiaran alone with Williem.

“Have a good night, Cyrin,” he said. “I can handle walking the Queen to her room.”

“I can do that myself, Williem,” he replied sternly. “It is just down the hall, yes?”

Williem narrowed his eyes, saying, “It is.”

“And it is my duty to ensure the Queen...”

Kiaran rolled her eyes, walking away as they bickered. “Good night,” she huffed. Nurra rushed after her, his wing flexing against his back.

Finding her room, she walked inside, closing the door behind her. The room was wide with a few narrow windows on the wall that faced the town outside. She walked to the bed, touching her fingers to the wooden foot board.

She watched the sun set past the city, the people rushing home after a busy day. After a short moment, there was a knock at the door. She lowered a brow and answered it.

Williem stood there, smiling at her. He was several years older than her, looking young for his age. He was tall, and a little more strongly built than Cyrin. The way the shadows fell across his frame made her uneasy. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, wondering what he wanted from her.

“My Lady,” he bowed shortly, “Might we enjoy a walk? I’d like to get to know my new queen.”

She hesitated and reluctantly agreed. Closing the door, she walked with him. “So you are in charge of this whole city, I understand?” she asked.

“I am,” he nodded. “It is a great city...although I am a bit biased.”

“I understand,” she said. Nurra followed them like a distracted puppy, stopping every few steps to sniff something new.

“Do you have any family?” he asked. She looked at him oddly. “Other than your mother?”

“Um, no,” she lowered her brows slightly.

“I was once married; we had several sons...no daughters, though,” he said.

“What happened to your wife?” she asked.

“She died years ago,” he sighed. Looking to her, he asked, “You have never been married?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“That is difficult for me to believe,” he said.

“How so?” her voice was flat, as if she weren’t entertained.

“You are so beautiful and powerful,” he said. The light fell through the windows as they rounded the corner into a massive, well lit room. It was full of beautifully scented candles, several layers of silks draping from the top of the windows and off to the side, revealing the setting sunlight magnificently.

Her eyes moved over the room and landed on him and he continued, “I find it impossible to believe, actually. I should think that someone would want to keep you close...Not share you with anyone.”

Something in her gut told her to walk away. She wasn’t afraid of being rude, but was more afraid of showing her discomfort. “Do you have anyone like that in your life? Anyone who wants to keep you all to himself?”

She lowered her brows, the gold ring glimmering beside her three, pink scars. “What are you trying to get at?” she scoffed.

“Nothing, my queen,” he smiled as he walked across the room. “I simply believe you should be treasured as if you are the last, beautiful rose to ever bloom.”

Her blood ran hot, Nurra catching up to them finally. He could sense her discomfort and glared at the man, a hissing growl rolling from his throat. Williem faced her again, touching a hand to the table at his side. “I should really head to my chambers,” she said. “I am tired after my travel.”

“Of course, Kiaran,” his grin stretched.

Turning around, she walked back toward her room. As she passed Cyrin’s room, she slowed her pace. Coming to a complete stop, she stared at the closed door. Nurra purred slightly, as if pushing her to do it. Finally, she knocked on the door, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

Just as she lifted her eyes, Cyrin pulled the door open, locking sights with her. He was already dressed into simple pants and shirt. His hair was loose, rather than being brushed back neatly. However, in his queen’s presence, he brushed his hair back with his fingers. “What do you need, Kiaran?” he asked kindly, pulling the door rest of the way open.

“I...think...Williem tried playing me,” she said slowly, still in slight disbelief.

He inhaled deeply, his chest rising slowly. Rolling his eyes faintly, he stepped aside, saying, “Come in, Kiaran. I need to tell you something.”

She walked in, Nurra after her. The door closed and he walked across the room, pulling a chair up for her. She sat down and he sat on the edge of his bed, facing her.

“Is this why you were tense all evening?” she questioned.

“Well,” he paused, “Yes. It was.” She watched him for a moment. “He is well known for bedding women. Nearly every one that he invites to his home.”

“Why was this not brought to my attention ahead of time?” She paused, then said more sourly, “What makes you believe he would bed me?”

“He never once tried anything with your mother,” he explained, “And I do not believe he could get you anywhere near his bed. Before we got here, I didn’t believe he would try it with you either. But...once I saw him, the way his eyes moved all over you...It pissed me off,” he grunted.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “It angers me as well.”

He seemed to chew on a response. A few things crossing his mind, but he kept silent. Finally, he stood, bowing his head. "I'll walk you to your room," he said. “I suppose his attraction will cause no trouble. It's simply an irritant."

He walked her to the door and they stepped into the hall together. Nurra darted down the hall toward her door and waited.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, keeping his eyes on her. She felt odd with his gaze on her. "Good night, your Highness," he bowed his head as she passed him.

"Yes. Good night," she replied lowly.